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latetaektalk · 18 days

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love to hate you | jjk [viii]

“when obnoxiously rich and spoiled frat boy jeon jungkook comes up to you one day and asks you to fake date him for money, you definitely should have said no. because before you knew it, you were going on insta dates with him and having lunch with his equally obnoxiously rich and spoiled friends.”

— genre: sexual themes, angst, fluff, fratboy! AU, fake dating! AU, college! AU, rich kid! AU, enemies to lovers! AU

— pairing: jungkook x female reader

— word count: 18.351

— warnings: swearing/cursing, communication skills nowhere to be found, chronic overthinking, emotional rollercoaster, confusingly set during christmas <3

— a/n: and just like that we've crossed 100k !! its here, the big one. by far one of my favourite chapters that ive written so far!! hope you guys enjoy it!! praying yall wont hate me for this one haha once again, this is inspired by To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before by Jenny Han!

You didn’t miss the look Chaeyoung and Jisoo exchanged, or the way Hoseok longingly looked after Jimin as he quickly walked away to get everyone some food after you sat down, or how Jimin muttered something about how someone clearly needed something to eat. The comment didn’t bother you because he was right and you could admit as much.

The mall had never been your favourite place to go, and even less so today. The Christmas decoration put up around you seemed overly tacky and in bad taste, and you could have ripped off your ears, sick of listening to the same three Christmas songs over and over again. You closed your eyes that ached from the bright colourful lights, and scrunched your nose when your arm bumped into one of your shopping bags. Your patience hung by a string, the fibers breaking with every passing second. Everything hurt, from your head to your arms and your feet.

Nothing was right, and there seemed to be no end to it.

“Fries?”

Jimin specifially offered them to you, placing two medium plates of golden fries in the middle of the table. You took him up on it, taking two and throwing them into your mouth. The fries were bland and not salty enough but you took three more pieces, shoving your face full. As if the grease and carbs would fix anything.

“Do you wanna try the thrift store that Ji suggested?” Chaeyoung asked, choosing her words carefully, and you cringed, shaking your head.

“No.”

The silence continued, and you didn’t miss the looks your friends exchanged. There was clearly a conversation going on over your head, but you didn’t care, reaching for one fry after the other.

“Y/N, it’s gonna be fine,” Jimin said in the end, putting his arm around your shoulder. Bold, but when was he not. “Don’t be so down. That one dress- the beige one looked great on you!”

“Yeah, but also, they don’t care about what you wear,” Jisoo continued, not allowing you to even begin to disagree.

“And you still have time to find the perfect thing, right? If you do decide that the dress isn’t up to standard. Didn’t you get some stuff online too?” Hoseok asked, trying to get you to look at him, but you just closed your eyes and pulled your lips into a line.

They didn’t get it. But telling them that would be of no use, just like how their words didn’t encourage you the slightest bit.

“I promise you Kook’s parents are really the sweetest people I’ve-”

“Yeah, maybe, I don’t know,” you mumbled, cutting off Jimin. You rubbed your eyes until you saw black spots. With a sigh, you leaned back. “I’ll figure it out, I think.”

There was no confidence in your words. To you, it seemed like your life was about to end, all over a stupid outfit you couldn’t put together. The thought almost made you laugh and cry at the same time. This was as ridiculous as it could get.

“What did Kook say?” Chaeyoung asked, and you frowned.

“About what?”

She blinked at you, her brows creasing together. “Well, have you talked to Kook about any of this? How you’re worried about meeting his parents?”

You pressed your mouth into a line, and you didn’t even know where to begin. It seemed futile to you to explain that you possibly couldn’t tell Jungkook about all of the thoughts suffocating your mind. You would look stupid, like an absolute fool. You would look like you cared, and really, you didn’t. It would weird him out—how much you stressed about it, how much it was on your mind. But then again, really, actually, you didn’t care at all. You just were… especially irritable these days. Hormones were raging—your period, of course, greeting you just a day prior.

“No,” you exhaled, shaking your head. You didn’t know what exactly you were denying—you being stressed about meeting his parents, or you not talking about it to him. Probably both. “He’s busy with his stuff. He’s got a paper to finish- it’s fine.”

And even though you closed your eyes, you knew your friends were looking at each other. There was a carefulness with which they spoke to you, and you did feel bad. Just nothing seemed to lift your spirits.

“I’m sorry. I haven’t been in… a good mood these days,” you told them, getting more annoyed at yourself for being the way you were. You hid your face in your hands. “I don’t know what’s up with me.”

“It’s fine,” Jimin assured you. “We know you’re stressed.”

Jisoo placed an arm around you, leaning her shoulder against yours. She opened her mouth before closing again, ultimately she decided to speak.

“What if… you don’t go?”

“Ji,” Jimin whispered, looking at her as if she had just suggested something criminal.

“I’m just saying— it’s stressing her out so much, maybe she shouldn’t go.” Jisoo shrugged, believing her suggestion to be rather harmless. “She can meet his parents another time, right?”

You looked at her. She grimaced, apologetic, about to backpedal, taking your expression as offence. But you waved her off. Her suggestion was meant well, you knew that. It would also be more than a lie to say you hadn’t thought about it too. Of course, you had. But you couldn’t do it. Not when the image of Narae popped into your mind every time you did consider it.

“Okay, fine,” Jisoo sighed, relenting. “But I’m just saying he’ll understand if you don’t want to go. It’s not like you guys are getting married.”

Chaeyoung mumbled something to her, but you couldn’t hear it. If you had to guess she told her to lay it off, which you were admittedly thankful for.

“I don’t even have gifts,” you groaned, remembering that your outfit wasn’t the only issue plagueing your mind. “Do I bring an actual gifts? Or just wine? Flowers? Something more personal? I don’t fucking know.”

“Do you have to bring them anything?” Hoseok asked, frowning. “I mean yeah, I guess it’s Christmas and you’re meeting them for the first time, but I don’t know, I’m not sure if you have to bring them anything.”

“I don’t think you do. They’re just happy to meet you, I promise,” Jimin said, squeezing your shoulder, but somehow, his answer annoyed you even more. Because what if he was wrong? And they use it as a reason as to why they didn’t like you because you showed up empty handed? Poor and rude? You wouldn’t even take a single step in their home. And even if Jimin was right, that they were just happy to meet you—it seemed even worse. Because all you had to show for yourself to Jungkook’s parents then would be…. yourself.

And what if that wasn’t enough?

You groaned, leaning back again. Everything was making your situation only worse, giving you an even bigger headache, feeding the heavy pit in your stomach. And as you spiraled, you didn’t notice the rather obvious text Chaeyoung send, or the even more obvious way Jimin’s phone lit up on the table to display it, just for him to quickly grab it and start typing. Jisoo leaned over to look, and Chaeyoung quickly mumbled something into Hoseok’s ear. You wouldn’t even notice the way Chaeyoung jumped when you spoke suddenly again,

“Let’s just finish eating and go home. I wanna go home.”

No one protested.

By the end, the fries were gone and the grease had eaten through the recycled brown paper plates, and your mood wasn’t much better, still the same level of annoyance always buzzing in the back of your mind. Grabbing the bags from the various shops you had walked in and out of with your friends today, you made your way out of the mall. Stepping outside, you hugged yourself, the wind harsher than the past few days.

“What way is your car again?” you asked, teeth gritting. Your question was aimed at Chaeyoung, but you didn’t have the nerve to look at her. With the tip of your boot, you scraped against the concret, enjoying the way it rolled back and forth. You lifted your head when no one would answer, confused by the silence.

“Oh, uh,” Chaeyoung began, glancing at Jimin who was typing away on his phone. “Give us… a minute.”

She said it as if it was a question, gesturing for you to wait. You looked over to Jisoo and Hoseok for some sort of explanation, but they both kept their mouths shut.

“Where’s your girlfriend’s car?”

Hoseok blushed, and you knew he still wasn’t used to the development of his and Chaeyoung’s relationship. It was cute, and it did make you smile a little.

“Just tell me.”

You tried nice. Nice didn’t work.

“I-I don’t know.”

You sighed, your hands on your hips, shopping bags knocking on your legs. The cold wavered your voice.

“Ji?”

But rather than even say anything, or make an attempt to stall you, she waved you off, flicking her wrist back and forth. At least, Hoseok and Chaeyoung tried to dismiss you subtly.

“Oh my God, what are you guys looking at? Can we just go home, I’m really cold here and I just wanna-”

“Ah, yes, he’s here!” Jimin exclaimed before slapping his hand over his mouth, eyes wide. “Oops.”

You stopped, not needing a second to understand. Jisoo punched his arm.

“You texted Jeon?”

If you were upset and annoyed before, you were even more so now. You leaned forward, as if the reality weighed down on you and physically pushed you. Your eyes darted back and forth between your friends before ultimately landing on Jimin, who was shrinking in on himself.

“Are you guys for real?” you hissed, your eyes rolling into the back of your head. You could have ripped out your hair. “But why?”

Everyone looked to Chaeyoung. “We- we think it’d be good if you talk to him. You’re clearly stressed about meeting his parents, so why not talk about it?”

She added on a smile, and you closed your eyes, groaning.

“Guys, I’m fine.” You dug your hands through your hair, looking over your shoulder, relieved to see that he was nowhere. “Where is he? Is he here already? Tell him to go home. He has a paper to-”

An arm wrapped around your shoulder, and you didn’t need to look to know who it was.

“Go home.”

“Damn, hi, it’s nice to see you too, cabbage,” Jungkook laughed, grinning at you even as you frowned at him. He pinched your nose, and you didn’t even have it in you to swat his hand aside, closing your eyes instead.

“You guys weren’t kidding. She’s in a bad mood.”

Your frown deepened, mouth setting into a thin line. Jungkook squeezed your shoulder, quietly apologising to you for his comment, but his smile remained on his lips.

“Alright, I think—” Chaeyoung hooked her arm into Hoseok’s. “—it’s time to go.”

“Yeah, don’t worry, I’ll take her home,” Jungkook said, nodding to confirm his own words. “Get home safe.”

“Great, text us when you get home,” Jisoo said, waving at you. “We love you, Y/N! And oh, nice scarf!”

Jungkook laughed, thanking her.

“Yeah, good luck, Kook! Also love ya, Y/N!” Jimin laughed before taking off, sprinting ahead, scared you might just throw one of your bags after him. (Which you were strongly considering) The others waved you goodbye, and even though you were more than ticked off, you did the same, mumbling a goodbye their way. God knows they had put up with your attitude with enough grace today already. You sighed once they left your sight, shrugging off Jungkook.

You looked at him and your gaze softened, if only a little. Even more so when you saw it, wrapped around his neck so prettily. There was something very messy about him today—his hair not done in its usual way, hanging into his eyes, getting longer each time you saw him, the collar of his coat not folded down properly. If you had to guess, he had walked out the moment he got the text from Jimin. But he had thought of your scarf, looped it around his neck carefully. Looking at him now, out in the cold, you were glad you had invested the time into learning how to knit. The scarf suited him, the red matching him well. You were almost tempted to knit another one, one in every colour.

“You’re wearing the scarf.”

“Of course,” he returned, smiling at you, and you wondered if his cheeks hurt, red from the cold.

The thought embarrassed you. You looked down, returning to rolling the tip of your boot on the conrete, back and forth, back and forth.

“Go home.”

“Okay, yeah, let’s go home together.”

He reached to take the bags from you, but you pulled away, lifting your head. “No, Jeon, go home. I’m fine.”

Jungkook shoved his hands into his pockets, shaking his head. This wasn’t going to be easy, he realised. “And how will you get home?”

His question made you frown, as if that was the issue at hand right now. You almost scoffed.

“I’ll walk-”

“Right, because walking in the cold is such a good idea, hm?

“Fine, I’ll take the bus.”

“Do you even know where the next bus station is?”

“I can look it up.”

“Or you can just, you know,“ he leaned towards you, and you couldn’t back off, “not be so stubborn and let me just give you a ride home.”

You pursed your lips, shaking your head. Why was he being oh so frustrating? Why couldn’t he make this easy for you? Why wasn’t he at all discouraged by your behaviour? It didn’t make any sense to you. He should be annoyed with you and your attitude, infuriated because you were being difficult for no real reason. And yet, he smiled and laughed at you, showed you patience. It was strange to you, unexpected.

“I never asked you to pick me up.”

It was like you were a goddamn teenager, fighting with her parents, trying your very best to tick them off. It was like you wanted him to be mad at you, and in some ways, in some real ways, maybe you did. You felt sorry for your friends about your attitude, but not with Jungkook somehow. For some reason, you couldn’t extend the same empathy to him. At least not in this moment.

He didn’t say anything, hesitated, his brows creasing together. His eyes darted to the ground before ultimately finding you again, tongue in his cheek, nodding. For a moment, you thought you won, did it.

“Yeah, you didn’t,” Jungkook said, taking one two three steps in your direction, slowly prying the shopping bags from you. “But I’m still here to pick you up.”

And when he met you with a smile, you knew there wasn’t anything you could do. You let your head hang, as tears shot into your eyes. It had never happened before, you were never one quick to cry, but right now you felt like it. You blinked them away, not allowing Jungkook to know.

He took your silence as a sign of defeat, which it was. Very much so. He had won, and you had to admit that you were actually relieved. That he had proven you wrong, that he hadn’t just left after you had repeatedly insisted he should, or gotten annoyed and sick with you.

Jungkook shifted all of the shopping bags into one hand, using his free one to grab yours. Like he would, of course he would, he placed a kiss on the back of your hand before putting your hands into his coat pocket to keep warm, together. You could have begun crying again.

“Be a good girlfriend, alright?” he told you, leading you to his car, and you scoffed, hoping your voice didn’t sound as unstable and shaky as you felt.

“Be a good girlfriend?” you repeated, raising a brow. Jungkook was quick to see his mistake and correct himself,

“I mean, let me be a good boyfriend to my girlfriend and pick her up after a—” He hesitated, squinting as if he was searching for the right word. “—fun, right?”

There was something inherently cheeky and smug about Jungkook. But you couldn’t quite take offence to any of it, nodding, even if you knew that today wasn’t the funnest day. (And you were to blame.)

“Fun day at the mall with her friends.”

You pressed your lips together. “But what about your paper?”

He paused and looked at you before shaking his head and laughing. “Oh, don’t worry about it. I’m almost done. I’ll finish it at your place.”

His hand squeezed yours, and you hated how warm he made you feel. How the warmth spread from your chest to the the tips of your ears and feet. How even if you tried, he remained patient with you. You hated it because it made it so much harder, for you not to fall for him again and again. You hated it because you almost believed him that you could be one of those stupidly in love couples that held hands in their pockets and made each other scarfs.

Jungkook opened the car door for you, and you climbed inside, thankful for the few seconds you had to yourself as he loaded your shopping bag into the trunk. Without a word, he gave you his phone, and by now, you knew the drill.

You unlocked his phone in second before quickly typing in your current location into Google maps. Your address popped up at the top, bookmarked, when you tapped to enter the destination. Handing him his phone back, you wondered what Jungkook’s password meant, 09052020. It seemed so oddly specific, but you didn’t bother asking.

“You should show me what you got.”

The water remained in your mouth a second longer before you swallowed it, slowly screwing the top back on the bottle, eyes set on Jungkook. You shook your head and leaned against your kitchen counter. He was just a few steps away from you, sitting on your couch, taking up all the space, arms spread left and right.

“Yeah, I don’t think so.”

He gave you a look, as if to say oh please! His head rolled back for a second.

“I think you should.”

You didn’t respond, pulling your phone out of your pocket instead. Deeming your silence as enough of an answer, you scrolled through your phone, opening the group chat between your friends and you, your feet crossing at your ankle. But before you could even read one text-

“But isn’t that why you were in a bad mood?”

It seemed brave of Jungkook to address it so openly. Or maybe just incredibly honest. You couldn’t do it. He didn’t seem afraid at all that you might just dip back into your bad mood at the mention of it and come out bats swinging. It was admirable in some ways. You didn’t rememeber him to be this confrontative a few months ago when you started this, him and you. He seemed to have found a confidence with you now, convinced he knew the ins and outs of you. Maybe he did. He probably did, in some ways. You couldn’t say if you liked it all that much.

You snorted, an attempt to make light of the situation. “Yeah, so why bring it up again?”

Jungkook reached his hands out to you, a gesture for you to come his way. You thought about it for a moment before abandoning both your phone and the water bottle on the kitchen counter and moving over. He scooted to the edge of your couch to allow you to step between his legs. His hands held yours, thumbs brushing the inner part of your wrist, back and forth.

“My parents don’t care,” he told you, staring up at you with his big eyes, squeezing your hands as he spoke, physically stressing his words. “They really don’t care, I promise you. They’re just excited to meet you. And so am I, excited.”

He paused, allowing his words to sink in with you and take effect.

“But I know you care and you’re stressed about it,” Jungkook mumbled, and you couldn’t look at him, eyes finding the floor instead, right where your carpet curled up because sometimes your couch would dig into it and flip it up. It was so very embarrassing that he knew how much you cared. It felt like you were ripping out your heart and letting him inspect it. You wanted to correct him, set the record straight that really, you didn’t care at all whatsoever! but it felt like a cheap attempt, even more humiliating.

“So why don’t you show me?” he asked, shaking your hands to get you to look at him. You didn’t want to but did anyway. His gaze was soft, just like his smile, and his hair fell into his eyes. You brushed it away. It made his smile widen, so much so he brought your hand to his lips and kissed it.

It was sealed for you then.

“Alright, fine,” you sighed, defeated, moving away from him to dig through your shopping bags. “Look away.”

“What? Why?”

“What do you mean?” you frowned. “I’m changing.”

Jungkook’s features morphed from a frown to a smile in a second before he ultimately began laughing. “Are you really gonna be too embarrassed to change in front of me?” He gave you a moment to deny it. “I’ve seen and touched-”

“Oh my God, just turn around,” you hissed, and for some reason, your cheeks were as hot as the sun. “Either that, or I won’t try on anything.”

He exhaled the most dramatic sigh he could, making a point to show you that he even pressed his hands to his eyes. Just for that, you wanted to kick him. But you should have known that Jungkook wasn’t quite done, needing to squeeze in one more comment, purely to annoy you and nothing more. There wasn’t anything serious about it at all, no deeper meaning.

“Are you gonna be like this when we’re married with kids?”

You froze, arms up and your face mushed together by your sweater and half of your body exposed to the naked air with only your bra to show for. He wasn’t serious, you knew. There was lightness and an obvious teasing embedded with his words. You doubted Jungkook even expected a response from you, probably just enjoyed knowing he made you flustered even if he couldn’t see it. And yet, your heart began pounding and your hands sweating and your cheeks burning and your mind reeling for any possible retort you could offer. Before you could stutter something, he spoke again,

“Sorry.”

The smile was evident in his voice, and when you finally peeled off your sweater, you turned out to be right. You shook your head, throwing your sweater at him before you could think better of it. It hit him in the face.

“Ow, cabbage! That’s not fair, I have my eyes-”

“I’m so close to kicking you out, you know?” you mumbled, keeping your voice quiet as if raising it by any means was dangerous. You pulled off your pants and your stockings you had layered underneath for some extra warmth.

“I said I’m sorry, cabbage.”

But Jungkook sounded far from sincere. You didn’t bother responding, grabbing one of the shopping bags and slipping on the sweater you had thrifted. It was off the shoulders and this warm midnight blue colour, rich and beautiful and cozy. You moved to your old dresser and pulled out the black maxi skirt you had thought to combine it with. The outfit was simple, but with the right accesoires (ones you would still have to buy which the thought of it already gave you a headache), it could work. At least, it could in theory because when you looked at yourself in your full body mirror (which you had thrifted when you had first moved in), you frowned.

“Can I look?”

You gave a grunt in response, still looking at your reflection as if you had put together the most hideous outfit possible. It wasn’t much of a yes or no, so for a few seconds Jungkook hesitated, but he slowly peeled his eyes open.

“Oh, cabbage! You look so amazing-”

“No.”

It was as simple as that for you, shaking your head.

“What? But you look-”

“I don’t like it,” you said, already moving to take off the skirt. “Close your eyes.”

You expected some sort of protest from Jungkook, but he actually did as you said. Just as quick as you had decided that the outfit wouldn’t work, you peeled it off of you. You rummaged through your next shopping bags, looking at the pieces you had gotten—a cream knit sweater and white maxi skirt. But all of a sudden, you hated it. You clearly remembered loving the clothes in the store, giving the outfit a couple spins and scrutiniscing it from head to toe until it was deemed worthy of your money. But right now as you looked at it, you felt quite the opposite.

With a sigh, you pulled the last shopping bag towards you. It had the dress your friends had mentioned you should wear. This time, you didn’t inspect it any further, not having the nerve for it. So you just bunched up the fabric and slipped it on. But you didn’t tell Jungkook you were finished changing. Instead you turned and looked at yourself in the mirror first.

Jisoo had found it for you—a maxi slip dress. It was in a beautiful and rich wine red colour, oozing warmth, and soft to the touch. The satin flowed down your body, hugging your curves, and reflecting your dim living room lights like water. Lace was stitched along the neckline, which otherwise probably would have been a little too low given the occasion. The straps securing the dress were tied up into small ribbons around your shoulders, giving it a more dainty and playful look. The slit on the left side reached up until your knee, allowing the fabric to move along with your body in harmony. It was a beautiful dress, made for any occasion with the correct accessoires and styling.

You were objectively and undeniably beautiful in it.

And yet, you stared at yourself as if it wasn’t, brows knitted together and lips pursed in a pout, eyes wandering up and down. It wasn’t insecurity—you felt great and comfortable in the dress. But something about it just wasn’t right. You tried imaging yourself all dolled up in it, hair and makeup done to your liking, but the frown remained. It wasn’t perfect enough.

You shook your head, moving to take it off. When you turned on your heel, you looked straight at Jungkook, and Jungkook looked straight at you. His eyes were big and wide and set on you, his mouth agape and curling up into a smile. You gasped, both in surprise and upset.

“W-why are you looking?” you hissed, feeling the heat crawl up your neck, and you threw your arms around yourself.

“I’m sorry. You- you just took so long, cabbage. And so I looked and…” Jungkook finished his sentence with a simple shrug and smile. You frowned at his answer, shaking your head.

“Close your eyes,” you spat through gritted teeth, turning around to change out of the dress. “I’m changing-”

“What? Why?” Jungkook sounded genuinely confused, jumping up from his seat and moving your way, shaking his head. “You look amazing! Please don’t change. I love this dress on you!”

He stopped short in front of you, turning you around and taking your hands into his.

“This dress suits you so well,” he whispered as if it was some sort of secret. You looked to the mirror behind you, inspected yourself, eyes shooting up and down. Jungkook stepped behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist, his fingers interlacing in front of the soft of your belly. He pushed you to lean fully against him, his eyes scanning every inch of you.

“You’re so pretty. So very pretty.”

His words tasted like Christmas chocolate, were thick with honey and sugar, stuck to your teeth. They were bad. Horrible. For you and your heart. Because they sounded so very believable.

“You look incredible.”

He finished with a kiss to the back of your head, and you didn’t know where to look. You placed your hands on his, tentatively, and he was quick to take them into his, scoop them up and hold them tight. He had to know, you thought to yourself, how hard your heart was beating.

“Don’t you like it?”

You met his gaze in the mirror, mouth settled into a line.

“I like the dress,” you said, tilting your head.

“But?”

“I don’t like it for…”

“Meeting my parents?” Jungkook supplied when you wouldn’t finish your sentence, and you didn’t answer, averting your gaze instead. “What do you not like about it?”

You closed your eyes, feeling so very silly. Because you couldn’t say. You didn’t know. There shouldn’t be anything to dislike about the dress, nothing about it was wrong—you loved every little detail, and even more how you felt in it.

“What do you think?”

“I don’t think my opinion really matters here,” Jungkook laughed, and you peeled your eyes open, a smile tugging on the corners of your lips. He was annoying. Just couldn’t provide you with a simple answer when he even has already voiced his thoughts. “But I think you look really pretty in this dress.”

You scrunched your nose. “How pretty?”

“So pretty I wouldn’t mind going blind now.”

You smiled, no, grinned. He was so stupid.

“So pretty I can’t believe you don’t like it.”

You tilted your head to the side.

“So pretty I don’t want you to ever take it off again.”

He pressed kisses to your neck and shoulder, nose burying into your hair, words mumbled into your skin, and hands beginning to wander further south, scrunching the fabric. You let him.

”So pretty I want to take a picture of you and print it out and hang it up above my bed and also keep another one in my wallet and change my background picture to-”

“O-okay, enough!” you said, pushing him away from you because your limbs were beginning to tingle and burn, and his touch was sending shocks through your entire body. Even more so, his hands were beginning to go to places he shouldn’t, not right now at least. You made sure to keep him at an arm’s length, palm pressing into his chest, in fear he’d simply close the distance if you didn’t physically stop him.

“You’re so ridiculous, Jeon,” you said, shaking your head, laughing a little. “You can never be serious, can you?”

“But I am! I’m very serious! Looking at you makes me wanna-”

You were quick to shake your head, hands pressing to your ears because no no no, you didn’t want to know! All while you were smiling, grinning almost. Without realising it, Jungkook had done the impossible—lifted your mood, made you laugh when you felt irritated and annoyed by everything before.

“Fine, I won’t tell you!” Jungkook sighed, dramatically rolling his eyes. You looked at him, lowering your hands, your smile cemented on your lips.

“You’re so stupid, Jeon,” you mumbled, scrunching your nose, and he gasped in faux upset.

“That’s so mean, cabbage!”

“Oh, just shut up.”

Jungkook slung his arms around your middle, doing so before you could even think to stop him. His chin dropped to your shoulder, hands scopping up yours again and eyes meeting in the mirror.

“So, what do we think?”

You raised a brow. “Now, it’s we? I thought your thoughts didn’t matter-”

He sighed, closing his eyes for a second. “Fine, what do you think?”

And you inspected yourself again, gaze wandering up and down. You didn’t know what it was, but the dress seemed different now. It was still the same fabric, same cut, nothing had changed, but you remembered why you had bought the dress, why you had taken Jisoo up on her offer to try it on when she had shown it to you. Because it was beautiful, even more so with you in it.

“Is this the dress?” Jungkook whispered into your ear, and you knew he was hoping for a yes.

You tilted your head to the side, heart beating faster when you opened your mouth. Because yes, it was. The dress, choosing it, it was another step closer to meeting Jungkook’s parents, another hurdle out of the way. Your eyes met his in the mirror, his face so close to yours. The two of you standing there together, you almost could convince yourself you were an actual couple.

“Yeah, it is.”

He beamed, tightening his arms around you, letting out a small sigh of relief. “Okay, good, I’m glad.”

You lowered your gaze, and you wondered if he maybe feared you wouldn’t go because you couldn’t find anything to wear. If maybe that was the reason for why he came so quickly because he didn’t want you to use that excuse. Because otherwise he would have to explain to his precious and perfect parents why his girlfriend refused to meet them-

“How does the 22nd sound to you by the way?” Jungkook asked, pulling you out of your trains of thoughts, almost as if he knew. He mumbled the words into your skin, and you felt every move of his lips. “To meet my parents, I mean.”

Just eight days.

“Y-yeah, that… should work,” you returned, breathless and high pitched, eyes finding the floor. He stared at you in the reflection, nudging you to do the same. You hesitated, but did as he said, breath hitching in your throat when you saw the way he was looking at you, oh so sincere and genuine.

“It’s gonna be fine.”

There was something assuring about the way he said it. If anyone elses told you these words, it would do you no good, bring you no relief. But when he did, it did. It was silly really.

“I promise you.”

“Yeah, really, Jeon?” you laughed shallowly, tucking a strand behind your ear and swallowing. “You promise me?”

And as if looking at your mere reflection just wasn’t enough for him, Jungkook turned you around by your hips, forcing your eyes to meet his.

“I promises you, cabbage. I won’t leave you for one second, alright? Hell, I will drive you there and home again, okay? I’ll be there with you for every second of the day, from the moment you wake up to the moment you go back to bed, glued to your side, so much so you’ll be so annoyed by me that you’ll want me gone. You won’t even go the bathroom on your own, okay?” He paused for a second, scrunching his nose. “I’ll make sure you will have the most non awkward but perfect and fun evening possible.”

His phrasing made you laugh, ebbed the waves of anxiety crashing onto your mind over and over again when you thought a little too much about the next week. His parents, him and you, in one room.

“It’s gonna be great.”

Jungkook smiled at you, a little too bright and too wide. You returned it to the best of your abilities, letting him pull you back into a hug, eyes falling shut.

“Okay, I believe you,” you told him, hearing his heart beating in his chest. “For once.”

He tightened his arms around you.

(“Do you think it will have snowed by then?” he asked you when the intro to the new episode of Avatar began playing on his laptop. You looked up, eyes catching his, your head rested against his chest and his arms around you.

“What?”

“By the 22nd I mean. Do you think it will have snowed by then?”

You frowned, thinking of the last few winters. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

He thought about your answer for a few more seconds, looking off to the side before returning your gaze. “I hope. I’d like to spend a proper white Christmas with you.”

“Pray to the Gods then,” you said. “Chances aren’t so good.”

The past few years it had always only snowed in January.

“Oh, I do, every day,” Jungkook laughed, and you hummed, focusing back on the episode and missing the way his gaze softened at your sight.)

“Okay, so I’ll be back right before New Year,” Chaeyoung said, giving her calendar one last look before snapping it close again. “Who of us is gonna be here?”

Hoseok and you both let out affirmative noises, and Jimin raised his hand in a yes as well, mouth stuffed with his sandwich. You scooted closer to the table to let a guy squeeze through as he made his way to the lunch table with his friends, a tray full of bland and dry cafeteria food.

“I’m not sure yet,” Jisoo said, taking a handful of grapes from her purple grape shaped lunch box and plopping each one into her mouth. “My sister asked if I wanted to celebrate New Year’s with her. But maybe she’ll go over to her girlfriend’s. She isn’t sure yet. I’ll text you guys?”

“I’ll be here the entire holidays,” Namjoon sighed. “I still have finals.”

“Ah, I’m sorry,” you said, offering him a smile. He waved you off, mumbling something about how at least he was almost finished up with it all.

“Well, at least we will be spending New Year’s together, right?” Jimin said with a smile.

You took a sip from your green tea, needing warmth because your University never turned on the heaters, preferring their students to freeze. Where did your tuition money go?

“Okay, but how about Christmas eve for everyone else? When are you guys heading back home again?” Hoseok asked, shovelling his protein oatmeal into his mouth. “You’re going tonight, right, Ji? With Jennie?”

“Yeah, our train’s booked for 8 pm.”

“I’ll go on the 23rd,” Jimin said, and Chaeyoung echoed the same.

“You’re going tomorrow, right?” she asked Hoseok, and he nodded. “When are you meeting Kook’s parents again, Y/N? The 22nd?”

“Yeah.” You played with the lip of your paper cup, feeling the warmth of your tea. Your heart grew a little heavier, scared one of them would ask when you’d go meet your parents. Because you weren’t, at least not on Christmas eve. Both of them had to work, unable to take a day off. It was an irrational fear, you were aware. Because your friends knew that very well. They’d never ask, but your heart didn’t understand.

“That’s- oh my God, that’s in four days, huh?” Jisoo gasped, and the horror and terror gripping you must have reflected on your face because she was quick to interject. “Oh, sorry. No, it’s gonna be great, Y/N. I don’t know why I said that. That was stupid.”

“You’re still anxious about it, huh?” Hoseok mumbled, and though he worded it like a question, all of you knew the answer.

“Hard not to be,” you said, voice a little short and curt. “It comes in… waves.”

Namjoon patted your shoulder. “It’s gonna be fine.”

Chaeyoung reached for your hand, squeezing it. “Yeah, I’m sure. We’re all gonna be there for you if it does somehow go wrong—which I highly, highly doubt might I add.”

“Well, not Jisoo. She’s gonna be home, busy showing off her Jennie,” you joked, trying to make light of the situation but it sounded just slightly off.

“What? I can’t be there for you from home?” Jisoo gasped, and before you could question how she’d do that, she continued. “I’m there for you too, telepathically! Jennie too! In your heart! Always! Over the phone! Don’t doubt us!”

You laughed a little, mouthing an apology.

“But you definitely won’t need us,” Jimin said. “Because it’s gonna be fine. Especially because Kook’s gonna make sure of it, okay?”

Before you could return something, your eyes were drawn to the doors.

Oh.

Your friends followed your gaze.

Jungkook had his backpack strapped to his shoulder and the red scarf wrapped around his neck. It shouldn’t be possible. You were technically too far for you to properly see, but you saw it—the tension in his shoulders, the strain in his nape, the deep knit between his brows. He was…. annoyed. It was new to you. For a moment, you almost expected to find Narae walking behind him, bugging him, hot on his trail. It would explain it to you, and you would just simply walk over there and pull him to your table. Just like that, you would ease the knit between your brows, take the tension out of his shoulders and neck-

But it wasn’t Narae.

It was Taehyung.

