#( and if he saw you even just passing the diner )
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Girl Of My Dreams (Part 2)
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader
Warning: maybe some cussing? angst, then fluff again
Summary: Summary: You work at a small diner down the street from the compound which Bucky visits often, so often that you remembered his order, but things got a little shaken up when Sharon puts her unwanted opinions in it.
You haven’t talked to Bucky in months, every time he comes into the diner you serve him and that’s it. He tries to talk to you, but you tell him you’re busy even if he’s the only one in the diner. It’s not his fault that Sharon said what she said, he can’t control what comes out of other peoples’ mouths, but the whole “75 girlfriends” comment really got to you, he was a very attractive man, so does he actually go out and pick up girls all the time? Is he a player? A lot is going on and you have enough to worry about. Bucky on the other hand, he didn’t know what to do with himself. He’s never felt like this about anyone before, he doesn’t want to lose you, but he knows giving you space may be the right thing to do he doesn’t listen to himself, he keeps trying although you two didn’t know each other for that long Bucky knew that you were the one for him. When he first showed you his arm you were intrigued, you asked many questions about it, and he had no problem answering them.
Bucky has never experienced that type of reaction when he told people about his arm, you didn’t make him feel like a robot or that he didn’t belong you made him happy and Steve and Sam saw that, but of course, Sharon had to go and fuck that up. Bucky stays in his room and only leaves to get food and go to the gym and every time Sharon comes around, he leaves even if he’s in the middle of a conversation and everyone understands they even warn him when she’s about to arrive, so he’s not caught off guard, which Bucky rarely is. There was a soft knock at Bucky’s door “Hey, Buck we were gonna go get some food do you want to come?” No answer, Sam and Steve shared a look and continued on their way, Bucky knew where they were going and after the last time, he was at the diner it was probably best he didn’t go with them.
A short time has passed, and Steve and Sam are at the diner and of course, they are in your section, you walk over and exchange greetings, you’re at work you have to pretend you’re happy. “Y/N please talk to Bucky; he doesn’t leave his room and he feels bad about what Sharon said.” You sighed slightly and rolled your eyes a bit “Why doesn’t he contact his 74 other girlfriends” Sam chuckled and looked you dead in your face “There are no 74 other girlfriends, Bucky isn’t the type to do that, hell I’m surprised at how good he was with you. Bucky is a loner, he’s over 100 years old with no practice when it comes to women, trust us.” Sam’s eyes went from super serious to pleading “Why should I trust you guys, you’re his best friends you could be covering for him.” You crossed your arms over your chest and stared "You don't have to but think about it. Would we really be okay with that type of behavior?" You shrugged your shoulders "I don't know what men think, but I'll think about it. I have to get back to work can you guys stay a bit and give me a ride?" They both nodded and you went to continue your shift, you had plans to talk to Bucky about what was said you just didn't know what you were going to say, and you didn't know what he was going to say.
Finally, your shift was over, and you met up with the guys. "Okay, I'm ready to talk to him." The three of you walked over to Sam's car, Steve opened the front passenger door for you and shut it after you were comfortably in the car, he got in the back and Sam drove to the compound. A short drive later you're outside the compound you take a deep breath and follow them inside, Steve showed you to Bucky's door, and you take another deep breath and knock on the door. "Go away, Steve!" You could hear his voice cracked from the other side of the door which made your heart break in half "It's not, Steve." You heard rapid movement and the door opened to reveal a very tired and sad Bucky. Your heart is now shattered. You did this to him, you hurt him. Well, Sharon did but you felt somewhat to blame. "Hi, Bucky." He blinked a few times and just stared "Y/N..." You rubbed your arm "Can we talk?" He nodded and moved to the side so you can walk in.
His room was dark and a mess. You didn't know Bucky that well, but you knew he wasn't a messy person at all. You sat on the edge of his bed and watched him walk over and sit next to you "Listen Bucky, I am very sorry for ignoring you, that comment really messed me up I like you a lot and I know I shouldn't have let her get in my head but that was the first time we hung out and to hear that I didn't know who to believe, I've been hurt before." You fiddled with your fingers while you tried to figure out what to say next, he saw your hands and gently took them into his. "I have never felt like this in my life, you bring out the best in me even if we only hung out once, the moment I saw you, I knew you were the one for me, and you confirmed it when I showed you my arm most people look at me and treat me differently, you don't and I appreciate that so much I cannot lose you."
You looked over at Bucky and smiled softly "You're not going to lose me, I'm here." He brought your hands up and kissed both of them "By the way I don't have 74 other girlfriends, I'm really hoping to have 1 that is if you want to." You smiled again and nodded "Of course I would love to." He pulled you into a hug sighing with relief "You already make me so happy" You pulled back softly pecking his nose "Now, why don't we clean up this room and go downstairs and I make us some food" He smiled and nodded his head. You walked over to the windows opening the curtains to finally let some light in the room. After cleaning Bucky's room for about an hour, you both go downstairs and into the kitchen. “Alright, what do you want to eat?” Bucky sat at the island and watched you look around the kitchen “What can you make?” You leaned against the counter and started naming things you could make “Ooh chicken alfredo sounds good” You smiled and started getting all the ingredients out, you looked back at Bucky who was just admiring you “Wanna help?” He nodded excitedly and stood up to come help “Okay, so what do you need me to do?” You looked around for the easiest task you reached over and handed him a pot "Fill this up with some water, maybe about halfway maybe a little more." Bucky can't mess up filling a pot with water, can he? "Is this good enough?" You nodded and instructed him to put it on the stove.
While you were cutting up the chicken you figured the water would be boiling but nope, he never turned the stove on, you giggled to yourself and turned the stove on when he wasn't paying attention. The two of you laughed and cooked. Finally, you were done and ready to eat, you both sat down, and Bucky looked down at his plate in amazement "This looks amazing" The two of you sat there in silence, enjoying the wonderful meal that you two prepared together, when in walks Sharon. You look up in disgust as she walks into the kitchen "Hey, one of Bucky's girlfriends is here, do the others know not to come by?" You could feel your blood boiling again and just as you were about to speak, Bucky spoke up instead "What the fuck is your problem?" Sharon looked at Bucky shocked by what he said but she stood firm "I just want her to know how much of a player you are." You rolled your eyes and continued eating, it seemed like Bucky had this handled, so you sat back and watched. "Y/N is my one and only girlfriend, and it's about time you respect her and me and everyone else in this compound." At this point, Bucky is now standing and staring straight into Sharon's eyes.
Sharon takes a step closer to the island. "Do you really want to go there with me Bucky?" Bucky walked around the island and stood firmly in front of Sharon, now it was time for you to step in you walked up behind Bucky and gently grabbed his right arm "It's not worth it, baby." You felt Bucky's arm relax and he slowly turned his head to look at you "You're right, Doll. Let's go continue our dinner in the living room." Bucky picks up your plates and walks into the living room, he sets them down on the coffee table and stands there with his hands on his hips. "Actually, you know what I have one more thing to say then I'm done." He turned around to face Sharon and took a deep breath "Ever since Steve stopped fucking you, you've been the biggest bitch imaginable, but one thing you are absolutely not going to do is, disrespect Y/N. You don't even know her and honestly, I would love to keep it that way so pack your shit and get out." Both you and Sharon stood there shocked. You never expected Bucky to say anything like that, that was the moment you realized you found the one for you.
Main Masterlist - Bucky Barnes Masterlist - Part 1
A/N: I really hope you guys like it; I tried my best to make it good for you guys. feedback is definitely appreciated along with constructed criticism, please the more the better. Tell me how I can make it better for you guys to read. :)
Tags: @megamindsecretlair @blackhawkfanatic @casey1-2007 @scorpiosaintt @buckysdoll85 @grdh90 @thedonswife13 @scott-loki-barnes @b3llair3
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yandere! diluc pt. 1
Content: dubcon/noncon, stalker behaviour, yandere, syringe, manhandling, kidnap, foul language.
Note: Yeah I know I have a pt. 2 left but i'm so so dry bc of exams and stress so I just wanted to post stuff I like without (trying) to think too much, as always, non-proof reader.
Credits to anitelenia for the lovely divider.
It had been a few days since you started to realize it.
You mostly noticed it when you were alone, walking quietly to your house after your night shift. You had just left the flower shop, trying to walk as fast as possible, just thinking about your warm and soft bed. You were far too deep in your fantasies when you finally stumbled upon someone. Your forehead bumped against something stiff, you could say that it was even hard. Just as you were about to apologize a deep voice talked:
"I'm sorry... I really wasn't looking, are you ok?" Deep blazing eyes encountered with yours, his eyes shining as wild flames despite the cold light of the moon. His hair was swaying, making his face look even more charming, how come you had never seen someone as beautiful as him around? You were dazzed for a moment, your lips almost forming a small circle, luckily, you were fast enough to realize it, finally being able to snap out of it.
"Oh, no, it's my fault, it's kinda dark today so yeah... I wasn't paying attention to my surroundings, I'm sorry..." As soon as you babbled your poor excuses, the man laughted softly, his eyes forming small crescent moons.
"Diluc, just call me by my name." You nodded, a bit stranged cause, who would simply give their name to some stranger found in the middle of the night?
"Oh, nice to meet you sir Diluc, I gotta go, see you around!" You left without losing more time, after all, your dear bed was waiting all alone for you. If only you had pay a bit more attention to whatever that man was saying before leaving...
"I'm sure we will meet much more often from now on, dear." Without saying nothing else, Diluc left, walking back to the wineyard and starting to plan how would he be able to make you let down your walls.
A few months had passed, and just as he had foresaw, both of you had suddenly became the soon-to-be couple in Mondstadt. Everytime people saw you around, his eyes started to share furtive glances, their hands making small gestures in a comedic way. Even despite Diluc acted as if he was unaware, he knew it. After all, those rumors had been planned by him. He helped you with even small stuff, always getting up and bringing you your drink, paying when he invited you to have lunch or diner, always as "friends" of course, definitely not because he was already thinking about the ring to ask you to marry him... He also waited for you after work, always bringing you small bouquetes of flowers that he had "found" around while he was doing small quests (he was actually buying them, then making the bouquet with your favourite flowers).
He had already written down all your favourite places, foods, flowers, colours, the type of clothes that you liked, your most hated food, your fears, the name of your first pet... the list could go on for hours. Cause if he didn't know all that information, could he even call himself your boyfriend?
He also had a "small" compilation of sneak pics he had taken of you, the photos were laying around his room, some were hanged in frames, others were hidden in boxes, the rest were used for his shrine in progress.
Of course, when he finally confessed his feelings, he was 100% sure you would fall in love with him, he had done everything you had told him you liked in a man! So when your face changed, your eyes suddenly losing that loving spark, his world almost crashed completely. You tried to explain it to him, it was not the first time a man who you had considered a friend had confessed to you, so you were a bit dissappointed... did that mean that you had approached her with that intention since the beginning? You didn't know what to think, so you asked him for some time, just enough for you to think deep about it. Before you knew it, his hand was already way too close to your neck, a small zap being sent all through your body and causing you to fall against his arms.
When you finally woke up, you were in his room, the fire was crackling, almost making it feel way too... cozy, almost as if you were at "home". What happened? Just as you were about to move from the bed, you noticed something. There was a chain tied to your ankle, tying you to the bed, your clothes had been changed to a soft nightgown, somehow perfectly fitting your body, what the hell had happened?
You were about to scream, when the door opened, his crimson hair swaying just like the first night you had met. He was carrying a small tray, some grapes and other fruits were on top of it. As soon as he noticed you were awake, his lips curved up, his eyes shining with pure devotion.
"Darling! I'm sorry, it seems the thing I created had a little misscalculation..." Diluc apologized, leaving the tray in his desk.
"Are you ok? Do you feel any type of pain? It would kill me to know that I have hurt you..." His hands moved towards you, although as soon as he saw you flintch his hands stopped, his face looking as hurt as if he was the one that had been chained. He suddenly got up from the bed, once again heading towards his desk and taking something from one of the drawers. He got close to you, and despite your failed attempts of squirming away from his touch, it was all in vain as soon as you felt a pulsing pain, almost as if you had been pricked with a needle. The blood that was supposed to keep you on edge was suddenly towards your lower half. What was happening?
As soon as he had used that strange needle, your whole body had went soft, almost limp. did he inject something inside of you? Before you were able to complain anything about it, your brain felt as if it had turned into mush, your brain feeling too fuzzy to think.
"What... what was that?" Diluc eyes' glistened, looking a bit too proud of his work.
"Just some potion to help ease your mind, you looked too... stressed before, but now you look just like a pretty little doll, darling. Did you like the nightgown I bought? I knew it would suit you, but I didn't think it would make you look even prettier!" His hands went through your soft hair, his hands feeling a bit too... hot, maybe it was actually your body the one that was melting?
"Diluc, you need to let me go... I... We can talk about all of this... I promise I won't say it to the knights of Favonius..." You tried to hard to form a cohesive sentence, but Diluc's face switched, his calm face turning into a grin.
"Oh sweet heart, you are almost as naive as beautiful. Do you truly think that those... pesky little knights can harm me in anyway?" Diluc's gaze darkened, his eyes drifting through your whole body. "I'm sorry for having to take this...solution, but you were getting a bit too... close, you know?" Diluc sat down at your side, his hand moving your head a little, just enough for your head to rest on his shoulder. "Just being close to you makes me feel at peace, you know?" His body shifted a little, his calloused hand taking your hair out of your face. "I finally made up my mind after seeing you two that afternoon... that damned liar keeps trying to take what's mine." His hands moved, his fingertips drifted through your chest, pinching a bit your nipples, just enough to let a moan leave your mouth.
"That drug is still active, I guess..." He pushed you just a little, your body falling to the bed without much resistance. His frame on top of you, his soft hair sending shivers down your spine. His face lowered, his soft lips leaving kisses all through your neck, letting you whimper as much as you wanted. His hands were moving around, slowly touching your clothed cunt, treating you as if you were a delicate porcelain doll. "I can even see your pretty pussy, are you that excited to be touched?" You tried to complain, of course that was not the case! That damned syringe had done something to you, of course you were only able to make some complain noises.
"Uhm... to be honest that was just a muscle relaxant, it was just in case you tried to play some little tricks on me, I'm sorry for doubting you, honey. But I swear I will never do anything like it again, I just got a bit anxious." His hands got away from your lower half, going back up and starting to caress your face, kissing your pretty lips and making them all shiny.
"We can consume our love any other day, I've prepared plenty of stuff for us to do, sweet heart." Before you were able to complain, your eyes started to close, body too tired to even ask when would you be free.
#diluc x you#diluc x reader#genshin diluc#diluc ragnvindr#smut#fanfiction#x reader#genshin imagines#genshin impact#genshin impact headcanons#genshin impact smut#genshin smut#genshin x reader#diluc smut#diluc fanfic#yandere male#yandere#yandere boyfriend#yandere x darling
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" i don't know why you're looking after me. " her voice is hoarse, which really doesn't help her bid at dismissive reassurance. nor does the fact that she's sitting on the sofa, surrounded by eleven blankets that the squad and kids insisted on, and gripping a long-cold cup of tea like a lifeline. " i'm fine. never been better, actually. and i love stanley, but he's my dad! he worries about me! you don't need to join him! seriously, go on away home! "
OPEN STARTER! [ OPEN TO MUTUALS ONLY! ]
#( ' for all to claim. ' / open starter. )#( me watching ofm.d and writing sick!aisling opens to cope with the minor headcold? )#( absolutely )#( now go ahead! )#( also if we don't have any prior stuff together )#( pls consider that stanley just assumes everyone is friends with aisling )#( and if he saw you even just passing the diner )#( he'd have asked you to go and look after his dumb stubborn sick daughter )
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Bad Boys Bring Roses - G.S.
Synopsis. You’ve never dealt with the yakuza - not once. So why is the future head of the Gojo clan suddenly coming up to you, demanding that you marry him for 30 days?
Pairing. Yakuza boss! Gojo Satoru x Reader
Content. MDNI, fem! reader, yakuza! au, fake marriage, annoyances to lovers, elders suck, mentioned k*lling (not reader or Satoru), Satoru is INSANE and SO down bad, one bed trope, praise, biting, oral (fem receiving), fíngering, unprotected, créampie, spitting, overstim, flower language, kníves, bit dark, HAPPY ENDING, pet names, swearing.
Word count. 9.1k (whoopsies)
A/N. I just HAD to get this out of my mind like I wanna write an entire book series on this. Spent too long researching rose language as well so see if y’all catch that hehe.
You thought the wedding invitation was a joke when it had arrived - a delicate, lacey little card that you’ve probably read over a million times by now. It had been stuffed haphazardly into your mailbox, along with a ridiculously large bouquet of purple roses. Seemingly inconspicuous when you first tore into the thick envelope, wondering which one of your friends was getting married now.
And it was - that is, until you saw your name at the very top - right where the blushing bride’s was supposed to be.
We hereby formally invite you to the marriage of…
What?
No return address. No date. No groom’s name either. Only yours, written in beautiful, golden writing - inviting you to your own wedding, exactly a week from now.
You remember perfectly the way you’d flipped it over and over in your hands, the gears turning in your head as you tried to crack down on the motive behind this invitation. A threat? A joke? Texting all of your friends about what a cute prank that was - only to get a shared confused reaction, and a few “April Fool’s has already passed, y’know.”