He said something to Jungkook that made him roll his eyes. Jungkook didn’t seem to want to respond, shaking his head and waving his hand around, an attempt to end the conversation. But Taehyung wasn’t so kind, going on, even taking hold of his shoulder.

“Someone is in a mood,” Namjoon mumbled, cringing.

“What are they talking about, Y/N?” Jimin asked, looking at you, and you stared right back at him, frowning.

“How would I know?”

“You’re his girlfriend.”

“So?”

“Go find out.”

“What? I just walk up to them and say,” you raised your voice a few pitches, “‘Oh my God, hi, you guys are clearly fighting. Care to share?’ Is that what you want?”

Jimin blinked, shrugging. “Sure, that would work.”

“You’re so ridiculous, Jimin,” you hissed, touching a hand to your forehead. “That wouldn’t work.”

“Of course, it would. Kook’s absolutely obsessed-”

“Oh my God, shut up,” Chaeyoung hissed, slapping Jimin. “They’re looking!”

“You guys are always so loud,” Hoseok sighed, and you sent him a glare because no, you don’t! It’s just Jimin!

But they were right. Taehyung and Jungkook were both looking at you, their conversation having come to an end. When you met his gaze, Jungkook’s face contorted into something else, features twitching. You couldn’t pinpoint what it was, but it wasn’t the usual. He didn’t soften in the way you were used to when he would see you. And when you tried a smile, Jungkook struggled to return it. You felt shot, and your smile faltered.

But Jimin didn’t sense it at all, wildly waving his hand around, gesturing for the two to come this way. And as if it wasn’t more obvious, he yelled it too, “Hey, Tae and Kook! Come join us!”

Jisoo sighed, “He’s such an idiot.”

Chaeyoung and Hoseok shrugged, as if to say well, it’s Jimin. They were right, it was just Jimin being himself, unaware and impulsive. Namjoon didn’t have any words, shaking his head.

Jungkook and Taehyung looked at each other, exchanging a few words before the latter glanced at his watch and shook his head. He had to go. Taehyung placed his hand on Jungkook’s shoulder, whispering something into his ear. You must have imagined it but it looked like he glanced in your direction. But before you could think about it, Taehyung headed in the same direction he had previously come from, and Jungkook slowly made his way over, not meeting your eyes once.

“What were you arguing about?” Jimin asked when Jungkook stood in front of you, and you watched him grip the strap of his backpack, the skin over his knuckles stretching thin.

“Jimin!” Jisoo hissed, punching him.

“Ow!”

“Right, yeah, of course, you’d ask,” he smiled. “It’s fine.”

Jungkook said it with a laugh, but it was all wrong.

“We weren’t arguing.”

And as if it wasn’t enough, Jungkook put on his brightest and biggest smile. He showed it to everyone. Like a stone plunged into the deep sea, your heart sank. You had seen it before, that smile. It had decorated his lips during the Halloween party when you first walked in, or when you had first hurt his feelings while you had gone costume shopping.

Namjoon and you looked at each other shortly, both of you sensing it.

“Is everything-”

“Well, it looked like you were,” Jimin mumbled, accidentally interrupting Namjoon. He waited for Jungkook to budge and cave under his gaze, but when he wouldn’t, he shrugged. “Come sit.”

Maybe he could feel your burning gaze on him, but Jungkook finally glanced in your direction. If only for a second, so very brief. But it dug into your heart and split it open, gutted you and left you utterly empty. You had seen him just yesterday, picked out your dress together, parted ways this morning a few hours ago, and now he seemed like another person. He looked so sad, sad in a way you hadn’t seen before. You didn’t think that any emotion close to that had ever crossed his features, not in your presence at least. It was so new and surprising to you—because somehow in your mind, you had forgotten he had the ability to feel… upset—you froze.

“I’m sorry, I have to go,” Jungkook said, nailing that same smile back onto his lips as before. “But I’ll see you guys around.”

And before any of you could protest, he was gone, back turned to your table and heading into the crowd.

“Well, that was… weird,” Chaeyoung said, pointing out the elephant in the room. And as if she had said your name, everyone turned to you for some kind of answer.

You blinked back at them. “Yeah, I-I don’t know.”

There was another beat of silence before ultimately your friends shrugged.

“Maybe it’s just not a good day?” Hoseok proposed, and they were all quick to agree, moving on. And though you didn’t voice it, you knew it wasn’t that. It couldn’t just be that.

You knew it was about you. It had to be. Taehyung had glanced at your direction. You hadn’t imagined it, that much you were sure of. And the fact Jungkook hadn’t been able to look at you cemented it for you. Your heart quickened, a certain question coming to the front of your mind.

What if Jungkook didn’t want you to meet his parents anymore?

Maybe it had finally clicked with him—what it meant if you met his parents. How ridiculous it was. Because you weren’t his girlfriend. It was his parents after all. How stupid all of it was actually. Not just you meeting his parents, but the entire contract you had. How far it had gone, too far.

You pressed your lips together, a knot forming in your throat. Maybe he didn’t know how to tell you now. Maybe you should be prepared for the very worst. Maybe this was it. Impact incoming! The fall was nearing its end, your end.

Your hands began shaking, curling around the edge of the table for stability. Panic built up within you, panic that really shouldn’t build up at all, you knew. Your friends blurred into an incohesive mess in front of you.

Oh God.

You didn’t see Jungkook for the rest of the day, or the one after that. In fact, you didn’t hear from him at all, until almost two days later. Maybe you should have reached out first—you did think about it. But you simply couldn’t, your hands shaking whenever you’d open your chat with him, your old messages staring back at you almost mockingly. Because what if he told you he wanted to end it? What if this was how it would end because you couldn’t wait and recklessly send a message?

There was a few seconds of silence, the sound of his breathing coming in through unsteadily. You gripped your phone tighter.

“Hey.”

Jungkook still sounded the same, and for some reason, you were surprised. Why you expected him to sound different, you didn’t know.

“Hi,” you returned, swallowing because it was your voice, in fact, that sounded odd. At least it did to you. You cleared your throat.

Usually, he’d make some joke, ask you about your day, how you were doing, where you were, if you had watched the videos he’d sent you yet, eaten already. Usually, your conversation would be much lighter, easier. Right now, you felt the air hanging between you, pulling your legs closer to your chest as you waited and waited. He had called you, he would have to speak first.

“I’m sorry I didn’t join you guys for lunch the other day,” Jungkook mumbled, and you closed your eyes.

“It’s alright,” you said, a waver to your voice and you couldn’t decide if it was because you felt cold, even though you were tucked into your bed, or because you felt uncertain of it all, like you were standing at the edge of a cliff, the deep sea awaiting you on the other side, waves crashing up on you.

Neither of you said anything.

Your throat grew dry, the questions coming back up again within you. Was he going to tell you over the phone? That he didn’t want you to meet his parents anymore. Maybe even that he wanted to call this entire thing off. That he’d realised this wasn’t worth it anymore, doing all of this to win a stupid bet he’d made with Taehyung months ago. It had gotten too exhausting, you had gotten too exhausting for him. Let’s just end it here, tell everyone you’d just fallen out of love. Hell maybe he’d be even willing to tell everyone the truth, how they’d been fooled. It had all been an act! How fun! How could you all think he was in love with-

“Everything’s alright.”

You paused. “What?”

“I-” Jungkook faltered, letting out a laugh. It came through oh so light and clear. Just not quite genuine. Or maybe you were imagining it, your mind dissecting every of his words. “I’m just trying to say- things are alright. It’s gonna be okay.”

And for some reason, you knew the words weren’t meant to reassure you. But him. He needed it right now, more than you. You blinked, nodded as if he could see.

“Yeah, everything’s alright,” you repeated, quietly. “It’s gonna be okay.”

What exactly he referred to, you weren’t sure. And you weren’t going to ask. He’d tell you when he wanted you to know, when he was ready. Truth be told, you weren’t even entirely sure if you were ready for it, couldn’t say either where your confidence that it’d be alright came from.

“It will, right?” he laughed again, that same laugh. It came through now, the tinge of uncertainty swinging with his voice.

You added a small smile, reassurance. “Of course, it will. Always has.”

Jungkook waited a beat, thought about it for a second. “Yeah, no, yeah you’re right.”

And then, you both went back to silence again. You were the one to break it, doing so before you could think better of it and retreat. The question slipped so quickly past your lips, came out of you with the answer to it packaged within already. For once, you dared something, held out your heart.

“Do you want to come over?”

The question seemed alright at first. He’d tell you he was already on his way, in fact. Had you not heard the engine this entire time? Actually, look outside! How silly of you, he had gotten you again. You’d laugh, buzz him up while telling him how annoying he was. He’d fall into your arms, coat and scarf and shoes still on. There’d be no time for you to tell him to at least take off his shoes because he’d knock you over with his entire weight. But you’d hold him up, if not barely and struggling heavily. You’d do it, and you’d do it with a smile. He’d press a kiss to your lips and ask you again if things would just be fine. And you’d do the same as you did on the phone, like a good girlfriend does, you’d reassure him over and over again until you’d be too tired and fall asleep together. Things would truly be alright, you’d meet his parents and maybe resolve it all. Maybe he and you could be something, more. Maybe he meant it, all of it, the gestures and words and kisses. He and you, together, it could be possible-

“I’m sorry—” You wanted him to stop then. He didn’t need to elaborate. It was enough. You bit down on your tongue, hard. “I’m… just really tired today.”

Jungkook hesitated, spoke slowly, and you wanted to laugh it off, tell him it was alright and to go to sleep, but your throat knotted into a terrible mess.

He didn’t want you to meet his parents.

“Hm.”

It was the only response you could offer. Because if you spoke, he would know, and he couldn’t know—the tears that shot into your eyes.

You pressed your hand to your mouth, and wondered if your reassurance had done anything at all. If not actually you had needed it, even more than he did.

“I think- classes was exhausting, so yeah. You know, right? So I’m gonna go to bed now,” Jungkook said, and you nodded, as if he could see you, and if you checked, you’d realise it was just eight. You bit your tongue harder.

He never liked you.

“Okay,” you squeaked out, your voice a few pitches too high. He had to know, you were sure of it. Anyone would know, even a drunk Jimin could figure it out. It was blatantly obvious, and you pressed your hand harder against your mouth, scared as you awaited what he’d say. You wouldn’t know how to answer his questions if he asked you why you cried. It would be utterly humiliating to admit why—that you knew you never meant anything to him beyond what you’d agreed upon, but that he did to you. So much, in fact.

“Goodnight-”

You ended the call, your phone displayed his name for a few more seconds before you tossed it aside, uncaring that it bounced off your bed and you’d have to look for it later on the floor. A part of you wanted to laugh, outright laugh out loud, laugh so loud because maybe it would drown it out. Because were you not just silly? Stupid? Even more so for the tears that rolled down your face and stained your duvet three shades darker. Clear evidence of your silliness, your delusion, your unwavering and foolish hope.

It embarrassed and humiliated you, how quickly the tears came, how his words had crashed onto you, ship-wrecked you, buried you under. His words hurt, and his dismissal even more. Two words had been enough, had pierced your heart and left you tiptoeing a cliff. Jungkook had more power than you thought he did, power he shouldn’t be holding over your head and heart to begin with. Power he shouldn’t have because you didn’t have it over him.

A text awaited you one morning, just a day before the 22nd.

[Jeon - 07:01 AM] : can i come over later tonight?

And a text was all it took.

Jungkook was not even a second late. Someone was in a hurry to get this over with, it almost made you laugh. Your doorbell rang the moment the clock turned seven. Still, you shrieked, hesitated, stared at your front door like you hadn’t known he’d come, like you hadn’t expected him to come.

You busied yourself with your phone, swiping back and forth, as he climbed up the stairs, your back turned to the door. You just couldn’t watch as he stepped inside. This was it. He’d tell you that he’d realised this had gotten too far, out of hand. You wouldn’t have to meet his parents tomorrow, you had done your part. He’d thank you, assure you he’d break the news to your friends and take the blame. It’d be alright, you wouldn’t have to do anything. And just like before you had ever talked to Jungkook at the vending machine, you’d go your own ways.

His steps grew louder, echoed less and less until he was inside. A draft pulled through your small flat as he shut the door behind you, quiet but final. You shivered and turned off your phone, heart heavy in your chest as you prepared yourself to turn around and face him. You had thought about it all day, agonised how it’d be like to see him again the past week, how you’d handle this, how you could retain just a bit of your pride at the end of this. The scenario played over and over again in your mind—you’d look at him with a smile, tell him you understood perfectly and he didn’t need to explain. It had been stupid anyway, fun but stupid. Both of you knew this wasn’t anything really, it would come to an end. You didn’t mind it at all.

“You know, it’s alright, Jeon. I know what you wanna-”

Jungkook wrapped his arms around you with his coat and scarf and shoes on. He pressed you to his chest, held you even tighter when you hesitated to return his hug, as if he needed to physically feel you, be sure you were there.

You hadn’t seen him all week, and all of a sudden, you didn’t know what to do around him anymore.

“Jeon?”

“Can you hug me?” he asked you, voice barely above a whisper, and though you had been so sure about what would happen just seconds ago, pictured how your conversation would go, you realised you knew nothing at all. You did as he said, putting your arms around his middle and squeezing as tightly as you could, holding your breath even.

You didn’t know how long you stayed like this, but when you pulled away, Jungkook looked at you in a way you had never seen. He took your hands into his.

“I’m sorry, cabbage,” he began, and in the dim light, you could see his eyes glaze over. “I don’t know what’s been going on with me for the past week.”

He paused, breathed in deeply, looked to the side before returning his gaze to you.

“I think- there’s just been a lot on my mind, and I had to figure it out first, I think,” he continued. “I-I don’t think I fully have, but I will, soon.”

You looked at him, silent for a few seconds before you nodded, brushing your thumbs over the inside of his wrists.

“That’s okay,” you told him, giving him a smile. “It’s fine. I understand.”

Truth be told, you didn’t know where you took your words from, where you dug up that reassurance again. Because you’d felt the opposite for the past week. It’d been a horrible week for you, sleepless and anxious.

You’d been tiptoeing a thin line, wondering every second when exactly this would blow over, just how close you were to impact, when your fall would end. Would it be a text? A call? Would he just show up to your doorstep unannounced one evening after you had come back from exhausting classes and do it then? Or would it be Jimin who’d relayed the messages? Would he not tell you at all, deeming not worth the effort even? So, it had been nice to be told the truth—that things had been confusing for Jungkook and he hadn’t figured out how to navigate it all—and yet you weren’t sure if it was enough for you, if it qualmed your worries.

“I’m really sorry, cabbage,” Jungkook repeated, and you wondered what he was so sorry for that he needed to apologise twice. If maybe you were right. Why else would he feel so apologetic? Was the ending coming and he just needed some more time to figure out the order of his words, unable to bring it over his heart?

You should ask him if the things plaguing his mind was how to end this. You should, really. Regardless of the answer, it would free you, however painful it might just be. You’d find peace. Maybe you feared the pain too much, the tears that would run down your face, the embarrassment that would rip you into pieces, or maybe you didn’t care enough for yourself to find out the truth, but you didn’t ask.

Your smile grew bigger, and you didn’t know who you were fooling, him or you. “Don’t be. It’s okay, Jeon.”

Jungkook took your face into his hands, staring into your eyes, looking so intensely at you like he’d never before. He was searching something, and you weren’t sure if he found it, if you held whatever he looked for at all.

“It’ll be fine,” you said, and this was for you, not him.

“It’ll be fine,” he repeated, nodding, and as he leaned closer to you, you wondered if the same would apply tomorrow. When you’d meet his parents, stand in front of them. When they’d scrutinise every little detail about you and come to their conclusion on who you were before you could even open your mouth and utter your name.

You let Jungkook pull you into a kiss, returned it with the same intensity. Both of you needed it right now. What exactly you offered each other, you couldn’t pinpoint. But it was enough to silence your mind and his too.

When his hands wandered, so did yours. He pushed you to your bed, and you let your mattress catch your fall. Your sweater landed on your floor, and soon the rest of your clothes followed. His coat and the scarf you had made him found its place at the foot of your bed. He struggled for a bit to kick off his boots before ultimately stumbling out of them.

Jungkook pressed kisses from your lips to your ear down to your neck and collarbone. Slowly, they wandered further down and down, stopping as he paid extra attention to the places he learned you liked, made your back arch in his favourite way and your breath hitch so beautifully in your throat. Soon, you were pleading with the Gods above, curling your hands around your duvet as Jungkook familiarised himself with you again. His hands pried you open, splitting you into two again and again, bringing you high above. You returned the favour, listened as he found religion through you, drawing out his relief until he needed your lips on his instead. By now, you knew him blindly, your hands finding the sensitive parts of him even as he carved his way back to yours.

“I’ve missed you,” Jungkook mumbled into your ear when he began moving, and you smiled, wrapped your arms around him. So had you.

“Me too,” you returned, your hips finding a steady rhythm together. He pressed kisses to your skin, hands holding you oh so tightly like he usually would. But he hadn’t said it, hadn’t told you for the entire week, not even now when he would on any other day—that he loved you—and so maybe that was why you fell asleep with an uneasy heart.

Had he not promised? That he’d be there for every second of the day, from the moment you woke up to the moment you went back to bed, glued to your side until you were sick of him? Was that not what he had said, the words he assured you with? So how was it that you awoke alone, like you had been for the entire past week, without him?

Jungkook wasn’t here, and yet you looked around your home like he could be hidden in some corner. He didn’t like you anymore, you were sure. Why would he? He never did to begin with. Probably regretted this more than anything else, realised just how exhausting it was to be with you. It wouldn’t be worth it. His parents wouldn’t like you, tell him that he could do better. He’d agree- actually he knew that already. Yesterday night had been a mistake, just like all the other times had been. He and you weren’t the same, never could be. Just like two mismatching puzzle pieces, you’d never make a whole picture together. You’d been right, of course. Jungkook could never like you, never saw you as anything more than a paw in this stupid cruel game between Taehyung and you. And you had been played, over and over again. How stupid of you. Foolish! This-

The blaring of your alarm brought you back to reality, the sound filling your ears. You had forgotten to turn it off. You reached for your phone, shutting it off but before you could toss it aside, you saw it. It made you pause, his name atop of your notifications. A voice memo, just over two minutes. Like it had been all you had been looking for, you hurriedly unlocked your phone. You were about to hit start, when you paused, your thumb hovering just above it. Because it could be anything—a simple breakfast run, or a goodbye. A pit grew in your stomach, and you wished he had just left you a clue about what he’d be saying in it. Your chest webbed tightly with anxiety, a rollercoaster in your throat.

You took in a deep breath, bracing yourself, eyes closed as you hit play. Whatever it might be, you’d be fine, somehow, you hoped.

“Hey, I’m so sorry—” Your chest felt so hollow, his voice unsteady. He was running, the wind blowing up the audio. He sounded far away, you had to strain to hear him properly, your phone on maximum volume. “—I know I promised to be there when you’d wake up, but—”

But I just couldn’t do this any longer. I wanted to tell you yesterday, but I just didn’t know how to. I’m sorry.

“—my mom called me. She’s having an emergency with her car, and now she’s stuck in- actually, I don’t know where, but I’m on my way there to jumpstart her car. And I thought about waking you up for it, but that felt mean and you looked so peaceful, I just couldn’t. But- it’s so cold, oh my God. Listen, I don’t know when I’ll be back, but I’m gonna hurry, okay? So just wait for me, alright? I’ll be there, I promise.”

You heard the door of his car open and close. The wind cut out, and all of a sudden it was quiet. There was ruffling, Jungkook took his phone closer to his face. He sighed, and you could see him right in front of your eyes—sitting there in his car, hair a mess on his head, as he closed his eyes to find his words, a knit between his brows.

“I’m really sorry, cabbage,” he began again. “Both for leaving now because I know I had promised I’d be there, and… again for the past week. I know I’ve been shit, and I know you’ve been confused and- I’m sorry. I haven’t been fair at all-”

Neither had you however, you realised as you listened to him talk. Of course, Jungkook had only left because his mother needed his help. How could you assume the worst of him after everything? When he was so good and kind? Had been all this time to you?

“But we will figure this out, okay?”

Jungkook paused again. You pulled your legs to your chest, burying your face into your knees, teeth sinking into your tongue.

“Let’s talk about this after today. But it’s gonna be fine. Like you said it would.”

You had lied.

“What am I talking about?” He let out a small laugh, and you knew he was shaking his head at himself. “It’s already fine.”

You felt like a traitor. You were terrible.

“I’ll be back to pick you up, okay? So just wait for me. I hope I can get to you by two the latest. I hope it won’t take too long to figure it all out. You know, I actually don’t know how to jumpstart a car, so I really don’t know why my mom called me.”

He laughed again, and you didn’t think you could ever get the sound out of your mind. It was so pretty and melodic, so good and precious.

“Well, anyway, I gotta get going, but I can’t wait for tonight already. I miss you.”

You missed him too, loved him even. Did he? Could he? Could you?

It was cowardly of you, hypocritical actually. But you couldn’t do it differently, didn’t have the courage to look at Jungkook and say it. The words wouldn’t leave you, you were certain, if you stood in front of him. He deserved more than a text, but more than that he deserved the truth. And the truth was you couldn’t do this, any of it in fact, not anymore. Couldn’t meet his parents, or even pretend to be his girlfriend any longer, not in good conscience. It had to end.

Your thumbs shook as you slowly found the right letters, strung together the words and sentences. You hit delete every other word, barely getting a paragraph together in almost an hour. Because worst of all, even as you tried to offer some honesty, you knew you couldn’t offer it entirely to him, couldn’t let Jungkook know just how exactly you felt, how deeply you had plunged into love with him.

I’m sorry, Jeon, but I don’t think I can keep this going any longer. I know I said I’d meet your parents, but I think we’re just going a little too far by doing that. I hope you understand. I know I’m not fulfilling our contract and you’ll lose your bet with Taehyung and I’m really sorry, so I’ll just wire back all the money. I never touched it anyway.

You were about to finish off the paragraph, deciding that any wishes for your future relationship as friends would be too much to ask for, thumb sliding over the glass, when your phone lit up, buzzing and ringing. And right just then, you accepted the call, your heart dropping in your chest. Your stomach twisted terribly because you couldn’t do this. How could you? Hear his voice, talk to him as if you weren’t just about to call this entire thing off over text? How could you pretend it was all fine when you’d felt gutted for the entire week?

“Hey,” Jungkook greeted you, oh so unaware. You could hear the harsh wind coming through the speaker. “I’m sorry—”

You wished he’d stop apologising. If he just knew what you’d been thinking of him for the past few days, all the assumptions you had made about him and his character, his parents too.

“—but looks like I won’t make it by two.”

There was a sigh, and you let the silence usher Jungkook to keep on speaking, knowing your voice would merely betray you.

“I tried to jumpstart the car, but yeah, it didn’t work out. We called some people now and seems like we’re gonna have to have the car towed and fixed at the shop.”

The frustration bled through in Jungkook’s voice. It was obvious. He had spent all morning trying desperately to fix his mom’s car in the freezing cold, and now it had come to this.

“We called my dad. He’s on his way here because I still need to go back to my parents and take a shower. It’s gonna take some time—the drive to my parents, the shower and then the drive to your place—so I definitely won’t make it by two. But I should be at your place by three the latest though, I hope that’s fine?”

You closed your eyes, wondered just what exactly you were supposed to say. And so, for a while you didn’t as you gathered yourself.

“Cabbage? Are you there? Can you hear-”

“Y-yeah.” You chewed on your lip, took a few more seconds before speaking. “You… don’t have to come-”

“What? No, I promised you I’d drive you. Let me at least do that,” Jungkook insisted, and you hoped he’d just understand. How direct did you have to be?

“It’s fine, you don’t have to,” you tried, but to no avail.

He snorted. “Cabbage, I’m driving you. No matter what. My dad’s almost here. You won’t have to wait long. I’ll probably be at your place before three actually. I shower quickly!”

You pressed your hands to your eyes until dark spots appeared, shaking your head. Why couldn’t he just understand?

A lump knotted your throat shut, your voice wavering as you began speaking, “I-I think we should just-”

“Ah, my dad’s here! I gotta go, cabbage. But please just wait, I’ll be there soon, okay? Can’t wait to see you! It’s gonna be great. You’re gonna charm their asses off, okay?”

And before you could even protest, confess to Jungkook that you couldn’t do any of this, he had hung up. You stared as your phone displayed your lockscreen before ultimately turning black, leaving you with your reflection.

You caught yourself in your mirror, realising how puffy your eyes were. It was blatantly obvious you had cried. You were a mess, in no state to meet anyone’s parents, no less Jungkook’s perfect parents. But now you couldn’t even get yourself out of this anymore, not when you had heard his excitement again. How could you disappoint him?

Just one more day. You’d do it for one more day, him and you. You’d just get today over with, that much you owed him, and then you’d sit him down to break it all off.

The dress was still oh so beautiful on you, harmonised perfectly with the white cropped cardigan you had picked out for today because it was, indeed, cold like Jungkook had said it was, and you really didn’t want to freeze. Your hair remained the same as always. You had thought about changing it, but decided in the end that at least your hair should be the way you were used to. Same with your jewellery, the same few pieces you wore every day adorning you today too. You kept the makeup minimal, and still it took you ages to get it done, hands shaky as you carefully drew on eyeliner and curled your lashes.

Looking at yourself you wondered if it was enough to fool everyone, yourself possibly even that you were perfectly fine, that you fit to Jungkook, that he and you could be something more, that your background was the same as theirs, that you were just another Narae, well-off and well-travelled.

But your doubts and worries had no time to brew, your doorbell announcing Jungkook. Shrugging on your coat and slipping into the pair of black kitten heels you had borrowed from Chaeyoung, you gave yourself one more look in the mirror. You looked beautiful, you knew that. Everything about you looked so close to perfect, and yet, you felt the opposite. Today was the last time for Jungkook and you, and just the thought made you want to cry.

You shook your head, not wanting to keep Jungkook waiting any longer. It was truly cold, and you regretted your choice of shoes the moment you stepped outside, cursing yourself. The wind snaked up your legs. Maybe if you knew that this wasn’t going to be your last day together as a pretend couple, you would have run up and changed. But more than ever before, you wanted to look your best today. Because at the very least, however today might end (badly), you looked good.

Jungkook agreed, face lighting up the moment he laid his eyes on you. You tried your very best to return your smile. He looked oh so good too, wondering if he matched you on purpose. His sweater was the same deep rich red as yours, a white turtleneck layered underneath. He paired it off with some black slacks and black boots, your scarf wrapped tightly around his neck. You couldn’t look at him too long, vision beginning to swim when you did, so you focused on the ground, one step after the other.

“You’re so beautiful,” Jungkook gasped, clutching his chest and pretending to have a heart attack.

“Thank you,” you said, speaking quietly, afraid your voice was going to betray you. “You too.”

Your compliment made his smile turn into a grin. “Well, you’re prettier.”

Usually, you’d make some snarky comment, fall into the same old banter you’d established with him long ago. Today, you could barely bring yourself to look at him.

“Let’s-”

Jungkook cupped your face, lifting your eyes to him, forcing you to face him. His gaze turned your insides soft and puddy, hands beginning to shake by your side.

“I’m so happy, cabbage,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your lips. It almost made you cry. You screwed your eyes shut. Before the kiss could go on longer, devastate you more, crush you further, you pulled away.

“I-I’ve got lipgloss on,” you mumbled, giving Jungkook a short smile before stepping aside to walk to his car. He laughed behind you, telling you how he didn’t mind at all, but still, he followed you.

Just as you were about to reach for the car door, he did it for you. Always the gentleman. You paused for a second, surprised (why were you?), before climbing inside, heart heavy as you waited for him to just close the car door. Jungkook didn’t though, drawing your eyes back to him.

“Are you sure about the shoes?” he asked you, brows furrowed together. “It’s cold. You’re not even wearing stockings.”

You felt even more self-conscious all of a sudden, tucking your feet underneath the seat, cheeks warming and heart thrumming. These shoes were the only ones that fit with your outfit. You didn’t have an extensive shoe collection, anything you could change into now wouldn’t match. It’d be a waste not to wear them, especially after you had asked Chaeyoung to borrow them.

“Y-yeah, it’s fine.”

Jungkook seemed to disagree, still standing there with the car door in his hand, and when he opened his mouth, you knew he was going to argue with you.

“I really-”

“It’s fine,” you repeated, reaching for the door handle. “Let’s just go. We’re gonna be late.”

The frown didn’t disappear from his face, but he conceded, albeit with a sigh. His hand squeezed yours, and you flinched, pulling it away as if he burned you. Jungkook stopped, eyes shooting to yours.

Your heart dropped in your chest. Oh no.

You put on your brightest and biggest smile. “Sorry, your hand’s just super cold,” you laughed.

Jungkook blinked before smiling, “Ah, sorry.”

With that he shut the car door, and you pulled the seat belt across your body, readying your words on your tongue that you had thought of this entire time.

I’m super tired. Do you mind if I sleep during the ride?

It was a blatant lie. Every nerve and fibre of your body was lit up, wired tightly. You couldn’t find sleep even if you laid in your bed now. The thought of having to talk to Jungkook for the entirety of the car ride, however, turned your stomach upside down.

You decided to wait for him to put on the seat belt first before saying it, needing a few more seconds to rid the knot from your throat. From the corner of your eye, you watched as he climbed inside, putting his key into the ignition, rubbing his hands together. But rather than reach for the seat belt, Jungkook fumbled with the console, turning on the heat, carefully turning the knob back and forth. Warm air started blasting from the heaters immediately, wrapping you up from every direction.

“Do you want the seat warmer too?”

He looked at you so sincerely. You crumbled almost.

“I-It’s okay.”

“Just say a word and I’ll change it, okay? Don’t want you freezing,” he said before strapping the seat belt across his chest. You turned to the window.

Your voice wavered slightly. “Uh, I’m super tired. Do you mind if I sleep during the ride?”

“Oh, yeah, no, totally. Get some sleep. I’ll wake you up when we’re there. Gonna take a while anyway.”

You hummed in response, frowning when you saw Jungkook rub his hands together, blowing into them, even holding them up to the heaters for a few seconds. Before you could wonder for too long, he took your hand into his, thumb brushing back and forth.

“Warm enough?”

He said it with such a beautiful smile. It shattered you. You merely nodded before turning away, eyes closing shut, a lump stuck in your throat. The gesture, however small, dug into your heart like a knife. He was so nice, so kind, so good. And for the past week, you had thought the worst of him.

You knew you had arrived even before Jungkook parked the car. The engine slowly shut off, keys jangling when he pulled them out. You heard the click of his seat belt, some shuffling, and your heart beat faster as you waited for him to wake you up. Truth be told, you hadn’t thought this through. How were you going to convince him that you had slept this entire time when you hadn’t even for a single second? The last time you had pretended to sleep in the car was when you were seven and didn’t want to go to school. And even then, it hadn’t worked, your mother seeing right through you.

Jungkook had held your hand the entire ride. You had so gotten used to the feeling of his warmth that when he slowly pried his hand out of yours, you felt oddly cold. For a second, you thought you had to have imagined it when you heard the car door open. But when the sound of it softly closing followed, you knew you hadn’t. Maybe he wanted to come around and then wake you up?

You waited a few more seconds but when your car door remained shut, you slowly peeled your eyes open. Once again, Jungkook wasn’t there. But your attention turned to the house across the street instead. Jisoo and Chaeyoung had, of course, asked for Jungkook’s address—Just in case. He had happily sent it to them, and you too if you wanted to forward it to anyone else too. (The fact that Jisoo was over an hour's train ride away didn’t matter by the way.) You couldn’t recall the address, but you did remember the house number, and you were definitely staring at the right house right now.

It was bigger than you could have imagined it to be. It was so absurdly big, almost cartoonishly so. Even more so because it was decked out with all kinds of Christmas lights and stockings. You doubted no second the inside rivalled Chaeyoung’s and Jisoo’s home. But however ridiculous it was to you, this was Jungkook’s childhood home, the house where he grew up in. Where he spent his childhood and teenage years. This particular house. A house. Whilst you grew up in a flat, just with enough space to cram in your little family.

You saw him then, standing next to the expensive car parked in the driveway. Jungkook opened the car door to the passenger seat, and a second later, his mother stepped out. He offered her his hand, earning himself a big smile from her. From inside the car, you couldn’t hear what she said, but you could imagine it. She was right, he was a great son.

Jungkook looked a lot like his mother, you realised. She had gifted him with her kind eyes and soft big smile. No wonder, her son was so beautiful. She was an elegant woman. It was obvious. The kind of woman that wore cashmere sweaters, baked fresh bread every Sunday, made sure to do her skincare routine every morning and night, expensive creams and serums lining her bathroom cupboard. Not a single hair on her head was grey. She was the perfect wife and mother.