Hell, you’d even cornered the mailman, desperate to get to the bottom of this. But that wasn’t particularly helpful when he was only able to shake his head in protest, pale as a sheet, and trembling ever-so-slightly as he sped away from you. Weird.
Without a clue as to who sent the letter, or even a follow-up in the days after, you stuffed the invitation somewhere deep in the back of your closet and handed the bouquet to your mother. Not bothering to tell your parents where it was from - because who’d worry over a stupid prank like this? It was probably one of the kids from down the street that’d gotten their grubby lil’ hands on a printer.
You, however, had more important things to focus on - like trying to help your father revive his failing diner. It was a family business, a quaint, hearty little shop. One that was quickly, and dangerously, losing both customers and employees with the brand new fast food place that’d popped up right across the street.
Which is why you found yourself here - working overtime on a Saturday night, looking over the empty chairs and stacks of boxes from behind the counter. Whatever, it was only a few weeks until relocation anyway.
You heave out a sigh, eyes flitting to the clock beside you - 11:21pm.
Nine minutes more, you drum your fingers in boredom, maybe you should just close up early. Because sure as hell no one else was-
“Oh? Still open?”
“Ah- Uh, yes, welcome!” Jolting out of your reverie, you stand up ramrod straight, taking in the customer standing at the door. He wasn’t one of the regulars - no, you think you’d remember if he was. Cloudy white hair, piercing blue eyes that twinkle from above his shades, even in the dim light of the diner. He was so very tall, taking up almost all of the doorframe, only getting more and more imposing as he walks up to you in quick, long strides. Magnetizing.
And if you dared let your eyes wonder, you caught a few tattoos peeking out from his unfairly snug button-up, clashing with its flashy blue color. Dragons? Trees? Or were they flowers - roses?
“Roses.” the man in front of you answers your unspoken question, voice so very deep, and melodic - tinged with something playful in it that you wouldn’t have expected at first glance. At your raised brow he continues with a wink, “Could tell ya were checkin’ me out, sweetheart.”
“F-forgive my rudeness, sir.” you sputter, face burning. You look away from the way his muscled ripple as he crosses his arms, immediately turning to fumble with the menus, “Please take a seat and I’ll be there with you shortly.”
You’d expected him to take up a booth, or maybe head towards one of the good tables around the corner. What you did not expect was for him to plop down on the stool right in front of you, flashing you a playful grin before humming, “S’alright, m’just waitin’ for someone.”
Oh. Well, it made sense that someone like him would be taken. Swallowing, you hand over the menu, before giving him a close-lipped smile, “A lover?”
Resting his head on his palms, not bothering to even glance at the list of dishes before him. “My fiancée.”
“Congratulations, Mr…”
“Gojo Satoru.” he tilts his head, looking way too happy with himself. “Please, call me Satoru.”
You nod softly, picking up your pen and notepad to get this conversation over with - and maybe to also avoid his heavy stare that made something hot and uncomfortable coil in your stomach. “Right, Mr-” at his disappointed whine, “Satoru. Congratulations, must be one heck of a thing to plan.”
“Oh I’m having fun with the wedding planning.” He waves off your words with a chuckle, missing - or pointedly ignoring - the way you were waiting for his order. “How’s it going for you?”
What?
You narrow your eyes at the way Satoru was batting those long lashes up at you, deceivingly innocent and waiting for your answer. “I’m sorry- Me? Did you mean with the diner relocation plans or-”
“No no no.” he laughs, loud and boisterous. And usually you’d have a thing or two to say at someone interrupting you if you weren’t so mesmerized by that little dimple at the corner of his grin. One that moves as he plows on, “M’asking how wedding planning is going for you, wifey~”
There’s a beat of silence. One. Two. With you gaping at the pure audacity as Satoru quiets down to little titters, seemingly studying your reaction in amusement. Which slowly, but surely, drains from his face as you grit out a sharp, “I’m gonna have to ask you to leave, sir. We’re very busy and don’t have time to entertain your pick-up lines.”
Those widened blue eyes sweep the painfully empty diner, letting out a low whisper. “I can see that.” you let out a strangled noise of embarrassment at that. “But you’re really gonna ask your husband to leave?”
Huffing in frustration, “I don’t have a husband.”
“...you do.”
“I don’t.”
“You do.”
“I don’t. And who the fuck are you to tell me I do?”
“What?!” Satoru jumps out of his seat in shock, fast enough that the stool clatters to the floor with a deafening clang! Hands slamming on the counter as he leans over it - so close that you could feel his minty breath fanning your face with each hurried, shrill word that tumbles out of his lips. “What do you mean you don’t have a- I’m gonna kill those fuckin’- After I bought Canva premium just to make that invitation? Did the flowers come at least?”
And while Satoru is panicking, words spilling out of his mouth a mile a minute - only one of those rings in your mind - invitation.
“You.” you hiss, barely audible over meltdown in front of you. Pointing a finger accusingly, “You’re the one behind that prank with the dumbass roses.”
That seems to snap Satoru out of his dramatic monologue - and you’re glad it did. Because he looks up to meet your glare, “Hey! You didn’t like the roses?”
And for the first time, you see Satoru more serious than he’d been ever since stepping into this diner. Eyes somewhere behind you, ablaze and almost…frightening. “Didn’t you ask him?”
You whirl around to see your father, who’d apparently rushed downstairs at the commotion. Baseball bat to fight off the intruder hanging in midair as he stands frozen, taking in the scene before him - but more importantly, that man in front of him. “You.”
---
And, well, it’s not everyday that you’re having late night tea with your parents and one of your father’s…business associates. Even rarer when said business associate is…you gulp, praying to whoever’s above that this is all some sick dream you’ll wake up any second from.
“So, let me get this straight…” you sigh, pinching your nose in frustration. It’s been an hour or two of trying to understand whatever this was. Giving a stern look at the two men squirming across from you in the booth. “My father was conned by one of your-” you gesture your head at Satoru, which only makes his smirk grow, “-men to take a loan from your um-”
“Family, yakuza. Anything goes.” he supplies helpfully.
You wave him off, trying as quickly as possible to brush off the ‘yakuza’ bit that makes your stomach lurch. “And now he owes you a favor of…what exactly?”
Satoru leans across the table, t-shirt opening tantalizingly. Voice dropping to an almost-pleading murmur, “Look, I just need you to pretend to be my doting, loving, charming, gorgeous-” backtracking at your withering glare, “...Anyway. I just need a fake wife for a few months, convince my family to get off my back about arranged marriage n’ carrying the Gojo legacy. Then bam! you stomp all over my heart, we divorce and I’m too heartbroken to ever get married again. Easy.”
“No.”
“Please?”
“No.”
You bet Satoru’s disappointed groan echoed across all 23 words of Tokyo, because it was definitely ringing in your ears amongst whirlwind thoughts of marriage? To a yakuza? Completely, and utterly ridiculous. And from his talks of “carrying the family name” it seemed like he was some sort of future head as well. Though, he definitely wasn’t acting like it right now.
“Alright. Plan B, then.”
Oh? You couldn’t help but think that maybe he wasn’t that much of a manchild as sits up from where he’d been splayed all over the table in tragedy. Lacing his fingers together before turning to your father, continuing in a more diplomatic tone, “But I want the cash you took. In full. Now. Gonna hafta disguise my best friend as my wife, n’ dresses for a six foot man aren’t cheap.”
Your mother looked like she could faint right then and there. Choking out a noise of surprise, “B-but we’ve deposited it all for the relocation- Please, can’t we pay any other-”
At the firm shake of his head, you stammer, “Now? Aren’t you some yakuza nepo baby, can’t you just ask your parents for money?”
“No.” Satoru chuckles, in a tone which told you that he probably could but might just lose his head for it. Only further supported as he muses, “Not unless I want a finger cut off for dealin’ money on the side. Seriously, sweetheart, why did you think I sent you the invitation last week?”
“Take me instead.” you father cries, trying to negotiate above Satoru’s half-joking mutters of “Ugh, I’m not into ol’ men dumb enough to sign yakuza contracts.”
It was all too much. You couldn’t take out the relocation deposit - it was a new start, possibly the only thing to save your family. Nor do you have enough in savings to pay back the loan. And if Satoru’s warning was anything to listen to, then you knew that dealing with the yakuza could be dangerous. Why you? Why you? Why you?
“Fine.”
The moment that word leaves your lips, it’s like the whole world freezes. Everyone in the room - including yourself - unsure of whether they heard you right. “I’ll do it.” you clarify, voice hesitant but firm. Eyeing the way Satoru’s eyes begin to sparkle, the beginnings of a smile curling his lips. Raising a finger to shush your father’s protests, “But for a month, until we leave this place. After that m’going with my family and you’re never to contact us ever again. Deal?”
And oh Satoru seemed over the moon, reaching out to grasp your hand in a handshake - so warm, and softer than you’d imagined. “Swear on m’life, wifey. You can kill me if not.”
He was so intimidating - and intimidatingly exhilarating.
Only an hour more of arguing and a quick phone call later, men - yakuza, you assume - were flooding your family’s little diner. All tattooed and burly, looking somewhat comical as they carried your few packed-up suitcases outside. Well, at least they stayed for a late dinner.
And ended up being witnesses to a very rushed, very rushed signing of marriage agreements. Evidence to really show up your alleged marriage. It barely even lasted a few minutes before, well, that was that - you were married, to the son of a yakuza head.
You say a quick goodbye to your teary parents, soothing them with promises of “I’ll be back before you know it. One month. That’s all.”
“And don’t worry about a thing,” Satoru sing-songs, coming up behind you. “If there’s anyone she’s safe with, it’s me.”
“You better keep your mitts off of my baby.” your father warns, raising the baseball bat still clutched in his hand menacingly.
“I won’t lay a hand on her, father-in-law. And anyone that even thinks about it…” he cackles, breath hot against your ear, sending shivers down your spine. “I’ll kill.”
Prancing off to hold the door of that shiny black Mercedes parked outside open for you. “Ladies first.”
With another quick hug to your parents, you hastily make your way inside. Feeling extremely out of place amongst the overly luxurious interior in your slightly-stained work uniform. God, the covers on these cushions themselves probably cost more than your house.
“Like the car? I can buy you one. Or four, as a wedding gift.” Satoru grins.
Oh, right. You weren’t in here alone - you were here with your new…husband. The word felt so strange to even wrap your head around, instead you turn to meet his easy smile. Clenching your jaw as you grit out, “So how do we act m-married?”
You swear he brightens up impossibly, scooting closer to you on the seat. Heart lurching as he raises his eyes to meet yours, dizzy with the heat of his proximity, he promptly pulls out his Notes app.
“Well, you see. I forgot to send this with the invitation so you better memorize this before we get home.” flashing you a long, long list of likes and dislikes, “Here’s my favorite color and my favorite Digimon and-”
That car ride could not have been longer. Because in addition to arguing with Satoru about who the best Digimon was, you had to fill out your own version of his overly extensive list. “So we can be foolproof.” he’d whined. And you’d been so engrossed in the process that you barely noticed the looming estate out the window.
“We’re here, young master and madam Gojo.”
It took a second to register that the driver was talking to you as well as Satoru, immediately pushing your face against the window to take in the scenic site before you. Heavy wooden doors - probably taller than an average house - opening to reveal sprawling gardens. Koi ponds and rose bushes lining a pathway that led to a traditional Japanese house - all power and glory. You half wondered whether you were still in Tokyo.
“Home sweet home.” Satoru grunts. “Such a beautiful hell, huh?”
Your home, for the next month. At least.
And if you had any doubt that Satoru was in fact the future yakuza head, that all went out the window at the welcome you got. Men lining the wooden hallway, bowing at the waist while your all-new husband wraps a hand around your shoulders, pointing out the various rooms and ornaments as he led you in.
“-and this is going to be our room.” he brings you in front of a large tatami room, one the size of your entire diner.
“Ours.” you repeat. Walking unhurriedly to the king-sized bed in the middle - the only bed. Heart pounding as you take it all in.
“Ours.” Satoru echoes, happily. And if he was any bit as affected as you are, then he doesn’t show it, instead pulling out a blue yukata from the closet, a golden Gojo emblem stamped on the back. Made with such a pretty, delicate fabric that it made you shiver to think how much it cost. “Now, I had these made jus’ for you last week. You can give me a lil’ fashion show tomorrow, so make sure you get some rest, wifey.”
It’s only when he says the word “rest” that you realize exactly how tired you are. Your long shift and the entirety of this having your eyes feeling heavier than usual.
“Um…” you start, risking a glance at the bed.
Satoru jolts, “Ah- don’t worry, sweetheart. You take the bed.” beginning to saunter outside to meet his team. “Got some work, so I’ll be sleeping in my office. Dream of me~”
And, really, you almost felt bad splaying yourself out on the crisp navy sheets. Sinking into the heady smell of fabric softener, and something so so Satoru. Addictive. Like an expensive cologne that made your head spin, one that wafted through your mind as you dreamt of summer weddings, and blue, blue skies.
“Ichiji.”
“Yes, young master.”
“See to it that the madam is safe. Anyone try anything funny and you bring them back alive. I wanna be the one to play with them, okay~?”
“Of course, young master.”
---
Admittedly, you probably have the best sleep of your life at the Gojo estate- or, it would’ve been if your husband didn’t burst in every morning at 7am. Handing you a ridiculously big bouquet of white roses, straight from the garden, before dragging you outside.
Milling about the estate, Satoru was never too far behind, chattering away. Letting you hold onto his strong arm crossing the bridges, occasionally having you show up to yakuza meetings as his plus one. Relishing in the rumors spreading all through the yakuza syndicates in Tokyo. Gojo Satoru, and the commoner wife he’d do anything for.
Weirdly enough, some strange little part of you thinks he puts in a lot more work than necessary for some pretend relationship…
“I think that stupid plan is really working, y’know.” you muse to him after a few days of this. Dipping your fingers into one of your favorite koi ponds with a nod at the figures watching you from a distance - Gojo clan elders, you assume. “Those old coots hate being within a five mile radius of me.”
Satoru huffs out a laugh, “That so? S’probably the method acting then, huh? Taking good care of me, wifey?” he wiggles his eyebrows, nudging you from where he was holding an umbrella beside you.
Furrowing your brows mockingly, “S’funny for you to say, they don’t even look at me. But they follow me around everywhere.”
“Do they annoy you, must I do my duty as a husband and gouge their eyes out?”
He…didn’t sound like he was joking.
Rolling your eyes, you pointedly ignoring the way your heart lurches at the word “husband.” Still so jumpy at the idea. “Speaking of, your parents give up the marriage proposals, yet?”
At this, Satoru clenches his jaw. “Still nagging, but they’re finally considering you as my actual bride rather than some hijink.” he spits out, seemingly recalling whatever conversation they’d had before. “And they want to have some family ‘dinner’, but it’s going to be awful and you don’t-”
“Let’s go.” you interrupt, nodding determinedly. “The realer this marriage seems, the faster we can divorce, no?”
He blinks at you slowly, “That’s…true. For the divorce, then?”
“For the divorce.”
And, well, that was settled - you were to meet your new in-laws. The ever-elusive heads of the Gojo clan. Also one of the most powerful yakuza in all of Japan, but, semantics really.
You spend the evening cooped up with Satoru in the library, poring over the bloody history of the yakuza - with the Gojo’s heading them all. The only time he actually leaves your side is a few hours before the dinner.
“For you.” he’d murmured, lips ghosting your ear, slipping something cold onto your finger. You look down to see one of the most beautiful rings you’ve ever seen - gold, with delicate blue and white diamonds encrusting it, cut in the shape of roses. “Can’t be married without a wedding ring, huh? Think of it as a good luck charm for tonight.”
And with that he’s swept away in a flurry of bodyguards and ruffled men, and you’re left standing there all alone. Cheeks burning, wondering how the hell he knew your perfect fit.
You worry longer about the dinner than you spend actually preparing for it. Though, that’s probably because of the group of stylists that come into your room to help you dress. Wordlessly fussing around you despite your weak attempts at conversation, eyes averted. Almost like they were…scared of you.
But there wasn’t much time to think of that - not when you’re being marched off in the direction of what you remember Satoru had called the family dining room. “More like a fuckin’ meeting room for those hardasses.” he’d snarked.
The moment you step in, all eyes turn to you - the only ones you recognize being Satoru’s, who immediately stands with a smile. “Ah, wifey! Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.” pulling you into a tight hug. His voice drops into a low, raspy murmur in your ear, “Ya look fuckin’ gorgeous in my colors, y’know.”
Traitorously, jolts of electricity run down your spine. Especially at how fucking gorgeous he looked in traditional wear. Whispering back, “Playing up the doting husband bit, huh?”
“Only for you.”
Pulling away, you drink in his dangerously handsome state. Hair so effortlessly styled, tattoos winking at you from just above his yukata - blue, to match yours. So pretty.
Stammering out, “Corny.”
“Only for-”
“Now that the girl is finally here, may we begin with dinner?” A stained voice sounds from behind Satoru, old and tinged with a tone that years of customer service told you did not bode well. Craning your head, you look over his broad shoulders, meeting the eyes of several disapproving elders.
Shit. Some of the most dangerous people in this country right now.
Gathered here - for you.
Automatically, you knew which ones were his parents - painfully upright, and hauntingly beautiful in a cold, calculated way. Sat right at the head of the long table. With a jolt, you realize that you two are seated right opposite them.