From the driver's seat, a man emerged, Jungkook’s dad. There was a hint of grey colouring his hair, but he pulled it off well. He was shorter than Jungkook by a bit, but you could see right away where Jungkook got his confidence from. For a moment, you wondered if that was how Jungkook would look like when he was older. Would he resemble his father? His dad quickly rounded the car, greeting his son with a hug before taking his wife’s hand into his. He had a kind smile too, you noticed. Of course, he did.

Jungkook had to have said something particularly funny because both his parents erupted into laughter. You looked away, closing your eyes.

What were you doing here?

The question blared louder than ever before. Could you really do this? Fool everyone? Yourself too? The answer was obvious to you as you looked ahead. A part of you wished you had come to that conclusion before you had gotten into the car. You didn’t know your way around this neighbourhood (of course, not), but you knew you had to get away from here either way.

You stepped out of the car, quietly shutting the door. He couldn’t see, couldn’t know. You had to get away, now.

“Where’s your girlfriend, Kook?”

His father’s voice made you pause. Jungkook sounded so much like him.

“In the car. She’s sleeping.”

“Are you not gonna wake her up? At least, let her come inside and sleep inside. It’s so cold.”

“No, I was gonna, but then I saw you and dad pull up,” Jungkook explained, his voice carried to you through the wind. His car offered you enough coverage to hide and at the same time allowed a clear view of Jungkook and his parents. “Also, I was gonna get her another pair of shoes. She’s wearing heels.”

His mother gasped. “In this weather? Does she at least have stockings on?” When he shook his head, she gasped again. “No, that’s not good. You better get her another pair of shoes. She’s gonna freeze!”

“I know- ah, I turned off the heat!” Jungkook touched his forehead as if to say how stupid of him.

You pressed your lips together, teeth sinking into your tongue. The guilt clawed up your throat, raw and red. It hurt, so much so that you didn’t even feel the cold wind on your feet and up your legs, or the way they ached from the unnatural arch the heels forced them into.

“Go get your girlfriend some shoes,” Jungkook’s father told him. “I’ll get the groceries-”

“What? No, let me, dad. I can do both. I’ll be quick.”

“It’s fine, Kook. We don’t want your girlfriend freezing.” His mother placed her hand on his shoulder. But like the good son he was, he wasn’t having it, already moving to open the trunk.

“It’s okay. I turned off the car just now, and she’s been sleeping peacefully this entire time. I’ll be quick,” Jungkook insisted. “You guys get inside.”

His parents looked at him with a sigh, realising defeat. Jungkook’s father handed him the car keys.

“Well, you better be quick. You know we can’t wait to meet Y/N.”

And with that, they walked inside, hand in hand. Your heart shattered, your name rolling so easily off their lips. It was so odd to hear them say it, hear with how much kindness they did.

You should just go now, take this opportunity to run, but your feet remained cemented, your eyes following Jungkook as he brought the first two bags up to the front door before grabbing the last two out of the car. Moving his foot underneath the sensor, the trunk closed automatically. You knew nothing about cars but you knew that such a feature didn’t come with most, and was definitely not cheap either.

Right now, looking ahead of you, you could see for the first time clearly just how different Jungkook and you were. There were two different worlds between you, a distance that no one could cross, no less a relationship that wasn’t genuine to begin with. It had been nice and fun, foolishly nice and fun, to pretend all this time, but in the end it had been foolish more than anything.

Why you didn’t move still remained a mystery to you. Maybe your feet had really frozen to the sidewalk, the heels one of your worst ideas yet, or maybe you simply couldn’t do it, bring it over your heart to just walk away. Maybe you just needed a little more, of him and you. You knew these few seconds would be the last ones of peace before it would all crumble. The illusion would shatter. He and you would be done, forever. There would be no more hangouts together with all your friends, no more cookies and Avatar marathons, no more kisses and hugs.

Jungkook and you would dissolve, just as quickly as it had all begun in that library with a notebook and pen.

Jungkook was about to turn around and close the door and he’d see you, standing there on the sidewalk with your eyes set straight on him. He’d see you and he’d smile and put down the bags and walk over to you and ask you why you were standing there and why did you get out of the car and how cold it was. How stupid and silly of you!

He’d come over and bring you into a hug and his lips would ghost over the crown of your head and you’d cave and melt and you’d go in and meet his family and it’d hurt so much to tell Jungkook’s parents what your parents did when they’d inevitably ask you because of course they would and you’d have to see as they realised that your parents didn’t get to enjoy higher education. They’d be silent for a few seconds before nodding and smiling. They’d quickly change the topic because it was better to talk about something else and oh I heard something so interesting on the news recently, did you hear?

But you didn’t move, even as Jungkook turned, arms heavy with grocery bags, and lifted his head, eyes meeting yours as you predicted he would. His lips lifted up into a smile, a smile bigger than you’d expected. He didn’t move though. Instead he blurred into a heap of colours.

You could no longer do this.

The image of him cleared as the first tears fell, and you watched as his face crumbled while he watched your chest heave up and down, sobs pushing out from your throat.

Jungkook let go of the grocery bags, the contents spilling out. When he took his step towards you, you did too, away from him. He stilled, frozen. Why, you could see it on his face. Why were you crying? Why were you moving away from him? He deserved answers, an explanation, but the most you could muster up right now was the shake of your head.

No.

And then you took off.

“Y/N!”

You pressed your hand to your lips, scared of filling the street with your gut wrenching sobs. Tears kept streaming down your face, hot and heavy.

You did feel sorry for doing this to Jungkook. But you had to. Because he wasn’t going to. It had to be you. You who finally saw the truth in the eye that this was ridiculous, that this had gone off the rails, that Jungkook and you should have never gotten to this point, to where you found comfort in his arms and he knew your favourite cookies and you showed him your home and he knew more than he should about you. To the point where you had shared the bed together and knew the softness of the other’s lips. To the point where you had irrevocably and undeniably and unfortunately fallen for Jungkook.

You were in love with Jeon Jungkook, and it was the worst thing you could have done to yourself-

“Y/N!”

And it was affirmed when he seized your elbow and turned you around. You didn’t make it very far. Your eyes locked with his, and you could see it in them. How this was going to end. How this had to end, now.

You were reminded of when you ran out on Jaehwa after seeing him for the first time again. It was what you always did, you realised. Run.

You just never expected you’d have to run out on Jungkook too.

His eyes, wide and big, searched your face, for something to give him a clue as to what was going on in the head of yours, anything. He didn’t understand.

You pulled away from him as if his touch burned you, pushed him away.

“Why? What’s wrong?” he asked, frantic, reaching out for you again, but you couldn’t let him touch you, tumbling backwards. Hurt flashed across his features, but this was for the best. Why did you have to be this dramatic? How stupid of you!

“I-I can’t,” you stuttered, shaking your head, dragging your coat sleeve frantically on your cheeks. “I-I just can’t.”

Jungkook stared at you, face twisting and morphing into emotions you couldn’t decipher. You had never really understood him anyway.

“O-okay, hey, that’s fine.”

Who would have thought this would hurt so much to hear?

“That’s alright.”

He should be furious, absolutely and utterly mad with you. You had just run away. If he hadn’t caught you, he would have had to somehow explain to his parents why his so-called perfect girlfriend was suddenly gone. And yet, he met you with empathy and kindness. Jungkook was so good, so precious. He was so much better than you, deserved more.

“I’ll give you a ride home-”

“No!” you screamed, lungs heaving for air, chest rising and falling dramatically. You shook your head, repeated it again, quieter this time. “No, you don’t understand.”

Jungkook stared at you, mouth opening and closing. “Okay, then explain. But let’s do this in the car-”

“Why are you like this?” You threw the question at his head, venomous and bitter. The anger wasn’t fair, shouldn’t be aimed at him at all. What had he done to deserve it? And yet, you couldn’t find it in you to shift the target. “What are we doing?”

His brows knitted together, the knit deepening. “I-I don’t know what you mean.” You looked at him as if he should. “Can we get to the car first, cabbage-”

You flinched. How could he still call you that?

“This is so stupid,” you scoffed, shaking your head, eyes looking at everything but him. The cold wind blew your tears away, and your cheeks felt raw from all of the rubbing and dragging. “I- this is so wrong on so many levels. Why am I even here? What are we even doing? Why are you like this?”

“You don’t want to meet my parents, that’s fine. I really think we should get to the car-”

“Why? Because you don’t want your neighbours and parents to see what crazy person you’ve brought home?”

“What? No! Who said that? I wanna get to the car because it’s freezing cold and you only have a coat and heels on-”

“Oh, please, Jeon!” The laugh slipping from your lips made Jungkook flinch. It was so mean, filled with so much spite. “Don’t pretend to be good. What a cheap and pathetic act!”

None of the words you spoke were truthful. You didn’t know where you pulled them from, you didn’t believe any of them. All of them were hollow and mean. But maybe they’d be enough though to bring out anger within Jungkook, make him come to the same realisation as you had—that he and you had to end. But knowing him, he’d meet you with empathy and kindness over and over again.

He had to hate you.

You had to make him hate you. Otherwise, this would never find an end. Otherwise, he’d convince you of the opposite, and you’d never be able to let go of him. Otherwise, you’d lose yourself completely to him.

And when you looked at Jungkook, you knew you were right. Because there was no no fire in his eyes, nothing. He still stared at you the same way he used to. Even after you had called him names. Hating you was the only option.

“I really think we should just talk this out another time.”

Defeat, you realised, contorted his features. Not anger. Not spite. None of it. Just defeat. You closed your eyes, shaking your head.

“You’re clearly not in the best of moods and saying stuff that you don’t mean. I don't know what’s going on, but let me just give you a ride home and we’ll figure this out another-”

“Figure out what?” You leaned forward, gestured wildly around yourself. “We? Oh, please, Jeon, there’s no fucking ‘we’. Don’t make me laugh!”

He shook his head, hands running through his hair.

“I really don’t think you mean any of this, Y/N. I know this entire situation must be bringing up bad memories for you- I know Jaehwa hurt you-”

“What? This has nothing to do with him,” you scoffed, narrowing your eyes, the words pushing through your clenched teeth like a bullet out of a gun. “What do you know, Jeon? What do you really know, huh? Actually, how can you know anything? You with your perfect stupid fucking family with a house oh so big because you just had to show everybody how you were better and richer and greater. What do you know about anything, really?”

You weren’t making sense, but you could see a change in Jungkook’s face, the flicker in his eyes as you mentioned his family. Bullseye.

“Miss me with that bullshit. You’re the kind of people I hate. It’s all so fake and condescending- fuck, you’re so stupidly loaded you’re paying me to pretend to date you so you can win a stupid shitty bet with Taehyung. Your parents must be so proud of their great great son.”

He closed his eyes, screwed them so tightly shut in hopes that maybe if he did so long enough, this would turn out to be a bad dream. This wasn’t happening. Things weren’t falling apart like that. They couldn’t. His hands curled into fists.

“Now you can’t even look at me, Jeon?” you sneered, voice and words growing more and more vicious. “Can’t face the truth, right? You pretend to be so good, so kind. But for fuck’s sake, look at the house you grew up in! Look at where I live! You’re the same as Jaehwa- actually, no because at the very least, he didn’t pretend like he and I weren’t different. You should have some shame, but I guess with parents-”

“Y/N!”

Your name cut through the air, and for once, you stopped and breathed. Jungkook had peeled his eyes open again, teeth gritted, jaw pulled taunt, hands curled into tight fists.

“I really think it’d be better if you stopped talking now.”

And yet, it wasn’t the response you wanted.

You could have cried then, bawled, fallen to your knees and just admitted to it all. How much you did love him and how much you wanted him, but couldn’t have him because this just wasn’t going to work because he never really did love you and neither would his parents. He and you were doomed, like the moon and the sun. He just would never see it, too idealistic for his own good. Your blatant and devastating flaws. You weren’t good or kind. You had to be the one to pull the plug, to call this what it was—wrong.

“Yeah, of course, you’d say that,” you mumbled, the tip of your shoes digging into the concrete, rolling back and forth. The scratching sound it produced soothed you oddly.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know what I mean. You rich people just can’t ever face the truth-”

“No, you idiot!”

His voice echoed through the empty street, loud and clear. Anger and disdain coloured his words, features twisting and knits deepening. There it was, finally. The anger and upset you had waited and waited for, the blow of the bomb, the finale.

“I think you should stop talking because I love you and I don’t want my heart broken any further!”

Jungkook was so loud. You had never heard him so loud before, yell like that, tell you so abundantly clear that he loved you. It was the declaration of declarations, blaring and grand. You had wanted to hear it, needed to hear it all this time, all this week—that he loved you—and now when you finally did, it was truly the worst thing anyone had ever told you ever. Because it was everything you wished for, but you couldn’t have it, none of it. It wasn’t real, and even if it was, even if he meant it and he loved you, you couldn’t be with him. The truth didn’t matter. You were too damaged, too broken, too fucked up to never not doubt Jungkook, not to fear that he’d leave at any point.

You’d never trust him.

“I don’t know what’s going on with you!” He pointed at you, face scrunched and eyes red, tears welling. “I thought we had gotten past this- isn’t it obvious that I do really love-”

“Oh, please. You goddamn liar!” Your voice shook, broke in your throat and mouth, head spinning. You were losing Jungkook, spectacularly so. “What do you know about love? This is an act, Jeon! You’re not in love with me! You’re in love with an act! You’re in love with the idea of winning your stupid bet with-”

“No, no-”

“Yes, Jeon, you don’t know shit. You pretend like you do- think you do when in reality, you don’t know anything about me. Who am I if not just a pawn in your game? Someone you paid, so you could boast and brag that you didn’t get rejected, huh?”

Jungkook licked his lips, veins bulging in his neck as he tried his very best to not go too far, implode on you, hands digging into the roots of his hair. “No, that’s not true. The bet between Tae and me—”

“Actually, you know what? I don’t even care. Because all of it is wrong. It’s not what we agreed upon-”

“Okay, yeah, so we weren’t supposed to kiss and spend time together privately, or sleep with each other and talk on the phone for hours. But look at us now!” He pointed between him and you, as if there was something between you. “We did it all, okay? And? Was it so bad?”

His eyes fixed yours, so deeply. He took a step towards you, and you didn’t back away, couldn’t.

“You call me a liar when I tell you I love you—” His voice shook, trembled terribly, and you could see Jungkook fight to find the right words, struggle to speak. It pained you to know it was all because of you. How easy would it be to take it all back? Admit fault and go back? But would it be right? “—but tell me then, why are you looking at me like that?”

You tried a laugh. A laugh that was meant to dismiss it all, deny the truth, but it sounded hollow and wrong. You couldn’t even look him in the eyes, beginning to crumble. And Jungkook saw right through you.

“Look at me and tell me you don’t feel something!”

You closed your eyes, crossing your arms in front of your stomach. The world began to spin faster and faster, and you felt like you were losing the ground underneath yourself.

“You’re not being fair,” you whispered, shaking your head. You were speaking much quieter now, your voice having lost all of its bite and edge. This had been harder than you expected. “You’re breaking the contract-”

“Oh my God, will you forget about that? Both of us broke it a long time ago, willingly! Can you please just forget about all of it—the contract, the bet—and look at the facts?”

Jungkook was begging at this point. Would you come to your senses?

“Do you really genuinely think that the past weeks- months didn’t mean anything to me? That it was really all just pretend? That I lied about all of it? That I’m really such a big asshole that I’d pretend to be in love with you this entire time, call you daily, buy you your favourite cookies, hold your hand and kiss you and tell you—” This seemed to drain Jungkook of everything, voice trembling as he presented the worst version of himself to you. “—over and over again that I love you?”

He leaned forward, searched for your eyes.

It was right in front of you—a white flag up in the air, for you to grab and hiss. You could do it now, he’d forgive you, you were certain of that. Jungkook was still kind enough to do so, his heart ready to let you back in. You wouldn’t even need to say anything, just falling into his arms would suffice. It’d be so easy. Simple, in fact. He’d let you do it, take your silent defeat as an apology. You’d never have to talk about it ever again. It was tempting, slip back into what you were before as if you weren’t aware that he and you were two parallel lines never meant to cross. Jungkook would never be tempted to take this way out, he’d stand straight for what he’d said, repent. The thought to take the easy way out would never cross his mind. It did yours.

“Y-yeah, I do.”

Jungkook shook his head, mouth set in a line.

“You don’t mean that-”

“Yes, I do-”

“Y/N, no, no, you-”

“Stop,” you laughed, shaking your head. “Stop insisting that I don’t mean it. I do. I-”

It was so ironic. It felt like the entire universe was mocking you, laughing at the two of you. This was what Jungkook had wished for him and you, imagined how beautiful it would be, how you’d sit together in front of the window and watch before he’d suggest to go outside and you’d follow happily. You’d dance and play until neither of you could feel your hands and your cheeks were rough and raw from the cold wind. You’d yearn for the warm, shiver as you stepped inside, but you’d be happy. So very happy. But now it felt like a stab to your hearts instead.

The first few snowflakes softly landed on your sleeve. It was so beautiful. The entire street would be white in a few hours, kids would come out to play soon.

“I’ll pay you back.” You took a step back, rubbed away the tears that wanted to spill. “See it as compensation for… not meeting your parents.”

Jungkook couldn’t respond, teeth sinking into his tongue, biting on the muscle until it hurt too much.

“That’s not- that’s not the point. I don’t care for the money, I just-” He deflated. “Just-just meet them, Y/N. Give them a chance, please. You’ll realise- they’re gonna love-”

He stopped when you shrunk in on yourself, vehemently shaking your head. Neither of you said anything, just allowing the snow to fall around you and cover you in white. You’d be shivering in just a few minutes, hair and skin wet, feet shaky on the cold ground.

Jungkook looked down, hands in his pockets, shoulders slumped.

“Okay.”

You stood there as you waited for him to turn his back to you and walk away, waited and waited to be finally alone. He’d do it and you’d be alone and you’d be proven right, vindicated. Relief would flood you, knowing you had seen it coming, had always known correctly, protected you, at least, this time of hurt and-

The keys looked cold to the touch.

“Take them. Wait in the car. Call Chae or whoever to come pick you up. You can leave the keys in the car. I’ll get them later.”

Jungkook was ordering you, telling you what to do. And though he spoke with finality, allowing no room for you to disagree, his voice trembled and shook. You didn’t have to look to know the tears staining his cheeks, to know how much you had hurt him, realise that in your quest to do the best for both him and you because he deserved better and not be hurt and left in the end, you had done just that to Jungkook, plunged the knife into his heart and pushed it further even as he spat out blood.

“It’s fine, I can-”

You couldn’t even finish your sentence before Jungkook grabbed your hand and placed the keys into your palm, forcing your fingers shut around them with his own. His touch sent sparks through your body. It’d be the last time he’d ever touch you, you realised, and before you could stop it, the tears spilt. But you didn’t let out a noise, kept your head low and eyes even lower.

“Merry Christmas, Y/N.”

Jungkook hesitated before letting go, his feet dragging as he walked away.

Maybe it was you holding the gun, not Jungkook.

→ thanks for reading !! if you have any thoughts, id love to hear it!

#jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #jungkook x reader #jungkook scenarios #jungkook fanfic #bts scenarios #bts angst #bts fluff #jungkook implied smut #bts x reader

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violentdelightsandviolentends · 25 days

Text

Honey Girl. Chapter Eight.

chapter one. chapter two. chapter three. chapter four. chapter five. chapter six. chapter seven. series masterlist. the playlist.

Chapter Synopsis - Turns out, you’re not the only ones with a secret.

Pairing - Dadsbestfriend!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader - soulmate au

Warnings - cursing. mentions of hospitals/medical settings.

Word Count - 5k

Authors Note - I promise that the reveal was supposed to be in this part!! but I hit 5k words real quick and thought rather than rush it, I’d give it its full own chapter. guess what’s coming next ;). as always, thank you for your love and support and patience and encouragement and kindness. don’t know where I’d be without it <3

as always, if you enjoyed this, please consider reblogging!! reblogs are the only way to circulate my writing, which generates more of it. feel free to send me a comment or an inbox, too!! thanks, my loves!! <3

Masterlist. Inbox.

The sun beams through the white linen curtains, salty ocean breeze drifting through the open window. The rays warm your skin as you kick off the sheets, stretching your arms above your head. You turn over, to find the space next to you empty.

Rubbing the sleepiness from your eyes, you yawn, inhaling the scent of breakfast. Throwing on Bucky’s soft blue button up, you pad out to the kitchen to find him at your stovetop, shirtless and sun kissed.

“I’m getting the full girlfriend experience, huh?”

He grins at the sound of your voice, entire body lighting up with it.

“Girlfriend,” he laughs. “This is the soulmate experience, baby. It’s even better.”

You shake your head, but you can’t fight the smile that etches itself on your face. He looks so at home here, so comfortable. He reaches up to grab a plate from your cupboard, and you feel the sudden urge to burst into tears.

He knows where everything is.

He’s learnt his way around the kitchen just like he’s learnt his way around your heart. Your soul. Your very existence.

“You okay?”

He turns off the burner and glides over to you, warm hands finding your hips like it’s second nature.

“What’s wrong? You like pancakes,” he teases, leaning in to press a kiss to your forehead tenderly. “Oh no. Did you want waffles?”

You shake your head, swallowing down the lump in your throat.

“I’m fine,” you say, but your voice cracks instantly.

“Doesn’t sound like it.”

He says it so gently, so carefully. You feel like a precious flower, something to be taken care of, cherished, loved. No one has ever made you feel like this.

“I just realised you… fit, here. Like you were always supposed to. I can’t really remember what this apartment was like before it had you in it too.”

Bucky cradles your face in his hands, tilting your head up to look at him.

“Wherever you are. That’s where my home is.”

You surge forwards to press your lips to his, alive and buzzing with the electricity of being loved so wholly. He reciprocates instantly, wrapping his arms around your back to pull you closer, so you’re chest to chest.

“Your pancakes are going to burn,” you mumble, forehead resting on his.

“Let them.”

“No, don’t let them. I’m not calling the fire department today.”

He laughs, kissing you again chastely before returning to his original position. He plates up your breakfast - pancakes, fruit, granola and yoghurt, with fresh coffee in your favourite mug.

“I could get used to this.”

“And you will,” he flirts, kissing the crown of your head. “Every day for the rest of your life, baby. You’re gonna have to wake up to my face forever.”

You pretend to shudder, laughing when he pinches your side.

“Come on, trouble. Let’s eat breakfast on the balcony and pretend we’re on a tropical vacation somewhere.”

“Sounds perfect.”

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

“We’re really doing this.”

You look up at Bucky, the heavy weight of his arm around your shoulders acting as a grounding agent. Your plates are discarded on the table, cleared and finished, the two of you curled up in your loveseat. The sun is getting warmer, and it’s bringing out Bucky’s freckles, all boyish and glowy.

“We don’t have a choice.”

“Honey girl, there’s always a choice.”

“Not this time,” you sigh, shifting so you can face him properly. “I wanted to do this on our terms, and now I feel like I’ve been forced into it. It isn’t fair.”

“We can wait,” Bucky reassures, confident and understanding. “We don’t have to do anything until you’re ready.”

“I am ready. I have been for a while. It just sucks that it feels like I’ve been pushed in a certain direction, you know?”

“I know,” he soothes, work rough fingertips tracing patterns on your bare legs. “But like you said, we were going to do it anyway. This is still our choice. These are still our terms.”

You press your lips onto his cheek, chuckling when his stubble tickles your skin. He retaliates by attacking you with kisses, planting them all over your face, wherever he can reach. You squeal, hands flying out to his bare chest to try and stop him.

“Your neighbours are going to think there’s a murder happening,” Bucky laughs, fingers sliding up your shirt to rest on your ribs.

“Oh no, they love you too much for that.”

He quirks his eyebrows in surprise.

“They do?”

“The lady that lives next door, Mrs Daniels - she’s like ninety, has that white cat you always see?”

Bucky nods in recognition, so you continue.

“She talks about how handsome you are every time I see her. Always asks when the ‘man that looks like a movie star’ is coming over next.”

He laughs, shaking his head as you tease him.

“Shut up.”

“I’m serious! She probably watches you come and go from her balcony. She’s gonna love it in the summer, when you turn up in your short shorts with no shirt on.”

Bucky chuckles, pulling you into him and leaning his head on top of yours.

“Don’t be jealous, baby. You’re the only one for me.”

“I better be,” you chide jokingly, pinching his thigh in warning.

“I’ve been waiting for you my whole life.”

There’s no humour, anymore. Just love. So much love.

“I’m here now,” you whisper. “And I’m not going anywhere. Ever.”

Bucky leans in to press a kiss to your lips, gentle and filled with a lifetimes worth of promise.

“I love you, honey baby.”

“I love you, Bucky Barnes.”

You let the morning sun slip over you like silk sheets, warm and smooth and completely luxurious. Bucky’s steady breathing grounds you slowly as peace and contentment settle into your bones, weighted and calming. No matter what happens today, you know one thing for certain - you have the security of Bucky’s love to fall back on.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

You’ve been sat in Bucky’s truck for twenty five minutes.

It’s parked down the block from your parent’s house, just out of the way. You were pulling in to their street when you panicked, begging Bucky to stop the car so you could breathe for a second.

“Sweet girl, we’ll be fine.”

“I know. I know,” you exhale. Inhale again. “Why is this so hard?”

“Because we’ve been thinking about this moment ever since that first night.”

“It’s almost been a year.”

That seems to stop Bucky in his tracks for a second.

“It… it doesn’t feel that long. Feels like yesterday. But also, somehow, like I’ve loved you my whole life.”

You lean over the console to kiss him softly, trying to ignore the hummingbird fluttering of your heart in your chest.

“Honey, I can feel your anxiety, remember? If you don’t calm down a little, we’ll both collapse.”

“Sorry,” you laugh, taking a deep breath. “Sorry.”

Bucky intertwines his fingers with yours, thumb running over the backs of your knuckles. Soothing, like a field of lavender gently blowing in the breeze on the first day of spring.

“We have to do it sometime.”

“I know,” you nod, squeezing his hand once, twice, three times before pulling away and fixing your hair in the tiny mirror. “Let’s do this. Now or never.”

You pull up outside your childhood home, instantly relaxing a little at the sight of the colourful drapes and flowers in the windows.

“Shit, Buck. We haven’t even planned what we’re gonna say.”

“We don’t need to. Just speak from your heart, baby. I’ll follow your lead.”

When you walk up the driveway, you know there’s no turning back. You also know that the weight on your shoulders will feel a hell of a lot less heavy when you leave. It’s a double edged sword, but you’re ready to wield it, with love as your armour and Bucky as your shield.

You stand a foot apart and ring the doorbell, bouncing nervously on the soles of your feet.

“Hi, sweetheart. Oh - hey, Buck.”

“Hi, Mama.”

“Hi, Lori.”

“Didn’t expect to see you both today.”

You go to speak, but she continues quickly.

“I’m glad you’re here. We need to talk to you both about something. Come in, come in.”

You look at Bucky, realising suddenly that your chest is filled with a foreign anxiety. It’s his.

You squeeze his hand chastely as you walk past him to enter the house, kicking off your shoes in the hallway.

There’s something in the atmosphere when you walk into the living room. The sun is still shining, everything is in its rightful place… but it feels wrong. You know Bucky feels it too, judging by the way his muscles tense next to you.

“Is everything alright, Mama?”

You hate the way your voice sounds like a child’s, small and naive. Your Dad is sat on the couch waiting, always happy to see you. You press a kiss to his cheek before taking a seat across from him, Bucky sitting next to you. Your Mom joins your Dad, both of them looking at you with too much compassion for a normal day.

“What are you two doing here?” your Dad asks, voice still full of light.

Something inside of you is telling you to abort mission, postpone until further notice. You listen to it, wondering for a second if somehow you and Bucky can send messages to each other telepathically all of a sudden.

“Mama said you needed to talk to me. To us.”

He looks taken aback, only for a second. Something like sadness flashes in his eyes before he paints that familiar smile right back on his face.

“Yeah, we do. You sure you don’t wanna tell us why you’re here, first?”

“It can wait,” you reassure, catching Bucky’s minute nod from the corner of your eye.

“Okay,” your Mom begins. “First of all, I need to tell you not to panic, okay? It’s going to seem super scary, but it isn’t.”

Bucky slides closer to you by a millimetre, but you feel it like it’s a mile.

“I don’t really know how to tell you this, honey, so we’ll just start from the beginning. Jack?”

Your Dad nods before taking over the storytelling.

“It all started last year. I was doing some work in the backyard. One minute I was mowing the lawn, the next I was lying on the ground.”

All of the colour drains from your cheeks, and Bucky slides ever so slightly closer again.

“We thought maybe it was heat stroke, or dehydration. No cause for concern, and nothing your Mom’s iced tea couldn’t fix.”

She takes his hand in hers, both of them with their eyes fixed on you.

“But then it happened again. In the shower, this time. I didn’t hit my head, luckily, but I did whack my shoulder against the tiles, which hurt like hell.”

He laughs, and so does your Mom, but you’re not sure what’s funny. Anxiety is rolling off you in waves so strong, Bucky’s worried he might pass out.

Your Mom takes back the reigns, continuing.

“I was insistent that he saw a doctor, which he was reluctant about. Luckily, he agreed, finally,” she gives him a look, “and we got referred to a specialist.”

“What kind of specialist?” you choke out. It feels like someone is sitting on your chest, constricting your lungs with every passing minute.

“A cardiologist.”

It seems to be that word that unravels everything for you. All you can think is cardiologist heart attack cardiologist surgery cardiologist. Serious. Serious. Serious.

“Sweetheart?”

You grab Bucky’s hand, praying that the familiar touch will ground you back down to Earth. When it doesn’t, you feel like you’re falling, down and down and down with no end in sight.

“Honey, it’s okay. Hey, listen to me. You’re okay.”

Your Mom sits down on the other side of you as your Dad kneels down, forcing you to look at him.

“Sweetheart, don’t panic, okay? Everything’s going to be fine. I know it’s scary, but I’m okay.”

“For now,” you whisper, limp in your throat forming.

“I know it’s a lot to take in, and I know it’s probably not what you were expecting us to say. We thought we’d wait until we had answers to tell you… but it’s taking longer than expected. Which is why we’re telling you now. We don’t want you to feel like you’re in the dark.”

Bucky’s running his thumb over the lines on your palm, reassuring and steady. He knows exactly how to comfort you, like a warm blanket wrapped around your shoulders. If you listen carefully enough, you can hear the drumming beat of his heart. You tune into it, letting the familiar rhythm calm you down.

“Sorry,” you murmur. “I’m being dramatic.”

“You’re not being dramatic,” your Mom responds, squeezing her hand over your knee. “It’s overwhelming. And we’ve just… thrown it at you, with no warning. It’s a lot to take in.”

You’re anxious and scared and completely lost. You’re also safe and home and completely surrounded by love from all sides.

“I’m okay,” you nod, taking a deep breath.

Your parents return to their couch across from you, but Bucky’s hand doesn’t let go of yours. If they think it’s strange, they don’t say anything. You have a feeling they’re a little preoccupied.

“Now what?”

“Your Dad is still undergoing tests to get to the root of the issue. Whatever they find, we know we’ll all be okay.”

“Your Mom’s right. I have an appointment this afternoon for an EKG. They’re trying to rule things out slowly. We’ll get to the bottom of it, sweetheart.”

“Are you okay?” you ask, suddenly realising you’ve accidentally made this about you.

“I’m fine,” he laughs. “Seriously. I know it’s scary, but I feel good in myself for the most part. The most annoying thing is that I can’t predict it - it just happens. Very inconvenient, if you ask me.”

Your parents laugh, and this time, you try to chuckle with them.

“You’ll keep us updated, won’t you?”

Bucky’s voice surprises you, somehow. His fingers are still intertwined with yours, but you’ve been so focused on your Dad, you almost forgot he was there.

“Of course, Buck.”

“And if you ever need a ride to an appointment or anything, all you gotta do is ask, alright?”

“You offering to take me on your motorcycle?”

“Sure,” Bucky laughs.

“Absolutely not,” your Mom says at the same time.

You chuckle for real, now. This feels like normality - the four of you, joking around. You have to remind yourself, sometimes, that Bucky knew your Dad before he ever knew you. You were away at culinary school when they met, but you were told stories instantly about this new guy in town who bought the old Garage and drives a cool truck. Your Mom, of course, didn’t fail to mention his big blue eyes and chocolate brown hair, or the way his shirt hugged his biceps. You thought she was exaggerating, when she said he was handsome.

Oh, how wrong you were.

You’re one hundred percent sure you’ve never met a more beautiful person. Maybe it’s your Tethering talking. Maybe it isn’t. You’re not unaware of the way people look at Bucky - he’s got this old school movie star thing going on, and people seem to eat it up. You get it. You get it more than anyone.

But it isn’t his pretty face that makes your heart skip a beat. It’s just him. Him, with his contagious smile and healing laugh and observant eyes. Him, with his confident demeanour but gentle touch, his mind reading abilities, his talent for making you feel like you’re the only person in the room. He’s a rarity, Bucky Barnes. A diamond in the rough. You remind yourself everyday how lucky you are.