“So.” his mother starts, as you take your seat with a bow. Satoru doesn’t waste any time on niceties, plopping down right next to you, scooting closer than necessary. “Congratulations on the…wedding, my son.”
My son. You ignore the way both parents pointedly avoided looking at you. Your husband, however, does not. “What~ Not gonna wish my dear wife as well?”
It’s a silent staredown - one that has the entire room on edge. You don’t realize that you’re clenching your fists in tension until Satoru untangles them, slipping his larger hands into yours. Gaze still alarmingly intense and locked on the other side of the table.
He wins.
“Congratulations. Let us begin now.”
You breathe out a sigh of relief, the tension only slightly broken as butlers stream into the room, carrying decadent trays of food. Well, at least the food might make up for how appalling this dinner is going to be.
It’s only 15 minutes in that you realize how very, horribly wrong you are - because the elders of the Gojo estate really don’t hold back, do they? Thank God you memorized every part of that stupid likes and dislikes list.
Besides picking apart every aspect of your relationship that they could manage to squeeze out of you between the appetizer and the main course, the main scrutiny tonight seems to be you. But in that icy, subtle way that has Satoru’s jaw clenching tighter each second.
Lips curling, Gojo senior eyes you over his wine glass. “So, dear,” voice dripping with underlying venom despite the pet name. “Is it true our Satoru missed an esteemed marriage meeting with the Zenin group to ambush you at some rundown old diner?”
You fight to keep the smile plastered onto your face, painful and cracking under the pressure. A hand squeezing under the table to stop Satoru from opening his mouth to retort, you answer instead, “Well, ambushed wouldn’t be the word. You could say we fell in love over the counter - at my family’s diner.”
“A waitress, she said?”
“Now we know why it was this rushed. Probably pregnant.”
“The scandal. How far the Gojo name has fallen.”
The few stifled gasps from the other end of the table are so dramatic that you could almost laugh. But you don’t. Breath hitching as Mrs. Gojo chuckles, “Marrying the daughter of a lowly diner owner? How... quaint.”
“Mother, be quiet or-”
“What?” she throws her hands in exasperation. “Can’t I say anything around here. Honestly, Satoru, I’m just trying to make conversation with your new wife.”
Before either you or Satoru can react, his father speaks up, apparently not done with the interrogation. “You understand that we’re just worried, right, dear? Especially with marrying into prestigious families, of course.” The emphasis on “prestigious” is not lost on you.” And it drives you insane.
Steeling yourself, you train your eyes on the untouched food below you. “I understand.”
Plowing on as if trying to infuriate you, “And you understand that this position is dangerous? You’ll be targeted.”
“I understand.”
“Do you? Don’t be swept up in our Satoru’s charm and wealth, dear, my son just wants a way out of duty.” tone dripping with disdain, Satoru’s grip becoming tighter and tighter on yours. “The Gojo syndicate owns half of this city, we could bulldoze over that little diner of yours with only one phone call”
“My wife and I are leav-”
“I said I fuckin’ understand.” Your words hang in the air like a foul stench, and you raise your head to glare. If looks could kill, all the elders in this room would be six feet under and you’d be dancing on their graves already. “Neither me, nor my husband would ever let that happen because he knows a thing or two about respect, unlike you.” Lacing your fingers tighter with Satoru’s. “So shove your mighty family up your wrinkly asses. I don’t give a flying shit.”
Eyes wide, jaws dropped, the old couple opposite you finally seems stunned into silence. And if it was any other situation you could’ve almost laughed at how similar they looked to Satoru when he found out you thought his proposal was a prank.
His father adjusts his glasses. “Perhaps that is so.”
Ah, if only the rest of the table would be quietened just as easily.
“Not only is she a slut she’s a-”
Thud!
It all happens so fast you’re not even sure if your eyes are playing tricks on you. Because in a split-second, the knife that was at your side is suddenly embedded, deep into the wooden table - barely even an inch away from the elder that had spoken up.
“You’re lucky I’m matching with my wife n’ didn’t want to dirty this new yukata.” a voice sounds from your side. Melodic and so so eerie that you don’t realize for a second that it’s Satoru - your Satoru.
He loops an arm under your legs as he stands up. Easily maneuvering you into a princess carry, forcing you to cling onto his robes for dear life as your feet dangle from the floor. You look up - maybe to snap at Satoru to put you down - only for the words to die in your throat at how absolutely fucking feral your husband looked. Eyes wide, aura menacing. A grin gracing his features, not the familiar one which had your heart racing, no - something so dangerous and cold.
“Now,” he hums. Turning his back to the room, gaze still locked with the shocked heads inside, “My lovely wife and I will be retiring. Won’t you all say goodnight to your future madam?”
You don’t know what shocks you more - the way everyone in that room mumbles out a disdainful little “Goodnight, ma’am.”, or the way Satoru cackles as he carries you to your shared bedroom. Laying you gently on the mattress with a quiet, “Be right back, sweetheart.”
What the fuck happened?
He could’ve killed that man. And looked like he wanted to.
Your brain yells at you - run away run away run away- But you weren’t…scared? In fact, you don’t think you’ve ever been less fearful in your entire life. Especially not when Satoru stumbles back into the room, clearly rushing. Something warm spreading in your chest at the trays of food in his hands.
“Dinner’s better without a bunch of fossils on my kill list.” he grins. Settling right next to you on the bed, setting out the dinner he’d brought for you. And, well, you didn’t doubt that they really were on his kill list.
“Hey, wifey.” Satoru speaks up after a few moments of silence, satisfied with the food laid in front of you. “M’sorry for putting you through that. No more family dinners from now.”
You inch closer to lay your head on his sculpted shoulder, a hand bringing up the food to his pretty lips. He smelled so good, faintly like pine, and clouds. It made you so dizzy. “Eat, Satoru.”
That’s all which is said, because maybe that’s all that was needed. And for a second there, you almost forget that this is all pretend.
---
“Hey, uh- mister. You alright?” you call out, voice barely audible over the rain.
The sullen figure didn’t react at first, soaked through and eyes trained on the ground. Unmoving, even when you hesitantly drew closer, umbrella quivering in your hands.
You should turn around - walk away like everyone else on the sidewalk was doing. But no, something about the way he sat alone, stoic to the storm around him made you inch closer. “Here.” you hold out your umbrella. “S’our diner’s, but you look like you could use this more than I do.”
He jolts, as if hearing you for the first time. A flash of blue, so quick you almost think you miss it. Still not raising his head fully, the man’s snowy hair tousles as he jerkily closes around the handle. Pretty. And so so sad.
“It’ll be alright.” you nod.
And with that, you turn, running back in the rain to the haven of the diner, where your father was waiting impatiently - he’d just bought the boxes to start packing up for relocation. Fingers still burning ever-so-slightly where his hand had brushed against yours. How strange, you wondered his name.
---
Satoru stayed true to his word over the weeks that followed. His parents seemed well and fully intent on avoiding you. And, well, other than a few disdainful remarks, the elders mostly scurried away in fear at your very sight.
The only thing that made your skin prickle was that the housekeepers had a penchant for peeping in on the two of you. Increasingly following you - they always did, but now…honestly, it was a bit disconcerting.
But other than that, it was almost…peaceful. You wake up every morning to a large bouquet of burgundy roses at your bedside table - and a husband. Because Satoru had taken to sleeping on the little couch at the corner of your room every night - saying something about not wanting to rouse suspicion because if he actually had a wife he’d be “taking her to bed every night”. Somehow, you didn’t doubt it.
“Funny how it’s getting close to a month of being married, but you haven’t even kissed me yet.” you deadpan. Looking down at where he was resting his head in your lap, sprawled across the soft grass in the garden.
Something else also happened - something different.
Because Satoru was a bit touchier, a bit closer. Like right now, preening into your fingers carding through his soft hair. “Oh~? Why, wanna take me to bed, wifey?”
“You wish.”
“Maybe I do.”
Your hands still, pulse racing as your eyes bore into Satoru’s, trying to figure out what sort of bad joke this was. Subconsciously, you find yourself leaning down closer - too closer. Close enough that you could count every shade of blue in his hungry gaze. But by the grace of whoever was above-
“Young master, please excuse the intrusion but you have-”
Sitting up abruptly, addressing the newcomer in a stone-cold tone. “How many fuckin’ times have I not told you to never bother me when I’m with my wife?”
The servant bows apologetically, sputtering out apologies as you move to get up. Flashing a smirk at Satoru’s dramatic pout, “I have to catch up on some reading anyway. See ya, Satoru.”
“Noo~ my sweetheart don’t leave me~”
You stifle a laugh at his little tantrum, so different from when he was serious. He was so….dizzying. “You’ll be okay, Satoru.” Glancing up nervously to meet the servant’s intense stare, studying the scene before him, how different his master was. “I’ll be at the library now.”
And Satoru notices - of course, he does. He sees that tiny flash of concern in your eyes. One that you might not have noticed yourself. He lowers his voice as you walk away, so you don’t hear him speaking behind you. Words dripping with a similar venom he always heard from his parents, “Now, tell me who you’re spying for. Names, first and last.”
Satoru doesn’t join you in the library that day, the first time in weeks. And you find yourself missing him more than you should. It’s dark out by the time you’re raising your head from the books, joints aching from poring over them for hours. The house seems a lot quieter. Somewhat bigger.
Something was wrong. Something was wrong. Something was wrong.
Scratching the back of your head, you wander through the wooden hallways to your bedroom - wondering what was amiss. Your feet take you there as if on autopilot, thankful for Satoru’s meticulous tours.
“Hey,” you smile softly at a servant making your bed, “Where are-”
Your question dies in your throat at the way she yelps at your words, hurrying down the corridor with a jerky bow. Weird. Leaving you all alone, and confused, muttering to yourself, it’s only then that you notice the flash of red by your bedside table.
Not a bouquet. Only a single, red rose - a note tied around the stem, something you’d never gotten before.
“The marriage proposals have been revoked, your contract is fulfilled, my ex-wife.”
Oh, reading that hurt more than it should’ve. You should be happy at being free, a few days earlier than expected at that - but it was over - just like that. You didn’t want to leave him. You didn’t want to leave him.You didn’t want to leave him.
Were you going insane?
Clutching the flower like a lifeline, heaving out a sigh, “Maybe Satoru knows…”
“Thinking of me?”
Startled, you whirl behind to face your husband. In the dim-lighting, making out the stoney expression on his face, eyes wide and a little duller than they had been earlier today.
“Satoru?”
His eyes light up at the mere sound of your voice - then you’re engulfed in him. Wrapping you in his arms, bowing his body into yours, so tight that it almost hurts. But you let him, fisting the fresh yukata in your hands - and that’s when you realize, he’s changed his robes since this morning. “Are you okay?” you whisper into his shoulder. Drinking in the smell of his cologne, and something faintly metallic.
Every cell in your body is screaming at you to take the opportunity - to run away from this yakuza and his slaughter and whatever this was. But how could you? Staying rooted to the spot, not even a speck of fear.
Satoru heaves out a heavy breath, tickling the hairs at your nape as he pulls you impossibly closer. “Those nosy elders won’t be bothering you anymore, sweetheart. You’re free to go.”
A shudder runs down your spine at his words, and you didn’t want to think too hard about what they meant. Instead, you guide him to your bed - and, surprisingly, he allows you to. Letting the two of you sink into the plush mattress. With Satoru still in your arms. He repeats, “You’re free to go.”
Run away. Run away. Run away-
There it was again - that strained little manta. You stare right into his eyes, voice thick at the sinking feeling in your stomach. “My 30 days aren’t over yet.”
“Leave. Please.” he grunts into the crook of your neck, like your hands drawing patterns down his back had broken some dam. “M’not a good man.”
You press your lips to his forehead, searing and a desperate attempt to soothe the man. “I think I’ll be the judge of that.”
“I’m yakuza, sweetheart. Doomed to follow my parents here.” he mutters, strained and voice more unsure than you’ve ever heard. And once he started, it was like Satoru just couldn’t stop, rambling into your skin, “I hate it here, and you should, too. All these fuckin-”
“So go with me instead.”
“What if-”
“Toru.‘ you cut off his words, slurring and spilling out of his mouth. Gently, you pry him away from his little haven, reeling back to take a good look at the face he’s been hiding for so long. Hair mussed, curtaining his whirling eyes - all disheveled and vulnerable where he was once so suave.
Your eyes bore into his, unwavering. “It’ll be alright, Toru.”
And then he’s kissing you - and you’re kissing him. Only when his lips meet yours, soft, and so so sweet, do you realize that this is everything you ever want right now - possibly these past few weeks. “Y’can kill me if you don’ want his.” he mutters into your open mouth.
It’s so desperate - a messy clash of teeth and saliva, Satoru was drinking you in like you were the last drop of water on Earth. He tasted so sweet, like candy almost, and the gentle caress of a lover. You were addicted like you could do this forever and ever and-
And then he’s pulling away. A disappointed little whine leaves you involuntarily as he parts, delicate strings of saliva snapping in the space between you two. Satoru’s mouth drops into a soft oh! at the noise, surging forward minutely like he was about to kiss you senseless again. Only to halt with a pained grunt, just a hair’s breadth from your lips.
“M’sorry.” Claiming your lips once again, like a man possessed. Drinking in your breathless gasps. Like he never wanted to let go. “F-fuck, sweetheart. Y’don’t know how crazy you drive me.” he pants.
“Why did you pick me?” you blurt out, a question that had been nagging at the back of your mind every time Satoru slipped his hand in yours, introducing you as his loving wife. “Was it just the debt?”
He’s kissing your pulse now, canines hovering over the erratic little cadence. Breathing you in like you were intoxicating. “No.” he’s licking a long, languid stripe up your neck. Pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses down every inch of skin he could reach.
“Then why?” your words come out in almost an embarrassing plea. But by the way his breath hitches, you know that Satoru loves it.
“Because.” he breathes, “You treated me like a human.”
He’s capturing your lips with his again, nipping at your bottom lips. You squeal as he pulls, suddenly wanting him to tease you like this everywhere. To have him absolutely ruin you like you know he could - treat you like the wife he claimed you were.
But Satoru wasn’t done yet - far from it. He chuckles, kissing down your neck, fumbling with the ties of your yukata, “Remember that night? You probably don’t, was rainin’ so hard I thought I’d drown out there.” Worshiping the valley between your breasts as he hastily unbuckles your bra. “That night was when the marriage proposals had come in. They said I’d either carry the legacy or be forced to leave the family. Kicked out of my own home.”
And you’re reeling from both his words and the way Satoru was rocking his hips into yours now, something hot, and so achingly hard pressing in the damp area between your legs. “Thought I was gonna take ‘em all out that night.”
“Take them all out?” your breath hitches.
“Every. Single. One.” Fingers dancing across the hem of your panties. “Wouldn’t have felt bad about it either.”
Satoru’s licking down your navel now, humming in confirmation into your skin. “But then…” he groans, taking in the first fucking sinful sight of your drenched panties. So flimsy and already dripping for him - and after just a few kisses, really? You were heaven on Earth. “But then along came you. So pretty and all worried f’me. The daughter of that diner owner I’d loaned money too.”
You watch, heart racing as Satoru swallows in awe. Darkened gaze locked on the way your slick beads out of your pussy, bare thighs trying to close - give yourself some semblance of dignity. But no- how could you? When Satoru’s holding them apart.
“And then I knew…” he’s sliding his index underneath your panties up and down, grazing your swollen folds. Pooling your sweet sweet juices on his fingertip before popping it into his mouth. Eyes fluttering shut at the taste, and you’ve never seen him look so blissful. “I just had to have you.”
Rip!
The cold air brushes against you before you even know it - only when you feel Satoru’s hot breath against your dripping cunt does it hit - this bastard just ripped your panties off. And he was dangling it like a badge of honor, breathing in your juices so animalistically.
Your lips wobble as he just admires your pussy, the way it glistens and clenches around nothing. “Hah- please.”
“Please what?” he grins, and you can feel him licking little circles around your inner thigh. So close. “The wife of a yakuza boss has gotta know how to use her words.”
“You’re awful.”
“And yet you married me.”
With such a cute lil’ whine that makes Satoru’s cock twitch so painfully, you buck your hips closer to his hot mouth. “Wan’ your mouth on me, to eat me out. Please, Toru.”
He lets out a shuddering breath, “There’s my girl.”
You gasp when he surges forward, burying his pretty face nose-deep in your pussy. Holding your breath as he lazily licks up your folds - long, sloppy movements of his tongue all the way from your base to your swollen clit. Swirling deftly around the sensitive nub.
Drunk off your pussy with the way he’s so messy - seemingly unable to decide between sucking harshly on your poor, ravaged clit to dipping into your sloppy hole. And it’s driving you mad, keening and pulling at his soft locks. You haven’t been touched this good in ages, and Satoru was well and fully intent on ruining you.
“Shhh, don’t worry, wifey.” words muffled into your cunt, “Your husband’s gonna take care of you.” He’s throwing your legs over his broad shoulders.
“Real good care of you.” Then he’s plunging knuckle-deep in your plushy pussy, the tips of his long fingers massaging your plushy walls. Messy enough that your slick is trailing down his wrist. Roaming for that one spot he knows will have you moaning deliciously. Pressing down, hard. “Found it. Gonna have you screamin’ my name til’ the entire estate hears.”
You tug on his hair, urging Satoru’s mouth towards your cunt - partially because you wanted him there, partially because you really needed him to shut up right now.
And shit how could he ever say no to his pretty wife?
Satoru is grinning, you can feel it on your throbbing clit as he wraps his pretty pink lips around it. Pumping his fingers in and out, hitting that little spot each and every time. Looking like he was absolutely in heaven as he rolls and swirls his tongue against your clit over and over and-
“Sh-shit. Toru-”
“Mmm, yes- fuck, love it when you call me that.” he groans. And oh he’s looking at you like he wants to devour you - eyes half-lidded, such a pretty blush disting his cheeks - and making out with your pussy just as much. Tilting his head back, back, back so that your juices slide down his throat. “Feels good? Ya like when m’ruining your pretty pussy?”
“Yes!” you squirm. Shaking, bucking your hips into his touch so desperately. “Wanted it s’bad.”
He’s becoming frenzied now, drinking in your cute little whimpers like he was addicted. But it wasn’t enough - it never was and fuck Satoru wanted more more more-
“Move your hips, yeah- jus’ like that.” Satoru’s grunting and smacking his lips against your own. Letting you pull and angle him just as you please.
“Gonna be the best fuckin’ husband you’ll ever have. N’ anyone that says otherwise, m’gonna fuckin’ kill.” The vibrations have your body jerking violently. “Make you cum harder than y’ever have. C’mon, say yes.”
And with that, he’s alternating between lapping at your clit and bullying his tongue through your swollen folds. Stretching you, thrusting in and out of your sloppy hole. Jaw grinding deeper into you as he eats you out like his last meal. “Ngh- fuck, yes yes yes-”
“Beg for it, beg for your husband.”
“Wanna cum- Ah! Please, wanna cum, Toru.”
One hand so messy toying with your dripping entrance - not having the patience or the sanity to even draw circles anymore. Just quick, hurried patterns to get you off. The other digging into your hips, so hard you were sure it’d leave marks for tomorrow. Making you drag your sloppy pussy senselessly all over his mouth. Using him.
“Hngh- Toru! Ah- fuck fuck Toru Toru T-” You’re shaking - crying out as you cum. A guttural, strangled moan of your husband’s name. So violent, and hard that you don’t even realize at first. Just that you’re rocking your hips into Satoru, white-hot pleasure behind your eyes, blood roaring in your ears.
And he doesn’t stop - not even once. If you were in any better state of mind you’d wonder whether it hurt - whether his fingers were cramping up, and his tongue was tired. If they were, he didn’t show, only letting you chase your high as roughly as you want.
Greedily lapping up all your juices. Even when you’re blinking your vision back, chest heaving as you try to regain our breath. “S-Satoru.” you mewl, stars behind your eyes with each flick of his tongue.
“Jus’ a bit more. Wanna taste all of you.”
You weren’t going to make it out alive.
Big, fat tears pricking at your eyes from the overstimulation as Satoru finally rises from what you almost worried would be his favorite seat. “All done. Now, keep that pretty lil’ cunt on display f’me, my girl.”
And your cunt is clenching in- fear? Anticipation? As your husband finally unties his yukata, letting it slide off those milky, toned shoulders. And shit he was such a fucking masterpiece. The dim-lighting bouncing off every curve and dip of those carved abs. Delicate swirls of his tattoo inching from his collarbone, down, down, down, hugging Satoru in a way that made you so half-lucidly jealous. All the way till the last inky thorn meets the neat tufts of white hair peeking up from the hem of his underwear.
“Touch me.” he groans into your ear. The words barely leave those pretty lips before your hands are everywhere. Dancing down his tattoo, groping at this pecs - too much to worship, not enough time.
“Toru…” you trail off, hand reaching out to brush his waistband. Tugging just enough that his throbbing cock springs out, hitting his sculpted abdomen. Red, and so so angry, fat tip weeping down his length, already so soaked in precum. He was so intimidatingly long - longer than anyone else you’d had before. Thick enough that you wondered whether you’d hurt yourself.
And he sees right through you.
“Now now, none of that.” he tuts, pushing your bare thighs as far apart as they’d go. He spreads your cunt so shamefully with his thumb. Spitting once, twice. Some of it splatter against your thigh as Satoru mixes his saliva with your slick. “Don’t worry, wifey, m’gonna make it feel good for ya.”
You flinch as he uses you like some object. Dangerously liking it more and more as he drags his fat head down your folds. Wetting himself, all the preparation he was going to give you because fuck Satoru needed to be inside your pretty lil’ pussy right now.
Then you feel like you’re being split apart - as if Satoru’s cock was pushing all the way to your lungs as he presses through the first ring of muscle.
“Ah! Ngh- Toru, s’too big!” you yelp, eyes locked on the way your lips were stretched so lewdly around his tip. Clamping and quivering as he keeps pushing in, inch by fucking inch. No mercy. Absolutely none at all.
And while he sounded like he was on cloud nine, you were having your head spin, torn between wanting to run away from his massive cock and just push yourself down for more more more. His lips claim yours - absolutely animalistic because God he needed to shut up your pretty whines or else Satoru was going to cum right here right now.
“Breathe, sweetheart, breath. Ngh- You can take it.” Satoru pants into your mouth, fucking into you in mindless, shallow little thrusts just to fit inside your snug cunt. Sounding like he was losing his sanity each time your heavenly walls milked him. “So fuckin’ tight. Jus’ relax f’me. Oh yeah, jus’ like that. You can take it you can-”
You gasp for air when he finally bottoms out inside you, tears streaming down your face and clawing at his back.
Satoru only coos, letting you mark him up all you want. Pace increasing relentlessly, “Aww, my good lil’ wife. Taking me so well, huh?” Starting to rock his hips just a bit faster into yours, “Always knew y’would.”
“Can y’feel me, right-.” Balls smacking against your ass, his finger tracing an invisible line halfway down your tummy. “-here?” Thumb stroking where he could feel himself bulging inside you, pressing down. Hard.
You almost sob at the pressure, jolting - you should’ve expected that the yakuza boss would fuck so mean.
And shit you can just do nothing but take it, hips jerking wildly as Satoru pounds into you with reckless abandon. Clutching at his shoulders, the sheets, his hair - just anything.
“C’mon~ Don’t run away from me,” he grunts, strained like he’s struggling to maintain restraint. Lacing his fingers on top of your head to slide you impossibly deeper onto his cock. “Jus’ fuckin’ got you, so don’t you dare run away.”
You can only nod. Eyes glazed, cockdrunk and letting him thrust so sloppily. “Won’t run away Toru…” you babble, “Wan’ you to make me yours.”
“Mine? Gonna be all mine?”
“All yours, Toru.”
And maybe you were an idiot, maybe you were a mastermind - because with a choked out little moan of what sounded like your name, Satoru’s pulling you both to sit up. The gravity makes you bury his cock deeper and faster into your tight pussy.
With the new angle, your husband’s hitting all the right spots easily, almost as if he knew your body better than you did. Veins rubbing so deliciously against your walls, shifting around your hips to fuck up into that poor, abused spot.
“Ya like this, huh?” he groans, fingers now toying with your ravaged clit. Rolling it around harshly between two fingers. “Always knew this cute pussy could take me s’well. Just didn’t know it would feel this fucking heavenly.”
Faster, sloppier. Bouncing you on his rock-hard cock like he was claiming you from the inside. So, so desperate and debauched.
And exactly where you wanted to be.
You leave delicate pink bites down this pale neck, alongside those roses - marking him in your own way as you edge closer and closer. It was too much. Everything was too much.
“Toru-” you sob. And he already knew what that meant. With how your voice breaks so adorably and the way you’re clenching around him hard enough that it’s almost difficult to ruin that cute pussy.
“Close?”
“Mhm…”
“Well then.” thrusts getting sloppy, with no reason or rhythm now. Grip on your body tightening like a vice. “Cum f’me like a good lil’ wife, then.”
And that makes you throw your head back in ecstasy - it makes you cum. Thighs quivering, jolts of electricity running down all the way from your overstimulated cunt to your hazy mind. It has you chanting Satoru’s name like a lifeline while his teeth dig into your flesh. Hard enough that you distinctly wondered whether he was out for blood.
Letting out low, muffled moans into your neck while he cums as well. Hot ropes of seed filling up your poor, bloated pussy, painting your walls such a sinful white. Cumming and cumming so hard you wondered whether you’d make it out alive.
And because of the obscene position, you could feel the way it dribbled down your legs. Thick globs landing in a pool on the overpriced sheets below, smearing so lewdly between you two. Hips still fucking up into you - not even thinking about it as he pushes his seed deeper and deeper.
You managed to raise your eyes, still dazed to meet his - exhausted, and dark with lust and something else that you really weren’t in the right mind to decipher right now.
And then Satoru’s lips find yours again, biting and tugging lazily. Tasting so unfairly of candy and sweet, sweet trouble. Body melting into you like all the worries have been lifted from his shoulders. He’s looping his arms tighter around your waist, crushing you into an almost-painful hug against him.
Something soft. Something new. Something that makes a little part of your heart twinge to break the kiss and pull away mere millimeters. “We better not divorce after this.”
“Of course not.” He chuckles into your lips, resting his forehead against yours like he was trying to map the constellations in your eyes. “I haven’t even given you my wedding gift yet.”
Smirking, you lock your legs tighter around Satoru’s toned waist as he lets the two of you fall back into the mattress. Sinking into it - and each other - with both exhaustion and something of a quiet, unspoken little fondness. Batting your lashes up at him, “Mhm, I remember someone talking about giving me four mercedes as a wedding gift and I’m leaving if not.”
“Well then, better get to it. Four for my in-laws to get on their good side, too,” he nuzzles the bite mark on your neck. “Because I plan to stay like this for a long, long time.”
A/N. Plagiarism not authorized.
#gojo x reader#gojo smut#gojo x you#jjk x reader#jjk smut#jjk x you#gojo satoru x reader#gojo satoru smut#gojo satoru x you#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujutsu kaisen x you#jjk#jjk fic#jujutsu kaisen#gojo satoru#tonywrites
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habits of a clandestine nature | jjk
pairing: collegejk x female oc (angst, smut)
warnings: college!jk, rich!jk, he's a college nepo baby!!!, waitress!oc, flashbacks to summer, (mild) enemies to lovers, oc lives with tae (they're besties), jk is besties with jimin, mentions of parents infidelity, mentions of oc's virginity (lost prior to the story starting), a little angsty, jk is nawt a fuckboi, but he is stewpid, unprotected sex, bathroom escapades, multiple positions, oral (f), mentions of blowjobs, house parties, jackson wang!!!!!!!, yoongi has no lines but is also one of my fave characters lmao
wordcount: 16k
note from holly: this was written as a commission over on ko-fi!! it went through soooo many changes and edits - at one point it was over 24k lmao. i have so much lore and backstory for this couple, but I'll save it for a rainy day!! one of the main prompts was the 2004 classic a cinderella story, and there are little nods to it throughout the story, including the diner name!! a commenter on wattpad said the pairing reminded them of danny and sandy from grease and like... i see it lmao. anywaysss enjoy!! <33
minors dni // cross posted to wattpad
It's a well-trained habit, your fleeting glance towards the door of Montgomery's Diner when the bell rings.
Though the clatter of cheap porcelain being stacked on a tray almost manages to drown out the chiming metal, it's never quite enough. Softening your hardened expression, you continue on with your work, careful to not let your contempt show too much.
You already know who it is—or at least, who it could be. Only saw the girl leading the pack, but know that where Claudia goes, the rest of The Untouchables will surely follow.
Gorgeous in a way that money can't buy, and careless in a way that money makes up for, she's never taken personal issue with you. Barely even registers your existence.
From your quick look, you know that it's not just the girls today. It's the guys, too.
All with parents on the college board, they're regarded as campus royalty. Are aptly known as The Untouchables, 'cause the rules that apply to you don't apply to them. They'll likely continue with their lives in a similar manner for years to come, and will pass these attributes off to their offspring, whom they'll name after countries or distant relatives who were once regarded to be regal.
Gathering up the last of the discarded napkins on the table, you take one final, fleeting look just to see if a familiar face is with them.
It's not that you actively want to see him.
You just haven't seen him in the best part of a fortnight, which is odd.
He's been in your section of the Diner near enough every single night of the past three months—but school is starting up again, and he's got appearances to keep.
God-forbid Jeon Jungkook—son of the Admissions Director and heir-apparent to an unholy amount of real estate tied to the university—ever associates with the lowly scholarship kids like you.
The only reason The Untouchables ever come to this Diner is because it's the last remaining place close to the university that hasn't been snapped up and integrated into the campus. You guess it must feel like freedom to them, in a way.
In fact, you know this is the case. Jungkook has told you himself.
Has told you a lot.
Told you far too much.
Such candid honesty from him, shared during the lonely heat of a sweltering summer, is what makes it so jarring when he looks away as soon as his dark eyes meet yours.
Tall, broad, handsome; he's everything the gossip magazines you read during your downtime swoon over, but also everything they warn against. Too pretty for his own good, the resident agony aunt would call him if she were ever to see him. Would assume his ego is far larger than his shoe size; superiority complex embedded into his skin like the ink of his tattoos.
And while you think that perhaps those assumptions could be true, you also know the reality of him; how gentle his hands can be. Helpful, too. Delicate. Ornate, almost, when they fold bills into five petal flowers. Strong, when they grip the back of your neck. Commanding, when they're wrapped around his leather steering wheel.
You shouldn't know the way his car smells. Shouldn't know how he presses the heel of his palm against the wheel when he's reversing, or just how easy it is to clamber into the backseats over the centre console.
But you do, and it rests on your tongue like a dirty little secret desperate to escape: I know you.
You're not sure if you know him better than The Untouchables, but you know him independent of them. Not many people do.
It's rare to find him without Jimin cracking a joke by his side, or Claudia making a slightly mean remark masked as innocent ignorance as she leads him astray.
But summer happened, and so did Jungkook. With his friends away at their holiday homes, and his father's infidelity ripping his family apart at the seams, he'd needed something to stitch himself back together. Let you thread yourself through his very being, and once you'd tied yourself in a pretty little bow around his heart, he'd cut you off.
Is that not what all craftsmen do, though? Discard what no longer serves a purpose?
Memories of him, in all the places you never should have let him in, ravage your thoughts.
The scent of his aftershave lingers on the childhood plushie he used to tease you for having on your bed, but would also automatically hug into his chest every single time he entered your room.
The things he did—and the things he didn't do—corrupt your dreams and leave you restless when you wake.
The smudged mascara under your eyes hides the bags from your lack of sleep, and your only respite is that the little puffs beneath his eyes are extra prominent today. He's tried, too.
For a minute, you feel vindicated.
It doesn't last.
For the past few months, if he's been sleeping badly, you've known about it. Kept him company in this very Diner, or in the basement of a party house he was dumb enough to take you to, forgetting he'd have to return there after summer finished, too.
The walls might not talk, but Jackson Wang certainly does. Jungkook knows it's only a matter of time until his dirty little secrets—no matter how pure they actually are—become the talk of the town.
He always slept well in your bedroom, though.
Funny, that.
He's dressed simply, today: white t-shirt, black jeans, chunky black boots on his feet. It's still warm out, even if the sun does begin to set a little earlier than it had been during the hotter months. He's got no need for a jacket, and you despise how undeniably gorgeous his arms are in the dewy humidity. Tattoos trailing up and down his skin, you'd be forgiven for thinking he was a man of complexities.
Turns out he's just like every other good-for-nothing fuck boy who wasn't worth your time.
The Untouchables sit towards the front of the Diner. Your section is at the back, and there's no way in hell you're deviating from your set section. Not today. Not when he's with them.
"I thought we were free," your colleague, Maria, grumbles as you bring your tray to the counter.
Like you, she's a scholarship kid. Is the one who got you the job at the Diner after you both moved into the shared house you live in off-campus. Three of you live there—you, Maria, and Taehyung—and you all share the same disdain for The Untouchables.
"It never ends," you tease in reply. Glance over your shoulder, back at the table.
They're laughing and joking about something you can't quite decipher. All of them, except Jungkook.
There's a sternness to him. One of which you'd forgotten about. With one hand on the table, the other in his lap, his thumb fidgets over his tense knuckles. Sunglasses rest on the crown of his head, pushed up into his hair to hold it back off his face. Staring at nothing much, he's chewing up his bottom lip until he feels the familiar burn of your eyes on him. Looks your way.
It's curious, how looking at you halts his body from its self-soothing actions. He no longer nibbles on his lip. His tightly balled first eases.
"What do you think, Kookie?" Claudia drawls, drawing his attention back to the group. "You coming tonight?"
"Hm?" He questions, eyes pulling away from you. He begins to rub his thumb over his knuckles again. "Sorry, was just looking at the menu board. What are we talking about?"
"Party at the Conservatory," Jimin says from across the table. Though he's the one sitting beside Claudia, everyone knows Jungkook is the one that she's really interested in. Has been since their first day of college. "First of the semester. It's one of their birthdays. Reckon it'll be a big one."
On campus, but close enough to the boundaries that it's never infringed upon by security or university officials, the Conservatory isn't what it seems. A boarding house for the creme-de-la-creme of the Botany and Conservation PhD students, it's surrounded by land. Has rows upon rows of greenhouses for their projects.
Of the few times you've been there, you've always thought it was like a maze. The perfect place to get lost. The perfect place to get found, too.