He knocks his knee into yours, pulling you out of your daydream. He gives you a look that asks are you okay? to which you nod subtly in reply. A conversation, somehow both silent and loud.

“As much as I’d love to stay here all day, we should get ready to go. My appointment is soon.”

Your Dad strides over to you, wrapping you in his arms. You instantly feel like a little girl again, safe and protected no matter what. You bury your face into his chest a little more, inhaling the familiar scent of your home.

“Everything’s okay, sweetheart,” he whispers into your hair. “Promise.”

You nod against him, tightening your arms ever so slightly. He gives you a squeeze, letting you know he got the message.

As you’re putting your shoes on in the hallway, you can hear your Dad and Bucky chatting away about the baseball game from the previous night, routine easily resumed. Your Mom brushes your hair back from your face, looking at you carefully.

“I almost forgot why you came here in the first place, babygirl. What’s up? What did you want to tell us?”

Your heart skips a beat and Bucky feels it, glancing over to you with concern in his ocean blue eyes.

“It’s okay, Mama. It can wait.”

She raises her eyebrows in scepticism.

“Promise,” you reassure. “Another day.”

She doesn’t look convinced, but lets it go anyway, pressing a kiss to your cheek gently.

“We’ll call you after his appointment and let you know what they say. We love you. So much.”

You hug her fiercely, realising that you don’t do it often enough.

“Love you guys. More than anything.”

Bucky gives you a nod that tells you he’s ready to go, both of you leaving a little different than you entered.

“Call us as soon as you get out of that room, okay?”

“We will, Buck,” your Dad laughs, mock saluting his best friend.

Bucky chuckles, falling into step next to you as you walk down the driveway. You make your way down the street, out of your parents view, before your knees give out. He manages to catch you just in time, strong arms wrapped around your middle. You both sit on the kerbside, Bucky rubbing soft patterns into your back through your shirt.

“Baby, hey. You okay? Talk to me.”

You take a deep breath, looking at him with watery eyes.

“What if it’s bad, Buck?” you whisper. “I can’t do this without him. He’s the best Dad in the world.”

Bucky pulls you closer, fitting you into his side perfectly. Two pieces of a jigsaw puzzle, made for each other.

“They don’t lie to you, honey. They’d tell you if it was really serious. All you can do is wait, and hope everything will be okay. Which it will.”

You rest your head on his shoulder, letting his warmth calm you down.

“My Mama knows something.”

“Like what?”

“About us. She didn’t say anything, but I could see it on her face. She didn’t push it any further, but she was definitely suspicious.”

“We’ll tell her soon. Give it a little more time.”

You nod, wrapping your arms around his bicep tightly. He presses a kiss into your hair, inhaling the scent of your shampoo as he does it.

“Let’s go home, hmm? We can sit in the sun for a while, chop up that pineapple we bought yesterday.”

“Sounds perfect,” you whisper, looking up at him.

The afternoon hits his face just right, all warm yellow light and soft angles on his cheeks. The intermittent salty breeze ruffles his hair, all fluffy and sea swept. He looks like an ancient statue, a work of art from the renaissance, a museum piece. The sun could burn out tomorrow, but you’ll have a life source forever. Your Soulmate.

Bucky takes your hands in his and helps you to your feet, heavy arm slung over your shoulders as you walk back to the truck.

Your light in the dark. Your water in the desert. You’ve never been more grateful for him.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

“Close your eyes.”

Bucky’s driving you home, the sound of the ocean waves hitting the shore a replacement for the radio.

“What?”

“Close your eyes, sugar. I want to show you something.”

“How are you gonna show me if my eyes are shut?”

He chuckles, pinching your thigh.

“Just shut up and close your eyes.”

You smile gently before doing as he says, covering your face with your hands for good measure.

“Where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise. You’ll like it, I promise.”

You relax back into the seat, allowing the breeze from the open window to whip through your hair. Eventually you come to a stop, Bucky clicking off your seatbelt for you.

“Keep ‘em closed.”

Bucky sprints around to the passenger side, swinging open the door and wrapping his arms around you. He practically carries you out of the car, ensuring you don’t trip while you have no vision. He plants you on two feet, making sure you’re steady before he lets go of you.

“Okay. Open your eyes.”

You blink slowly, adjusting to the brightness of the afternoon.

You’re in the middle of nowhere. The two of you are stood on a huge, grassy plot of land, overlooking a small cove of the beach. You’re tucked completely out of the way, not a neighbour to be seen. All you can hear is the ocean, the birds, and the sound of your thumping heartbeat.

“Where are we, Buck? It’s pretty.”

He takes your hand, looking out towards the water.

“This is gonna be our house.”

Your head whips around in shock, confusion written all over your face.

“What?”

Your voice is barely above a whisper, but Bucky hears it, clear as day.

“I bought this land years ago, when I moved to town. I always knew I wanted to build a place of my own, but I could never get the plans off the ground. Something didn’t feel right. And then our Tethering happened…”

He squeezes your hand tightly, pulling you into his side.

“And everything fell into place. I was waiting for the right moment to show you, and it feels like you needed it today.”

You can’t speak. You’re completely lost for words, looking out at the perfect view. Turning to him, you throw your arms around his neck, burying your face in the crook of it and inhaling.

“Thank you,” you murmur into his skin. “It’s so perfect. You’re so perfect.”

“I’m so lucky,” he chuckles. “My God, you were worth the wait. I’d wait another ten lifetimes if I meant I got to love you again for one of them.”

You’re glad he’s holding onto you, or you’re convinced your legs would give out. You lean up to press a kiss to his lips, savouring the spearmint on his tongue.

“I love you,” you pray into his mouth. “I love you so much I can barely breathe.”

He kisses you back, harder, determined to show you exactly how he feels about you. Your fingers tangle into his hair, making him groan as you tug. His hands slide down to your ass, gripping harshly as he pulls you into his front. He wants every inch of you pressed together.

When you pull away, he rests his forehead against yours.

“You can have anything you want, you know.”

“Hmm?”

“With the house. I know we talked about it that night, at dinner in California. But if you think of anything else you’d like, all you gotta do is tell me.”

“One storey or two?”

“I was always thinking two.”

“Then I’d like a balcony, on the master bedroom. I love mine back at my apartment, especially in the summer.”

“Done,” he confirms, pecking your lips again.

“And a porch,” you whisper. “That we can sit on and watch the waves, when we’re old and grey.”

“I’ll be grey a lot sooner than you,” he jokes.

“You’re a lot more relaxed than me,” you laugh. “So I doubt that, actually.”

You rest your head on his warm chest, both of you swaying to the song of the ocean.

“We’ve got plenty of time, Buck.”

“All the time in the world, honey girl.”

The two of you stay wrapped in each other for a little while longer, enjoying the company of the one person you were destined for.

You can’t remember why you were ever so against soulmates. Loving Bucky is the easiest thing you’ve ever done.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

The two of you spend the rest of the afternoon curled up on the balcony, letting the sun warm you from the outside in.

“Pineapple will always remind me of those margaritas,” Bucky smiles, throwing a piece into his mouth. “Our first date.”

“And last, apparently,” you laugh. “We haven’t been on one since.”

“I mean, we sort of date everyday, right?”

“Yeah, I guess we do. After we’ve told my parents, we don’t have to worry anymore. We can go out whenever we want, whenever we want.”

“Exactly,” he murmurs, leaning in to kiss you tenderly. “Not long now.”

The sound of your phone ringing startles you both, your hand flying out to find it in the cushions of the loveseat.

“Hello?”

“Oh, thank God. I half thought you were dead.”

“Not dead, Lacie. Just busy.”

She laughs, and you realise suddenly how much you’ve missed that sound.

“You’re back in town, right?”

“Yeah, just for a few more days. Then I’m gonna go back to Cali and pack up my stuff for good.”

“Perfect! Me and you are doing dinner tomorrow night. I want you to meet Cameron.”

“Really? Finally! I’m so excited, Lace. Your place, or are we going out?”

“Come to mine. Cam is the best cook, seriously. I’ve gotta run, we’re picking out a couch today. A couch, babe! Can you believe it?”

“Happy couch shopping, you two,” you laugh. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Love you.”

“Love you, bestie! Bye!”

You can’t help but smile when you hang up the phone.

“She’s gonna love having you back home again, isn’t she?”

“Oh, yeah. I can’t wait to see her more. I know she’s been so busy with her soulmate and me with work and with you, but I miss her like crazy. We text all the time, but it isn’t the same.”

“She knows about us, right?”

“Yeah,” you giggle. “She was the first person I told.”

“Thought so,” he laughs, pulling you back into his side. “Knew you wouldn’t be able to keep it from her for long.”

“She can practically read my mind. It was easier to avoid the truth over the phone, but the minute I saw her in person, I crumbled. She gives me this look, and I’m done for.”

Bucky chuckles fondly, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“I can’t wait to get to know her properly.”

“Oh, she’s gonna love you.”

“I hope so.”

“She will, trust me. She used to talk about how hot you were all the time. Pre-Cameron, of course.”

“I’m glad you’re finally getting to meet him.”

“Me too. I feel guilty, you know. It was the biggest moment of her life, and all of a sudden I’m up and leaving across the country, barely keeping in touch through scattered text messages. I was so wrapped up in you and in work, that I wasn’t there for her like I should have been.”

“I’m sure she’ll understand if you say this to her, honey baby. You have to remember that her Tethering was a lot less complicated than ours. They just got on with things, as easy as can be.”

“I guess you’re right,” you murmur into his chest. “I’ll tell her all of this when I see her tomorrow.”

He wraps both arms around you, pulling you impossibly closer. You relax instantly, the warmth of his skin and familiarity of his touch soothing you like melted honey.

Your phone rings again.

“I bet it’s Lacie moving the plans around,” you chuckle. “She always underestimates how long it takes her to get everything ready.”

You find your phone from under the cushion and answer it.

“Hi, sweetheart.”

“Mama?”

“Where are you?”

The sun disappears behind a cloud, sending a shiver down your spine.

“I’m at home.”

“I need you to go and get Bucky, and come to the hospital.”

Your heart stops in your chest, and Bucky has to breathe for the both of you.

“Why?” you ask, barely above a whisper.

“I’ll explain when you get here, but it’s more serious than we thought.”

She sounds scared, which in turn terrifies you. She’s the bravest person you know, your Mom. If she’s afraid, you know it’s bad.

“Okay,” you choke out. “I’m leaving right now. I, uh, I’ll get Bucky, and - do you need anything? Does Dad? I can bring whatever… whatever you need, what do you need?”

“Nothing, baby girl. Just you guys, for now, okay?”

“Okay. Yeah, okay. I, uh, I- I- I’ll leave right now. Where is he?”

“Follow the signs for Cardiology when you get here. Room 4.”

“He’s in a room? In a bed? Mama, please. What’s happening?”

You’ve never heard your voice sound so weak. You’re kicking yourself internally - you have to be strong for her. You need to be.

“Baby, just get here as soon as you can, okay? Get Bucky to drive. I love you.”

“I love you too. So much.”

You try to hang up the phone, but your hands are shaking so much that you’re unable to press the red button. Bucky does it for you, intertwining your fingers with his.

He pulls you to your feet, smoothing your hair back from your face.

“It’s all going to be okay, honey. Put your shoes on and grab your purse. I’ll get my keys.”

He kisses your forehead gently, letting his lips linger for a second before pulling you inside and shutting the balcony door.

He doesn’t let go of your hand the entire time, even as you drive to the hospital.

You feel like you’re drowning. Repeatedly slipping beneath the surface of the water, lungs heaving, desperate to stay afloat.

Bucky feels it, too. All he can do is hold your hand and hope for the best.

All he can do is hold your hand and hope for the best.

tag list part one

@lillytracy6996 @securegorgon @roostersforevergirl @povlvr @val-writesstuff @dreadfulxives18 @1deadpool26 @abbygraceasd @nyutasgirl @mavrellover91 @winterslove1917 @f-this42 @skewedcherries @noisesinthedark @kandis-mom @black-cat-2 @harrystylesandthegoobs @vladsgirlxx @h0nestly-though @arienotari @nash-dara @wandaneedstherapy @galaxy-dusk @justherefortheficandsmut @cremebruleequeen @cjand10 @buggy14 @avengers-fixation @blueberrybambi @beautiful-loserr @sarah1barnes @miss-rebel-without-applause @ragingrainbowshipl @shamrockqueen @savemeroman @jenn-f @8crazy-freak8 @daddyjackfrost @openup-yourmind @adangerousbalance @mandijo17 @daddylorianisastateofmind @rcarbo1 @casa-boiardi @spideegwen @navs-bhat @mssbridgerton @asuni921 @middle-of-the-earth @mfrnchsk

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luvring · 1 month

Note

https://vm.tiktok.com/ZGeyFC7mc/ this but with keiji 🫣

(link :3) Stop. i literally have a multi-chara plan in a doc for this rn. STOPP MY KEIJI :((

a little suggestive, gn!reader

keiji didn't have a bad day, and when he's expected to join four different meetings in the next couple of weeks, alongside editing longer chapters than usual in time for this week's publication, not having a bad day is all he can really ask for.

though, maybe there's one thing, one privilege he'll always ask for at the end of the day to make it a little better.

"keiji!"

your voice rings clear as you jog to meet him at the entrance, slippers loud against the wooden floor. he hangs up his jacket just in time for you to grab his hands with a grin— "c'mere, i need you for a minute."

his lips form a half-smile, even as he furrows his brows while you pull him into the living room. "no 'hello'? no 'how was your day?'"

you turn to look over your shoulder. "hi, baby, how was your day?"

"it was okay, could've been better. thanks for asking. how was yours?"

"mm, could've been better, too. but i'm gonna make your day right now, sit down."

and he does, of course; he lets his bag fall off his shoulder and land on the rug, untucks his shirt and pushes up his glasses that have fallen down the slope of his nose. all the while, you take a seat beside him, close enough that your thighs touch, and balance your phone on the coffee table against the books that keiji thrifted a week ago.

he makes sure he isn't staring at you when you finally turn the camera on.

"wanna record a video with me?"

"people usually ask that before setting up the camera," he points out, "but, yeah, okay. do i have to do anything?"

"no, well, yes, but it isn't hard or anything. i'll explain when i hit record."

and before he can ask if this is another prank trend, you've started recording with a smile on your face.

"hi, guys! so, i saw this trend going around, and i wanted to try it out."

keiji narrows his eyes.

"basically, i have my husband here, say hi, keiji."

"hello- wait—"

"and he's going to list off his favourite colognes, and i'm gonna rank them!" you turn to face him, feigning innocence you know you don't hold. "go ahead, babe."

it's obvious what's going on, what this video is really supposed to be. he knows, and yet he can't stop from looping that word in his head again—

husband.

husband?

his eyes flicker down to your ring finger, then back up to your eyes.

keiji thinks he's stopped breathing.

he has stopped, actually—he's doing it manually, telling his brain to let out the carbon dioxide in his lungs for oxygen.

in,

husband-

out,

husband-

in-

would you like him as your husband?

out-

it's a push and pull, and when he thinks he can manage to say something, a "seriously?" or "well, the one i bought recently has a vanilla note that i've been enjoying," you make eye contact with him through the screen. again—

"c'mon, husband."

his head drops to your shoulder, and he pouts at the immediate laughter that follows.

"what's wrong, keiji?"

arms wrap around you, a hand finding its way to rest on your hip. "stop."

"stop what?"

"i hate you."

"you hate me? guys, my husband hates me, can you believe that?"

"oh my god."

keiji burrows his face into the crook of your neck, and you yelp as he nips at your skin— "keiji!"

your voice makes him pull you closer, hide a little longer, because despite everything, he knows he has a stupid, lovesick grin on his face, and that's something he wants only you to see.

so it's only after you reach to stop the video (with no help from your boyfriend that continues to cling onto you) that keiji finally looks at you, his cheeks flushed pink as he smiles.

then his fingers climb up to your waist, his skin warm against yours under your shirt, and it's your turn to be shocked this time,

"what are you—"

heat travels up your neck as his eyes look down at your lips, and he asks, "can i try to make your day better too?"

#haikyuu x reader #akaashi x reader #akaashi fluff #haikyuu fluff #luvring.txt #myleg...MY LEGGGG MY #love keiji... in my head hes soo easy to write for... and then i get here and #i dont question myself on anyone as much as i do w my keiji posts. Alas. AKAASHI!! uyeagahahh #q

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captainfern · 5 months

Text

141Rugby!au [18+]

• Part Four - Greedy •

Captain John Price x fem!reader

•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•

You've recently started a new job as a physiotherapist for an English Rugby Union team. It's your job to ensure that all the players are in top shape for upcoming games against other strong teams. This job is absolutely perfect for you: good pay, good hours, a fun and exciting atmosphere to be apart of. But there's just one thing you can't seem to understand– the same four players seem to need more attention than the rest.

chapter summary - the captain confronts you about your relationships with his teammates. his reaction isn't what you expected lol.

rating - 18+

wordcount - 7.8k

chapter warnings - fem!reader, slow-ish burn [but not really cause ik you're here for the porn], body worship (price is literally obsessed with you fr), fingering, handjob, mentions of foursome/sharing, unprotected piv, sex in a car wooo, praise, multiple orgasms, tummy bulge?, price has a sir kink, strong language

disclaimer - physiotherapist, or staff x player sexual relations are not allowed in the real world. but please keep in mind this is fanfiction. it's fake. if you have an issue with inappropriate relations with faculty, blurred morals [etc], then please do not read. additionally, reader be fucking in this series. all four. separately, and at once. it's not cheating, i promise. it's consensual sharing <3

Price is a flanker – provides support play, maintains possession of the ball, and is both fast and strong defensively. price is also the captain of the team, of course.

see my rugby union introductory for definitions of rugby words

<- part three | part five ->

•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•

After your little... encounter with Simon, he helped clean you up. He gave you a pair of his joggers– which were baggy, but you tied them tightly using the drawstring, and they worked just fine. He then helped (watched) you clean the cum and saliva off your face with a cocky smile resting on his lips. When you finally did shoo him out of your office, he snuck one more quick kiss to your lips, before disappearing out of the door.

Back at your desk, you lit your favourite smelling candle to permeate the air and hopefully eliminate as much of the smell of you and Ghost as you could. But ultimately, this was a physio's office. It's bound to have a lingering smell of sweat and body-odour from the players anyway, so hopefully no suspicion would be aroused.

You also opened your window just a sliver to allow a steady stream of cool air to enter the space. Because, as you sat at your desk, you couldn't help but feel warm. Warm, because your body was still alight with the feeling of Simon– his hands on you, this thigh between your legs, his cock in your mouth...

A heartbeat appeared between your legs, and you tossed your head back with a groan. Not now, for crying out loud. You ran your hands down your face, before trying to settle yourself comfortably in your chair. But it was hard to do so when you could still smell Simon's cologne in the material when you angled your head a certain way. Even over the sweetness of the candle, and the light smell of rain in the cool breeze, you could still smell him. And that made your stomach flip, your cunt leaking into your already drenched underwear.

It was unpleasant, but you had just one more appointment before a break. Then you could go home and get changed and hopefully ignore the smug look Simon'll give you all day. Great.

A soft knocking on your door drew you away from your thoughts, and you looked up in time to see Price poke his head in. He smiled warmly, eyes squinting as he entered your office, and you returned the smile as best you could as you quelled the twisting in your lower stomach.

"Morning, captain," you greeted, gesturing to one of the chairs sitting opposite the desk. "Have a seat."

"Morning, doc," Price said as he sat down, his hips immediately shifting in the chair as his legs spread, hands clasped over his lower stomach. You forcibly ignored the movement to stare intently at your computer screen. Price looked around your office. "This might be my first visit, actually."

"It sure is," you said. "And how are you feeling?"

Price's eyes were on you the second you spoke. "I'm feeling fine, thanks, doc."

"That's good..." You uttered, before spinning around in your chair to fish his file from the paper copies in the back. Once you found it, you slapped it open on your desk, skimming your eyes over it. "Okay, so it's a shoulder injury, right? Talk me through what happened."

Price pulled up the short sleeve of his right arm, exposing the joint of his shoulder. He also exposed the strong, curved muscles of his upper arm and the way the tendons flexed when he held it towards you for a better look.

"S'just something sore in the top here–" Price tapped his fingers against the curve of his shoulder just beside the bone. "Not sure what it is. I hit a tackle a bit hard last game, and it hasn't come right."

You nodded along, listening attentively. "Does it usually get better on its own?"

Price nodded. "Yeah, I just have a bath and I'm good as new. But this one's causing me a bit of strife these past couple'a days."

You scribbled a few things down on his file before standing up with a clap of your hands, gesturing to the medical table. Price got the hint, making his way over and perching himself on the edge, his feet still on the ground. Meanwhile, you grabbed a few things from the cabinetry nearby, and approached one he had settled.

"D'you mind taking his off?" You asked him, tugging at the material of his training shirt.

He chuckled, using his good arm to pull it up and over his head. "If you wanted me to strip, doc, you could've asked me earlier." He joked, finally pulling the rest of his shirt off and letting it sit on his lap.

You rolled your eyes. "Very funny."

Fucking hell.

You physically had to turn your head towards his shoulder, rather than allowing your eyes to rake down the expanse of his torso. Price was made up of thick muscle, not necessarily defined in taut lines, but in curves along his body. His pectoral muscles, the bulges in his biceps and forearms, the slight pudge in his stomach as he sat. His chest and abdomen was brushed with short, dark hair– slightly lighter than his facial hair, though– and your body had a genuine reaction at the dark happy trail disappearing into the waistband of his trousers. Oh my god.

You shifted your body simply in the direction of his right arm and shoulder, using both of your hands to get a feel of the area. His skin was warm beneath your palms, and you couldn't help but feel slightly nervous at the way he watched you too. Gently, you squeezed and around the bone of his shoulder, then up along the ridge towards the junction of his neck. You pressed firmly to the muscles above the shoulder blade, and then trailed your fingers back down towards his collarbone.

"Any pain through here?" You asked as your hands moved, fingers pressing into the muscles just above the collarbone.

He shook his head. "Nothing too bad."

"Nothing too bad?" You echoed him through a question. "Price, you need to tell me if there's a bit of pain. I don't want you just ignoring it if it hurts."

Price spared a smile, and you found yourself liking the way his facial hair moved with his cheeks as his mouth curled upwards. Then you found yourself internally scolding yourself.

"S'just the space just below my shoulder, on my back–" Price tried to move to point with his sore arm, but he stopped with a subtle wince you picked up before the expression dropped.

"Okay, why don't you sit back down on this chair, captain?" You prompted, dragging the chair he was just on over to the medical table. You pointed to it again, and Price slipped off of the table and sat down in the chair.

At this angle, you could now easily access his back– the broad, rippled expanse of his back.

Get it together.

With gentle firmness, you pressed into the spot just below the shoulder joint, nearing the top of the armpit. You felt his muscles flex beneath the skin, and you immediately withdrew. When the pressure of your hands left, Price looked over his shoulder to see what you were doing.

"Do you have any muscle weakness at all asides from the obvious pain?" You asked, moving to Price's side and taking hold of his upper arm.

He watched you with calculating eyes as your fingers moved along the curves of his bicep muscles, up until just below his armpit, where you squeezed the muscles again, and he grit his teeth. You noted the reaction as he answered your question.

"No weakness, just pain," he told you. "And it get's a bit stiff too. When I, you know, keep it in a certain position for too long."

"Mhm, mhm..." You hummed in acknowledgement, moving behind him once more. You still had one hand on his bicep and with that hand, you carefully pushed his arm upwards. Your other hand lay flat against the back of his shoulder, feeling the movement of the tendons as you lifted his arm. "Does it hurt when you move it this way?"

You lifted his arm until it was parallel with his shoulder. He shook his head, but you could see the way his jaw clenched. You sighed to yourself, bringing his arm back down to his side and giving him a few supportive taps on the lower arm.

"You have to tell me when you're in pain, captain, or I can't help you." You told him.

Price sighed. "Fine, yeah, it's sore when you do that."

You smiled. "Thank you." Then, you pressed your hand flat to the shoulder again, and instructed him to hold his arm out forward. He did, and you felt the tendons pull and shift beneath your palm. You allowed him to settle while you rounded your desk and noted a few things down on your file.

Price cocked his head. "Is... are we done?"

"Almost," you said, looking up at him and smiling. "You can put your shirt back on."

"Oh, right..." Price grumbled, then slowly pulled his shirt back on. He did it with ease as you finished writing in your file, now sitting comfortably in your desk chair.

"So it seams you've just got some inflammation of your rotator cuff," you told him, looking up from your file and tapping the tip of your pen against it absentmindedly. "You don't have much muscle weakness, which is good, meaning it's probably not a tear in your tendons. I'd say the cuff's just a tad bruised, so it should heal up in no time."

"My rotator what?"

"Your rotator cuff. It's a bunch of tendons and ligaments that support your arm where it connects to your shoulder," you told him, pointing at your own arm for example. "It's a common injury to have the tendons get a bit bruised from a tackle, or from scrums and what not."

"Right, okay..." Price nodded at your words.

You smiled at him once more. "Do you have any questions?"

Price cleared his throat. "Uh, well, what's the healing time on this?"

"Oh, right. Well, because it's not a tear or anything major like that, it could just take a couple of weeks to get the pain sorted and for the tender ligaments to sort themselves out," you said. "All you need to do is rest it, apply ice every once in a while to reduce any swelling or pain, keep on top of anti-inflammatory and pain medication– oh that reminds me, I'll send an email to the doctor to prescribe you with the right stuff."

You moved to your computer now, beginning to curate your email. Across the desk, Price watched patiently, eyes on you the entire time. You couldn't help but feel self-conscious. Half way through writing the email, you looked over at him and met his gaze. Maybe you should just make conversation, since the weight of his stare was sending all sorts of nervousness into the pit of your stomach.

"How're the lads going, Price?" You asked with your eyes on him, before chickening out with the eye-contact and returning to the email you were supposed to me sending.

Price leaned back in the chair, hands clasped over his stomach once more. "Yeah, not bad, doc. We're on a bit of a win streak, which always makes things better, doesn't it?"

You laughed politely, and also genuinely– because you know it's true. Hell, Soap and Gaz wouldn't shut up about the number of tests they've one so far this season, and their egos seemed to shoot through the roof.

"It definitely does help," you told him. "And have the boys been behaving themselves? Johnny's always up to something, isn't he? And I can imagine Gaz would be much the same."

Price let his eyes wander across your face and briefly over the rest of your body too– well, what he could see above the desk, anyway. He hummed a response, a sure from the back of his throat, as his eyes skimmed over you. He tilted his hips in the chair, his clasped hands now resting on his lap.

"Not sure if those lads can behave themselves, if I'm being honest," Price laughed, shaking his head at memories of his boys. Then, his laughter flitted out and the heat of his gaze settled back over you like a veil. He ran his tongue across his bottom lip in thought, still leaning comfortably in the chair, the pain in his shoulder almost forgotten about. "What do you think, doc? Have they been behaving themselves?"

Perceptive, analytical as always, Price saw the way you shifted in your chair. He noticed the way some kind of expressive emotion flashed through your pretty eyes, and he picked up on the way the corners of your mouth twitched ever so slightly– a frown or a smile, he wasn't quite sure, but the movement had a surge of pride filling his chest.

His boys had been treating you well. He knew that, of course. Gaz had already told everyone about how he pursued you and how, like the perfect thing you were, let him. Price'd also heard about Soap's little adventures in wooing you as well, although slightly less graceful than the winger. Last but not least, he knew that Ghost wanted you too. He knew the number 8 had a plan to have you, just like Gaz and Soap did. And judging by the way you shifted in your seat, the way you had a slight unbalance in your walk and the (obvious) fact that you were wearing Ghost's joggers, Price knew the lads had been successful.

It wasn't so much of a game to Price as it was to the boys. Obviously, they all did genuinely care for you, and appreciate everything you did for them, but the chase of it all was way too fun to ignore. But with Price, he thought– no, he knew– that he didn't need to chase you around like a bunch of horny dogs. He didn't have to apply any sly tactics to get you to talk to him. He just had to be himself because, based on the way you reacted when he so much as glanced in your direction, he knew. He knew you wanted him, too.

"Have they been behaving themselves?" Price repeated, watching the way your fingers paused over the keyboard.

You took a deep breath and sent the email, before turning to face Price with as much courage as you could. Did he know? Fucking hell, how did he know? It was all so confusing– how on earth did Gaz, Soap, Ghost and now Price know just the right things to do to get you worked up? It was almost as though they were conspiring with each other.

Oh, wait a fucking second...

You felt embarrassment flare through you as you met the captain's eyes. He smiled calmly at you as your head flopped and you hid your face in your hands.

"Please don't tell me they told you..." You all but squeaked into your palms, with the hopes of shielding yourself from whatever comment Price was about to make.

Price released a low chuckle. "Told me what, sweetheart?"

Your body heated up at the term of endearment. What was wrong with you? Four fucking rugby union players? Are you serious?

"Don't make me say it," you groaned, finally moving your hands away from your face. "Oh, god, I am so fucking sorry. I know it's– oh my god, this is so embarrassing– I'm so sorry. I'll quit–"

"Woah, woah, woah, doc, calm down," Price said quickly, holding up his hands in a gesture for you to take it easy. "It's alright, I promise. It's okay."

You chewed nervously on your bottom lip as the heat of his gaze was almost too much for you. You squirmed in your seat, Ghost's joggers almost too hot against your legs. Your stomach was in knots.

"If... if you're referring to you and the boys' little... encounters, then yes, they have told me," Price said softly. "And– listen to me, doc– it's okay. It's completely okay."

You placed your hands on your cheeks, cupping your face as your stomach swooped with each of his words. He was still leaning so casually in that chair that it was almost unnerving. But his tone was soft and genuine, and the sparkle in his eyes was still there as he looked across the desk at you.

"I'm... I'm not in trouble?" You whispered.

Price shook his head. "Of course not."

"And... you're not mad at me?"

"Mad at you?" Price frowned. Now he leaned forward, bringing the broad frame of his upper body closer to you. "Why would I be mad at you? Why would I be angry that you're taking care of my boys, hm?"

Taking care. Your whole body flushed with heat at that, goosebumps raising across your skin as you cupped your face tighter, a whine eliciting from the back of your throat. You weren't sure if the sudden sensations you were feeling was from the sheer embarrassment of this situation, or the fact that Price's comforting words, paired with the baritone of his voice, was– oh my god– turning you on.

What the hell was your life at this point.

"Price–" You whispered.

"Why don't I take you out to dinner, and we can talk a bit more about it. How does that sound?" Price asked, getting to his feet. Instinctively, you got to your feet as well, but you remained tucked behind your desk. You weren't sure if you were grateful for the small barrier between you and the imposingly attractive man on the other side of it.

"Are you sure?" You voiced, tentative. Your eyes darted behind Price to the door, where you could hear the rumbled voice of the coach echoing down the hall. Your stomach turned.

Price obviously knew what you were thinking. "It's okay, doc. You can come to dinner with me without getting in trouble. I promise you. I wouldn't compromise you like that."

You chewed your bottom lip again, thinking. When you did finally look back at Price and forcibly maintain eye-contact (which was difficult considering he was looking at you like he wanted to bend you over your fucking desk), you nodded.

"Yeah... dinner would be nice, thank you."

He smiled. A wide grin. "Yeah? Alright then, sweetheart. I'll pick you up at six-thirty. How does that sound?"

Your eyes widened, stomach flipping again. "Oh, tonight?"

Price nodded.

"Oh... oh, okay, yeah. Six-thirty's good."

"Good," Price was still smiling. "I'll pick you up then."

As he headed for the door, so casually that it made your heart rate pick-up, you called after him: "Don't you want my address?"

Price chucked as he opened the door. He looked over his shoulder and winked at you. "I'll just ask Gaz." And then he was gone.

Your entire body was on fire. What had you gotten yourself into?

•º•º•

Six-thirty rolled around and you were ridiculously nervous. You didn't know what to expect, and you had half the mind to just cancel and then lock yourself in your bedroom for the next few years. But when a knock sounded at your door at six-thirty exactly, you swallowed your nerves and opened the door to fine Price standing there.

The captain was well dressed, and you couldn't help but stare at how fucking good is arms looked in the dress-shirt. After exchanging pleasantries (kept to a minimum since you were afraid you might pass out if you talked too much), Price led you to his car and helped you into the passenger seat. He got in on the other side and drove off. You fidgeted with your fingers on your lap.

"You look gorgeous, sweetheart," Price said, sparing a look at you while driving. You felt yourself warm at his words, fidgeting with one of the rings on your fingers. He noticed, and reached his hand across the centre console and blanketed both of yours in one of his. "It's okay, doc. There's nothing to be nervous about."

"Nothing to be nervous about?" You asked as he began stroking his thumb along your knuckles. You hated admitting to yourself you liked it– and that you missed it once he pulled his hand away. "I have a lot to be nervous about, Price. One reason being I'm probably going to lose my job–"

"Why would you lose your job?" Price asked genuinely.

"Why would I lose my job?" You looked at him as though he was crazy. "Do you realise what–?"