Unfortunately for the PhD students, the house custodian took on the role for one thing and one thing only: to throw the biggest ragers on campus. Knows fuck all about growing anything that isn't illegal. Only managed to get the role, 'cause like the rest of The Untouchables, his dad works high up in the college. He's a few years older than them. Belongs to a different generation of campus royalty, but is keen on making sure his legacy remains.
After all, there ain't no party like a Jackson Wang party.
Namjoon—one of the Botanists and the birthday boy himself—has started padlocking the greenhouses.
Another one of them—Yoongi—minored in mechanical engineering. Has a coin-operated lock on his bathroom door. Makes enough money from a single Jackson Wang party to sustain himself for an entire month.
Hoseok and Jin, the remaining two, are just as messy as Jackson. Have only started PhDs because they don't know what else to do and don't want their youth to abruptly end. Live for the parties; survive for the studying.
"Now, who's told you that?" Jungkook smiles, as if the prospect of showing up at the Conservatory doesn't make him feel a little bit sick. "Jackson?"
"Obviously."
"Well, of course he's gonna tell you it'll be big," Jungkook laughs. "Wants to rope as many of you fuckers in as he can."
"And it works every time," Jimin smirks back. "If everyone thinks it'll be a rager, everyone will want to go. He's a marketing genius, if you ask me."
Jungkook rolls his eyes. Is fond in how he interacts with his friends. Has grown up with most of them. Whether or not they're everyones cup of tea is debatable, but they're his people.
And yet he finds himself glancing back over to the counter. You're not there anymore. Are out back, he assumes. Knows the layout, now. Where the walk-in freezer is. The little nook that you sit in during your break. He doubts any of his friends have ever been in a commercial kitchen, let alone one at a place like this.
While yes, his friends have only ever been good to him, he knows that it isn't the case for everyone they interact with. Is well aware that his friends would be confused beyond belief if they ever found out he knows how to click through the Diner's cash register and find the discount section. Would be even more perplexed if they were to see his initials hidden in one of the codes.
But summer was lonely.
Or at least it was.
Lonely, until it wasn't. Isolating, until he sought solace in someone he can't even bring himself to speak to in front of his friends.
Casting his eyes back down to the table, well aware that he's got no reason to feel as cut up as he does, he fakes a laugh. Looks up again at his friends with a grin so sincere that they'd never guess the way it feels like his heart is in his throat. "Alright. You're on. What time?"
The conversation dissolves into plans—what to wear, what drink to take.
After a summer apart, Jungkook thought it would be nice to be with his friends again. Thought he'd be excited; that he'd welcome them all back with open arms. Ask them about their summers, and lament his time spent here.
When Jimin asks him why he didn't go to the Italian villa his parents normally insist they spend the summer at, Jungkook shrugs.
"Dad has some stuff to sort out, so it was better to stay here," he says, minimising the reality of what really happened. Even you don't know for certain. All you know is that his father did something incredibly immoral, to the point where Jungkook can't even stand to look at him.
Is why he spent all those nights in the diner.
Was confusing at first. He was always angry. Always frowning. Always ordering black coffees and nothing else, huddled up in the corner booth, away from the world.
But with summer comes monsoons, and with monsoons come terrible conditions for walking home.
He expected you to say no when he offered you a ride. You expected to say no, too—but then a please and thank you had escaped your lips.
A routine grew. Habits formed.
Curious little thing, habits are. 21 days. That's all the time they take to develop.
Jungkook spent 63 days of summer with you in varying capacities. Enough time to learn a habit three times over.
The one that haunts him most is how it felt to have your hand beneath his on his gear stick. Finds the absence of you when he drives unbearable. Knows he's got no one to blame but himself; not just for creating distance, but also for minimising it in the first place.
He's the one who offered you a lift. He's the one who messaged you on your days off to see if you fancied going for a drive. He's the one who didn't turn the AC on just to get you shaking your jacket off your shoulders.
And he's the one that drove you out to the coast one evening for no other reason than wanting to hear the waves. He's the one who opened up to you about his family. He's the one that made things more than what they were.
Had walked along the shore with you, too scared to hold your hand beneath the lunar light. Opted for playful banter instead, nudging you into the lapping waves.
But the waves got bigger, and Jungkook's unbridled desire to have you close did just the same. Like always, he took things too far. Drenched in sea water, you'd laughed with him for the entire ride home.
Invited him in. Said, "The salt will ruin your clothes. We should wash them."
"Hand wash only," he'd said, pinging his damp t-shirt against his chest. It stuck to him in such a way you learned all of his edges before you ever saw him naked—not like there was much time between these two instances. Ended up in your shower with him, clothes beneath your feet, the excuse of hand washing disregarded the second he had you naked.
You learned three things about Jungkook in that shower.
The first is that he giggles. Lips on yours, hands clutching your jaw, whenever the water was a little too intrusive, he'd separate with a laugh. Would kiss you again, a smile still on his face. Would pretend as if he wasn't giggling.
But he was, and it was lovely.
The second was that he's the type to lean his head forward, not tip it back. With his hands pressed to the shower tiles behind you as your fingers wrapped around his thick shaft, he let his head dip to his chest. Gave him ample opportunity to press kisses to the top of your head—or at least it did until you got to your knees and started taking his hard cock in your mouth.
"Shit," he had husked. Whined. Praised. "Fuck. You're so fuckin' good at that."
It was around then that you became aware he was a head pusher, too.
Almost as if he was saving the best until last, the third thing you learned was how he likes to cum; in your sheets, cock buried in your pussy, your hands clasped above your head. Missionary, 'cause he likes to kiss you through it. In your bed, 'cause he likes losing himself in everything you are. Prefers finishing inside you, but you refuse to fuck him without a condom so he never gets exactly what he wants. It's close enough, though.
Spent weeks—months—laying unfair claim to your body, and now he can't bring himself to look in your direction. It infuriates you.
But more than anything else, it embarrasses you.
Even your reflection laughs at you. Cackles 'told you so' every time you look in the mirror.
You always wondered why you never heard much about Jungkook's hook ups around campus. Everyone knows about Jimin and how his cock has been perpetually wet since the first day of freshers week, but there's always been a secrecy when it comes to Jungkook.
It's something you've teased him about; in your sheets, bodies clammy, his heart beating so fast in his chest you'd been forgiven for thinking he'd just run a marathon.
"When do I have to sign it?" You had giggled.
"Sign what?" He'd husked, voice all wispy and fucked out.
"The NDA," you'd replied as if it was obvious. "It's been, like, what? A month? Surely it's about time you made sure I kept my mouth shut like all your other girls do?"
On your front, your arms were folded over his chest, and he was gently rearranging the pretty little updo he'd made a mess of. Though he was looking at his hands as he replied, you kept your eyes on his. Studied his sincerity.
"Reason you don't hear about other girls is 'cause there aren't any."
A smile twitched at the corner of your lips, but you didn't let it shine for him.
"Sure."
There was a small jerk to his torso as a breathy smirk formed on his face.
"You think I can't be trusted?"
"I think it's foolish to trust any man."
His deep, dark eyes sank down to focus on yours. Offered you all the sincerity you'd be searching for, and more.
"That's all I am, huh?" He'd challenged you. "Just another one of your men?"
"One of the many," you'd teased just to rile him up a little.
"Ah," he'd played along. "So that's why I always have to wear a condom?"
With a saccharine smirk on your lips, you'd gotten back in position, legs straddled over his hips. Had kissed him. Whispered, "No. That's just because I know it annoys you."
"You annoy me all the time," he'd mumbled into your lips, hands gripping your waist to get you grinding against his still sensitive cock. Barely fifteen minutes since he'd last finished, there was no way he was ready to go again.
"Hm?" You'd hummed against his kisses, then began to work your way down his neck in a way that always got him a little moany. "If I'm so annoying, why are you getting hard again, baby?"
"You can be annoying and hot," he told you as he desperately tried to not let his insatiable need for you show.
"Is that how you like your girls?" You'd ribbed once more, just to piss him off a little. It was never serious. Never something you would actually fret over.
Perhaps you should have done, but then he told you with a little too much candour, "No. It's how I like my girl. Singular."
Loose lips sink ships, and Jungkook was one iceberg away from greeting the ocean floor. Closing his lips back down on yours, he was making sure you were just as insatiable for him as he was for you. He didn't cum again that evening, even if you did more times than you cared to count.
A greedy lover, is Jeon Jungkook. Edacious.
And so you understand, now, why the girls he gets entangled with stay silent; how the hoaxes he plays leave them utterly hysterical. They're subject to silence, because who would possibly believe all those sweet little lies he tells? How mad would they be considered if they tried to convince anyone he has a heart?
His brazen lack of humanity is proven when he comes to pay for the table. Any of them could have done it. Yet he elects to stand in front of your till and wait for you to serve him.
Have you not served him enough?
You refuse to utter a single word in his direction. Don't look at him, don't give him any satisfaction. He can read it for himself, he can pay, and he can fuck off.
"Keep the change," he mumbles tossing down the bills—but like fuck are you gonna keep anything he gives you.
He begins to walk away, a little shrunken in his stature.
"Excuse me, sir."
Stopping dead in his tracks, Jungkook is perplexed to hear you address him so coldly.
"Your change," you say, holding a closed hand out for him to hold his own hand beneath. He doesn't want to cause a scene. Obliges. Is surprised when notes, not coins, fall into his palm.
More specifically, notes folded into the shape of flowers. His handiwork, he's certain. Was something he used to do in the early hours of your late night diner shifts. If he said something a little mean, or bickered with you a little too hard, he'd fold his notes up like posies and give them to you as a remedy.
Never used those notes to buy you real flowers, mind you.
Back when things were still easy, you pulled him up on it. Told him that you'd be far easier to seduce with a little wooing. He'd told you that you were easy to seduce regardless.
You didn't speak to him for the rest of your shift.
Ended it with fourteen folded bills in the shape of a bouquet, and when the backseat windows of his car had a thick veil of condensation coating them that same evening, he'd drawn you flowers on them.
"No point in flowers," he'd told you. "They just wither up and die."
Which is funny, 'cause it kinda looks like Jungkook is doing that very same thing right in this moment. He goes to speak, but nothing comes out.
Disappointing, you think, then realise of course he is. Has done nothing but disappoint you.
You smile. Jungkook looks like he wants to cry. Good.
"Don't let the door hit you on the way out."
21 repetitions. That's how many times it takes to form a habit. You know this.
You also know that 90 days of this repetition will form a habit to last a lifetime.
As you hook up your apron, and free your hair of the ribbon that had been tightly wrapped around your ponytail, you know these are 'lifetime' habits. Apron, then ponytail. Always.
But when you say goodbye to Maria, and ask if she'll be at home this evening, you find yourself leaning into a recently formed habit. It's not anything particularly noteworthy. Not something anyone would notice.
Well, not anyone who matters. You don't think Jungkook counts as someone who matters, anymore.
But he'd noticed; how you'd started glancing across to his parking spot whenever you clocked out. Had teased you for it. Asked you if it was the highlight of your day, seeing him there, as if it wasn't the highlight of his.
You should have known the playful banter when he told you not to get used to it wasn't really banter at all.
Yet here you are, glancing across to his parking spot only to see it empty.
It's not even like it's his spot. Whenever he's with his friends, they walk. Live right on campus, so don't need to drive, and if they do, they'll park right by the doors.
In the height of summer, when the lot was empty and Jungkook wasn't driving for his sake but for yours, he liked to park in the far corner. Said dumb shit about not wanting any weirdos scratching it. Whined and moaned whenever someone performed the very human act of parking next to the only other car in an empty parking lot.
"So many spaces!" He'd blather on. Would speak with his hands. Get deliberately more animated, 'cause it always made you laugh. "And they choose here?!"
The memories make you smile, until the yellow headlights of another car flood into the parking lot. They reveal what's right in front of you; a crowd of cars and not a single one of them you care for.
It's not like you cared for Jungkook, either. Was just something to pass the time when the streets were quiet and his head was loud.
In turn, you gave him quiet, and he made your summer feel loud.
But the leaves are turning brown and the water in the roadside puddles is becoming stale. The seasons have changed and so has the nature of your interactions. It's fine. You don't care. Really. Couldn't think of anyone you'd want to hang around less. Would rather die than associate with The Untouchables.
You never needed a lift, not really. Especially not when it always took you an hour to get home 'cause Jungkook just wanted to keep on driving.
Grumbling to yourself just to try and divert your mind from thoughts of him, your heart almost skips a beat when your phone vibrates in your pocket. For a second, you wonder if it could be him.
Where you at? It could read. I'm here.
Or maybe, I miss you.
I can't sleep without you.
This is so stupid. Can I come over?
It won't say of those things and you damn well know it.
Your text thread is dormant. The last message is from you, two weeks prior.
You: you not coming in tonight?
You: you'll be pleased to know my fairy godmother turned a pumpkin into a carriage to make sure i got home safe x
You: ... at least let me know if ur alive?
Rolling your eyes at how mortifying your desperation feels, the scowl that settles into your expression is comical. It's like you're fighting with the wind that's threading itself through your hair.
Pulling your phone out, the scowl only intensifies.
Jackass Wang: party tonight
You: so????
One thing about Jackson is that he's not gonna leave anyone on read, especially when he's trying to drum up attendees for his parties.
Jackass Wang: so i haven't seen you around for a while, montgomery
"Fuckin' Montgomery," you mutter at the nickname.
It's the one that all of Jungkook's friends seem to refer to you as, as if you don't have a personality outside of your job.
Still, at least Jackson is a little bit inventive with it. Calls you Monts. Monty, Monstera Plant, Monte Carlo, and god knows what else. If it starts with 'Mon,' he's found a way to end it with a cheeky smirk and smug anticipatory look in your direction, as he awaits your reaction.
You: i like it better when i don't see you x
Jackass Wang: you know that isn't true. loverboy will be there. come with him. or don't. i don't care. you can bring your little friends with you.
You: they'd rather die :) x
Jackass Wang: y'know, you're replying an awful lot for a girl who's not interested ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
You: you just can't take no for an answer
Jackass Wang: yes i can - but you haven't said no yet. c'mon. loverboy has been moping around all week. i can't be arsed with his mardy ass energy all evening.
You: so don't invite him???? i don't see why it's my problem?????
The fact that you don't need clarification of who Jackson means is proof enough that perhaps Jackson's onto something.
Jackass Wang: conservatory any time after 9. be there or be square montgomery. or don't be. i'm sure loverboy can get his dick wet without you, but it's easier for everyone if he doesn't.
You: charming x
Jackass Wang: it's why the ladies love me.
You: all of them except this one, apparently. have a nice party. stay away from the drugs.
Jackass Wang: can't be tamed, monte carlo. nor can loverboy. come keep him company.
The block button towards the top of your message thread looks incredibly tempting. Just a single click and you'll never have to deal with Jackson Wang and his dumb parties ever again.
Part of you can't believe you've ever been associated with them, as it is.
Summer defied the conventions of the life you've built for yourself. You weren't the person you thought you were.
Kicking off your shoes when you arrive home, the door slams shut behind you. A gentle voice calls through to check if it's you.
"Maria's still working," you say as you walk into the kitchen, tossing your bag down on the floor and your phone on the counter.
Taehyung, your best friend since your first week at college, is cooking himself dinner, but offers you a spoon of the tomato sauce he's making. Humming as you taste it, you're amazed by how he manages to make even the simplest thing delicious.
"S'good. What is that? Cumin?"
Nodding, he smiles. "A little paprika, too. You want some?"
His hair is dishevelled, blonde and sunkissed from the sweltering summer skies. He always looks great with a tan; radiant and full of youth.
Shaking your head, you really don't have an appetite. "Think I'm gonna have an early night."
He's about to reply when your phone buzzes. Both of you glance down. Your skin feels red hot, and when Taehyung almost chokes on the spoonful of sauce he's just tried, he's all sorts of confused.
"Why the fuck is Jackson Wang messaging you?"
"Hmm?" You hum as if you have no idea what he's talking about. Realise from the look on his face that he doesn't buy it for a second. "Oh! That Jackson Wang. Think he sent a text to his entire contact list. Something about a party."
"No," Taehyung asserts. "Absolutely not. You cannot bullshit out of this one."
"It's not bullshit," you whine as you pretend to look in the fridge for something to drink. Settle on a beer left by one of Taehyung's friends at a party held last semester. It wasn't quite a Jackson Wang level party, but nothing ever is. "He's just trying to drum up numbers for his stupid party tonight."
Taehyung is many things, but stupid he is not. Though he's blonde (thanks to a bottle of bleach and a few too many jack and cokes), he bends all the stereotypes. His tuition is covered by a scholarship for academic excellence.
"Don't give me that bull."
"It's not bull!"
"So you're telling me, out of everyone at our college, the Jackson Wang is texting you to make up numbers for his party?"
"Yes!" you exclaim, partially a little offended at it being such an unfathomable idea. "And he said you can come too, so maybe you're the one he's really after!"
His expression is flat. You are paper thin.
He's known you long enough to know when you're giving him half-truths.
He also knows you spent the summer alone in this house, and that there's a new toothbrush in the bathroom next to yours.
"You're hooking up with him, aren't you?"
"No!"
Out of everyone to be accused of sleeping with, Jackson Wang is, like, the worst of the worst. He's handsome, sure, but he's also slept with pretty much every girl on campus. Is a teenage boy in a grown adult's body. You'd rather not fornicate with a guy who still finds 'your mum' jokes funny.