"That's enough of that. You're not going to lose your job," Price decided to interrupt you before you had the chance to spiral. "You've done nothing wrong."

"That's not true–"

"You've done nothing wrong except look after my lads who, by the way, are very, very thankful," Price glanced at you, annunciating the second very in a way that made your heart skip a beat. He turned back to the road. "They're very grateful too. Not only have you patched up their injuries, you've given 'em something to focus on."

"Focus on?" You frowned.

Price nodded. "They tend to do better during games, and focus better during trainings when they know you're watching. And they love it when you watch. Makes 'em feel... proud."

"Proud?"

"Mhm, proud," Price said. "They're proud of themselves that they have a pretty thing like you keeping an eye on 'em, and they're proud of you for paying attention to 'em."

"Right..." You mumbled, eyes looking out of the windshield at the steady, fast-moving flow of traffic you and Price were behind.

Silence filled the car as you stared out the window, fingers still spinning and sliding one of your rings up and down your finger. You also chewed on your bottom lip briefly, all kinds of thoughts whizzing through your head. So many thoughts were bouncing around your brain that you were surprised that you weren't dizzy yet.

After allowing for a few moments of silence, Price glanced at you once more, clearing his throat. "Can I ask you a question, sweetheart?"

You turned to face him this time, altering your attention towards him rather than the road. You nodded, humming your consent and you watched as he stewed over the question in his head, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel.

"You like me how you like the boys?" Price asked gently. "Or are you just acting all shy 'cause I'm the captain?"

He looked at you once the car rolled to a stop at a red-light. The red reflections of the car infront's break lights reflected in Price's eyes, and you wondered whether your eyes appeared a glassy red too.

Despite your nervousness, the anxious bubbling in your stomach, the slight tremor in your fingers, you mustered up enough courage to look him dead in the eyes and say, "I think you're smart enough to figure that out yourself."

Price's eyes darkened, but his lips curled into a smile. The lights turned green, which drew his eyes back onto the road. After a moment of driving, of turning a corner and adjusting his speed to the traffic, Price glanced at you again.

"Four rugby lads, doc? You got a thing for four, hm? S'abit greedy, isn't it?" He almost purred, and the butterflies in your stomach were no longer there because of nerves, but because of... well... horny.

You shrugged, a rueful smile appearing on your face as the car stopped at another red light.

"There's nothing wrong with being a bit greedy, is there?" You prompted, eying the captain with purpose. "Besides, it's not an issue if everyone shares, is it?"

Price tutted at you, shaking his head with a sly grin on his face. He looked at you in such a way you swore you could've melted into the car seat. "M'not sure if you've noticed, sweetheart, but my lads and I... well, we work as a team, yeah? And we certainly don't have a problem with sharing. Especially when we all really want something."

"Hmm..." You hummed and the light turned green. Price almost didn't notice with how locked-in he was on you. You gave him a little nod– pay attention, captain– so that he'd continue to drive and not anger any of the cars behind.

Now, it was your turn to reach across the centre console and place a hand on the thick expanse of Price's thigh. God, you had been wanting to do that for so fucking long. And, making your heart flutter, Price settled a hand on top of yours and held it firmly. Warm and solid and secure.

"Have you shared in the past?" You asked, and Price's quick response was a shake of the head.

"Not like this," Price answered truthfully. "Not– not like this, no. We've talked about it, but we've never... agreed on anyone. Until..."

"Until?" You raised your brows.

Price smiled. "Until this pretty little physio strolled through the front doors of the rec room and made half the bloody team fall in love with her in the first fifteen seconds."

You laughed. "Half the team?"

"Mhm."

"Well, good thing I don't want half the team," you told him, finger's squeezing his thigh. He sucked in a breath. Your smile grew. "I only want four, and that's fair, isn't it?"

Your hand squeezed and groped the thick muscle of Price's thigh, and you could visibly see the way he stiffened– the way his body tensed up at your touch, waiting expectantly to see where your hand would move too. But you didn't move it from the spot around mid-thigh, petting him there beneath the weight of his large hand.

"Seems fair..." Price grunted, jaw tensing. Your fingers simply squeezing his fucking thigh was enough to have a significant amount of blood rushing towards his cock.

He tried to concentrate on the road. He really did. But your touch on his leg and– christ– the weight of your stare against the side of his face was enough for him to slowly lose focus. He missed the turn towards the restaurant but, as he was about to express his frustrations at having missed the turn, you opened that pretty little mouth of yours.

"Price..."

"Yeah, sweetheart?"

Finally, fucking finally, your hand trailed higher, and Price let you. He let your fingers skate just shy of the crevice between his thigh and groin, where his cock was definitely half-hard in his trousers. Price gripped your fingers tighter, but made no move to stop you. It was just purely to make sure he didn't absolutely lose it.

"M'not that hungry anymore. Well, not for food, anyway."

•º•º•

It didn't take long for Price to find a secluded carpark down an empty street to pull into. Maybe it's because he was speeding, maybe not. Either way, it also didn't take him long for him to settle himself into the backseat and pull you with him. And it certainly didn't take long for your clothes to be removed, and for him to be dragging his hands down every inch of your beautiful body.

Price groaned low in his throat the entire time he worked you with his hands and fingers. As you straddled his lap, he groped and grasped at your breasts, kneading the soft flesh against his hardened fingers and palms. He pinched lightly at the buds of your nipples, tweaking them with his thumbs, watching you closely as you arched against him.

His hands didn't stay in one place for too long, as though he was eager to touch you everywhere. His hands coasted down your sides, squeezing the expanse of your waist and hips, rocking you against him. Price watched the way he could manipulate your supple skin beneath his hands, the way he could form ripples and folds against the flesh beneath his probing fingers.

"You're fucking perfect," Price muttered as his hands moved from your hips to your thighs, running up and down. You whined quietly as he grabbed at your thighs, before shifting his hands back to your midriff, where he pawed at your stomach. His hands were big and warm, and one pushed down on the pudge of your lower stomach, pressing lightly. He groaned. "God, I can't wait to stuff this pretty tummy with my cock, sweetheart."

He said it so quietly, so tenderly, that it didn't make you moan. Instead, you released a whimper of his name as his gaze remained transfixed on where he pushed against you. Finally, he tore his gaze away, his eyes instead darting over every single inch of your face.

"You're gonna feel it right here, doc," Price pushed gently again, and you couldn't help but squirm against him. He hummed, content, as though the thought alone was absolute bliss. Which, to him, it was. "Yeah... yeah, m'gonna fill you up with my cum, n' you're gonna really feel my cock, aren't you, sweetheart? Gonna feel it right here in this pretty tummy..."

He rubbed your stomach as he leaned forward, his other hand clasping the back of your neck to drag you into a heated kiss. You whined against his lips as he split your mouth open with his tongue, delving inside with warm flicks against your own. You held onto his broad shoulders– minding his injury– and began absent-mindedly grinding down against him. He was still fully dressed, and that turned you on even more.

Price got the hint. He pulled out of the kiss, the small bit of facial hair just below his lower lip sparkling with your spit. He didn't go far though, as he continued mouthing at you, dragging his lips along your jaw and then down your neck.

"Unbutton my shirt." He whispered against your neck before skimming his teeth against the skin and sucking. You obeyed, popping the buttons of his shirt with shaking fingers. You managed to undo all of them by the time Price was finished practically chewing on your neck, judging by the amount of saliva and visible teeth indents against you. You expected something like that from Johnny, not Price. But either way, it turned you on. Of course it did.

"That's a good girl, well done." Price nosed at the bottom of your ear before pulling away and shucking the rest of his shirt off. His trousers followed– he popped the button under your excited gaze, unzipping them, before lifting his hips to pull them down.

He did so with you still on his lap, his strength not at all surprising. After his trousers were bunched up beneath you now, his boxers followed, and you let out a loud moan as his cock sprung free against his abdomen. Immediately, you grabbed hold of it, and Price released a thick grumble that had your cunt dripping onto his lap.

He wasn't as long as Simon, but Price was fucking thick. The weight of him in your hand had you whimpering, and the beads of pre-cum settling against his slit made your stomach flip. You ran your fingers gently up and down the solid, velveteen length, watching more and more pearls of pre-cum begin dribbling out of the reddened tip. He huffed out a breathy groan, watching the movement of your hand as your foreheads came together.

As you gently stroked his cock, one of Price's hands slipped down from your tummy to your thighs. His fingers traced the silken skin of your inner thighs before he found your slick core, his hand cupping you there for a moment before he ran a single digit up and down your folds.

You moaned against him, his finger joined by a second, now toying with your clit with tiny ministrations, as though you were made of glass. Your hand on his cock faltered as zaps of pleasure appeared in the base of your spine, forcing you to arch and wriggle in Price's lap. His fingers were warm and almost rough against the sensitive bundle of nerves, but you were in heaven– his circles growing deeper, his touch falling heavier as he drew shapes against you.

You moaned again, and this time, Price caught it with his mouth. He kissed you deeply, smoothing his tongue against your own as his fingers moved from your clit to your dripping hole. He wasted no time in pushing two fingers inside you, catching more of your moans in his mouth. He moaned too at the feeling of your tight, wet walls constricting around his fingers, your arousal smearing against his hand.

"Fuck, Gaz was right," Price groaned as he pulled out of the kiss, dropping his head to suck at the column of your throat. "This is such a perfect– fuckin'– pussy–" He punctuated his sentence with thrusts of his fingers, ripping whimpers from you.

His fingers worked quickly, thrusting in and out of you and filling the car with obscene, wet squelches. The windows– tinted, thankfully– were slowly beginning to condensate as you ground yourself down onto Price's hand while stroking his cock.

His cock twitched and leaked in your grasp, so hard that you could feel the heat of him against your palm. The flushed tip was leaking so much pre-cum that you had only had to spit once into your hand to slicken your movements.

Your stomach was no longer alight with butterflies or nerves. You felt confident and, hell, happily horny as you jerked off the captain of one of the best rugby union teams in the United Kingdom. As Price's head moved back to take a good look at you against his lap, it was your turn to lean forward and suck kissed up the side of his neck. He groaned loudly when you attached your lips to his skin, the vibrations tickling your lips as you sucked. You continued sucking kisses all the way up to the base of his ear, before nipping playfully at his earlobe.

"Oh, fuckin' hell..." He grunted, hips bucking into your fist, his fingers losing rhythm inside you for just a moment.

But he found his memento soon after you whispered into his ear, "You're making me feel so good, sir."

Sir. Sir, sir, sir–

Price leaned his head back against the headrest and groaned outwardly, the word sending even more blood (if that was even possible at this point) to his cock, more pearls of pre beading at the ruddy tip. He groaned your name, his fingers increasing their pace, the heel of his hand grinding into your clit.

"Sir? Yeah, that's right, sweetheart, call me sir." Price whispered as you sucked a bruise just below his Adam's apple. It bobbed at the feeling of your tongue and teeth laving against him. His fingers curled inside you, and you mewled against his skin.

His fingers, long and thick and hitting that good spot inside you, pulled you closer to release as you continued to fist his cock. You prised yourself away from his throat, giving yourself just a second to admire your handiwork, before you were tossing your head back as your entire body began to tremble. Your hand on his cock desperately tried to maintain pace, but you struggled with the way in which his fingers were fucking you. It was hard to focus on anything else but that.

"S'alright, sweetheart, let go've my cock and come 'round my fingers, it's okay," Price whispered, eyes on your face as he continued to curl his fingers inside you, thrusting upwards. You tried to keep your fingers moving around him, whining at him that you wanted to keep stroking his cock, but he shushed you, using his free hand to cup your face gently. "I said it's alright, doc. Jus' want you to come, yeah? Don't worry 'bout me, jus' come 'round my fingers."

Your mind wanted to ignore him, but your body listened– your hands flying up to hold onto both of his shoulders just as your orgasm rocked through you. You came around his fingers with a stuttered moan of his name, your hips tilting and rocking against his hand, his palm still flat against your swollen clit. He fingered you through your release, that had waves of heat rolling across you, his eyes transfixed on your face.

"An' Soap was right, too..." Price muttered, removing his fingers from your cunt and forcibly shoving them passed your lips and into your mouth. It was the first time of the night he wasn't gentle. "You do look fuckin' gorgeous when you come."

Before you had a chance to lazily wind your tongue around his fingers, he pulled them out of your mouth and sucked them into his own. It was lewd and wet, but the sight of his eyelids fluttering shut at the taste of you made your core begin to throb again.

You wondered if these men were increasing your libido somehow.

Price removed his fingers from his mouth and wrapped his hand around the base of his cock. He fisted himself for a second, his other hand moving to your hip to urge you to rise just a bit. You did, holding onto his shoulders for support, as you hovered over him. Then, Price guided his cock until it was aligned with the slick entrance of your cunt, before rubbing the leaking tip back and forth between your folds.

You mewled when he circled the head around your hole, probing gently but never pushing any further than a few centimetres. He did this repeatedly, his eyes on your face, watching your expression as he teased the head of his cock against your cunt. Eventually, you looked down at him with a fucked-out frown– your best orgasm-drunk attempt at scowling– and whispered, "Please fuck me, Price. Need you so bad."

"Aw, do you, sweetheart? You need my cock?" Price queried with just the right amount of condescension in his tone to have you wriggling against him.

"No– well, yes– but need you. Please, sir, please."

Slowly, Price pulled you down as he slanted his hips upwards, pushing his cock into your wet hole. You let out a desperate moan, clutching his shoulders as you sunk down onto him. The wet heat of your cunt swallowed him, your silky walls clinging to every ridge and vein on the length of his cock as he bullied his way inside you. Price moaned too, low and deep, switching between watching his cock disappear inside you, and watching the changes in your facial expression.

"There we go, sweetheart..." He bottomed out inside you, the tip of his cock nudging that spot inside you that had sparks bursting in your tummy.

You whined, pawing at him, dragging your hands down his bare abdomen and running your fingers through the coarse hair. Your fingers found his happy trail, and you rubbed the pads against it, whining still.

Price stilled, not yet thrusting. He chuckled lowly. "You like that?"

"Yeah, fuck," you said breathlessly. "Wanna kiss it."

"You can kiss it next time," Price told you, kissing you gently on the cheek. "This time, 'm gonna fuck you like you deserve."

That's when he held both of your hips and snapped his pelvis upwards, driving his cock deeper into you. You choked on a moan when he pulled out slightly and then shunted himself back in, proceeding to repeat those movements over and over and over again. Your moans were getting trapped in your throat as he planted his feet on the floor of the car and thrusted up into you, pulling you back down with ease. You bounced against him, hips rolling.

As he fucked you, you couldn't help but realise the gravity of your situation. The captain of the rugby union team you were physio for was fucking you in the back of his expensive car. Not only that, but he wanted to share you with three other players. And, not only fucking that, but you had already had your pussy eaten by one of them, masturbated in front of the second, and sucked off and thigh-rode the third.

What kind of blessing was this?

Now, you were being stuffed full by the fourth, who had an obsession with groping and grasping every inch of flesh he possibly could. As he speared you on his cock, he massaged his fingers against your hips, delving down into the top of your arsecheeks. Your breasts bounced in his face, and he had to stop himself from taking one into his mouth. Instead, he looked at you the entire time. You were the prettiest damn thing he'd ever seen.

"S'that feel good, sweetheart?" He asked, the car rocking gently around you, tinted windows fogging. "S'this what you needed? Needed to be stuffed full'a my cock?"

You nodded, swamped in delirium as you rode his thrusts, the head of his cock slamming against your g-spot, your cunt squeezing around him.

"So good..." You whined, thighs drawing tighter around him.

You were close, and so was he. Price knew he wasn't going to last very long as soon as he got inside you, and he was right. His balls were pulling tight, his cock twitching inside you as your cunt tightened around him. Sweat built on his brow, his breaths were falling in pants, and his thrusts were growing increasingly sloppy. He needed you to come.

He was in luck.

"Price, sir, m'so close–" You mewled, interrupting yourself with a moan. A thin layer of sweat covered your lower back, and the base of your tummy tingled with your growing orgasm. Your clit pulsed too, dragging against the hair at the base of Price's cock, forcing another desperate, whiny moan from your mouth.

He fucked you hard and fast, quickly snaking a hand down to toy with your puffy clit. The sudden, sporadic movement of his fingers paired with his deep thrusts were enough to tip you over the edge for the second time that evening.

You gushed around his cock, your orgasm drawing a long-winded moan from you. You moaned his name, your body trembling against him as he fucked you through it, the fat head of his cock unrelenting against that perfect spot inside you. Your arousal coated his cock, soaking through onto his lap as his pace increased.

"So fuckin' beautiful," Price whispered as your body went lax against him, barely managing to hold yourself upright. "Fuck. I can't fuckin' wait to share you with my boys. Can't wait for you to take all of us, how's that sound, sweetheart?"

You whimpered softly. That was about all you could do in your state. Two orgasms in and you were absolutely wrecked.

Price chuckled, thrusts mismatched and desperate as he grew closer to release. "Yeah, I bet you'd like that..."

His cock continued bullying up into the plug of your womb, stretching your cunt open and forcing more drips of arousal onto his lap. Price maintained his finger on your clit, rubbing lazily as his other hand held your hip tightly and pulled you back down onto him. He was panting like a dog, grunting from deep in his chest as your tight, wet cunt pulled him closer to orgasming. He can't recall coming this soon during sex ever.

He was so close. Before he came, he took his hand away from your clit and pressed down on your tummy again, moaning when he felt the light imprint of his cock fucking up into you. You moaned and, without much warning, came again.

"Christ–" Price gritted his teeth as your third orgasm spilt around him, your walls sucking his cock in further. Still with his hand against your tummy, and still stuffing you full of his cock, he whispered lowly to you, "See, pretty girl? I told you you'd feel it right here... my cock stuffin' this pretty tummy..."

He groaned, and with his hand flushed against the soft mound of your tummy, he came inside you. You could feel his release inside you, all thick and warm, painting your cervix. Price thrust a few more times before plugging his cock inside you and tucking you against his chest, the both of you panting.

You laid like that for a while. Both of Price's hands wound around you and held him to you, the two of you basking in a heady post-sex silence. After a few minutes, Price slowly peppered your face and head with kisses, rubbing his hands along your back.

One of his large hands cupped the back of your head where you rested it against his chest, listening to his heart beating.

"You okay, doc?" He asked, rubbing you, tending to you, appreciating you.

You nodded. "M'fine. Just sleepy..."

Price placed a tender kiss to the crown of your head, continuing to hold you close as the dark tint of his car windows and the condensation trapped the both of you in your own little world. Outside the car, evening had turned to night, and it had started to rain.

"Sir..." You said after a while.

He hummed against your, his face still pressed to the top of your head.

"Do... do you really want to share me?"

Price peeled his face away from you. Gently, he grasped the back of your head and angled your face towards him. He leaned down and placed a sweet kiss to your lips, before pulling back and gazing at you softly.

"Wouldn't mind it," he joked, but then said seriously; "If that's what you want, of course. You don't have to do anything you don't want too."

You nodded in acknowledgement. "I know... and, I do, you know."

"You do?"

"Yeah. I... I like all of you."

Price smiled. "Greedy girl, hm?"

"You love it." You bit back, chasing his mouth for another kiss. He let you swipe your tongue against his lips, and he smiled against your mouth when you attempted to deepen it.

You pulled back with a huff and he laughed. "Eager?"

"Shut up." You grumbled.

Price kissed you long and hard once more before settling back against the car seat. He took a deep breath, looking back down at you. You watched him expectantly. He cocked his head at you, brows raising, imploring a silent what?

"I can basically hear you thinking. What're you thinking about?"

"What am I thinking about?" Price placed both hands on your cheeks, holding your face so that he could get a really good look at you. He smiled. "I was thinking... I mean, the boys and I were thinking... are you free this weekend?"

•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•

#captainfern #141rugby!au #captain john price #call of duty #call of duty mw2 #captain price #captain price x reader #price smut #captain john price smut #cod price #cod smut

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❀ ❝ 𝘄𝗵𝗼 𝗵𝘂𝗿𝘁 𝘆𝗼𝘂? ❞

━ diasomnia (malleus draconia, lilia vanrouge, silver, sebek zigvolt) x fem! reader (separated)

━ after a fight broke out, you received several injuries and you tried to hide them from your beloved. however, he discovers your wounds and quickly comes to your aid. (f/n means first name) (reader can be yuu or an oc)

requested by: anonymous <3

request type: scenario

requester's message: “Who hurt you?” + taking care of injury/comfort

florist's note: hello, lovely anon! thank you for filling out the form~

this work does not contain spoilers for chapter 7, diasomnia’s arc.

do not steal or translate without my permission.

ko-fi here if you want to support me <3

━ 𝙢𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙚𝙪𝙨 𝙙𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙞𝙖 ━

it came as a surprise to malleus when he came to your room to see you hissing softly in pain as you dabbed your wounds with an alcohol-soaked cotton ball. you were in bad shape - smudged blood on the side of your lips, dried tear stains on your cheeks, bloody cuts on your forearms and fists - it was clear that you had gotten into a fight.

"child of man?"

hearing his voice made your eyes widen in panic for a moment before you hid the cotton ball and smiled at him, feigning innocence as if the wounds were magically not there. however, you knew better than to fool this man, for he has already seen how wounded you are and still dares to smile at him as if you were fine.

he stepped closer towards you, hands gently cupping your cheek as if he were handling a delicate treasure, his expression morphing from shock and concern to anger.

"...who did this to you?"

you froze the moment he spoke with clear anger in his tone, and you tried to stutter out a reply, "it's... this is nothing..."

"this is not nothing. who hurt you?" asked malleus once more.

"i just got into a fight with some students from another dorm," you mumbled, not wanting to give him more details. he stayed silent for a moment before reaching his hand forward and using his magic on you.

a quick feeling of relief and coolness engulfed your senses before it all died down. you no longer felt the pain in your wounds or the dizziness you experienced a few minutes ago.

malleus sat beside you and wrapped his arms around you, hoping to comfort you after whatever you have gotten yourself into. seeing as you weren't willing to tell him everything, he knew it must be something bad and you did not worry him.

his warm embrace relaxed your nerves as you sighed and sank into the feeling of his hug, resting your head on his chest as you wrapped your arms around him, "...they were making fun of me, so i had to defend myself..."

he stayed silent as he listened to you speak. the undeniable feeling of escalating anger filled his thoughts as he held onto you a little tighter the more you spoke of your recent encounter with the other students, "i was just defending myself, and they suddenly got physical... i don't know what i did wrong for them to hate me so much..."

malleus was sure you were silently crying into his chest as you spoke, and he held you close with a hand on your hand, caressing your hair as he spoke in a soft, comforting tone, "who were they, dearest?"

a soft sniffle was heard before you told him who they were and which dormitory they were from. the knowledge you gave him made him hum in reply as he kissed your forehead and gave you soothing words to calm you down.

as soon as the next day came, you realised no one was pestering you all morning. while you have welcomed this new sense of peace, you can't help but wonder if malleus had anything to do with their sudden distance... or disappearance.

━ 𝙡𝙞𝙡𝙞𝙖 𝙫𝙖𝙣𝙧𝙤𝙪𝙜𝙚 ━

lilia was humming a tune as he walked down the halls of your dormitory, bringing a mini bouquet of your favourite flowers that he picked out himself in diasomnia's garden. as soon as he arrived at your door, however, he heard soft sniffling sounds followed by a few noises of things moving around.

out of concern, he slowly opened the door and peeked inside, only to see you sitting before your vanity mirror, wiping your tears and the blood on the side of your forehead. the sight of this made lilia panic as he quickly rushed to your side, placing the mini bouquet on the table and cupping your cheeks as he spoke, "n/n?! my dear, what happened? who did this to you?"

you were surprised to see him all of a sudden, but you sniffled softly and spoke in reply, "a classmate..." lilia sighed and healed your wound, kissing your forehead right after as he hugged you, "oh, my lovely girl. why did you not call for my help?"

"i can handle it..." you responded as you looked at your reflections in the mirror, seeing him hug you tightly with your head on his chest as if he was cradling it like a baby.

"i know you can, my independent darling, but i'm right here to protect you and aid you," replied lilia as he looked at the mirror as well before kissing your forehead once again, "please, don't bite off more than you can chew."

"okay..." you mumbled before smiling at him a little, thanking him for healing you. you then glanced at the mini bouquet as you grabbed it and stood up, kissing his cheek as you spoke, "and thank you for the flowers."

━ 𝙨𝙞𝙡𝙫𝙚𝙧 ━

"n/n?"

silver's voice reached your ears as you looked up at him, seeing him look down at you with worry before holding you in a bridal carry, running down the hall as he rushed to the infirmary without another word.

it did not take long for him to set you down on the infirmary bed as he spoke while looking at you and the wound on your leg, blood trickling down your calves as it stained your clothes and his, but his stained clothes were the last thing he was worried about.

"what happened?"

you were hesitant to speak as he took off his jacket and wrapped it around you for warmth before speaking softly once more, "who did this to you, f/n?"

a soft sigh left your lips, trying to fight through the stinging pain on your leg as you replied, "it was just an accident... a bunch of students were playing in the courtyard, and i happened to pass by..." silver then looked at your wound before taking a quick glance at you, "may i...?"

you nodded, allowing him to inspect the injury and clean off the blood as you both waited for the nurse to arrive at the infirmary. after he cleaned off the blood, he held your hand and spoke in the same comforting and gentle tone, "be careful next time, okay?"

you hummed in reply as you tightened your hold on his hand, "...okay..."

silver was relieved that you were alright now. placing a soft kiss on your hand, he smiled gently, "i'll stay here by your side until you're healed."

━ 𝙨𝙚𝙗𝙚𝙠 𝙯𝙞𝙜𝙫𝙤𝙡𝙩 ━

the young diasomnia student was patrolling around the school one evening with the other diasomnia students as a means to look out for any dangerous creatures and/or people that may harm their master on the tournament the next day.

during the patrol, he happened to stumble upon you crying softly by the well in the courtyard. confusion and worry latched onto his expression as he ran towards you and held his arms out to help you up, "why are you crying?"

his voice was a little loud, as it usually was, but it brought you a sense of comfort and safety as soon as you heard him. you wiped your tears away as you looked up at him, and he could see some bruises on your cheek along with a few cuts on your lip.

sebek's eyes widened in shock for a moment before he held your shoulders and exclaimed, "who did this to you?!" surprised by his sudden exclamation, you did not reply.

"f/n, who did this to you?!" he repeated once more, and you finally told him who it was - a student in the same dorm as you who had been pestering you since your first day. once he knew who that was, an exhale of irritation left him before he carried you to the infirmary. once he set you down, he said, "wait here."

he then left the infirmary, letting you get treated by the school nurse while they asked questions about the incident. it wasn't until a few minutes later when sebek had returned to the infirmary with a rather tamer aura than earlier. he sat beside your bed, seeing the cuts on your lips cleaned and covered with ointment while you held a cold pack on your bruised cheeks.

"why did you not look for me?" asked sebek as he frowned, showing his pure sadness and concern to you as he finally settled down after a pit of anger upon seeing your bruised state. you held his hand and spoke softly, "i did not want to bother you while you work..."

"i..." trailed sebek before you caressed his cheek after you held his hand, "thank you... though... for bringing me to the infirmary." a sigh left sebek's lips as he spoke, "that's the least i could do..."

"and yet i appreciate it a whole lot more," you replied before he gently hugged you, hoping you'd feel better with his presence and semi-awkward embrace. the comforting moment lasted for a while before you asked, "by the way, where did you go?"

sebek stayed silent for a moment before he mumbled, "do not concern yourself over it."

the next day came and you were suddenly approached by the same student at lunch. you prepared yourself for any impact out of instinct, but what came next was nothing short of a shock. the student stood there, quaking like a leaf and face as pale as a ghost, "i'm sorry..."

hearing the apology stunned you. the student's eyes wandered around before they gulped and spoke in a louder voice, "i-i'm sorry for beating you up and causing you harm. from now on, i will stay out of your way..."

without another word, the student ran off and you were left stunned for a moment before you looked at sebek, seeing him casually having his meal before looking at you. you then smiled and thanked him, knowing that he had something to do with the sudden apology.

hearing your thanks made sebek smile as he spoke in the same confident and loud tone as he always does, "no thanks needed! as long as it means you'll be safe!"

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sugarmelin · 9 months

Note

My first req🤗 how about a 9th member au where all the members are yans for their lovely 9th member, they just love her so much they can't even think of letting her go:( they wouldn't outright manipulate her cause they don't wanna hurt her, they'd just subtly gaslight her into staying with them and not talking to anyone else😮 btw have a lovely day your so sweet:((-💋 anon

Everywhere you go

Paring: Skz x 9thmember!FemReader

Warning: Yandere, sub!skz, some smut, some dirty talk, gaslight, pervert action/thoughts, ect...

minors do not interact

Dan Bi note: Thank you baby, hope you have a lovely day too !

I apologize if you waited long, life has been... busy. Some sleepless night to finish this. Anyway!- I need to make into two chapters because there is ALOT I wrote. I had put everything here i, it would be messy.

I'm looking forward to your new request/orders in the near future !!

hope you love and enjoy it <3

Oh how sweet you are to them.. like a sugar cube, a beautiful butterfly~

- When you cheek up on Chan every time he overworks himself, when he has his expensive headphones on and can't hear anything instead the beats he's working on, while you were in front of the door of his studio.

You knocked a few times but you didn't hear anything so you decided to invite yourself in With his favourite food in your hand that you made for him.

You put the food on the couch before going behind him and taking his headphones off, he turned his chair around and was about to scold the person, thinking it was one of the boys trying to prank him but his eyes laid on you, softly smiling at him. His eyes widened, his mouth hanging open a little.

"What's wrong baby? Cat got your tongue?" You raised an eyebrow.

Chan shake his head a little before quickly answering "No Noona! I w-was just catch off guard-" he stopped talking before smelling something delicious, his eyes widened before looking at yours.

"Did you-" "Yes, I made your favourite food." "But-" "I know I didn't have to like you said so many times before, but I did anyway." You take the headphones around his neck and put them on the table, saving anything he was working on before turning off the computer.

"Now come on~ you need to eat." You grabbed his hand and pulled him to his feet, taking him toward the couch and Chan smiling wildly. You slowly feed him small pieces while he happily hummed, giving compliment about your cooking and making you shy before stuffing his mouth with more food to shut him up but he didn't complain, enjoying it.

- When Lee Know is tired and you take him in your arms, like his the most fragile thing. Caressing his hair like soft feathers, Bringing his head into your neck like a little kitty.

Telling him that he needs to get up and change, and also wipe off his makeup. But he whines and looks at you with big doe-like eyes, asking if you can do it for him.

After a few seconds, you sigh while shaking your head left & right, opening your eyes while playfully rolling your eyes and smiling down at him. Asking him to get off you, he whines but eventually, he gets up and sits near the edge while you got up to get the makeup remove and some pads.

Coming back and sitting next to him, gently taking his chin between your fingers and telling him to close his eyes, taking a look at his face before carefully cleaning it. Minho hums softly when you gently wipe off the makeup from his face.

After throwing the used pads into the trashcan, you look through his drawer for comfortable clothes. When he changed you give him a fluffy headband that matches yours although for Minho was purple, yours was blue.

You took him towards the bathroom and whines about 'wanting to sleep'. What Minho didn't expect was when you picked him up and put him on the counter and start doing his skincare for him.

When you finished his routine with a lip bump, you pushed him out of the bathroom while closing the door behind you, telling him that you want to do your skincare with some peace.

But does he listen? No. He starts throwing tantrums about 'kicking him out' while repeatedly knocking on the door.

"Noonnnaaa let me in~" when he was about to knock again you opened the door while repeatedly saying "I'm finished I'm finished".

You hold his hand and take him towards the bed you two will be sharing. When you lay finally down on the bed he turned around and said "Better not push me off the bed" while you said "Yeah yeah, sure" and gave him a thumbs up.

30 minutes later when you were sleeping, Minho slowly took your phone that was in the charger, it had a fingerprint lock so he carefully grabbed your thumb and unlocked it. He looked through your messages, the people you have been texting and talking to.

Minho's blood boiled when he saw you were talking to boys so he immediately start reading your chat with them, making sure you were not 'cheating'.

When he saw you were not, he let a long sigh while closing his eyes. He starts deleting chats and numbers and blocking them from your phone before turning it off and putting it back where it was.

Minho went back laying on the bed, his eyes locked on your sleeping form.

"Noona..." he whispers out with desire in his eyes before falling to sleep with a satisfied smile on his face

- Hyunjin had a bad day in practice and when he went back to the dorms, nobody was there.

He opened the door to the room that he shares with you and I.N when his tired eyes landed on his desk, a pretty medium white box with black ribbon on it, also his favorite pastry next to it.

His eyes widened, 'who put this in here?' He thought while putting his bag down and walking towards it. On the right side of the box there was letter wrapped prettily, he quickly opened the letter and start reading each word his vision saw;

To my dearest, Hyunjin.

I saw how felt today, getting annoyed every second for not getting the dance steps right and your hyung, Minho scolding you a lot this time. I'll talk to him, don't worry baby.

I got you the new art supplies that you wanted lately, it's in the white box that I'm sure you saw. Unfortunately, I can't be with you and

I see you tonight for dinner.

With love.

Y/n

From the corner of his eyes, He saw your panties in your laundry basket, staring at it for a few minutes. He remembered a few days ago, you and the boys performed 'Maniac' at Music Bank. The way your body moved, sing, your facial experience, your outfit.... oh my God he could go on and on about you !

He could feel himself get hard in his pants...

'No I need to take a shower!' Hyunjin told himself. But how could he stop himself? His legs walking on there own, taking him toward the basket, grabbing your black panties and taking a big sniff while closing his eyes, letting out a load moan.

He couldn't resist it...

"Noona..." he whimper out while stroking his cock slowly, biting his lips to prevent any sound to come out.

'Come on love, there is no one here except you and me. Let me hear your pretty voice~' you spoke In his delusions while gently touching his tip, Hyunjin bring his thumb on his tip going in circle motions, letting out a loud moan.

'Look at these heavy looking balls, are you full of milk for me babyboy?'

He let out a pathetic whimper. "Only for you Noona- ugh~" He speed his hand movement on, letting out moan after moan.

Slowly his moans and whimpers getting high pitch. Meaning his getting close to cumming.

'Are you going cum Jinnie?'

He muttered 'yes please please' 'I need it!' 'I'm a good boy!' under his lips over and over again.

It felt too real.

'Go ahead baby, cum for me' you say in his imagination and with that, he cum with a long moan. His cock twitching with every drop coming from his tip, Some reaching to his chest .

"Thank you Noona..."

- At night, I.N slowly opens the door to your room, tip-toeing toward your bed where you are sleeping peacefully after a long day.

He gently tapped your shoulder while whispering small "Noona" repeatedly.

Groaning softly while opening your eyes, slowly sitting up and letting out a small yawn. You looked at him.

The sight was so cute for Jeongin! And others would 100% agree too!

When you saw his 'sad & scared' like face, you immediately straighten up your posture. Asking him "What's wrong?"

"C-can I sleep with you n-noona?" He said while playing with his fingers and looking down, not making eye contact. He did look like a shy girl who was asking her crush out, but you didn't mind, it was adorable for you.

"I had a bad dream a-agein" he looked at you with doe eyes. Opening your arms, you give him the sign to come to you.

He smiled widely and almost jumped into your arms and made you lay on your back again, nuzzling his face into your neck. You tiredly giggled and put the blanket on both of you.

You slowly rubbed his back with your left hand, the other placed on his head.

Softly telling him "Noona is here", "everything is alright", "I protect you"

"Would you stay with me? With us?" Jeongin bring his head up and looked at you in the eyes.

"Yes-" "You promise Noona?" Although you were tired, you give him a small smile.

"I promise baby," you said before he bring back his head to where it was, his hold on you getting tighter

You slowly fall back asleep, Unknown of what you had promised or what 'bad dream' He had.

Like & reblog are appreciated and tell me what did you think !

Don't forget to eat, drink water, love and take care of yourself and body ☆⌒(ゝ。∂)

See you around ~

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winterrrnight · 3 months

Text

new beginnings

navigation

pairing: stepdad!soft!rafe x mom!reader

detailed summary: You weren’t living such a great life. Your husband had turned his back towards you and was drowned in his addiction to drugs, not giving any mind to what’s happening in the world around him. You knew you couldn’t stay with him, and let him continue ruining your life. So at the next moment you get, you free yourself from him and get a divorce, finally having a chance to breathe.

You were now alone with your toddler, and you knew you had to give her a life which seems perfect even without her father. She became your best friend, your whole world, your favorite person ever. Sage was a spitting image of you, a little enthusiastic kid but very clear at heart.

As much as you tried, you always felt the lack of another parent in Sage’s life. Even though she never showed it, a big smile always on her face as she was always playing around your house, you knew it was best she had two loving parents. But you were so busy with your job, and taking care of her, you never had a chance to go out on your own.

But then, almost like a hurricane, Rafe Cameron walked into your life. He occupied your mind like nothing else, and as you saw Sage loving his company more and more, you fell more for him, and he was very lovingly married into your family.

You never knew love can come knocking down your door at such odd times, when you had your child and no one seemed to take interest in you. But Rafe did. He loved you both with his entire heart, and changed your entire perspective on love.

This is the story of finding comfort and love when it seems the world has stopped spinning, when you feel you’re worthless, and you start to limit your own experiences. It’s about letting your door open for someone at a stage in life when it’s all too risky. It’s about trust, and letting yourself free from the chains you’ve so hurtfully wound yourself in.

SERIES CHAPTERS:

and so we meet - chapter 1

here we are again - chapter 2

familiar yet unrecognizable faces - chapter 3

the blue in your eyes - chapter 4

ONESHOTS:

BLURBS:

CONCEPTS:

HEADCANONS:

content warnings: as this is a wip, there isn't much to tell. but, I can assure it won't have any NSFW content in it, or any other dark themes. it may bring up drug addiction, but appropriate warnings will always specified at the start of each part so you can avoid what you don't want to read!

update: the series is now also being posted on wattpad! check it out here and follow me at _starkeyfilms if you feel like! <3

taglist: @runningfrom2am @saccharinesammie @maybankslover @totalswag @madelynie @chenslucy @ietss @elle-mp3 @viawritesstuff @wallsdreams @tahliac11 @sadfury @newsies-pape-girl @jamesbuckybarneswify @xxxlaura @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles @callsignwidow @starkowswife @rafeinterlude @rylie-m @zulema222 @karmasloverrr @leixwhite02 @congratsloserr @rubixgsworld @dilvcv @fandom-life-12 @drewstarkeyswifehoe @jjchaer @f4ll-for-you @fishingirl12 @wearemadeofstardust0 @drewsmusee @stvrligghtt @rafegirly @leighbronk @addriaenne @rafesdrew @bejeweledreverie @crgirlsworld @valenftcrush @lillywildly @julovesurmom @raf3sgff @drewstarkey1bae @aerangi @moneymaybank @spideysimpossiblegirl @the-tortured-poets-depxrtment @mellyie

please let me know if you would like to be added or removed!

edith speaks: oh my god! this idea is absolutely thriving in my docs and I knew it had to be so much more than just a fic so here it is!! I hope you all really enjoy reading this :) please keep on interacting with me through my asks, discussing headcanons about the fic, and any little thoughts you may have! it's my absolute favourite thing ever to talk about fics <3 you can always talk to me as an anon (I accept anon emojis!) or just as you want! 🤍

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morallyinept · 4 months

Text

Adrift With You - A Frankie Morales Series

Summary: Heading away on a work re-location, Frankie embarks on a flight, but unbeknownst to him, his life is about to change forever. For starters, he will need to fight for it; harder than he's ever fought for anything else before.

Marooned on an isolated island in the middle of the ocean, still recovering from an addiction, his chances of survival are bleak; but he’s not alone on the island, and soon he’s running towards a different kind of life - a life with fellow survivor, Jude, fighting right beside him every step of the way.

And if they can both survive the island together, they can survive anything, right?

Pairing: Frankie Morales x OFC Jude

Frankie is in his early 40's, around 42/43, Jude is in her late 30's, around 37/38. Jude has mid-length hair - other than that, I've tried to keep Jude as a blank canvas in terms of ethnicity/eye & hair colour. This is so you can imagine yourself as Jude, if you'd like to. If I miss anything, please kindly let me know. Images are for aesthetic purposes only, no direct reference to Jude.

Word Count: 120K - give or take... it's novel length. 👀

Scoville Smut Rating:🌶️🌶️🌶️ “You tell me I’m doing well, and then, you try to kill me.”

Check out my Scoville Smut Ratings here.

WARNINGS/TRIGGERS: Survival/mentions & descriptions of a plane crash/death/drowning/starvation/dehydration/malnourishment/injury/sickness & illness/depression/PTSD/drug use/drug addiction/mentions of loss/sorrow/angst/brief mention of miscarriage/bleeding/blood loss/cheating spouse - I promise it's not all doom & gloom.

EXPLICIT: Unprotected PIV (wrap up, folks!)/fingering/oral both M & F receiving/hand job/masturbation - all the good stuff.

NSFW. MINORS DNI! OVER 18’s ONLY. YOU ARE SOLELY RESPONSIBLE FOR WHAT YOU READ.☝🏻Don’t come at me; you’ve been plenty warned.

I write for me, and I share with you. If this story isn't for you, that's fine. Just slip quietly out the back door. No need to make a fuss. It's just a work of fiction.

Author’s Note: This is a story I wrote a long time ago, and have re-edited for Frankie. It's a story I have poured a lot of love into, and probably one of my favourite things I've ever written. I really hope you enjoy Frankie & Jude's story. 🖤

MAIN MASTERLIST | FRANKIE MORALES MASTERLIST

Enjoy! 🖤

Chapters including smut - 🌶️ Trigger Warnings will be highlighted red, if any.

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 11 🌶️

CHAPTER 12 (Trigger Warning) 🌶️

CHAPTER 13 🌶️

CHAPTER 14

CHAPTER 15

CHAPTER 16

CHAPTER 17

CHAPTER 18

CHAPTER 19

CHAPTER 20

EXTRAS:

Playlist

Moodboard by the amazing @sawymredfox 🖤

TAGGING ISSUE <- Read if you want to be tagged.

Frankie & Jude as SIM's characters by the wonderful @fckyeapedrothots99 🖤

Adrift Clip by the awesome @survivingandenduring 🖤

This will probably be around 30-40 chapters or so, maybe less depending how much I bulk them out. I'll add chapters as I upload. New chapters will be added on a Sunday starting mid January 2024 - Please ensure you're following me and switch on notifications so you don't miss out on this story.

MAIN MASTERLIST | FRANKIE MORALES MASTERLIST

#pedro pascal x reader #frankie morales x reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #frankie morales #frankie morales x you #frankie morales triple frontier #frankie morales smut #frankie morales angst #frankie morales fluff #triple frontier fic #triple frontier #adrift with you series #jett's writing

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loganlermanstanaccount · 8 months

Text

Rigor Mortis (part 7)

College roommate!Miguel O'Hara x reader

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

Part 6, Part 8

summary: You spend some time with Miguel.

warnings: smut. f receiving oral, fingering, grinding, switchy behaviour from both sides, angst. 18+ Minors DNI

a/n: this chapter beat my ass icl

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

Join my taglists here

wc: 6.3k

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

all-consuming grief,

It’s going to be a warm night. It's ushered in by the kind of dawn that bleeds red and gold, tawny and autumnal in the waning light. Like the washy colours of a Renoir, and he doesn’t even notice that he’s doing the thing he swore black-and-blue he wouldn’t. Reminiscing and romanticising; for the first time in a while, Miguel is able to see the sun set, legs splayed on the brick of his front steps.

Sitting by worn metal railing, he’s still in his work clothes. He chucked his rucksack on the step above, leaning long legs onto the ones below. They don’t ache as much as they used to, well-trained by a couple months of running and spending more time in the gym. There’s a shake in the fridge, labelled ‘Tuesday, PM’ that he’ll gulp down before bed, and one labelled ‘Wednesday, AM’ that he’ll take before setting off in the morning. In the morning, with cloudy skies and street cars to keep him company. There’s too much pollution, light or otherwise, for him to see some stars. He hasn’t seen stars in a while, now.

Long days seem to have turned into just days somewhere along the way. He can’t quite pinpoint when, and doesn’t really care to, but he thinks his brother would call it “progress”. There’s a grimace on his face as he thinks about it; a word that tastes like mud and feels like swirling cement in his mouth. It’s all bullshit, really. Gabi’s paltry attempt at therapising him, one which he would usually nip in the bud - taking metaphorical shears to slash at weeds and dense conversation. Catch-up calls about how he feels, how he’s doing – when he’s fine, he always is – as if Gabi is waiting for a shoe to drop.

He’s waiting for Miguel to have an epiphany, a breakdown the size of a collapsing star. It’s not coming, he keeps telling his brother, and the sooner the younger O’Hara realises – without the wide eyes and the pity – the better for the both of them. After all, Gabriel is his baby brother, and he’s spent his whole life worrying on his behalf: playing hide-and-seek in little closets and putting back together broken toys. Trying to drown out the sound of shouting and broken plates. They’re too old for all that, the worrying and gulping back tears, walking its well-travelled paths – and it doesn’t feel right that Gabi should do the same for him.

He sighs, deep and heavy and rolling down that quiet street. After what feels like forever, he’s tempted to lie down, to rest his head on the stone, close his eyes and think of something else. Of someone else - lots of someones, at this point in the day. He’s not the weepy type, but he is tired; shaking off the wear and tear, and fighting off sleep.

Then he sees it; a figure walking towards him, all sandals and khaki shorts and smiles. Mr Estevez, donned in his year-round attire of a polo shirt, a little tight around the middle, and cargos cut off below the knee – finally appropriate, considering the weather. He’s strolling closer like he’s got all the time in the world. If Miguel wasn’t so exhausted; the bone-deep kind, the kind that seeps into skin and lines a casket; he would’ve been annoyed. Instead, he hisses, furrows quickly deepening.

“Buenas, Miguelito!” Mr Estevez beams, scratching at scraggly facial hair.

Miguel frowns, but greets him nonetheless: that politeness drilled into him during childhood rearing its head.

“Buenas tardes, tío.” He grits his teeth as he gets up from his seat, creaky joints and all.

His landlord, the building’s handyman, owner of half a dozen shops all over the city, and Miguel’s uncle-that’s-not-really-his-uncle; Mr Estevez wears many hats, staying bright and informal regardless. He’s known the older man since he was 6, so he can’t be too disappointed; his tío has been late for weddings, funerals, and his little boy’s birth – it’s not much of a surprise that he’d be late now, too. Miguel stretches out a rough palm, and the man stops just shy of his hand, completely ignoring it. Before he knows it, Miguelito is engulfed in a great big bear hug, with wet kisses pressed to the apples of his cheeks. He doesn’t know where to put his hands, as usual, so they hang limply; arms flailing to his sides like a t-rex.

They separate, and he coughs at the great big hand that slaps his back. Grumbling, he walks up to the door, bag over his back, and stands expectantly. Mr Estevez doesn’t follow, instead dusting himself down to sit on the steps.

“I just need to get into the building.” Miguel starts. “Forgot my keys, and I've been here for hours. M’tired, and I–”

“Let’s sit, Miguel.” He scoots over, making space. “Look at the stars.”

It’s clear the older man isn’t moving. Begrudgingly, he obliges. “We’re in the middle of the city. You only see “stars” in the river – beer bottles and tinned crap reflecting the lights.”

“Language.” He gets a sharp nudge to his ribs.

“Discúlpame, tío.”

They stew for a moment, bathing in the silence that follows. The man besides him is the first to speak.

“I spoke to your mother.”

He’s scoffing and moving to get up, before feeling a firm hand on his shoulder.

“She’s worried, Miguel. Says you haven’t called in a while.”

“She hasn’t called me either."

“She’s stubborn.” The man besides him chuckles, bringing gentle eyes to meet his own. "Pig-headed. Remind you of someone?"

Miguel rolls his eyes, he just can't help it.

"She’s also the one that moved back home, so either way–”

"You know it's all been hard on her."

" –on her? It's been hard for her, surrounded by family, after she abandoned me? A-After…" His voice gets dangerously hoarse, threatening to crack under the weight of those words.

He can't stand the pitiful look sent his way: brows drawn, lips pressed into a thin line.

"Sorry. It's… It's nothing. I'm fine. Just fine."

"I didn't ask if you were fine, Miguel."

–even though you're definitely not okay. That part is left unsaid, spat onto the pavement like bitter backwash.

Mr Estévez sighs, ruffling a hand through Miguel's hair. It makes him hiss and dart away from the hand, pouting like he's a little kid again. He doesn't like it; the way he feels like all this life he's lived has been for naught. Trials and tribulations, and yet he doesn't feel that ache of growth; still stuck in the shoes of an awkward teenager.

"You think too much, Miguelito. Always have." He smiles, the kind that deepens the wrinkles around his mouth. It twists Miguel into knots, mouth dry as he tries to untangle himself from that feeling. "I'm worried about you, kid."

He sniffs, eyes trained towards the pavement. There it is again, worry; complicating and unravelling what was meant to be just another day.

"It's today, isn't it?"

All Miguel does is nod, shakily. It's been 2 years since his heart was ripped out of his chest. It heaves now, an erratic rise and fall he’s doing his best to control. Breathe, deeply and calmly; try not to think about his little girl in that hospital bed, and those blank eyes staring back.

“M’fine.” It comes out more desperate than he intends it, and he curses under his breath. If Mr Estevez hears the crude language, he doesn’t react.

Miguel is tense, hunched over the bag on his lap and curled into himself like prey – spitting and prickly and clearly uncomfortable. He’s never been the weepy kind, but the older man can’t help but think it’s a shame; so much love, and nowhere to keep it but inside. Miguel's bottled it up; the memories of precious Gabriella, all that warmth she brought out in her father; and he's turned them to poison pills to keep himself sick.

Miguel would never admit it, of course. He’s too stubborn. Pig-headed.

His tío sighs, moving to get up. He groans, in that dramatic sort of way he knows Miguel can’t stand, but still, there's a rush to help him up. Producing the door keys with a flourish, he pulls from the depths of cargo pockets, and unlocks the main door. Ushering in the younger man, who has grown so tall he needs to duck as he climbs the narrow stairs, there’s a finger prodded into the back of that cotton button-up.

“Miguel?” He starts, revving up a conversation he’s been meaning to have for a while now.

“Hmm?”

They both wait by the entrance of the apartment. The keys jingle in Mr Estevez’s hand.

“If I open the door, will I find out that you’ve driven away another one of my tenants?”

Conveniently, there seems to be a rather interesting spot in the hardwood that Miguel pokes with a dress shoe.

“...depends on your definition of 'driven out', tío.”

“That’s the third one this year! Not even 2 months– I knew there was something up. Not a single one of those little smiley faces to my messages, and–"

“I’ll make up for his side of the rent, you know I will.”

“I don’t like it. You should be saving up, to go get a house and settle down somewhere."

“I like living here, and I’ve said multiple times I’d pay the extra to live alone–”

“And then what? You rot in your room for the rest of your life?”

“I don’t– rot feels a little–”

“Nonsense. You’re lonely, Miguelito. If you don’t like it, you move out.”

They both know he won’t. It’s not really an option; the apartment is affordable and he likes living so close to his old neighbourhood, his old haunts. It’s like he’s tethered to that place with a bungee cord wrapped under his ribs, always snapping back.

“No promises, tío.”

“Doesn’t matter, Miguelito.” He sighs, scratching at stubble. “It’s been hard to find other tenants, with half the neighbourhood drying up. But as soon as I do–”

He points an accusatory finger at Miguel, and the sentence is finished for him.

“...best behaviour, I know.”

“Best behaviour.” Mr Estevez repeats, and starts to fumble with the keys. He throws a little comment over his shoulder. “I liked your lady friend, ages ago… the scary one, with the blue hair. She was–”

“Xina’s not scary, when you get to know her.”

“She was funny. Very pretty. Always paid rent on time, gave me food when I came to fix the heating…”

“It's out again, by the way.” Miguel chews his lip, with a strange expression. “And yeah, she was.”

The door swings open. Mr Estevez doesn’t let him off the hook, though, engulfing him in a warm hug. This time, in the doorway of his apartment, eyes screwed shut; he doesn’t try to wriggle out of it, melting into his tío’s arms. It feels different now that he’s not a kid: angry and hurting with a different sort of ache, but he leans into it, all the same.

~~~

There's a pressure released from the apartment, lately. Miguel feels… well, first of all, he feels ; thinks with his heart and not his head, sometimes. It's lighter, coming home with that weight on his shoulders and with someone there to distract him from it. Living life, he thinks, for the first time in a while. Vivid and vibrant and awake ; relishing the autumnal weather. It's always been his favourite season, despite how childish he thinks having a favourite season is; something you had asked him on a whim one morning.

Normally, he wouldn't entertain it, and with all the shit Pete spews, sometimes, he's had plenty of practice ignoring it. A well-timed dirty look, and then he'd get his head down and work; occupy himself with something less frivolous. But when you say it, with half a piece of toast sticking out of your mouth, it doesn't feel like a chore to answer. It doesn't feel like a stupid question, and he finds his face growing warm at the thought of you caring about these little things – wanting to know him , however that comes.

And so, his answer is Autumn. It's a little stilted; but catching him off guard after a run will do that to him. It's purely practical , he says, eyes tracing the slopes of your body in that shirt and shorts that stops at your thighs; high enough that he feels like a perv for looking. Autumn has temperate, even weather. Perfect for sweaters and hoodies. Warm enough that you don't need a jacket. Just right. You snort, nudging him. Bullshit, Mig. You flutter your eyelashes mockingly, your tone light. You just think it's the prettiest.

And he hums, catching you off guard. You're both drawn towards that little window over the sink, the one that overlooks a fire escape and the street. He's had that view for three years, now. Sleeves always rolled to his elbows as he does his washing up, but never quite looking. The street just below is framed in its windowpane, quite the pretty picture. Crisp leaves scattered on the sidewalk, carpeted in red and honeyed amber. And he can feel it from the other side of the glass; smell it, touch it, taste it. Autumn: hot chocolate and giggles, the crunch of leaves underfoot, and cupping tiny palms to warm them up. Sunsets seen for the first time, watched through bus windows on the way back from school – he misses those the most.

"You don't think it's beautiful?" You say, leaning your head towards the half-open window.

You don't notice, but he looks over to you, swallowing roughly. He says it with a small voice.

"I…I do."

You're darting to the bathroom not too long after, breaking the spell. Frustrated, he resists the urge to curl up into a ball and scream into his palms. He's got what he wanted; a good fuck, a pretty face, a warm smile. Friends, at the most, who happen to get the other off after a long day. A welcome distraction, at the least. He's got what his body has been telling him he needs for the past few months. It makes him feel weird, so oddly settled; but, all things considered…

Miguel is doing okay.

“...and I wouldn’t normally ask, but I swear , I left him…o-on read and he won’t stop texting me.”

Really, actually; he’s doing fine.

“It feels weird– mmffuck– but I can’t ignore him any longer.”

Maybe even… good. Better than okay.

“I still have a bunch of my stuff over there. At least half of it is clothes and books, a-and I’ve put it off for as long as I can…”

He hums in response, pulling quiet curses from you, above. Pressing the flat of his tongue onto your clit, your hips jump up and he purrs ; rearing up to dive even deeper into your pussy. Too quick for him, you catch on, hand in his hair to pull him up.

Sitting up on your haunches, he rests his head on your bare thigh – licking the taste of you off of his lips.

You tilt your head, looking at him with those eyes he can’t help but marvel at. A beat passes.

“...so?” You start, expectantly. “Will you help me or not?”

His response comes in the form of teeth nipping at pillowy skin. You yelp, and swat him away whilst he chuckles.

“I’m serious , Mig. It’s too much to pick up by myself. And you’re the only person I know with a car…”

“ Ouch, hermosa. ” He frowns as you peter off. “Is that the only reason you’re fucking me? For my car?”

“If I say it’s because of your sparkling personality, will you help me?”

For a moment, it seems like he’s got his brows pressed together like he’s seriously considering it, but it ends up being just smoke and mirrors. He’s pretending , biding his time to hook a hand under your legs and force you to lie down onto the bed. Your head hits the covers with a gentle thump as he hikes up the lip of that big tee even further; squeezing your thighs around his head like earmuffs.

It’s when he makes eye-contact, tongue circling your hole, that you realised you’re fucked. Up until now, he’s been toying with you – playing with his food, so to speak – lazily swirling his tongue around your clit and pressing buttons to see exactly where to push. And you'd welcomed it, a hand in his hair as you talked about your day – which he'd asked for, of course.

Now, he's insatiable, eating you out like a man starved; all tongue and wet kisses to your swollen bud. You're slightly raised up on his shoulders, clamping around his tongue as he fucks into you fervently. Big palms spread you wider, and he hums into it, content.

"So pretty ," He sets you down, pupils blown as he studies the way your back arches and the way your legs shudder in the sheets. He slides upwards, sitting next to you, tracing a hand across the gentle curve of stomach that peeks out from your big t-shirt.

Still coming down from your high, you're only just able to register it: he looks mesmerised, a dopey smile plastered on his face.

"What?" You scoff when a moment passes, and his hand inches closer towards your lower lips.

"M'just looking." He shrugs, with a little smile on his face. "I'm not allowed to look?"

You scoff, but you're still shaky so it comes out a little more pathetic than you intend. Nevertheless, you start to sit up but he stops you with a gentle hand at your chest.

"Call him." He says, pressing two fingers to your clit and then down to your gushing slit.

Maybe it's the way he hunches over you, eyes flicking towards your lips, or the way he slips those fingers in; but your eyes go wide, and you're choking on your next words.

"Call… Call who?" Playing dumb, dancing on a razor's edge, and Miguel only quirks up an eyebrow at the stupid question.

"You know who." He says it low, smooth and dulcet as he curls his fingers at that sweet spot, experimenting. "I'll help you, fine. But I want you to call your ex, too. Let him know when to expect us. Is that okay, sweetheart ?"

That last word comes with a twang, the lilting tone of what sounds like mockery. He twists the knife, nudging the flat of his palm onto your clit – still tender and throbbing from your last orgasm.

Before you change your mind, you pick up the phone laid face down on the bedside table, pressing shaky fingers to its screen. You don't dare to look up, knowing Miguel is watching; dark eyes studying your every move.

Flicking his wrist this way and that, he swallows roughly as your fingers stutter on the screen. Not completely satisfied, he still has the time to look smug, settling into a comfortable pace. Finally, your phone rings with a tell-tale dial tone. It rings once. It rings twice, and–

"Hello? " The voice is muffled as it says your name. Put it on speaker, Miguel mouths and you oblige.

"Hey, J-Jamie." The phone is shaky in your hands, so you lay it out next to you on the bed.

"It's late, baby." You don't have time to be annoyed at his tone – or the unwarranted pet name – because Miguel speeds up, pumping in and out of you with a little more force.

"I… I know. S-Sorry." You clamp down the moans that threaten to erupt, rocking your hips in time with the thrusts.

Head lolling back into the sheets, you spend a good ten seconds in oblivious bliss, until Jamie breaks the silence.

"You've been ignoring me for ages, baby… and then you call out of the blue. What is it?" He's tired, it sounds like. Irritated for sure.

"Just w-wanted to–" Miguel presses his thumb to your clit and you jump. Once back down to earth he has to prompt you to answer. "-my stuff! Fuck , I just want to pick up my stuff."

"...now?"

Tomorrow. Miguel mouths.

"Tomorrow. " You repeat, wrapping a hand around his forearm to slow him down. It's too much, too fast; and he has the audacity to add another finger, scissoring out to stretch your cunt.

"O-kay. " He clicks his tongue, with some things rustling in the background. "Okay. You're acting weird, but..."

You're conflicted. His tone makes you melt, reaching for your phone to answer when Miguel snakes a hand under your shirt, palming your tits. To your surprise, he presses shaky kisses to the skin, rolling around your nipple with the flat of his tongue. You keen, clamping a hand around your mouth to stop the noises that spill out.

"...we still need to talk about what happened. About how we left things."

Anger flares up at your chest; hot at the sheer gall. He wants to talk? Now, when you had been met with a brick wall of silence; begging and begging for even a simple explanation?

What made it sting even more was that even after the breakup, everything happened on Jamie's terms. He broke up with you, providing little warning. He completely ghosted you, refusing to answer countless calls and messages. And now, he wants to talk; to make himself feel better and wank off his own ego, no doubt. It's not bitterness that makes you press Miguel closer, to revel in the pleasure that he gives you, you convince yourself. It's for you ; finally, unabashedly, just for you.

You don't bother to answer, hanging up the call with a click. Tugging at his hair, you pull him off with a wet pop; slick-soaked fingers slipping out of your cunt.

He cradles your chin, angling you upwards.

"You okay? Too much?" It barely registers; you're too focused on the tangle of curls framing his face, and the rosy pout of messy lips.

You shake your head, writhing against the sheets.

"More." You move his hand over to rest between your legs. "Please, Miguel."

His eyes flutter, tongue darting out to wet his lips.

“Eyes on me, baby.”

He says it with sobering clarity, bolstered by just how precisely he slots against your bare pussy. You can feel it, the full length of his cock; pressed up against you as he slips it out of his sweats. Head spinning, it slaps onto your stomach. Your eyes practically bulge out of their sockets. Oh fuck. He's big.

"Just like that." He coos, spitting into his palm and pumping his cock. “Wanna see how pretty you look when I make you cum.”

~~~

When tomorrow comes, you’re still sore from the litany of bruises and hickeys littered. It’s a Saturday, and you’re up bright and early. Well, Miguel is up bright and early, clattering around in the kitchen as you wake up.

He seems energised, mug of coffee in hand whilst you rub the sleep from your eyes. You waltz into the kitchen through the open doorway, morning breath and all.

"Morning," You say, soft and giggly at the way he jumps ten feet in the air, too wrapped up in himself to notice at first.

"Morning." He breathes, melting when he sees you in the shirt he had picked out for you last night. He shakes himself out of it. "Hungry? I can make something."

"No, no. M'good." You sidle up to the counter, head clocked at the fancy machine on the heavy slab. There's a question on the tip of your tongue, one you roll between your teeth. "Could I have some coffee? I mean… could you show me how?"

Where you expect laughter, mockery, or surprise that you've lived here for months and can't figure out the coffee machine; he nods, patient and calm. You ask him more questions; curious with every flick of a switch, and the way he lights up when talking about it. To your surprise, you want to know more – anyway that comes.

He's talking about expensive beans, and his favourite roasts – and a place across town that sells the exact kind he likes, but it's too fucking gentrified for him to go there more than two or three times a year. That makes you giggle: his little pout, the press of brow; and he looks up in surprise before joining you in light laughter.

You finish, pouring cream into his special mug with a flourish, and he steals a sip before you can. You elbow him away, angling for that stolen taste. When you do, it is deep and rich; sweet in a way that reminds you of Miguel, grounded and balanced and silky. In short, it's the perfect cup of coffee. More than content, you hum.

"Is it good?" He asks because he's already making mental notes, planning to greet you with a hot flask of the stuff in the mornings – if it means he gets that smile, of course.

"Very." Fervently you nod, lips curved to the ceramic as you blow; and Miguel is trying really hard not to stare. Maybe it's the fact that he's seen you in a way not everyone gets to; pretty and vulnerable and writhing on the tip of his cock; but it has him fending off vivid daydreams. Your lips wrapped around his length, his hand pressing you further down, feeling that warmth as you choke on his–

He blinks and you're gone, padding off to your room with that mug of coffee. You return not too long after, phone in hand and tapping away at the screen. Miguel ignores the way it makes him feel, having your attention and then losing it just as quickly. Like a kicked puppy, he resists the urge to beg for more – of your time, of your attention – turning away to clean up instead.

"I spoke to Jamie," You start, leaning with your back to the counter as he rolls up the sleeves of a comfy sweater. "He said he'll be around later in the evening, after his shift. Around 10. Is that okay?"

He shrugs, not caring either way. You're a friend, and he's helping you because that's what friends do. He can still taste you on his lips, but it doesn't mean anything. Not in a way you'd want, anyways.

"Sure." He doesn't turn around, stealing glances at the open window whilst he clatters around. "I've got a session later on anyways."

He catches a flash of something on your face, and you're pushing it away; prickly and uncomfortable. In his defence, he's stopped bringing people over for faux chemistry tutoring and there's less banging coming from across the wall. Less , but not completely gone, because you've learnt he has a penchant for dropping shit and cursing like someone's Dad.

But you can't help but think about Sarah , and Jia …. and how close he would get to Sita on the dining table. Fuck .

You're sighing now, tracing the curve of his jaw as he settles in front of the window: jaw set, arms crossed, and distant. He does that sometimes, goes off somewhere else – all teeth and claws. Tense, brows drawn up in a way that makes you want to smooth them out.

You put your phone down and mug away, sliding across linoleum to gently nudge his shoulder with your own.

"Are we…" He starts, and you track his line of sight to a quiet street below. He hums, without looking away. "Are we good?"

It makes you turn. You blink, as if out of all the nonsense you bicker about daily, that was the most ridiculous. Good? Good? Of course we are, of course we always will be. How could we be anything else? You shut it down before it spills out of your mouth, overzealous and desperate.

He clarifies with a nervous cough. "Last night. Was it… good?"

His frown deepens, and you wonder if it's just you that hears it in his tone. His real question, the one that makes you splinter and creak like a felled oak tree: Was I good? Am I good enough?

"Yeah. " You say it like the most obvious thing in the world – and to you, it is. For all his flaws; assholery and its trimmings aside; Miguel has never been a bad lay. You don't even think he has it in him; he couldn't half-ass it if he tried.