Taehyung gasps at your immediate denial. "You are!"
"I'm not!"
"All that talk about saving it for someone special, and you mean to tell me you went and lost it to Jackson fuckin' Wang?!"
Everything about this conversation is making you want to punch yourself in the face. The topic of sex, and just why you've never gotten around to it, has dominated many conversations around this dining table. If you have to discuss it again, you might move out.
"Oh my God," you whine, throwing your head back. "We are not having this conversation."
"Yes, we are."
"No, we're not, because I didn't lose my virginity to Jackson Wang!" You stress. The more you think about it, the more offended you are.
"To Jackson Wang," Taehyung echoes, as he begins to join invisible dots. "But you did lose it to someone."
"No," you insist, but Taehyung refuses to buy it. Knows you too damn well.
He always thought he'd know when you lost it. That it'd be a boy you'd been dating. Committed to. Someone good. Someone worthy. Not someone you keep in the shadows.
"There's something you're not telling me," he frowns. "What the fuck happened this summer?"
With a sigh so deep it's a miracle you're still breathing, you relent. Never signed one of those NDA's you're convinced Jungkook must hand out like candy, as if he's some sort of celebrity and not just some college reprobate.
"Jungkook," you feebly admit. Take a sip on your beer. Don't look at Taheyung, 'cause you're afraid to see his reaction. "Wasn't Jackson. Was Jungkook."
You tell Taehyung everything. How Jungkook never knew you were a virgin. How he still doesn't. How you blame yourself for your hurt, but him for not getting you any band aids to help deal with it; for not kissing you better when he was the one to cause you such hurt in the first place.
As you recite you memories, you play a game against yourself: take a sip every time you want to cry.
By the time you've told Taehyung the nitty-gritty truth, the bottle of wine that had been in the fridge is finished, as well as your beer.
"I can't believe this," Taehyung says for what feels like the billionth time.
There's a certain shame that comes with Taehyung's confusion.
Embarrassment, like the way Jungkook would cringe at himself whenever he stumbled on his words, or the way you'd covered your reddening cheeks with your hands when he teased you for looking at him in the way you did.
Remorse of time wasted before him, and time wasted with him.
Regret of the things you did and the things he didn't.
It's all very confusing. Exhausting. If you were to really think about it, you'd spend a week in bed with a box of tissues. Would ask Taehyung why he didn't warn you that a heart could feel this horrid.
But he did, and you damn well know it.
Shrugging, you reach for the bottle and split the final few glugs between your glasses.
"We were just bored," you play it off. "Had nothing better to do. No one better to do."
But Taehyung shakes his head. "You don't have to do that, yanno. Pretend like it didn't matter. It's okay that it did. Even if he is a prick, and even if he's no better than the rest of them. It's okay that it hurts."
You're silent when he says this.
Despite your teasing, you never really thought Jungkook was much of a player.
But his friends are back now, and you've been relegated to the sidelines. Doesn't matter if he spent weeks—months—playing in no field but yours. Greener pastures have presumably sprouted. Your turf is wrecked from his carelessness, and he's left you to heal yourself while he goes and wrecks another.
Whoever he was pretending to be in the summer isn't who he is now that his friends are back—but when they're laughing and joking in the basement of the Conservatory that evening, Jungkook knows which version of himself he prefers.
"You need to get laid," Jimin tells Jungkook with a laugh. "Never seen a man look so bloody miserable at a party."
Of all the things Jungkook needs, getting laid is not one of them. In fact, he thinks it would be a very sensible idea if he never got laid again. Sex is messy. People get all emotional over it.
Or more so, he gets all emotional over it.
Had never been the type to, before. Always thought it was something that just happened to other people. Not to him.
He pushes the thoughts aside. Feels a little sick. Shrugs off Jimin's remark.
"If I wanted to get laid, I would get laid."
"So why don't you? Will do us all a favour. Claudia's been—"
"I couldn't give a fuck," Jungkook interrupts Jimin. "I'm not interested."
He never has been. Wants nothing to do with this university, and the men that run it, and so would never date one of their daughters.
They're all corrupt. Every last one of them. All cheat on their wives. All throw their families under the bus for their own selfish exploits. His own father's affair has proven this to him.
Jungkook pities his friends. Just because their parents haven't fucked up yet, doesn't mean they won't.
"Oi, Loverboy," Jackson calls from across the room, breaking the tension only to replace it with a headache for Jungkook. "Where's your little girlfriend? I told her to come."
"Who?" Jimin chirps.
Jungkook grates his jaw. Is deadly serious when he says, "Leave it, Jackson."
"Trouble in paradise for our lovebirds, huh?"
"I said leave it."
"Who the fuck is he talking about?" Jimin continues to ask, incredibly curious about this turn of events. Leave town for a couple of months, he thinks, and everything changes.
"No one."
"That one from the diner," Jackson just continues fuckin' talking. Jungkook wants to scream. "The one with a stick up her ass—"
"Jackson, cut it out," Jungkook snaps. "She's no one. Just fuckin' leave it."
"You ashamed, huh, Loverboy?" Jackson berates him a little bit. He isn't trying to be a dick, but he thinks Jungkook is acting like a tool. Jackson is no saint, but at least he doesn't ever pretend to be something he's not. "Poor girl. Wear her like your favourite pair of shoes all summer and then throw her to the trash when your friends come back? I thought better of you. So did she, probably. Shame."
Of all the people Jungkook ever expected to receive lessons in morality from, Jackson Wang was not the one. He parades himself around the Conservatory like Hugh Hefner reincarnated, his class attributed to money and not behaviours.
"The fuck have you been doing this summer, Kook?" Jimin laughs, utterly dumbfounded by his reactions.
They've all had their fair share of less than conventional lovers. If Jungkook has been fucking around with a girl from the Diner, then so what? Who cares?
"Nothing," Jungkook snaps.
It's not that he's ashamed.
It's that you're separate.
When he's with you, all of this—the bullshit of college life and calamity of his family falling apart—dissolves into nothingness. He doesn't have to think. Finds himself at ease.
If you were to ever become a part of his life—his real one, not the one he got so used to living in with you over the summer—then it'd all change.
He doesn't want that.
He wants you to be a safe haven.
A refuge point can't be in the midst of a fire, though. He has to keep you away. At arms length.
But god damn, he wishes you would come and put out his fire. He's struggling. Finds existing without you so fucking hard. Doesn't know at which point he became so dependent, but knows his oxygen is running low.
He's suffocating. Isn't sure how much longer he can keep this up.
"Yeah, sure seems like nothing," Jimin smirks with a shake of his head as Jungkook storms off to get some much needed air. "Oi, Jackson, what was that all about?"
With a shrug, and yet another girl on his arm, Jackson grins. Puts on a pathetic little voice to mimic Jungkook's tantrum. "Fink baby boy has a wittle cwush."
"Girl from the diner?" Jimin implores, still smirking at Jackson's dumb humour. "Which one?"
"You really have to ask?"
For all of his mystery, Jungkook has never been a man of subtleties. His eyes give him away.
They always have done.
When he was looking at the menu board earlier that day? It was obvious.
Before college broke up for summer, and how Jungkook would always cast his eyes down to his hands whenever you, specifically, came to take their order? It was obvious.
How Jungkook would always make sure he was on the side of the booth that gave him ample opportunity to steal glances of you? It was so fucking obvious.
Sometimes he'd laugh at the slightly sarcastic remarks you gave Claudia whenever she would ask irritating questions about the menu.
When they were deciding where to eat, Jungkook would suggest the Montgomery's Diner, always.
So, no, Jimin doesn't really have to ask.
"Stupid prick," he sighs, sipping on his beer. Loves Jungkook to absolute death, but will never understand him. Figures that maybe you do. Worries that Jungkook is about to wreck it all. He calls after Jackson, "She here tonight?"
"Invited her," he calls back. "But she's got an attitude problem to rival his. Fuck knows if she's around. You'll feel her ice before you see her."
Which is funny, because the lingering summer heat sticks to your skin as you nervously meander up a driveway you know all too well.
The Conservatory is decidedly not a conservatory.
It's a complex. A maze of buildings, and greenhouses, and fuck knows what else. You've no interest in gardening, but if excelling at it meant living somewhere like this, maybe you'd consider taking it up as a hobby.
The buildings are mostly redbrick, with large windows, and even larger doors. It's the kind of place you'd imagine a Duke of some far away land prancing about in. Playing croquet, or secretly courting a lowly village girl that his parents will never approve of.
The irony isn't lost on you.
"Wait, how do I look?" Taehyung asks for what feels like the hundredth time. "Not too dressy?"
"You're wearing a waistcoat," you reply, face twisted in affectionate condemnation. He looks great, but he also does look far too dressy. It's his 'look', though, and one that'll get him attention, both good and bad.
If Kim Taehyung walked around with the arrogance his handsome face warranted him with, he'd be the heartthrob of the campus. You think even Claudia would want a slice of him—and given his distaste for the elite yet pining desire to be on their level, it'd be quite the complex pairing.
All of the other men here are in t-shirts, but Taehyung has never been like other men. It's part of the reason you like him so much.
One thing, however, you don't like about Taehyung is his domineering need to 'fix' things. It comes from a place of love, and he only ever does it because he cares, but it's not always in your best interest.
When he told you to go and get changed out of your work uniform, you thought he was planning on taking you to a bar. That you'd be drowning your sorrows over wine you can't afford.
You would never agree to go to the Conservatory. Not now.
Which is why he didn't tell you of his plan.
Instead, he ordered a cab and didn't give you the chance to protest. You were already halfway there by the time you realised.
"Why don't we just go home?" You whine, tugging on his arm as you stand by the gate that leads through the gardens—the same ones you used to traipse around in with Jungkook. "We don't need to be here."
"Uh-uh," he shakes his head, firmly standing his ground. "I've avoided this place for two years, and the second my back is turned it becomes your new home. The least you could do is invite me round for dinner."
"It's not my new home—"
"MONTGOMERY!"
The voice of Jackson Wang yelling across the front lawn makes you want to shrivel up and die. Sink down into the ground. You'd make great compost for the botanists.
"Y'know, you and Loverboy really need to stop lying so much," he says with an incredibly intoxicated grin as he lumbers towards you. You'll never admit it, but part of you is pleased to see him. "First you saying you weren't coming, then him telling everyone nothing happened between you. Both as bad as one another."
Nothing happened between you.
It doesn't surprise you, but it does sting. And it also confuses you. Why on earth would you be a topic of conversation? The people here know you as Montgomery. The girl from the diner. You're nothing but a background character to them.
"What did he say?" You ask, disregarding everything else, not even bothering to introduce Taehyung. He's finding all of this incredibly bewildering.
"Oh, Jimin was grilling him," Jackson waves his hands around, disregarding it. "Kept saying you were no one. Refused to admit that he'd practically tied his laces with yours for the whole summer. Don't you worry, though, Monte Carlo. I had your back. Set the record straight."
Jackson Wang having your back isn't something you ever expected to happen.
Jeon Jungkook's absolute denial of your clandestine affaire de cœur is, disappointingly, something you expected.
It doesn't mean that it comes without hurt. If anything, it's far more visceral, for you only have yourself to blame. These wounds are self-inflicted, even if they're carved with a knife Jungkook crafted out of silly affirmations he never should have made.
"Where is he?" You ask, cold in your tone.
Jackson shrugs. "Try the basement. S'where I last saw him."
As Jackson saunters off to find another poor partygoer to mildly offend, you're left with a bad taste in your mouth. You've been irritated since you saw Jungkook earlier that day.
How he can just show up at the diner and act like he doesn't even know you, let alone knows what it's like to wake up next to you, is beyond insulting.
"C'mon," Taehyung urges you along. "I need a drink, and you could use three."
Conversely, you think you need an entire bottle.
A bottle of what, you don't care. Just something strong. Anything other than the shitty, overpriced whisky Jungkook always insisted on drinking.
"Fine. But we're not going to the basement."
It's perplexing to walk the halls of the Conservatory without Jungkook; to pass by strangers who have no idea who you are, but who know and admire him as if he's some sort of Hollywood celebrity.
They don't know him like you do. Don't know what it feels like to have his hand around their throat, or his fingers gently intertwined with theirs. They've never heard him laugh like you have.
And yet when you're a few drinks deep, and on the verge of calling a cab to go home, you hear that laugh again and wonder how he can bear to be happy right now.
Glancing up, his face is unreadable. The lights are dim, and the shadows obscure the painful furrowing of his brows. He looks just the same as he did back in the diner earlier that day. Perplexed. In pain. Somehow perfectly fine, too.
The group he's in is small. Some of them you know, some of them you don't.
Claudia sits across from him on the lap of some other guy, yet she doesn't take her eyes off Jungkook. She laughs a little harder at his jokes. Directs questions to him. Flirts with other people in front of him to no avail.
Not even now, after summer when her skin is sunkissed and her radiance is rejuvenated, can she keep his attention.
In fact, none of them can once he spots you from across the room. The big lights are off, fairy lights strung up, and a sunset lamp pours a clementine hue over you.
Summer becomes you, he thinks—adores—from afar.
The year is a body, and you're eternally condemned to its heart. That's where he'll keep you. Where you belong.
Had it been spring—the brain of the year—when he'd been hauled up in that diner, he never would have let things get as far as they did.
Had it been winter—the cunt of the year, for lack of a better term—he would have let it get that far, and he wouldn't have felt bad about it, either.
But Autumn is drawing close. The gut. The time to trust his intuition, and he damn well knows it.
A hand wraps itself around your wrist, dragging you away from his car crash eyes. Jungkook slips into the dull shadows of the room, right where he belongs. Was foolish of you to ever think otherwise.
"Do you mind?" you snap, but let yourself be dragged away regardless. Part of you hopes it'll make Jungkook do something. You're not sure what. Just something.
The man who is leading you astray is familiar. Recognisable. Park Jimin.
Though he's not aggressive, he definitely isn't gentle as he leads you out to the gardens. Lets go of your wrist by an overgrown shrub just beyond the benches that are made for drunken DMC's. He isn't after one of them. Wants the facts.
"Cut the bullshit," he says.
"No hello?" You chirp. "Nice to see you? Or better yet, an introduction?"
"You know who I am," Jimin tells you, expression flat. You hate that the arrogant fucker is right. "But I know fuck all about you, and apparently you're the reason Jungkook is walking around like death warmed up. So cut the bull. What happened?"
Frankly it's none of Jimin's business. Even if he's done you wrong, Jungkook trusted you. You're not gonna throw that back in his face and air his dirty laundry—especially not considering that Jimin is Jungkook's friend. If Jungkook wanted him to know, he'd have told him.
"Nothing," you tell him. "Barely even know him."
Jimin sighs. Jackson was right. There's a reason why you and Jungkook got along so well. Are both insufferable.
Glancing behind you, Jimin raises his brows.
You turn to face his line of vision, and fail to hide your surprise when you see Jungkook by the back door. Like a deer in headlights, he's frozen in place, his darling bambi eyes so startled he almost looks scared.
"So if you barely know him," Jimin continues as you and Jungkook stare one another out. "Why the fuck is he looking at you like he's seen a ghost?"
It takes a second or so, but you manage to pull your gaze away. Turn back to face Jimin. Shrug. Play dumb.
"Mistaken identity."
"Oh, I get it," Jimin smirks, knowing you aren't gonna give him an easy way out. Needs to bamboozle answers out of you. "You both went to the same bullshitting classes over summer? Is that it?"
You're surprised to find yourself smiling. Surprised that you find humour in Jimin's words. Surprised that you aren't rolling your eyes.
He's always been the Untouchable that has annoyed you the most. Is too loud. Laughs at the most obnoxious things.
"Top of the class," you reply because it somehow feels okay to joke with him. Perhaps spending so much time with Jungkook has lowered you Park Jimin-related intolerance. Not cured it, by any means, but definitely made it easier to manage.
"Academic rivals," Jimin supposes, realising that maybe there's a little more to you than he's ever given you credit for. "That's pretty hot."
"He seemed to think so," you lament, knowing that you're revealing a far more truthful rendition of your time spent with Jungkook. Or at least, admitting that time was spent together.
With a sigh, you walk a little further into the garden. Cross your arms. Look back over your shoulder to the door, only to find Jungkook is gone. It shouldn't upset you like it does, but you find your lips pressing together in a small pout.
"Look," Jimin says, exhaling a breath so deep you're sure his lungs must be empty. He comes to stand beside you, looking across the vast expanse of the gardens. "I'm not asking for your life story. If you don't give a shit about Kook, then that's fine, I'll leave you alone. But he's my best friend, and I've never seen him like this."
Glancing at Jimin, there's a taut discomfort on your face. Guilt, almost—but you've not done anything wrong. It's on him. He's the one who chose for things to be this way.
"I give a shit," you quietly admit as you look back out towards the garden, then sigh out a pitiful laugh. "You know him. You know what he's like. Of course I give a shit."
Quite honestly you think it's impossible to not fall for Jungkook. He's everything you're hardwired to appreciate: hardworking, charming, incredibly funny. You lost count of how many nights dissolved into laughter with him. Had never known your cheeks to hurt so much.
He was gentle, too. Stroked his thumbs against your cheeks just as often as he made them ache.
It's your heart that's aching now, and he's not around to soothe your woes.
Back inside, Jungkook feels so viscerally unwell that he thinks he might be sick. Or maybe he's actually dying. One of the two.