"It was–" Fucking amazing . The kind of thing you'll fuck yourself to for the foreseeable future. Cathartic and breath-taking and hot . All of the above.

Miguel finishes your sentence with something a little less… horny. "It was a lot, wasn't it? I wasn't really thinking, how uncomfortable it could be for you, and–"

Gently, you laugh and cut him off. "I've been having mediocre sex for basically the whole of my adult life, Mig. This is… exciting and new. I like it, I really do."

Exciting and new. It brings him crashing back down to earth. You're enjoying the way he makes you feel, the thrill . Not… him. Not really, anyways. That pang of disappointment feels different, for some reason. He's never liked the song and dance of flirting, but he cherishes its rewards: of being wanted, and someone wanting him . So that fiery flame of need; deep and heady; is unfamiliar under his skin.

"We can slow down, if you'd like." You bring a hand to his arm, warm and gentle. "I don't mind. We can go back to just messing around on the couch…."

You've got a cheeky smile when you say it; a vague memory of a different time, when you had gotten a little too comfortable on the sofa, leading to hands stuffed in trousers and pressed up against one another. Quick and desperate, you had wanted to see him fall apart; like he did your first night together, and the next, and the next.

He gets closer, sandwiching you between the counter and his body. With a gentle hand, he strokes your hip, bunching up the fabric to get a peek of thigh.

“What do you like?” He’s deadly serious, red-brown eyes searching your face for something he can’t quite place. And just like that, the air is thick with tension. All you can manage is a limp shrug.

“I don’t know, really.” It comes out as a croak , as you’re much too occupied with the shrinking gap between you both. “I haven’t done the things you’ve done.”

You’re making assumptions, of course. Filling in the gaps of what you’ve learnt in the past few months; of alleged threesomes and a laundry list of women at his feet. He’s an asshole; pretty and gruff and sarcastic; but God , he knows how to touch you just right.

“I could show you.” He slots a knee between your thighs and your head spins. “Make you feel good. ”

Before you can think, you’re nodding; chewing at your lip to bite back moans when he rucks up your shirt. He nudges your legs apart, both hands on your waist as he slots himself between them. You can feel it; quickly hardening, loose underneath sweats. Miguel slides wide palms to your ass, kneading its globes. With one hand, he picks up your leg by the thigh, and snakes the other to your pussy. Bare, because you’re trying to kill him, of course, and he groans at the feeling of his hand at your cunt; already wet and pliant for him.

After a few wet taps to your hole, obscene, he slips himself out and you heave; pussy fluttering at just the thought of him inside you. Gathering up your slick on his palm, Miguel pumps his weeping cock, pressing its tip to your hole.

"Still sore, Miguel." You hiss, looking down at where you both meet with the prettiest pout he thinks he's ever seen.

It has you clawing at his back for purchase as he finally sinks in, stretching you out in that wonderful way he did last night. Except this time, he's slow and careful; steeling himself with shaky breaths.

"Oh, fuck. " He settles in about halfway, stopping to hike up your leg just a bit higher. "Want me to make you feel better?"

He says it breathless and crooning, forehead comes to rest on yours. With that other hand flat on the counter, you're lifted up to only toes on the floor, and he angles himself to buck up; filling you deep, and cock sliding past that sweet spot inside. He sets a pace, grinding into you, rather than fucking. If last night was dirty ; taboo, quick and primal; then this morning feels different. Intimate and reverent, he rolls his hips perfectly ; sending flashes of that first night down your spine.

With the moans that spill out of your mouth, it takes all of Miguel's willpower not to swallow them in a kiss. Impossibly close, he traces up your thigh with a large palm; eventually pressing into the small of your back. Arching into him, your lips barely brush together, and you're both panting into open mouths; drunk on pleasure.

"Miguel." There's a warning somewhere in your tone; underneath the layers of lust, you remind him of your previous agreement.

"I… I know. " He swallows, nose pressed to yours, eyes screwed shut. He thinks if he opens them, he might spill into you right then and there.

He's trying, he really is, tracing your cheek with his nose and mouthing at your neck – light kisses against the skin. He smells like coffee, bittersweet and heady, and you groan, rocking into him in a way that rubs up against your clit – before finding an ounce of restraint and putting a hand to his neck.

You apply a little pressure, intending to push him away, but he likes it: eyes fluttering open, and mouth curved into a little O. It's a pretty sight that has you drooling, tits pressed against him as he practically purrs . And so, you pull him closer; nails dancing underneath his shirt, whispering filth into the shell of his ear. You're close, grinding into him like the push and pull of waves, merely waiting for the crescendo of orgasm to take you out to sea.

"I'm close, Miguel." All he can do is hum, pulling you closer. "Fuck, I feel so good. You make me feel so good."

"Yeah? " He asks, needy in a way you haven't quite seen before.

"M'gonna cum," You nod. "...because of you, baby. You did good. So good. Shit, ohh –g-god–"

You clamp down on him, gushing around him with shaky legs. And Miguel is good; patient as he watches you fuck yourself through the aftermath. When it finally slows, he slips out with an obscene squelch clamping a hand to the base of his cock and leaning heavily on the counter.

"It's okay," As if on cue, you kneel in front of him as best you can, tugging down your shirt to expose collarbone and the swell of tits.

Miguel growls, grunting as he splatters thick cum across your chest, pumping his poor cock through it.

He wouldn't have lasted a second longer, not with that smile across your face; smug as you swipe fingers across your chest and lick up the mess he's made.

He's sighing, tucking himself back into gray sweats and pulling you up with a hand in yours; grumbling as you absentmindedly follow him to the sofa.

You're leaning back onto the arm of the tattered material, and he settles to sit so your legs lay in his lap. He's frowning, again, and it makes you giggle, still licking up what's left on your fingers.

He rolls his eyes, tapping a spot on your chin. A fat glob of his cum, dripping from your jaw to your neck. You miss it on the first swipe, and he gets impatient on the second, grabbing your hands and clambering over you. He drags the flat of his tongue to your skin, licking it up for you – and your eyes go wide. That… that felt good.

You giggle at the sensation, so attuned to your roommate that you can hear it: his eyes clattering into the back of his skull, as he rolls his eyes a second time.

"Is that okay?" He says it into the skin, pausing over a particularly tender spot. "Not too far?"

"Feels nice, Mig." You sigh, content. Sun streams in on a lazy morning, and you're sore in the kind of way that feels good; fucked out and blissful.

You lean into it, and then he sucks , teeth clashing onto the skin as he gives you a hickey and the juncture of your jaw. You wriggle, and he pins you down with one big hand holding down your arm, nipping and kissing and soothing it with a flash of tongue. This time he smiles, wrapping around your middle, tugging down your shirt to decorate your chest with hickeys. You play with his hair, wrapping soft curls between your fingers.

You spend a little too long like that; curved into him, spines moulded to the shape of each other. It feels nicer than either of you would care to admit; the pretense of sex wrapped around you both like a thin veil. Before he leaves, Miguel indulges himself just this once; head on your chest and sinking into those arms wrapped around him. You smell like coffee and sweat and Autumn, somehow. He presses kisses wherever he can reach, for a bit longer.

Miguel is okay. He's doing just fine.

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dellalyra · 6 months

Text

𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙡𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨 - 𝙛𝙖𝙢𝙞𝙡𝙮 𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙢𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨

2 𝘺𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘨𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘴 - 𝘢 𝘧𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘺 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘳𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘦𝘥.

pixie says: it’s here. this took so long because i was determined to get it just right, since this will be the final ‘pixie’s canon’ chapter of family formations (there will be more extra chapters and side stories, don’t worry! our fav family aren’t going anywhere yet). as always, mdni. request open.

“Akio, baby! Come put your shoes on!” You call into the playroom where your almost 3-year-old son sits playing with his toys. He toddles out toward you, bright smile showing off his tiny pearly teeth and bright blue eyes gleaming with excitement. He sits on the floor and pulls his white and blue sneakers onto his feet (the wrong feet, but you’ll fix it for him). You try to comb the mess of his wild, snowy white hair into a bun but eventually resign yourself to the fact that taming it is impossible.

“Mama, we go party now?” He asks.

“Yeah, baby. We’re going to see Yuuta for his birthday! Are you excited?” You say, slipping on your own sneakers (they match your sons).

“So so excited! Will there be cake, mama?”

“Of course, there will, sweet boy! Okay, you ready? Yuuta’s present is in the car, let’s go.” You take his hand and load him and the bundle in your arms into your Land Rover. Your beautiful baby pink Cadillac sat in the garage, retired - it became a special occasion car after you realised the back seat couldn’t handle a car seat - an issue you never had with -

A thought you’d rather not go through with.

“Mama, Uncle soso be at party?” Akio asks from the back seat.

Of course - his focus is his beloved uncle soso. Not that you blame him.

“He will, baby. He’s expecting lots of cuddles.”

He squirms and squeals with excitement. Clingy, affectionate - just like his dad.

His father.

God, you miss him.

After a while of singing along to the music in the car, you pull up to the school. You spin yourself out of the driver’s seat and retrieve your son, the bundle, and the wrapped box from the back seat. He immediately runs off in the direction of the dorm common room kitchen without a second thought for his poor mother.

It’s okay though.

He’s safe.

He rounds a corner, and you see a pair of arms clad in black scoop him off the ground as he squeals and thrashes around, attempting to escape the iron hold of his captor’s arms.

“Lemme go! Lemme down!” He shrieks and giggles as raspberries are blown into his little belly.

“Never. You have been captured and the only way to be freed is if you tell me who your favourite person is.” The captor demands of the three-year-old.

“You! You, my favourite! Lemme down!” Akio giggles, now being held by the ankle's upside down.

“Well, you paid your ransom. Off you go - I gotta find my next target.” He sets the boy down and he immediately runs off, screaming for his uncle soso.

Then - the culprit sets his sights on you.

“Well, what do we have here? Hey there, pretty lady.” The man says.

“Hey handsome, come here often?” Your reply, batting your eyelashes.

“Oh, between 9am and 3pm on weekdays. You?” He smirks, flashing you a dazzling smile.

“Me too, but I have a few months off at the moment.” You wink.

“Explains why this place seems so dull without an angel like you to brighten it up.” He kisses the back of your hand.

“Well - I have more important things to be doing right now, I’m afraid pretty boy.” You smirk.

“Oh? What could be more important than working with a superstar like me?” He winks, wrapping an arm around your waist.

“Well, nursing said superstar’s child for one.” You laugh.

And with that, your husband laughs. Heartily and deeply happy sounds which warm you from the inside. He bends down so he’s face level with your neck.

“Hey cupcake, you got a smile for papa?” He asks, taking the bundle from your arms.

The bundle - being your 5-month-old daughter.

The baby gurgles in delight at the sight of her dad and smiles a gummy smile - her mood elevated because of her well-timed nap in the car.

“You look beautiful, princess.” He says, kissing your forehead.

“Oh, hush you, you’ll make me blush.” You giggle, but you will admit the blue ripped mom jeans and white cable knit sweater match your husband perfectly, and you always glowed around him. As for him, he doesn’t understand how you get more beautiful every day. When he says your car pull up, and you step out of it holding his baby girl in one arm and leading his little boy with the other - he thinks back to the day he saw you in the courtyard for the first time, all smiles, and shiny eyes.

After 12 years, countless battles, many stray kids, too many heartbreaks and carrying two of his children you still manage to knock the wind out of him by just existing. The pretty girl you were now a powerful, beautiful woman and every curve and inch custom made to drive him insane, especially the view of your jeans as you bend to fix your shoe (part of the reason he’s knocked you up twice). Your strength and courage, and pure devotion to the ones you love, and fiercely bold protectiveness drive him to the brink of madness with the weight of his love for you daily.

You on the other hand, watch your husband pressing kisses to your daughter’s chubby cheeks, as he wraps his arm around your waist and leads you inside. This man, who has almost given everything to protect you all, who has gifted you with a love so pure and whole that you almost lost yourself by almost losing him - you are one person. One without the other just cannot exist, two souls meshed to create a fortress of love, warmth, and happiness. Your eyes trace his face, as otherworldly beautiful as ever, eyes crinkled with a smile at the baby in his arms. His hair but your eyes. You think he’s only gotten more beautiful since you met, all those boyish edges sharpened into those of a man - a beacon of love, and strength. Powerful muscles (part of the reason you now had two kids by him) threaten to pop through his black T-shirt and you attempt not to drool, but he catches it anyway. Smirking, and whispering filthy things about how your ass looks in your jeans making him wanna find a babysitter and skip the party to have your own. You flush and nip his jawline, a promise for more to come later.

Just as you nibble his skin, a loud shout comes from the doorway.

“Hey guys! How are you?! I know I only saw you both yesterday, but I missed you guys!”

A shock of pink hair calls out, and before he can barrel toward you is held back by his collar.

“Chill out, Yuuji. You don’t even know if the babies asleep or not.”

The ever-present raven-haired boy pops up behind him, lurking in the shadow as always.

Your eldest son, your blessing.

“Hi mom. Do you want me to take her?” He asks, and you can see the eager glint in his eyes as he stretches out his arms to Gojo who has your daughter which you know, in Megumi language, means ‘give me the baby or I’ll sulk.’

Gojo is engaged with cooing over her with Itadori who you’ve come to realise is obsessed with babies. Your husband hands your son your daughter, who’s sitting up in his arms, and squeals when she realises it’s her oldest brother holding her, and you melt a little when she lays her head on his shoulder.

“Hey Lil 'miss. Will we go find our brother?” He says, walking off with her and Yuuji, leaving Gojo to take your hand and lead you inside too.

Yuuji has grown, with him being 18 that’s not surprising. His baby face is fading, skin now lined with scars - battle scars well earned by a brave boy. He’s still not as tall as his boyfriend, but he somehow got even more broad and muscly, this was evidenced when he was helping you with the baby's nursery and just… picked up the crib. With one arm. Megumi soon insisted that he and Yuuji were tired and going to his room to ‘bed’ that night, after that show of casual strength.

Megumi - your darling boy, well, man. 18 now and tall and long limbed as ever, all sharp corners and piercing eyes. The months after the culling games were tough, on everyone. But Megumi - he suffered deeply. The mental scaring of almost killing his dad, hurting you and the torture of being trapped inside a psychopath for weeks on end - and most of all, of being in the body that killed his sister. You moved him and Yuuji back into your house, Nobara too because as much as she enjoyed her new relationship with Maki - she couldn’t sleep without knowing the boys were safe and near. She felt immeasurable guilt for not being with Yuuji and Megumi early in the Culling Games and for the injuries that Yuuji saw her almost succumb to. She spent most of her week at the cottage, and the other few days with her girlfriend - healing together.

On the really dark nights, you and Satoru would wake to pained sobs - sometimes Yuuji, who would wake thrashing, and sometimes Megumi would wake frozen in fear. Many nights, they would wake to the same noises from inside your own room. You two had each other, and you tried to stress the importance of relying on each other to all the kids. Recovery wasn’t linear, but it could be helped with love and care.

There were a few nights, you’d wake to being poked by Yuuji, a solemn look on his face and in turn you’d wake up Satoru, you’d nod to Yuuji who would leave the room and come back with a bundle of limbs in his arms. Some nights, Megumi would get so frozen with memories that all he wanted was to be with you and Satoru - so like you did when he was a little boy, you put him in between you both and fell back asleep. You always offered to Yuuji to stay, and sometimes he did - but most times he would go and curl up beside Nobara in her room. He knew Megumi was safe with you two, so he would stay with his platonic soulmate - ever the protector.

Satoru’s wounds healed, leaving scars, pink and shimmering on his pale skin which you took care to kiss every night, grateful for how hard he fought to come home to you.

Two weeks after Yuuji killed Kenjaku, and everything was over - you, Shoko, and Gojo all stood together on the plot of land behind the cottage, a nice, secluded space under a Sakura tree.

The earth was covered in snowdrops, a black marble slate sat on the ground, with gold lettering.

here sleeps suguru geto, our very best friend and deeply loved dad.

You all cried, the three of you the surviving members of your school years. Yet, a part of it was sweet. Finally, after all this time - Suguru was home. He was back where he belonged, the birthplace of the reformation of Jujutsu society, with his family, who wordlessly accepted him and his two girl's home – where he was happy before the darkness became too much.

You three built a bench beside the memorial that day too, with a smaller memorial sign for the twins, they never had a surname – so you wrote them as Nanako and Mimiko Geto. It had been years since you or Satoru had seen the girls, and even then, only Shoko knew about that day. The day you texted his number thinking it would be blocked, two weeks after the village massacre, and after he left Satoru outside of the KFC. You told him you had clothes, shoes, and toys for the girls. Satoru could not face him, so you went alone, a secret kept between you and Satoru and Shoko. You met him and the girls in a nice, quiet park. Most of them were things from when you were a child, collected from your mother’s house (you think she knew). You played with the girls for a while, looking at Suguru with pleading eyes as you introduced yourself to them as their Aunty Y/N - a sign to him that this could be fixed, he could come him – the elders could be dealt with. You knew it was a failure before you said it. If your boyfriend couldn’t bring him home, then you stood no chance. He smiled at you, sadly but thankful for the unspoken offer. The girls didn’t need to hear the anger or the truth. When it got dark, it was time to leave. You said goodbye. The final goodbye, and you knew it. You said ‘goodbye, onii-chan' and he responded in kind, then left. You did not see him again until that day in the alley.

Now, here, at the cottage; Shoko could sit for a smoke with him, Satoru could come to annoy him and so you could bring his nieces and nephews to say hello. Scattering his ashes by the cottage the family congregated within only felt right. You asked him to watch over you all.

There was no shortage of funerals after the war.

You, Satoru, Akio, and Megumi held a private memorial in your home for Tsumiki. There was no body to bury - so you set up a small garden of all her favourite flowers in the grounds of the cottage where you raised her, where she made flower crowns and played with her brother.

After that - was Nanami. You and Satoru and Yuuji warped to Malaysia after his cremation, to scatter his ashes on a quiet, secluded beach. You all drank a glass of whiskey on the beach before it was time to go home. After clearing out his apartment, you found a spare of his tie and folded it, placing it in a box with a pair of his glasses and his favourite whiskey glass - and you handed it to Yuuji. He was so deeply loved, by all of you - but Yuuji was his student, his prodigy.

It was decided that since most of the old Jujutsu Society was gone, it was time to restructure. Utahime took over Kyoto, Todo and Noritoshi now acting as teachers. In Tokyo, the job of principal was between you and Satoru. You quickly told him it should be him, without question, and you would become the lead teacher. Shoko was offered a teaching position but quickly scoffed at the notion, saying corpses were still more her style. You needed another teacher, apart from you and Yuuta, who was still training under you part time. So, you and Satoru mutually agreed that a perfect candidate was one Choso Kamo, who hastily agreed, happy to be able to stay close to his brother. Hakari would occasionally pop in, help out for days - and took over for you on maternity leave. Jujutsu society would change now. A complete restructure.

A reformation.

The new higher ups consisted of Satoru, you, Utahime, Noritoshi Kamo, Yuuta, Maki and Toge said he would step up the the plate in a few years time.

Everyone knew what happened to the old higher ups. Everyone knew who killed them.

Nobody sought retaliation.

Nobody mourned.

In the present, you stepped into the room decorated yesterday by you and Yuuji. A big banner with ‘Happy 20th Birthday!’ Was hung on the wall, with cakes and cupcakes and lots of snacks laid across the dining table. Music was playing from Maki’s speaker, who sat frowning, but letting Nobara place a party hat on her anyway. Panda is sneaking a cupcake in the back corner, and you pretend not to notice.

You look around the room, delighting in the sight of your husband and Yuuji blowing up balloons in a competition of who can get theirs the biggest (they both burst). Megumi is sitting beside them, smirk on his face as he lets his baby sister play with his long fingers and use them as a teething chew. You look around for Akio, who had sprinted inside to look for his ‘uncle soso.’ It didn’t take long to locate him, but it wasn’t by sight but rather by a delighted squeal and a giggle coming toward you.

“Mama! Uncle soso has sweeties! He say ask mama if I can share too?” A voice cries as it barrels into your leg.

You look toward the kitchen door and see a smiling Choso with a plate of mochi, looking fondly at the toddler on your leg.

“Okay, baby. Thank you for asking, and what do we say to Uncle Soso?” You say, picking him up to walk toward the favourite uncle.

“Tank you, uncle soso.” Your adorable little man says, holding his arms toward the man in signal of hoping to be transferred from your hip to his.

“You spoil that boy, Choso Kamo.” You say, not an ounce of anger in your voice.

“Maybe.” He smiles sheepish and shrugs, head peeking around your shoulder to look around.

“Are you looking for your goddaughter?” You ask.

“Where is she?” He perks up, and your reminded of a puppy hearing the word treat.

“Megumi has her. They’re with ‘toru and your brother.” You smile, giving him a kiss on the cheek as he walks toward the boys with Akio and the mochi in his arms.

A fatal mistake really.

He’s about to sit on a sofa with a plate of Mochi and two Gojo boys?

He won’t get any. But you think he’s okay with that.

After what you’ve come to call the war, Choso had become an indispensable part of the family. Loyal, kind, and caring - he fit in like a perfect puzzle piece. Easily making friends with Megumi (who he calls his brother-in-law), living easily as a comrade and trusted friend of your husband and easily melding into the baby brother you never had. Even though he’s about 120 years older than you.

When Akio arrived back in the country with your mother after the fighting had ceased, you and Satoru refused to let him out of your sight for weeks, Akio had protested but you had taken to having him sleep in your room until eventually you both felt safe enough to let the poor boy go back to his star-themed bedroom in peace.

That was until about 3am, when you woke up to the bedroom door opening and your husband coming in with a sleeping toddler in his arms. He needed him near, just like how he felt comforted by the soft snores coming from Megumi’s room. You said nothing, just smiled and scooted over so you wrap your little boy between you.

Megumi joined at 4am.

About 3 months after the final fight, you both put Akio to bed one night. Megumi had gone back to the dorms, recovering, and enjoying the idea of being just a student again. Satoru’s arm around your waist as you looked at his sleeping figure on his teddy bear print bedsheets. Wild white hair sticking in all directions a carbon copy of his dad.

“Princess?” He said, forehead on your hair.

“Yes, ‘toru.” You hoped he was going to say what you were also thinking.

“Let’s have another one.” He said, tilting your chin to look at him with those long fingers.

“Okay.” You smile and let him scoop you up and March you to your bedroom.

Six weeks later: there were two lines on the stick.

This time - Satoru hadn’t noticed. Maybe because his six eyes were still recovering, or maybe because the baby inside you had your cursed energy, so it just looked like yours. The day you did the test, you went to a bakery at lunchtime to grab some treats.

“I got some treats for breakfast tomorrow, since it’s a Saturday. Megumi is going out with Yuuji for breakfast, so he won’t be here.” You say, as Satoru comes back into the kitchen from putting Akio to bed.

You push the box toward him.

“Oh pastries! Are these mine?” He asks.

“Eh! No! There’s one each.” You laugh at him.

“Well then there’s two for me, because there’s four. One for Akio, one for you and two for me!” He claps.

“No, ‘toru. There’s one each.” You smile, wondering when he will catch on.

“But ‘Gumi won’t be here?” He asks, puzzled and eager.

“We still need four.” You smirk a little.

You see him frown and the cogs turn in his head? One for George the Cat? No…

His head snaps up.

“Wait! Princess…?” He takes the kitchen in one stride and kneels in front of you, and you nod, smiling.

“Really? You’re sure?” He asks, staring at your belly.

You think now is time for the best pun of your life. You reach into your pocket and take out the test.

“Positive.” You giggle, tears lining your lashes - and Satoru’s too.

He leans his head into your belly, tears soaking your shirt.

7 and a half months later, you went into labour during movie night. Megumi insisted on coming to the infirmary with you and Satoru in case anything happened. Yuuji and Nobara were on a mission, so you picked up your phone.

It barely rang once.

“Hey, Cho. We um… need a favour.” You speak.

“Is everyone alright?” The perpetually sleepy voice asks.

“Yeah, it’s just we need someone to watch Akio… I - um, well the baby’s coming.” You say, wincing through a contraction.

You all drive to the school, where Shoko is waiting to deliver your second child and Choso comes running out of his on-campus staff apartment, scooping up your son who was delighted at getting to see his Uncle Soso.

13 hours later, there was life.

New life. A beautiful, vibrant, fresh life. A beautiful little girl, perfect and tiny with a shock of pale white hair.

She cried. You cried. Satoru cried. Shoko cried.

Megumi went to collect Akio, and you asked him to bring Choso too after you and the baby were both cleaned up.

The toddler barrelled into the room, Megumi behind him.

“Baby sister! Baby sister! I want my baby sister! Oh, hi mama and papa, move - I want to see sister.” He mumbles - mind singularly focused on what he had been waiting for.

You laughed, and Satoru too. Megumi shrugged, after planting a kiss on your cheek and asking if you were okay (still a mama’s boy even at 18).

“It’s a joint sentiment.” Your eldest agrees with the bouncing toddler.

You scoot over on the bed, and Satoru (teary eyed) places a bundle into your arms. Megumi gingerly sits beside you on one side, and Satoru scoops Akio onto his lap on your other side.

“Boys, we’d like you to meet your baby sister. This - is Mirai.” You smile at them, both looking equally entranced.

“She’s… so tiny, and so pretty.” Megumi whispers.

“Papa - is she sleepin’?” Akio whispers.

As if on cue, the baby opens her eyes.

Akio gasps, looking to his dad for permission to get closer. Satoru nods with a note to be gentle with sister and mama. Your usually boisterous boy crawls to sit on your lap, putting his hand on his sisters.

“Hi baby sister.” He whispers. “I brother. Big brother. Like ‘Gumi my big brother. I keep baby sister safe, and will play with you, and let you have snacks and give you hugs and kisses. I Akio, but mama and papa call me Kio lots. They all things that ‘Gumi and Uncle soso say big brother do, and they are bestest big brothers to me and Jiji. (The name he has for Yuuji, who adores it).’

Holding your little girl in your arms, with all three of your boys looking at you both with so much love - you think that everything was worth it. For this moment, for this feeling and for this family. Every wound, every fight - it was for them. Everyone you lost, you know they’re looking at you all now from wherever they are and smiling and vowing to keep this family safe.

“Is Choso here?” You ask Megumi who has gingerly been passed the baby by Satoru.

“He’s outside, he wanted to wait until he was invited in.” He whispers, not sparing a glance at anything but his little sister.

You turn to Satoru, who nods and goes to open the door and usher the other man in.

You both placed the highest level of trust in Choso. Satoru being eternally grateful to the man for holding you back from running to his injured body when he fought Sukuna, for caring for Yuuji in his darkest days, for being a pillar of strength and support when you both needed it. For you, you felt like the support and friendship, and recognition as Y/N and Satoru that Choso gave you - not just the Six Eyes and the Dryad - was priceless. Plus - he’d never seen a newborn baby. He didn’t even know how babies were born. You and Satoru had to teach him a lot.

“Hi Choso. Thank you for minding this little squirt.” You say, nodding to Akio.

Choso just stood, speechless and slack jawed.

It reminded you of Yuuji when you first showed him an ultrasound of Akio.

Brothers.

“Uncle soso - this is baby sister! Look! She has fingers!” Akio says, crawling across you to point at the baby in Megumi’s arms.

He says nothing.

“D’ya wanna hold her, bud?” Satoru says, smiling at the dumbfounded man.

He just nods.

“Okay - arms out, keep her head secure.” Megumi says side eye and smirk to Satoru as he parrots the words his dad said to him when Akio was born.

The little girl is placed in Choso’s arms.

“She’s… so small.” He speaks.

“Takes after her mama.” Satoru says, kissing your head.

“Everyone is small to you, Jack the beanstalk.” You roll your eyes.

That day, you asked Yuuta and Choso to both be Mirai’s Godfathers. Choso silently took on the uncle role with Akio too - who had lost his own godfather not so long ago, his beloved Uncle Nanamin.

The door to the party room opened, too early to be the birthday boy and the sound of heels clicking alerted you to snap your head up.

“Koko!” You say, running and throwing your arms around you best friend.

“Jesus, you’re almost as bad as Sator - OOF.” Her complaint was quickly cut off by a white haired, 6ft5 man barrelling into her and shouting ‘Yay, Shoko!’ and no less than 5 seconds later her knees were encircled by smaller arms attached to a boy shouting ‘Aunty Koko!’.

Shoko resigns herself to being smothered by the Gojo’s and just huffs a hello.

“Mirai, Megs, you’re the best of the bunch.” She shrugs toward Megumi who’s still holding the baby.

“We love Aunty Koko! Don’t we, ‘kio?!” You and Satoru encourage.

“Aunty Koko!” He parrots, nuzzling her legs as she ruffles his hair.

“Alright kid, I love you too. Satoru, put this on the table.” She says, unceremoniously throwing a box terribly wrapped toward him.

She plonks down on the sofa with Megumi and Choso.

“What’s this, the emo convention?” She smirks and you, Satoru and Yuuji just burst out in hysterical laughter.

Nobara’s voice calls out.

“Guys! They’re here, they’re just pulling up now. Gojo-sensei, find somewhere to hide that you can fit!” She frantically shouts, dragging Maki into a corner with her.

You grab Megumi and Mirai, falling behind the kitchen door where Akio is in Satoru’s arms, both giggling.

The lights are turned off, and you can hear voices muffled from outside the door before it swings open.

“SURPRISE!” You all shout and sing, much to the alarm of the birthday boy who also screams.

“Oh my god! What is this?! What are you all doing here?! Toge, did you know about this?” Yuuta spills.

Toge just shrugs and smirks.

“Happy birthday, Senpai!” Says Yuuji, before almost breaking every bone in Yuuta’s body with a crushing hug.

“Happy birthday, Okkotsu.” Megumi nods, with a small smile and a bro hug.

“Happy birthday, shrimp.” Maki says, hugging her best friend.

“Happy birthday, Okkotsu! Your gifts are on the table!” From Nobara.

You, Satoru, the kids, Shoko and Choso watch as all the students clamour to greet the birthday boy before he somehow manages to make his way over to you all as Yuuji begins to dish out the immeasurable amount of food he’s made for the occasion.

“Sensei? Y/N? The babies too?! Hi babies!” He greets with a wide smile.

“Happy birthday, Yuuta!” Gojo says, wrapping him in a hug and picking him up off the ground.

“Happy 20th, honey.” You say, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“Happy birthday Yuuta!” Says Akio from Choso’s arms, where he doesn’t stay for long as he launches himself at Yuuta.

Mirai is babbling in your arms, and you presume she shares the sentiment of her big brother being an eerie mixture of her parents,

“Happy birthday, kid. Enjoy your 20s.” Shoko says, with a wink.

“Thank you, guys, this is amazing. I went to the arcade with Toge and I thought that would be that no wonder he insisted on playing more dance dance revolution!” He laughed.

After cakes had been eaten and candles blown out, gifts unwrapped and games won - everyone was sat around the room, about to watch a film.

Mirai was asleep on her dad’s chest, curled up with his arm supporting her. You were tucked into his other side, as he pressed kisses into the crown of your head. Megumi had his arm around Yuuji on your other side as he lay his feet on your lap. Nobara and Maki were cuddled up on the armchair, with Toge resting his head on Yuuta’s lap on the floor below. Akio had insisted on sitting with Uncle Soso and Aunty Koko on one of the other sofas, as he ate some cake.

You sighed and smiled, looking at the raven-haired boy, now all grown up on your left - happy, healing, safe and in love. He’s a man now, he’ll be 19 in just under a year and you find it crazy to think that was the age you and Satoru were when you adopted him and Tsumiki.

You look at Akio, curled into a blanket between his aunt and uncle, Shoko on the verge of sleep and Choso smiling at whatever nonsense Yuuji was talking. Your youngest son, your sweet copy of Satoru. You say all the best parts of you both in him, all bravery and kindness and endless love with added strength and loyalty, and every inch as clever as his elder brother too. His Snow White hair is long, tied in a little bun on top of his head and his bright, shiny blue eyes a copy and paste of his dad’s.

Then, there’s your little girl. The life brought into this world reigniting hope and joy in so many lives. The fruit of what you all fought for. Her chubby cheeks, rosy with teething snuggles into her father’s broad, strong chest as she drools all over him as she sleeps soundly. Where Akio is a Mama’s boy, Mirai is her papa’s girl. Her white curls are framing her perfect little face, with matching lashes laying across her sleeping face.

Then, there’s him.

Akio and Miria’s papa.

Megumi and Tsumiki’s adopted dad.

The new principal of Jujutsu High.

The man who shouldered the world for love.

Your husband.

Your soulmate.

Your ‘toru.

The light, love, and joy in your life since you were 16 years old. The man who you fall deeper in love with every day and the second part of your soul. Your heart, your lover, the fire in your veins. Two adopted kids, many unofficial kids and two copies of you both later, you’re both still here. Fighting your way to each other and for each other, and side by side building bonds deeper than gold. The sexiest, most beautiful man you have ever imagined existing. The love of your life. The way he looks at you, still flusters you.

You catch his eyes. 14 years, and a lifetime more.

He looks at you. His wife, his best friend, the missing piece of his heart. The most beautiful, hottest girl he’s ever seen with all his six eyes, the mother of his children and his right-hand woman. His rock, his crutch, his confidant and partner in crime. The woman he would shoulder the earth for. The new main teacher at Tokyo Jujutsu Tech. His love grows every day for you, something he didn’t think was possible. His princess.

You whisper you love him.

He replies he loves you too.

You were all chatting as the movie loaded, waiting for it to buffer.

“When the fuck is movie starting?!” Came a tiny voice.

All heads snapped to Akio, hands on his hips, staring at the screen.

“Who taught our son to swear?” Gojo breathes, holding back a laugh.

“Fuck’s sake.” You mutter, smiling - without thinking.

“Fuck’s sake.” Akio mimics.

“Ah, shit.” Gojo groans.

“Shit.” Parrots the toddler.

“Well, jury’s out but I think it might have been his parents.” Megumi smirks.

The room bursts into raucous laughter, and amidst it all the movie starts.

It serves as background noise, a lullaby, a point of focus. A family made of many mismatched pieces - a pool of trust, of reliance, of hope and comfort - created and moulded in the image of a couple, of two sides of one coin, two halves of one whole: her ‘toru. His Princess.

#jjk #jjk x reader #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo fluff #family formations extras #dad!gojo #anime #gojo imagine #mdni #jjk spoilers #jjk fanfic #jjk au

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latetaektalk · 24 days

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love to hate you | jjk [viii, preview]

— genre: fratboy! AU, fake dating! AU, college! AU, rich kid! AU, enemies to lovers! AU, angst, fluff, sexual themes (later chapters)

— pairing: jungkook x female reader

— word count: estimated 100k for the entire series, 970 for this preview

— warnings: none for this preview

— playlist: to be added

— a/n: i cant believe we've gotten this far into the story. we're slowly but surely nearing the end and i hope you guys will have as much fun reading this as i did writing it bc this is by far my favourite chapter ive written so far for those two idiots <3

— find it here

Oh.

Your friends followed your gaze.

But it wasn’t Narae.

It was Taehyung.

“Someone is in a mood,” Namjoon mumbled, cringing.

“What are they talking about, Y/N?” Jimin asked, looking at you, and you stared right back at him, frowning.

“How would I know?”

“You’re his girlfriend.”

“So?”

“Go find out.”

“What? I just walk up to them and say,” you raised your voice a few pitches, “‘Oh my God, hi, you guys are clearly fighting. Care to share?’ Is that what you want?”

Jimin blinked, shrugging. “Sure, that would work.”

“You’re so ridiculous, Jimin,” you hissed, touching a hand to your forehead. “That wouldn’t work.”

“Of course, it would. Kook’s absolutely obsessed-”

“Oh my God, shut up,” Chaeyoung hissed, slapping Jimin. “They’re looking!”

“You guys are always so loud,” Hoseok sighed, and you sent him a glare because no, you don’t! It’s just Jimin!

But Jimin didn’t sense it at all, wildly waving his hand around, gesturing for the two to come this way. And as if it wasn’t more obvious, he yelled it too, “Hey, Tae and Kook! Come join us!”

Jisoo sighed, “He’s such an idiot.”

Chaeyoung and Hoseok shrugged, as if to say well, it’s Jimin. They were right, it was just Jimin being himself, unaware and impulsive. Namjoon didn’t have any words, shaking his head.

“What were you arguing about?” Jimin asked when Jungkook stood in front of you, and you watched him grip the strap of his backpack, the skin over his knuckles stretching thin.

“Jimin!” Jisoo hissed, punching him.

“Ow!”

“Right, yeah, of course, you’d ask,” he smiled. “It’s fine.”

Jungkook said it with a laugh, but it was all wrong.

“We weren’t arguing.”

Namjoon and you looked at each other shortly, both of you sensing it.

“Is everything-”

“Well, it looked like you were,” Jimin mumbled, accidentally interrupting Namjoon. He waited for Jungkook to budge and cave under his gaze, but when he wouldn’t, he shrugged. “Come sit.”

“I’m sorry, I have to go,” Jungkook said, nailing that same smile back onto his lips as before. “But I’ll see you guys around.”

And before any of you could protest, he was gone, back turned to your table and heading into the crowd.

“Well, that was… weird,” Chaeyoung said, pointing out the elephant in the room. And as if she had said your name, everyone turned to you for some kind of answer.

You blinked back at them. “Yeah, I-I don’t know.”

There was another beat of silence before ultimately your friends shrugged.

“Maybe it’s just not a good day?” Hoseok proposed, and they were all quick to agree, moving on. And though you didn’t voice it, you knew it wasn’t that. It couldn’t just be that.

You knew it was about you. It had to be.

find it here

#jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #jungkook x reader #jungkook scenarios #jungkook fanfic #bts scenarios #bts x reader #bts angst #bts fluff #linh.preview

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the-likesofus · 11 months

Text

Buddie Fic Recs

AKA Talented Mutuals Tuesday

Except I spent so long making this list that the timezones changed over BUT I wanted to show my mutuals some love and now that we are going into the hiatus I thought you might all like a list of quality fics to keep you occupied while there is no new Weewoo show.

I don't know if anyone will actually want to join in on this but if you do the rules are simple:

SHOW YOUR MUTUALS SOME LOVE! Share your favourite fics, (or gifs, edits, literally anything that your very talented mutuals have made), as many or as few as you like but let's share the love around <3

Apologises in advance for the long post btw

@speaknowdiaz I would literally read anything that April writes and would probably sell a limb for the incredible WIPs I know she's still cooking up but here are a couple of my faves:

pining and anticipation (I don't want you like a best friend)

Buck challenges Eddie to try to hit on him after teasing Eddie for not having any ‘game’. This fic is very funny and very soft.

believe in one thing (i won't go away)

This fic hit me straight in the feels. Buck and Eddie go to couples therapy even though they aren't a couple and they work through some stuff.

◊

@thosetwofirefighters Incredible amazing Nat ily xx

Say It All Out Loud

Eddie comes out to Aunt Pepa after his ‘date’ with Vanessa. I am a little bit biased towards this one because she did write it for me but it's honestly just so good!

How to Cure Boredom: Buckley Edition

The 118 are stuck at the firehouse during a slow shift and Buck entertains them all by mattress-surfing the loft stairs. It’s soft and silly and in the same universe as her other fic Safe in His Arms.

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@loveyourownsmiilee The wonderful amazing Juju not only writes incredible meta and keeps us all fed with Oliver content but Juju also writes wonderful buddie fic.

When Were You Under Me?

Who doesn’t love a Friends AU. This is Buck and Eddie as Ross and Rachel and it is hilarious and so sweet.

You should also check out her Buddie Language Meta if you have not read it before <3

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@elvensorceress Jenwyn’s work always astounds me so be sure to check these out:

Color Him Father, Color Him Love

I will scream from the rafters how much I adore this fic and yes it did make me cry (happy tears). It’s a look into Buck’s head after his sperm donor kid is born and he realizes what Christopher (and Eddie) truly mean to him. I know I have recced this before but it deserves all the love.

Unless You Ask Me To

Eddie dates a man for the first time, and Buck is completely 'Fine'. This is a preemptive rec because it is one chapter away from completion and I have been saving it to binge in one sitting but knowing Jenwyn and her incredible talent I guarantee this will be worth the read.

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@spotsandsocks If anyone’s work is guaranteed to make me sob like a baby (happy, sad, or tears of laughter) it’s Spotty.

Everything But (temptation)

This is Spotty’s newest fic and it's just brilliant. Buck is practicing extreme self-control whilst Eddie is being an irresistible menace.

Could Have, Should Have, Would Have

Buck finally tells Eddie he loves him right before Eddie’s new boyfriend is supposed to meet Christopher. Honestly, all I can say about this fic is that it’s a masterpiece and I screamed many times while reading it.

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@shortsighted-owl Wonderful amazing Owly (Abbi). I appreciate you so and you make my dash so happy xx

Of foam-moustached kisses, and button combinations

For all your sweet domestic buddie needs this is the fic. Eddie is practicing a video game to get better than Chris and Buck makes fun of his ex-technophobe boyfriend.

Also THIS EDIT SET to the lyrics of You’re All That I Have by Snow Patrol make me assdffgghjjklkll

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@lilbuddie Okay, this one is just a brag because Minja doesn’t actually have any fics published yet (side eye) but I wanna make sure she is on everyone’s radar for when she does because yall are not ready for the incredible amazing talent that is this girl’s writing!! So go check out the snippets on her Tumblr and badger her until she finishes something plssssss

◊

@wheelsupin-five Hi! <3

Almost Almost Almost

This adorable of Buck who is always cold and Eddie warms him up I– asfffghhjkklllll

Under Kitchen Light

SO SOFT! Buck wakes up and Eddie isn't there, Buck finds him in the kitchen.

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@rogerzsteven Simi owns my heart and by that I mean my heart is locked in a cage in Simi’s basement where it is occasionally beaten to a pulp by the most incredibly angsty fics you've ever read.

Cleanse

Buck is extremely nauseous and Eddie takes care of him while I sob over them in a corner.

build me a home underground (free from light and sound)

This fic is so brutal in all the best ways, my heart was in my throat the entire read! Buck gets trapped in a sensory deprivation room while the 118 and Athena race to find him.

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@ashavahishta another incredibly talented mutual of mine

out of ashes

Is it really a Meegs rec list if I don’t rec this fic honestly it's engraved on my soul. This is a criminal minds/greys inspired fic where Buck is kidnapped and tortured until the 118 can find him. This fic is so so well written and means a million things to me I could never explain but pleaseeeee read it!!

◊

@jobairdxx hello lovely xx

Oh, We Pray to Make it Through the Night

Highly recommend this fic, I do love a near-death experience fic! Buck gets injured on a call and Eddie falls asleep holding vigil at his bedside.

Jules also writes beautiful poetry on Tumblr so go read some of that too <3

◊

@monsterrae1 MISS RAE! YOU INCREDIBLE THING! <3

love is on its way

I know we’re all a little bit in mourning over the couch theory but it lives on in our hearts and in this fic which has six moments between Buck and Eddie on the Diaz couch (and she’s a wee bit spicy too).

Buck's café (take my heart, just not my order)

Coffee Shop AU. Buck runs the shop where the 118 order all their drinks on shift. I absolutely adore this fic!

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@alyxmastershipper RYAN!! INCREDIBLY TALENTED MUTUAL THAT YOU ARE!!

there's always been a rainbow hangin' over your head

If “aasdsdfghhjkl” was a person it was me reading this fic. Eddie comes out to Buck, receives a quirky mug, and gets together with the love of his life. In that order.

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@bekkachaos Wonderful, amazing Bekka xxx

lose yourself in the feeling

I am a sucker for ‘accidental kisses’ and this was just wonderful. Buck is so excited about Maddie and Chim getting engaged that he kisses Eddie when he tells him.

start me up, open my eyes

Okay, the mild sexual content tag is a lie, nothing has ever been closer to smut without actually being smut than this fic, I have never been so wound up reading a fic. Bekka builds the tension so so well.

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@sibylsleaves honestly I'm still a little in shock that we're mutuals now so please excuse me while I fangirl over your incredible writing!

with a bird at your door

Eddie starts spending all his time with Buck. Which would be fine if it weren't for the fact that Buck is in love with him. This fic is the perfect mixture of pining, angst, and a happy ending. And yes I think about this fic frequently I love it okay.

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@mysteriouslyyounggalaxy last but certainly not least (for now). hello lovely xx

(tell the gravedigger) better dig two

Missing scenes from while eddie is trapped in the well followed by the most perfect extended reunion scene. We all know I am a sucker for fics based on the well incident, it’s literally how i started writing for buddie but omg this fic!!!!

◊

Remember to share the love around and happy hiatus to you all.

Love, Meegs xxxx

#buddie #buddie fic #buddie fic recs #buddie rec list #911 fox #eddie diaz #evan ‘buck’ buckley #christopher diaz #911 buddie #eddie x buck #buck x eddie #911 fic #911 fic recs #meegs says stuff #buddie ao3 #911 ao3 #buddie recs list 4 #talented mutuals tuesday #911 abc

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twstddream · 2 years

Note

If your request are still open can I ask for some hc of Savanaclaw trio, Octavinelle trio , and the diasomnia gang reacting to:

Twst boy: what you reading there?

Mc: *walking out of room* 101 ways to seduce a male _____" (ie. Hyena, fae or octopus) ~❤

I’m not gonna lie, I had no clue how to write this. But, I’m giving it a shot. The MC will be more flirty, but aloof at the same time. And just for y’all Che’nya lovers, I added him to the list :)

THIS WAS REQUESTEDLAST OCTOBER I’M SO SORRY

Story outline: The boys notice you reading a book. Now they’re subjected to your interesting reading material

GN!Reader by default. No personal pronouns used besides they/them.

Ambiguous relationship with the boys.

• Leona had few things he cared about at Night Raven College. Those being magical shift tournaments, napping under the shade of his favourite tree in the botanical garden, and you. He often found himself pouring all of his love and attention into you, and you didn’t mind reciprocating one bit.

So of course he’d notice once your attention starts to waver from him.

• You see, just a few days ago, Ruggie had approached you asking for help in returning and checking out some new books for classes. After messing around with Ruggie for a bit (and being told to quiet down more than a handful of times) you both had stumbled across a rather fascinating book. At the behest of the cheeky hyena boy, you had checked “How to Seduce Afterglow Savannah Beastmen” out of the library.

• Nothing much gets past Leona, even when’s asleep he’s somehow acutely aware of his surroundings. You knew it wouldn’t be long before he sat up and badgered you about whatever, but you wanted to control the topic today.

• Finally stirring from his catnap, he noticed that damned book in your hands. He only stared for a few moments, waiting for you to engage with him, but you hadn’t.

• “Oi, herbivore,” Leona finally spoke up “what’s that book you have there, hm? Is it really that much more important than me?” He teased.

• Ohoho, he fell right into your trap.

You held up the still-open book in your hands for him to read.

“Nothing much, Leona. I just picked up a book I thought looked interesting today...”

Now that he can read the chapter you were on his eyes widen in shock

“... How to Seduce a Male Lion Beastman”

• “Hah? What are you trying to start here, human?” he bore his fangs lightly

• This was the time to play dumb.

“I don’t know what you mean, I’m not trying to start anything, Leona. I’m just indulging in a good book.” You replied, all while batting your eyelashes sweetly at him.

• “You’re reading that in my bed, forgive me for making such accusations.” His sarcasm did not go unnoticed. But after that he flipped over and fell asleep.

-------

• After the initial incident, he expected you to drop it, but to his utter surprise (and slight embarrassment) you once again brought that damn book to his dorm room. What’s more, he’s seen that you’ve made significant progress in the book, 3/4 of the way finished judging by the bookmark you’ve left stuck between the pages.

• Leona lets out a heavy, laboured sigh. He knows you’re not gonna drop this until you get the reaction you want.

“I’ll indulge you just this once, herbivore,” Leona rolls over and faces towards you, laying on his side with his arms propping himself up, an expectant look on his face

“Hit me with your best shot. I wanna see you put that rotten book to use. If it turns out that you’ve been wasting your time, I’ll be looking forward to see how you make it up to me.”

• Okay, nothing to worry about, all you have to do is uhhh...

• Being put on the spot like this has made you forget everything you’ve (jokingly) read.

• In your panic you did the only thing your malfunctioning brain could think to do. You lean in and place a quick peck on his lips, quickly retreating to your side of the bed, placing your face in your hands and curl your body away from the lion beastman now sat at attention next to you.

• Leona let out a loud and boisterous laugh, something so rarely elicited from the normally lazy and jaded prince.

"Hahahah! You really though you had something there, didn’t you?” His laughter quickly but quietly died down, and he became serious. Taking advantage of the now slightly-tense atmosphere, he trailed on,

“Hah, in all honesty, I don’t think you need some book to ‘seduce’ me. You’ve got me wrapped around your finger..” his voice died off towards the end but you heard him perfectly fine.

• “Well, if we’re admitting truths here, I didn’t think I’d get this far.” You shyly confess.

• Staying silent, but nodding to acknowledge what you said, he shifted closer to you and leaned in, a soft plea on his lips

“Do it again...”

-------

“I’m waiting to see how you’ll make it up to me. And no more of these soft affections, I expect you to fully devote yourself to me from now on, and to honour me properly.”

• Ruggie has taught you many things. To enjoy the small pleasures that life brings, how to efficiently utilize everything you’re given, and his most important of imparted knowledge, how to have a good laugh.

• Ruggie isn’t one for practical jokes per se, but he’s always up for messing with and teasing others’ when the opportunity presents itself (and it’s safe to do so.) He’ll rope you into his badgering on occasion, and he’s sure to share the blame with you (even if you didn’t actually do anything.)

• With all of his past jests in mind, you decide to mess with him yourself. The poor boy is so easy to fluster with genuine affection, it’s easy to come up with the method of which you’re going to torment him.

• You pick up a book from a small library on Sage Island and quickly employ all that you’ve learned. All that you’ve learned was, essentially, to walk funny. Hilarious diagrams were shown, and you were convinced you had it down pat. Now all there was to do was to, ahem, present yourself to the hyena boy. Even if it was embarrassing you were sure he’d get a laugh out of it, even if your original intent was to set the boy’s heart aflutter (through unconventional means, that is.)

• But then you decided your pride and dignity are more important than doing a funny walk. So you opted to just present the book to him.

• It was easy to track down Ruggie down in the Savanaclaw dorm. He was always running around doing various chores and tasks, ever the dutiful golden goose- er, hyena.

He notices you approaching and quickly whistles in your direction while sending you a short wave of acknowledgement.

• Time to enact your master plan. Quickly jogging over to the young boy, you pull out your prized possession and call out,

“Oi, Ruggie! I wanted to ask you some questions!”

The second year’s tail started wagging wildly behind him.

• You want to ask him a question, meaning you want his help with something? Out of everyone you went to him. Oh, he was over the moon.

‘What’s that you’re holding? A book? So you want help with studying, huh? It’s gonna cost you though. Hmm, what should he charge you, a meal at the cafeteria? Or maybe some help with shopping? Oh wait you’re right in front of him now uh oh -were you saying something?’

• His agape mouth only opened even more when he spotted the title of the book you brought along with you.

“101 Ways to Seduce a Male Hyena”

• “He- hey! What are you doing with something like that, huh?! Are you trying to start something?!”

You responded with a simple nod and a loose smile. His cheeks were dusted with a dull pink, and his widened eyes were twitching ever so slightly. A beautiful sight, indeed. Unfortunately for you, he recovered quickly, his gaze shying away and holding his hand to his mouth to muffle his words and hide his face.

“You’re more trouble than you’re worth, you know that? As compensation, I expect you to help me with this laundry.”

• Okay, fair enough. You got what you wanted. You throw the book on top of the pile of already folded clothes and get to work, Ruggie still avoiding your curious gaze.

-------

“If you’re gonna do such a poor job then I might as well teach you myself. I’ll let you know though, I’m very much a hands-on kind of teacher, shishishi~! And it won’t be cheap either! But I guess since you’re so eager to learn, I might give you a discount. Only because we’re this close...”

• Jack liked his routine, it was familiar, and it helped improve what he considered essential in his life. He can appreciate that you join in on his daily training, or studying. Even if you’re not joining in, and all you’re doing is passing him his water or towel, or handing him a new pen when is runs out. You’re kind like that.

• With that being said Jack didn’t expect you to enter his dorm room holding a book with the title “How to attract a wolf beastman” because why would someone like you do that. You wouldn’t do that, right?

• He rubs his eyes and sees that he is, in fact, not having the strangest nightmare of his life. No, this is real alright.

“Jack! Just the man I wanted to see!” You greet, inviting yourself to sit on his bed, choosing not to make a comment on the flustered state of your best friend.

Jack is stuck in place, feeling like he just got pushed into a surprise ice bath.

• His reaction really isn’t anything other than switching between a mixture of shock, mortification, and the tiniest bit of envy.

• But why envy? Why I feel jealous over what is clearly a small prank. Is it that I feel insignificant enough for them to do this, but then again, in them going through with their prank does that make me special? But would they do this with just anyone? If it garnered the same result, would they try and fluster just about anyone? Agh, thinking about all of this is useless!

• Nothing prepared you for Jack crossing the room and ripping the book out of your hands faster than you could blink. He holds the book loosely in one hand, his other placed on his hips, and holding the book as far away from him as he can, all the while reprimanding you with his glare alone.

“You’re crazy, you know that? I don’t want to have to deal with the aftermath of your messes, especially when you pull stuff like this. What if it was anyone else but me? Someone less savoury and can’t take a joke or a no. I don’t want you getting hurt over such a small trick...”

“What do you mean ‘it’s only for me’!? That’s it! Out!”

• Jack couldn’t stay mad for too long and went to apologize to you for his outburst with an offer of lunch in the cafeteria. Which you found strange, he was the victim of the prank, not you? Why apologize for getting (appropriately) angry?

• He took your fucking lunch that’s why. He’s a damn scoundrel and a liar.

-------

“What do you think you’re doing?! ..Don’t misunderstand me, I’m not flustered at all! I’m concerned for your well-being is all; carrying something like that around in Savanaclaw is sure to bring about some unwanted attention. Of course, I’ll protect you from any rowdy students, don’t mistake me for some scoundrel... I know you were looking for my attention, and now that you’ve got it, I don’t want you seeking out another’s. Heh, you’re crazy for doing this, but don’t expend that effort for anyone else. Only me, got it?”

• Azul tries so hard to keep up his suave businessman persona, but he fails miserably. He’s slumping into himself, face red, with his mouth agape. He looked ridiculous.

• Genuinely has an anime glasses crack moment. He sits silent in his seat but quickly starts sputtering nonsense and averts his gaze, looking everywhere but you.

• It takes a monumental amount of effort to not start reading off a paragraph from the book. But you decide that Azul’s in enough agony as it is.

• “My dear, is there ah- any particular reason for your visit today?” The poor octomer looked about ready to burst, all while trying to compose himself.

“Not that I don’t enjoy your visits and our time together, no, no. Any time spent with you is time well spent! But I- you see- uhm...” He rambles on.

• Standing from your seat, you make your way over the dazed man, stopping mere inches from him, and lowering yourself to look him in the eyes (which was hard since he was doing the exact opposite of what you were doing)

When his eyes finally dart to yours, he gains a hopeful expression. It was a cute site. His faint blush, slightly ajar mouth, while he looks up at you beneath the rim of his hat with that timid expression, it truly was a marvelous site. Little did Azul know, these expressions are exactly what make you keep pulling stunts like this.

• You quickly flip his hat down onto his face, and let out the lightest of laughs, thought it was at his expense, Azul found your laugh to be simply angelic and (begrudgingly) worth the embarrassment.

• It was a quick and easy solution, his last resort to save face, Azul invites you to a free dinner at the Mostro Lounge, with him as your guest, of course. And with your eager acceptance, he begins to plan the perfect date.

-------

“What are you laughing at? My face? You’re laughing at my face?! ... Oh. You meant my expression... Well, yes, yes, it was a funny joke, you don’t need to keep laughing so hard, please exert some effort to keep your dignity in tact. Though I’m not sure you have much left, let alone care about regaining or sustaining it...”

• Desperate to seem actually interested in the subject of the book currently in your hands, you walked and read at the same time. Which isn’t always the best idea, as it’s left you open to stumbling into walls and fellow students alike. But then you accidentally got invested in the reading material, and you found yourself reading it for real, flipping the pages at a rapid yet steady pace.

This is how you found yourself floundering about the empty yet claustrophobic walkways of the Mostro Lounge to your assigned table. When it hit you, literally, that you were so focused on your book that you neglected everything (and everyone) that was around you. You ran into just the eel you wanted to see.

• “Do keep your attention and guard up around these parts, it’s quite rude to ignore those in your presence, not to mention easy to slips things by you. Not that I’m suggesting any harm shall befall upon you, but it is best to be careful. Now, may I recommend reading over our menu, seeing as you’re quite the voracious reader.” He lightly chuckles at his little comment at the end.

• You honestly did not know how you missed the presence of Jade, what with his tall stature and somewhat menacing aura, and also the fact that you were reading this damned book just for him, so he really should be the person you’re most alert to right now, but that seems to not be the case.

• The leering grin on his face clues you in on the fact that he has definitely seen your reading material, and definitely expects you to make your move. That sadist.

• He’s curious as to what you’ll do. Will you deploy any tactics? Or will you stumble over yourself in an attempt to save face? Is that even a concern of yours?

He finds your reaction and next actions endearing anyways. Whether this was all a joke to fluster him (which he’ll never admit it, but it worked) or an honest attempt to study the culture of his species, or something else, he’s enraptured by your boldness.

-------

“I thank you for choosing to dine with us today. And trust me when I say that I’m not just spouting rhetorics, I truly am grateful to have seen you today. You and your antics... Please continue to show me such interesting things. In that regard, I am in your care”

• Floyd didn’t like boring things. This was a fact everyone knew. So to really capture his attention and catch his interest, you decided to (perhaps) step out of character and do something spontaneous. Something that’ll hopefully catch him off-guard and get a laugh out of him.

You already held his attention and affection, of course. But what’s wrong with a bit of harmless whimsy?

• Turns out a lot, actually. All you wanted to do was show off your book to him and maybe get a chuckle out of it, but Floyd thought of this as a passion-filled chase and promptly rose from his seat and sprinted full-speed at you. Which led to you boarding yourself inside of Ramshackle with the crazed eel-man banging on your front door. Grim was wailing upstairs, telling you he knew it was a bad idea, the ghosts were arming themselves with brooms and mops. It as a disaster.

• You half-expected your door to be bust down and for you to resign yourself to your fate of being squeezed to an inch of your life, until the deafening knocking on your door quieted down to nothing. But you knew he hadn’t left, and you knew it was a bit cruel to the boy to run away like you did. However, he truly seemed like a predator chasing his prey.

You took a deep breath in, and approached the door as you exhaled. Preparing for the violent hug of your closest friend. You closed your eyes as you turned the handle, and let out a gasp of air as you were tackled to the ground.

• “Shrimpy! You’re so mean, y’know that? Locking me out of your home when you started all of this!” The boy’s tackled hug had knocked the breath out of you, but he didn’t seem to mind your panting, as he rubs his cheek against yours and pets your head.

“You owe me something, don’t you think?” He turned serious all too suddenly, lifting his head to stare into your eyes with his mismatched own.

“How about a date!?” He cheerily proposes, his menacing air dissipating completely.

Why not, you decide. Spending time with Floyd was what you wanted all along.

“And, you can show me all the stuff you learned. Won’t that be fun? It better be good though, I don’t want anything lazy.” There’s the Floyd you know and love.

-------

“So about that date, I was thinking of taking you to the Coral Sea and dumping some swimming lessons on you! Doesn’t that sound fun? Hm, no? Well too bad, we’re doing it anyways! I won’t let you drown, don’t worry, but I can’t guarantee I won’t toy with you a bit. It’s only fair, you know? Accept your punishment~”

• The devotion you invest into your relationships is what made Malleus sure that you were the right one. The right one for what? Only time will tell, but he’s fine with anything. Your love, your disdain, your affection, he’ll gladly accept it all. So when you threw yourself into the study of his culture and home country, he felt honoured. And he knew that would understand how wonderful Briar Valley was. You just had to.

• So imagine his surprise when he catches you reading what he considers such a scandalous book. Were you, his child of man, truly interested in the courting methods of the fae?

• He’d spend many silent hours pondering on whether or not this interest was surface level, or if it delved deeper. Were you reading just to understand it from a clinical perspective? Or were you truly looking to take up a lover, and if so, who?

• Malleus hoped with all his heart that he was on your mind as you flipped through the pages, that it was his hands and fingers you envisioned when prompted with the thought of exchanging rings and vows, that it was his hair you would keep in a locket safe and secure around your neck. His body, mind, and soul belonged to you, and he knew it. He wouldn’t have it any other way.

-------

“Child of man, I see you are studying up on the courting methods between humans and faeries, are you not? I thought as much. Tell me, does your heart yearn for another when you read these passages? Does it ache with the passion of young love maturing? I wonder, do you feel what I feel?”

• Ohoho, has someone caught your eye, young prefect? For you to indulge yourself in reading something so improper, oh it must be someone special.

• Of course Lilia knows. He knows everything, apparently, and he knows you know that he knows. And he’s gonna give you the run-around.

It’s all “Oh, where did you pick up this book of yours?” this and Any particular reason that it caught your eye?” that. “Anyone on your mind lately, prefect? Don’t you worry, I won’t tell a soul, I promise.” He says as he throws in a wink at the end. You swear he’s not worth the trouble, but you know you’re lying to yourself in thinking that.

• Lilia now hovers around you more (literally), more than he ever has. He’ll pop in and strike up a conversation while you do the most mundane things. The old man can’t help but want to hog up all your free-time, and then some. How can he help himself? You’re just so cute in his eyes!

• I wouldn’t call him flustered per se, but he’s definitely moved by your gesture, now matter how comedic it started out as. The old bat often finds himself thinking of you, but now with the added details of a life spent together. Oh how he wishes to raise some children with you, he hopes you’ll accept that. He hopes that you’ll accept him, the real him, underneath his spontaneity and tailored youth.

-------

“Prefect! I see you still have your nose buried in that old book of yours. Say, how about instead of some light reading, we have some fun. just the two of us, some quality time for us both. We both know the importance of time and how we spend it, at least, I do, and if you accept my offer, I can teach you the importance of time as well. In fact! Why don’t I cook us both a traditional meal, hm? Surely that will bridge the gap between us!”

• “HUMAN! Just what do you think you’re reading?! Do you know the disrespect you are exhibiting towards the Young Master and fae kind right now by even holding that book?!” The usual volume of Sebek’s voice seemed like a whisper compared to the sheer screeching he was hurtling in your direction. The few students still lingering in the cafeteria turned towards the two of you, but quickly dismissed you both. You opted to put on a brave face, and turn your full attention towards the green-haired boy.

“Sebek! Just the man I wanted to see! Come, sit, sit!” You eagerly pat the empty seat next to you. Begrudgingly, Sebek takes a seat, posture stiff and rigid. But he seems to have a softer look to his countenance.

• “You know, Sebek, I may just be a lowly human compared to you, but I want to learn how to love you the way you want me to.” Your heartfelt confession surprised even you.

Sebek flinched at your words, though you didn’t mean them harshly, quite the opposite, actually. He cast his gaze downwards, folding his hands into his lap and thinking intently. Understanding that he needs to compose his thoughts to properly convey what he means to say, you let him take his time. Offering him a small smile.

• Suddenly, he shoots up from his seat at the table and extends his hand towards you, a determined look on his face.

“I see that I’ve been unnecessarily rude, and perhaps even offended you. Please let me rectify this oversight of mine!” The sparkle in his eyes is too endearing, you’d have accepted his apology regardless, but the genuine shine of regret and hope enchants you even more as you take his hand.

• It’s only when he starts to lead you out of the cafeteria do you snap out of it and wonder where you’re going. But you trust Sebek not to lead you astray.

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“Devote yourself fully to your studies, and it will bare fruit. Hmph! I see that this book is insufficient in teaching you all you wish to learn. Follow me! Where to you ask? To Diasomnia, of course! I’ll be teaching you myself all there is to know. Perhaps even Lilia can offer some assistance.. No! It must be me! Well, what are you waiting for? We start at once.”

• Che’nya was rarely ever on school campus grounds, except for Heartslabyul, and he never strayed too far from there when he did visit. The only hope you had of puling a trick on the cat boy was to attend every Unbirthday Party that you could. Even then, there wasn’t a guarantee he would show up. And if he did show up, there was no guarantee that he would show himself either. All in all, you were subject to embarrass yourself every Unbirthday Party until you got your desired results.

• Now, Che’nya isn’t as sadistic as Jade, or as playful as Lilia in the sense that he’s gonna drag this out for a long time. He’s gonna milk your reaction to his antics that are a response to your antics, but he’s happy to accept this small jest and he’ll take it in stride.

• Much like a cat he takes a seat in your lap, arms wrapped around your shoulders while he dangles his legs back and forth, flashing that cheshire grin of his at you.

“Nyeh, what’cha reading there? Is it something more important than me?” He makes a show of leaning into the open book in your hands, slowly moving his eyes along the pages while letting out a small hum. He finally snaps up straight and once again leans into the personal space of your face.

“Oh! It’s for me! Isn’t that precious!” He leers in a playful manner. Cuddling himself further into your half-hearted embrace. His tail knocks the book from your hands and onto the ground with a loud thud.

“Whoops! Nyahaha now you have to pay attention to me !” His tail flicks you on your nose and continues to hover there.

“Okay, Che’nya, you have my full attention.”

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“Don’t you think that book is a bit old-fashioned? I say just do what mew want, haha! There should be nothing to worry about if it’s true love. Nyah? That was out of character for me? You’ll see that I’m full of surprises~”

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I went ham on Leona’s part and then immediately fell short on everyone else.

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