This is everything he didn't want. You were supposed to be separate. Supposed to be a sanctuary away from this all.
You're in the thick of it, now. Jimin is grilling you, and Jungkook doesn't know what to do. It's too much. All of it. The party, the people, the fact that you look at him with ice in your eyes when he knows damn well they used to harbour the warmest of fires.
Beelining for the basement, he kind of hopes the ground will swallow him up. Stop him from making the bad decisions he seems to find so god damn irresistible.
As he yanks open the small fridge at the back of the basement, Jungkook doesn't care what he drinks. Just needs something to help soothe his fragile mine; to make him feel better, 'cause lord knows you won't.
Reaching for a beer, he doesn't ask around to see if it belongs to anyone. Finders keepers. He's an Untouchable. This place is basically his by birthright. No one is gonna argue against him.
But Kim Taehyung isn't just anyone.
"So, when you apologise for being a gargantuan pillock, are you planning on also trying to win her over? Or will you just clean your conscience and wipe yourself clean of her, too?"
Jungkook's jaw tenses as his teeth grit together. "Don't know what you're on about."
"Had a girl in tears at my dinner table earlier tonight," Taehyung exaggerates. Just wants Jungkook to feel as awful as he knows you do. "Your friends might not give a shit about your well-being, but I give a shit about mine."
And for some reason, this irks Jungkook. He gives a shit about you. Cares so much he's been torturing himself by staying away. Thinks it's better for you both.
If it truly was, neither of you would be feeling so gut-wrenchingly awful.
He knows you're angry. You've made that perfectly clear.
But he also knows you do cry when you're frustrated. Was a lesson learned when you were stressed over the diner roof leaking one night during the monsoons when no one else was in to help you fix it.
It was the first night he offered you a lift home. Had taken pity on you. Had also liaised with the college maintenance guy to check it out the next day, even if the diner wasn't technically part of campus.
Because Jungkook does give a shit about your well-being, and he refutes the claim that he doesn't.
"So what? You here to tell me to stay away?" Jungkook scoffs as he prizes off the cap of the bottle. Swigs down a sip. Then another, 'cause he's not wankered enough for this.
"I'm here to tell you that you're an asshole," Taehyung asserts. "She didn't deserve to be used by you for the summer and then tossed to the trash just because semesters starting up again."
The roll of Jungkook's eyes is so weighted that it almost feels as if they'll get lodged in the back of his skull. The last time they'd rolled that deep was in bed with you. Back then it was because his body was so divinely out of sync that his muscles couldn't keep up with his actions. This time, pleasure is the furthest thing away from how he's feeling.
"You want me nowhere near her, but the fact I'm staying away makes me an asshole?" Jungkook petulantly laughs. "Can't ever fuckin' win, can I?"
"This isn't about winning or losing," Taehyung argues back. "She trusted you."
Jungkook doesn't understand what that has to do with anything. He's not betrayed your trust. Has kept all your secrets. Tried his best to keep you secret, too.
"What was she to you, huh? Some project? A virginity to get under your belt? Something to pass the time—"
"I don't know who you think I am," Jungkook snaps, fed up being accused of something he's not. "But not once did I ever treat her badly, okay? I—" He cuts himself off. Doesn't know how to articulate himself. "We— Look, you just don't get it. You don't know me. I was nothing but fuckin' nice. Okay? And she was nice. And it was nice. And we..." He trails off. Realises what Taehyung said. "The fuck do you mean, 'virginity to get under your belt'?"
It's about now that Taehyung realises he's said too much.
But every cloud has a silver lining.
"Talk to her," Taehyung shrugs as he begins to walk away. "Not me."
He leaves a scowling Jungkook by the fridge. Heads to the stairs, and once he reaches the top, is yanked away by a small but mighty force.
"You," Jimin asserts. "With me. Now."
The sound of three knocks on the bathroom door serve as a signal: let me in.
A panicked text from Taehyung had practically begged you to go to the basement bathroom and wait for him there. Said there was drama that he needed to talk with you about.
And you believed him, 'cause you're a few too many drinks deep and honestly could do with the respite.
Perched up on the countertop by the sink, you reach over and unhook the latch, giving Taehyung the all clear to come on in. Your legs languidly swing and your shoulders are slumped, this party well and truly over for you.
The only reason you're still here is because you know Taehyung's secretly been revelling in his first Conservatory party. You fear he'll want to come every weekend, now.
"You better not have your cock out," a playful voice you know all too well jokes, as the door pushes open. Eyes closed as he enters, he shuts the door behind him. Asks, "Am I safe to open my eyes?"
You're gonna kill Taehyung.
In the most loving but brutal way, you will absolutelymurder him for setting you up like this.
"Safe," you grimace.
Jungkook doesn't open his eyes. In fact, he presses them even tighter together. Frowns. "Jimin isn't in here, is he?"
"We've been bamboozled," you sigh, and as much as he doesn't want to, Jungkook smiles at your choice of words. Tips his head down, and open his eyes. Is a little too scared to look your way, for fear of being greeted with wrath.
"Their days are numbered," Jungkook assures you, quickly glancing across to try and work out how you're feeling.
"My sentiments exactly."
Jungkook goes to speak, but you both notice a grating metallic noise by the door. Immediately, Jungkook presses his hand down on the door handle, but there's absolutely no give. It won't budge
"Jimin," he calls, voice strong and domineering through the wooden panels. Hastily painted white, they're chipped and tarnished; covered in numbers and Instagram handles, rumours and declarations of love. It's not your first time locked in this bathroom with Jungkook, but the last was of your own choice. Had been you turning the lock with a smile and glint in your eyes that had promised him trouble. "Open it up."
"No can do," Jimins smugly sings from beyond the door. "Sort your shit out."
Hopping off the counter, you nudge in front of Jungkook to pound against the door with an open fist. Though he steps back, it's still the closest you've been with him since he left your bedroom a couple weeks ago. Part of you laments the fact he moved away from you. Part of him does, too.
"Tae," you try calling instead, hand banging on the door, but you're met with the exact same response.
"Figure it out," he calls back, but also adds, "And if he's still an insufferable asshole in five minutes time, I'll come let you out."
Despite everything, you laugh at this. Not so much because of Taehyung's words, but because Jungkook's face screws up like an old newspaper.
"What is it with him and calling me an asshole?" Jungkook mutters under his breath with a shake of his head.
The bathroom is small—just a toilet and sink built into a cabinet. There's a mirror covering the back wall over it, and another cabinet above it that you assume is filled with empty bottles and misplaced lipglosses. There's barely even enough room to breathe, although there is enough room to make Jeon Jungkook come undone in the least dignified of ways. You should know.
You wish you didn't.
"He calls you one because you are one," you assure him.
"Excuse me?"
"What?" You scoff, hopping back up on the counter, your eyes on his 'cause you want to watch the way he gets nasty. Wanna remind yourself of how horrible he can be. Replace the memories of him in this bathroom, 'cause in all reality, they're actually really lovely. Nice, even. Warm. Everything you're trying to convince yourself he's not. "Gone deaf as well as turned into a massive prick?"
"Jesus Christ," he says, rolling his eyes, turning back to face the door. Shakes at the handle. "Give it a rest."
"Why?" You ask as if butter wouldn't melt on your tongue. "Would it make life easier for you if I just wasn't around?"
Jungkook knows what you're doing. Has bickered with you enough times to understand your tricks. This is how you start; put words in his mouth that he can't defend against.
And so he doesn't try.
"Yep," he declares, turning to face you. "Way easier. Can you tell your friend I'm an asshole, still? Get us out of this place?"
You recline in defiance. Perched up on the counter next to the basin, your back is against a mirror. Legs crossed, you're in the same white summer dress you wore to your first party at the Conservatory.
Nearly everyone had been away for the summer.
You had spent the evening tucked up together on an armchair meant for one, him in the seat, you perched on the armrest, feet in his lap.
"People will talk, y'know," you'd assured him, elbows on your knees, chin in your palms.
"So let them talk," he'd smirked. "What's there to say? We're just sitting?"
It was strange for him to be seen with you. Even Jackson has been confused, but let it slide 'cause another partygoer is another partygoer. He cared for numbers, not names.
"Dunno," you had teased. "Might start talking about the way you look at me."
"Yeah?" He'd husked as his long fingers wrapped around your wrist. Gently pulled you closer.
"Yeah," you'd whispered, the sound of the music keeping your conversation obscure. "How long has it been that you've been looking at me for? A minute, already? Only one more until you fall in love, according to science."
"You tryna make me fall in love with you, Montgomery?"
"No," you'd innocently chirped, then pulled back. "Why? Were you?"
He'd shrugged. Sipped on his beer. "Guess we'll never know."
Looking at him now, you find it hard to believe he's the same person as he was back then.
"Why would I do that?" You feign naivety. "You're not an asshole?"
He doesn't reply. Knows you're going somewhere with this. Leans his back against the wall opposite you and folds his arms as if to say, go on.
"Assholes fuck people over," you state. "You'd never do that. And you'd definitely never spend your summer in some poor girls sheets and then pretend like she doesn't exist in front of your friends—"
"There is it," he confirms. Knew it was coming. Didn't expect you to actually try and speak about things like adults. So fuckin' childish.
"Oh?" You chirp. "So you're well aware of the fact you're an asshole? Good. Glad we have that one sorted out."
"Yep," he confirms, mouth drawing to a thin line.
The fact he isn't engaging in the fight infuriates you. Just proves he doesn't care. That he fucked you over for sport.
"I'm an asshole," he says, voice full of snark. "You know it, I know it. There's no reason why you should want to be around me. No reason why you should waste your time."
"It's so funny," you gasp in fake surprise. "I was thinking the exact same thing! Isn't it so great that you came to this conclusion after you already wasted months of my life?"
He's silent, now. Cowardly.
"Y'know I always knew you were an obnoxious prick," you say, voice now soberly quiet. "But I didn't think you were this cruel, Kook."
"You know that's not—"
"What?" You interrupt, voice growing louder with each question. "Not true? You woke up in my bed one morning, and then never spoke to me again. Who does that? What the fuck is wrong with you?"
"I don't know!" He shouts, and it surprises you both.
Raking his hand through his hair as he turns away from you, Jungkook wishes he had an answer. Wishes he could explain himself in a way that made sense to you both. Instead, he harshly swallows down his anger. Turns to face you again. Looks like he might cry.
Feels like it, too.
"Why didn't you tell me, huh?" He quietly asks.
"Tell you wha—"
"That you were a virgin."
Your previous thoughts about murdering Taehyung return. Of all the things he could have divulged to Jungkook, and that's what he chose?!
Men, you internally scoff. All fuckin' idiots.
"Hardly relevant, is it?"
"Of course it is," he snaps, turning back to face you. "If I'd have known—"
"You'd have what? Ghosted me sooner? Made it into a fun little competition?"
"I didn't ghost you."
"Gaslighting, too, now are we?" You scoff. "Hold on, let me go and get my bingo card. Things Jungkook does that are absolutely fucking infuriating. Wanna cross it off the list. It's right next to how fast you drive your car, and how much I hate your stupid fucking alarm tone."
"Well good job you never have to hear it again, isn't it?"
"Why not? 'Cause you are ghosting me?"
"No, because this is fuckin' stupid," he says, yanking on the door handle, on the off chance it will finally budge. It doesn't. "You think I'm the devil reincarnated. You don't want me, so why bother with this? This is done. Us. Whatever the fuck it was. You never trusted me in the first place. Would have told me if you did. So just call your friend, tell him I'm an asshole. We're done."
"Oh, well you're two weeks too late for this conversation, don't you think?" you argue back with a cold laugh. "But has it ever occurred to you that my life doesn't revolve around you? That you aren't the reason I'm here? Jackson invited me."
"Ah, so that's what it is?" Jungkook sarcastically exclaims, your insatiable need to fight finally sinking into his skin. "You were just using me, huh? Getting those V-plates off, so you could be ready for him? Is that why you didn't tell me? Huh?"
The mere thought of hooking up with the college's very own Hugh Hefner makes you wanna gag—but if it'll piss off Jungkook, maybe you'll consider it.
"Why would you care if I let him fuck me?" You ask with such pointed anger Jungkook can't help but feel like you're driving knives into his chest. "Do that thing you like with my tongue? You think he'd like my pussy, huh? Maybe I'd let him fuck me raw."
You never let Jungkook go unprotected. Insisted on it each and every time, and he complied even if he was a little pouty about it after you'd been fucking for a while. The trust was there. You were on the pill. He knew he was clean and had told you as such, but it made no difference.
To even suggest you'd let Jackson fuck you raw is laughable.
With a smirk on his lips, Jungkook edges towards you.
Put his hands on your crossed knees. Waits for you to jerk him away—but you don't. Instead, you watch on with salacious confusion. Say nothing. Not even when he uncrosses them, nor when he spreads them apart.
With a hand either side of your head against the mirror, Jungkook stands between your legs.
Looks down at you.
Is so close you can smell his aftershave.
A month ago, in a position like this, you'd have kissed him.
"Hm?" You cock your head. Repeat your question. "You think he'd like my pussy? How long do you think he'd take to cum? Longer than you, I hope."
Jaw tense, Jungkook swallows down the way he wants to curse you out. Closes his eyes. Lets his head dip further, his forehead now resting against the top of your head.
The contact is minimal, but God, you've missed it. Trapped in position by him, you'd forgotten how lovely it was to lose yourself to Jungkook.
"You're not being fair," he whispers. Whines, even.
"Fair?" You laugh, but it's gentle. Matches his tone. "You can hardly take the high ground on fairness, Jungkook."
He nods. Takes a second, and then pathetically begs: "Don't fuck him. Please."
"Why shouldn't I?"
"You know why," he says. Stands straighter, now. Rakes a hand through his hair. Looks down on you with such pained desperation you almost feel bad. He tries to speak, but struggles with his words again. Takes him a few attempts to get anything out. "I didn't like you because I was fucking you. I fucked you because I liked you. You know that. You know it wasn't...Fuck. You know what it was."
The past tense he speaks in cuts you up inside.
Jungkook shrugs in defeat when he's met with silence. Purses his lips. Eyes on yours, they're glassy. Watery, almost.
Yours are just as bad, because what the fuck are you supposed to say to that? He's the one that cut you out. He did this.
"What did I do?" You ask, voice meagre and pathetic. Your vulnerability is mortifying, and yet you just can't help yourself as a tear streaks down your cheek. "What the fuck did I do that was so wrong, Kook?"
The heat of his hand scalds your skin as his thumb wipes away your tears. After his cold shoulder for the past two weeks, your body doesn't know how to respond. Should you be angry? Hurt? Comforted?
All you know is that you're more confused now than you ever were when you first started hooking up with him.
"Nothing," he quietly promises. Holds your cheeks in his hands. Rests his nose beside yours. Is far too close for a man who's been trying to stay away from you. Is beginning to realise that maybe his self-preservation was thinly veiled self-sabotage instead. "I thought I was doing the right thing, but it's been so fuckin' miserable, and then I didn't know how to fix things, and then it was all such a mess and—"
The words Jungkook is yet to speak are lost in the soft press of your lips against his.
Brows furrowed, Jungkook's grip on your face tightens. Keeps you close, 'cause he feels the pressure of your lips waning but doesn't want you to pull away.
And so you don't. Instead you apply more pressure. Harder. Deeper.
It's not like kissing Jungkook is a new experience. You've done it upwards of a thousand times, now. You know his lips and his tongue, and how it likes to flick against yours; his piercings, and the frequency of his moans that vibrate into your mouth.
Kissing Jungkook is just as easy as it is hard. Easy, in the way he takes not a single considered thought. Hard, in how it becomes your only tangible thought for minutes, hours, days afterwards.
An eternity and a millisecond is lost in the kiss, just like the summer that lasted an age and yet was gone with the wind.
When your lips finally part, there's silence. Forehead resting on yours, Jungkook shakes his head ever so gently. Doesn't know how to articulate his thoughts. How to say sorry, or how to fix his mess.
While his logic was flawed, and his execution careless, his intentions had been good. As much as he had a life to go back to, and friends that wouldn't get it, so did you.
He knows they hate him—isn't ignorant to the roll of Maria's eyes every time they walk into Montgomery's, and has experienced Taehyung's disdain first-hand this evening.
He'd spent his summer getting out of the house to avoid the fall-out of his father's infidelity. Knows how much his family is suffering all because of a man who just couldn't control himself. Was trying to be better. Trying not to wreck both of your lives.
As he stands in the dingy bathroom of a party house, the lingering burn of your lips on his still smouldering, he knows that he wrecked you both regardless.
And so it's up to him to put you back together again.
"I'm sorry," you say as you break the kiss, mortified at how stupid of an impulse it had been. You don't that. Not anymore. A month ago, sure, kissing Jungkook in a dingy bathroom at a party house would have been exciting. Now, it just feels embarrassing. "I shouldn't have—"
His lips are on yours again, stealing your words from you. He doesn't want to hear you apologise. Knows that you don't need to. Also knows that he does need to.
"Don't," he quickly says between kisses. "Please, don't say sorry."
"But I—"
"Shut up," he smiles against your lips, shaking his head ever so slightly. He kisses you again, and this time it's soft. Pretty. Poetic, almost in how it makes you feel. And then he speaks, and you're reminded of just how easy it is to adore him, even when you know you shouldn't. "You know how much I've missed this? God, I've missed you so much. Please don't say sorry. I'm sorry. It's on me. I made a mistake, alright? I fucked up."
He pulls back. Has your cheeks in his hands as he makes sure your eyes are on his. They're dark, now, in the dim light of the bathroom you're in, but they've never been warmer.
"I mean it. I'm so fucking sorry," he whispers. Brows furrowed, lips pouty, he's got the kind of face you're hardwired to trust. To adore. Or maybe, it's just him, in general, that you're inclined to feel this way about. "Okay?"
His large hard hands are still holding your cheeks, as yours wrap around his wrists. With a shake of your head, you shrug. Pout, too.
An apology is appreciated, but it's just words. It's his actions that have been upsetting you. Not his words (or lack thereof).
"We're gonna leave this bathroom and you're gonna pretend like I don't exist again," you tell him.
The frown on his face deepens. "That's not true. And that's not what I was trying to do in the first place, either. I just thought—"
"What? That it was a good idea to kiss me on my doorstep and promise you'd pick me up from work, only to never show? To ignore my texts? To—"
"No," he quietly admits, dropping his head between his shoulders. "I made the wrong calls—but I can make it up to you. I want to make it up to you." He rests his forehead against yours. Quietly begs, "Please."
Slowly, Jungkook nudges his nose up against yours. Waits for permission.
Beyond the door, loud music thuds through the room. It obscures the conversation you've been having, keeping you just as secret as you always have been.
It's not like you told any of your friends, either, and when it came to telling Taehyung, you weren't exactly forthcoming. Perhaps you would have been the one to pretend like he didn't exist, had he not done it first.
"I want you," he husks against your lips.
"You wanna fuck me," you correct him, lips tantalisingly brushing his with every word.
"True," he admits. "But I also wanna send you dumb memes again, and go for drives after work, and wake up in your bed. I wanna go for breakfast, and I still need to cook you my world-famous makguksu. I want to have not been a dick for the past two weeks, but I can't change that. I just wanna be what I once was to you again."
"And what was that?" You encourage.
There was never any label. Realistically, there's no right answer.
Or at least there isn't, until Jungkook just simply says, "Yours."
And what else can you do when confronted by such a pathetic, yearnful admittance from him, except to give into how you're feeling, too?
Frantic in the way your hands are on his body—his arms, his waist, around his throat—there's a neediness to you. One he's missed. One he reciprocates, as his large palms stroke up your spread thighs, then get your legs wrapped around his hips.
The movements of your bodies are so well nurtured by now that you know what comes next; how the bulge in his trousers will press against your covered pussy, and how you'll whine at the contact no matter how minimal.
"Fuck," you whine as his hands slip under the skirt of your dress. It's an old routine at this point. He knows exactly where to go, what to do. His fingers press against the wet fabric of your underwear, just gently enough to make you moan a little harder into his mouth.
"Oh?" He smirks when he realises just how needy you are, his fingers stroking against your slick panties. "Missed me, too?"
"You're an asshole," you tell him with a smile. As his fingers get firmer, you can't help but whine. "You know I have."
He pulls back to look down at your body. Pushes the fabric of your dress out of the way. Curses when he realises the underwear you're wearing. Is his favourite pair. Red and lacy, there's a suspender belt to match it. While you're not wearing it right now, he's got pictures of you in it that belong in a fuckin' museum.
"Did you wanna fuck me tonight, huh?" He mumbles into your lips.
"Not everything is about you," you say with a smile, wrapping your arms around his neck.
Except it is. They're your favourite pair too, simply for how insanely he reacted to seeing you in them. Sure you're not in the full set up, but it was enough to have you feeling ever so confident as you left the house with Taehyung.
As his lips press against yours, his finger hooks beneath your underwear. Tugs them to the side. Gets you exposed for him.
"No?" He husks, as his fingers begin to sink between your soaked folds. "So this isn't about me, huh?"
You shake your head. Lie. "Never been less turned on."
He plays into your little theatrics. Has always enjoyed them.
"So you don't want me to do this?" He asks as his middle finger sinks into your entrance.
"Can't even feel it," you pretend, as if his thick knuckles aren't stroking against you in just the right way.
"No?" He grits. Sinks a second finger inside you. Gets you whining again, nails gripping onto his arms. His fingers slowly pump into you, easing you into the way it feels for him to be inside you.
There's something electric about Jungkook. Sends shivers through your spine. Always knew exactly how to manipulate your pussy into doing whatever he wanted, and now is no different. As you clench around him, he's overcome with satisfaction.
"This is just my fingers," he reminds you. "I don't think you can handle my cock."
Scoffing, you're desperately trying to pretend you aren't melting for him. "Please, I can handle it just fine."
"Sure you can, baby," he teases with so much arrogance you kinda wanna fight him again—but it's also why you like him. He challenges you. Gets your brain in overdrive.
And when he crouches in front of the counter, eyes aligned with your exposed cunt, you think you might actually lose it entirely.
His hands are on your thighs, spreading you further, getting a good look at the mess between your legs. When he sighs, the shallow breath that escapes his lips feels like absolute sin against your wetness.
"Oh, you really haven't been fucked since me, have you?" He teases again. "Look at how fucking keen you are. Been missing my cock, huh?"
"My vibrator's been doing the job just fine," you assure him, but it has him pulling back to cock a brow in your direction. He knows many things about you that other people don't, but he was not aware you owned any sex toys. Finds that his cock only throbs even harder in his pants at this revelation.
"Maybe so," he husks, leaning closer just so he drags his flat tongue up your folds. Has to stop himself from moaning, 'cause the taste of you is somehow even better than his memories. "But it's not better than me."
With a point to prove, and a desperation to reclaim you as his own, Jungkook doesn't entertain chitchat any longer. He dives back in, tongue lapping against your lips as his fingers push back inside you. The way he curls them just right as his tongue flicks against your clit is enough to make anyone lose their head.
Hands tangling in his hair, you find your body responding to him in the way it always does; pathetically, needily, hungrily. There's no dignity to be found.
His tongue works against you like a well trained craft, until his lips latch around your swollen bud and begin to lightly suck on it. When he hums in satisfaction—which he does often—the suction only grows stronger.
Gets you whimpering, "Like that. Fuck. Like that."
The build is just as undignified as you are. Your grip on his hair gets tighter, and the shake of your legs grows stronger. Dragging his tongue up and down your folds, he settles back on your clit. Flicks his pointed tongue against you until he knows you can't take it any longer and begins to suck again. Curves his fingers just right. Strokes you so gently that orgasm pours out of you like liquid gold. Guilds him into the most gorgeous aureate glow.
He doesn't ease. Keeps his lips wrapped around your clit. Makes sure you're spent.
When he finally releases you, he's breathing just as heavily as you are. Gets to his feet, fingers still plugged in your tight pussy. Is pleased to find you're just as insatiable as he is, pulling him in for the messiest of kisses as soon as you can. There's no care given for the fact he's covered in your arousal. You just want that tongue of his in your mouth—and when it is, you find yourself moaning from the withdrawal of his fingers.
Your hands reach to the waistband of his jeans to unhook his button. Get his zipper down. Your hands down the front of his trousers, when his thick cock is restricted by his tight boxer briefs. By the tip of his cock, a small wet patch resides; his desperation for you obvious. Gently rubbing your thumb across the pre-cum, all you can think about is his slit, and how you wanna kitten lick across it.
But it's been two weeks of near-constant pining, and all Jungkook wants is to bury himself inside you.
"Let me fuck you," he begs. "Please, baby."
If the girl who had first seen Jungkook in a shared lecture hall two years ago would have known she'd end up in a shitty bathroom with him begging for her, she'd have laughed. Wouldn't have believed it for a second.
Fresh-faced and so out of your comfort zone, the first few days at university were full of potential. It was before you had wised up to your place in the pecking order; when Jungkook was just a boy in your orientation class.
Skin kissed by European sun, there had been a radiance to him that seemed to captivate just about everyone. You weren't the only girl who had been sneaking glances his way.
You'd thought about him a lot in those first few weeks. Came to learn of his family ties around the same time you befriended Taehyung. Stopped seeing him around campus so much, and rarely ever thought of him.
But on those rare occasions you crossed paths, your gaze would always linger.
As he frees himself of his boxers, trousers suspended midway down his thighs, he gently rubs the tip of his cock between your folds and husks, "Always thought you were so pretty, y'know?"
Looking up at you for just a second, he smirks. Looks back down. Continues to rub himself against you, prepping himself with your slickness.
"Freshers week," he continues. "You never came to any of the parties."
The tip of his cock kisses your entrance, but doesn't penetrate. You stay in limbo just shy of what you both want.
"Had a stupid fuckin' crush on you," he admits. Has never acknowledged it before, but has always known. Kept it hidden. Safe. Secret.
"No, you didn't," you smile. He didn't even give you a second glance. Was always you seeking him out in lecture halls.
"I did," he says with absolute certainty. "You wore that little black sundress on our first day. Had ruffles on the shoulders."
It hangs in your wardrobe, a little out of style but still sweet in the right setting. You know the exact one he's talking about, because he's right. You did wear it on that very first day.
His cock nudges a little deeper. Enough to make you gasp, but not moan. Not yet. Gripping his arms, brows furrowed, you nod. He sinks himself just a little bit further. The feeling is overwhelming; fire on ice.
"Would have fucked you in that lecture hall, if you'd have let me," he smirks.
"You didn't even know my name," you counter, but he cuts your questioning off as he edges a little deeper, still. His hand dips to gently rub languid circles on your clit. He's not pushing himself any further, not yet. Wants to ease into how this feels.
"I did," he admits. "Listened extra hard during the roll call."
"So this has all been some big elaborate scheme to get into my pants, huh?"
"Is it working?" he jokes, leaning over to yank the cabinet above the sink open. A few random bottles and packets clatter into the sink, but he doesn't care.
He's looking on the top shelf, rifling through old boxes, sending more miscellaneous objects to their untimely demise. Spotting what he's after, he's assertive as he knocks the cabinet shut. Passes you the box.
"S'all there is. They alright?"
"Sure," you say, pulling one of the foil packets from the box. You check the date stamped on the front—only to see it's a year out of date. Some protection would be better than none, regardless of the date, but fuck it. You're on the pill. "You haven't fucked anyone else? In the last couple weeks?"
"What?" His brows contort in confusion. "No."
His expression softens, but is still laced with confusion when you toss the box of condoms down into the sink.
"I don't care. I don't want them—"
You're cut off by the way Jungkook clasps your jaw, keeping your eyes locked on his. There's a seriousness to him now; the same demeanour he holds himself with when he was taking photographs. He's intentional. Assertive.
"Promise me," he says with stern certainty. "You want this?"
When he's got you like this—legs spread, body his to claim, your soul to take—it's impossible to do anything but comply. See, things with Jungkook are reciprocal. Your feelings, your tortured misunderstanding of how a relationship could ever work, and his seriousness, now, too.
"I promise," you swear.
As a chaste kiss is pressed to your lips, his hands stroke down your spread thighs, pushing you a little further open for him.
"Can't unfuck me," he softly reminds you. Is taking his time not for the anticipation, but because he's scared. "If you fuck me raw—"
"Then I fuck you raw," you simply repeat, knowing that it's up to you to ease his woes. If anyone should be scared, it's you—yet there's a safety that comes with being with Jungkook. Smirk, then say, "Trust me. I know I can't unfuck you. I've been trying to forget—"
"Ouch," he laughs, nudging his nose up against yours.
"—but you're just..." you tailed off, not wanting to compliment him too highly. He's still in the dog house. "Memorable."
With a sardonic smile that he knows only means trouble, you reach down to grip his incredibly pert ass cheeks. Squeezing, just because you can, you encourage him to push even deeper into you—and he's the one who whines, now.
"God, you're so fuckin' tight," he praises with such pained desperation it almost sounds like he'll cry. He won't. It's just that he can't quite believe that he's raw inside you right now, and that you feel just as good as he always imagined. Better, even.
"Yeah?" You question, as you pull his hips closer, gasping as he finally sinks his full length into you once more. His fingers were thick, but they've got nothing on his cock. Like he's taken all the air from your lungs, your voice is all light and airy. Makes Jungkook even more insane.
"Yeah," he mumbles as he nods into a kiss that is just as feverant as his need to pulse his hips. He doesn't dare do it yet. Is waiting for you. "Feels so fuckin' good."
"So just fuck me," you hungrily moan into his lips.
You're challenging him deliberately, and it works a fucking treat when he pulls back with a grin. He doesn't withdraw himself, but he does pulse his hips ever so slightly. Keeps you plugged. Is just nudging even deeper into you as he keeps a hold on your thighs, keeping them spread nice and wide.
"Say please," he grunts as his pulsing becomes a singular deep thrust.
Your argumentative streak wants to fight.
You'll berate yourself later for the way you whimper, "Please."
His thick cock withdraws just a little to push back into you. He groans. Curses. Builds momentum. Speed.
The sound of his skin slapping against yours as he pounds himself into you is impossible to ignore. Your moans build. Double. Treble. He's grunting too, and then his lips are on your neck. It's a mess, quite frankly.
In the sordid shadows of this bathroom, your bodies become acquainted with an intimacy not yet bridged before. You can pretend to ignore each other in the hallways of your shared lecture buildings, but you'll never be able to ignore the desperation you have for one another. Jungkook was right. You can't unfuck him. And now he's fucking you raw, it only make it even more potent.
Harshly pulling himself out of you, Jungkook almost fuckin' cums on the spot when he realises how soaked he is from your arousal. It's not like it's a new thing, but skin on skin, it's so much more intense. Gasping from the sudden loss of pressure, you're a little unsteady. Lurch forward as if your body could stop him from withdrawing.
Holding the base of his thick shaft, Jungkook spanks against your pussy with his cock. Rubs your slick wetness around with his tip. Hooks his elbows under your thighs. Pulls you closer. Instructs, "Arms around my neck."
Wrapping an arm around your back, the other one tucks under your ass as he lifts you.
He turns. Presses your back to the wall, and lines himself up.
"Legs around me," he tells you, and as soon as you do, his cock pushes up into you again. He keeps you pinned against the wall as he begins to fuck himself into you, his lips pressing wet kisses to the curve of your neck.
The sight in the mirror behind him is lethal; his broad back covered by his shirt, but it doesn't matter. You know what he looks like. Know his muscles, and the valley of his spine, like the back of your own damn hand.
You wanna see it though. Give it a tug. Send him the right message. Get him tearing his shirt off and dropping it to the floor for you. Victory is so damn sweet.
"Kook," you whine as he really begins to get deep. "You're gonna make me cum."
"All over my cock, huh?" He grunts. "Gonna cum on cock, are you?"
His taunting only makes you whimper even more. "I'm so close."
And because he just likes to get you all whiney and needy, Jungkook stops. Puts you down. Gets you facing the mirror as you protest his unfair stealing of an orgasm.
But then he's lining himself up again, getting ready to take you from behind. Spanks your ass ever so quickly.
Sinking into you again, Jungkook curses. "Tighter like this."
"Good?" You pathetically check, and Jungkook can't help but think it's sweet.
"Yeah, babe," he promises, and pretends as if it's completely usual for him to speak to you so tenderly. "Feels so fuckin' good. Missed you so much, gorgeous. You and this tight cunt."
"Romance," you joke through your needy whines. He smirks at this, and delivers a curt little spank to your ass.
"I can be romantic," he assures you, as if you aren't being soundtracked by the sound of your skin slapping together, his thick cock fucking itself into your soaked hole.
His eyes rise from the steady gaze he'd had on your ass to your eyes.
Slowing himself, Jungkook holds his cock inside you without thrusting. Says, "I made that photo you took of us in your room my fuckin' phone wallpaper. I listen to that asmr guy you like before bed, every single fuckin' night. I keep one of your ribbons tied around my gearstick. That romantic enough for you?"
There's an incredibly bashful smile on your pretty face, which contradicts the way in which your pussy is tightening around him in the most lewd of ways. You're giggling when you say, "Shut up and fuck me."
But then he's giggling too, just how you like him to be. Says, "I missed your body, but I missed you more. Stupid."
"You're stupid."
"You're stupider."
"Kook," you laugh, as he's completely forgotten the task at hand. The way that he looks at you, you'd be forgiven for thinking he has. Truthfully, the connection he has with you is so much more than what sex has ever been for him before.
His hips lightly pulse, as he says, "Sorry. Where were we?"
"Think you were gonna make me cum."
"Ah, yeah. That. My bad."
His gentle thrusts begin to build pace once more. The grin on his face drops a little as he begins to concentrate on you. Watching him in the mirror, you're perplexed to be reminded of just how ethereal Jungkook looks when he fucks.
The deep ridge between his brows intensifies, as his mouth hands slack. His cheeks hollow a little, and his eyes remain entirely focused. Dark. Deep. Brooding.
As his hand dips around to gently stroke against your clit, Jungkook is just as taken away by the way you look. He isn't sure what it is that gets his heart so heavy in his chest, but he knows that he wants you to cum. Doesn't give a fuck about himself.
The walls of your cunt begin to tighten around his length as your moans deepen. You whine his name and he encourages a response, but neither of you can really talk. A numbness is washing over you, your balance unsteady.
"I'm gonna..." you begin, but find it impossible to finish.
"I know, baby," he nods all out of breath and desperately fucked out. "Give me what I want. Cum for me."
You trust and keep your eyes on him, but the nudging on his cock against your g-spot and the slow rubbing of your clit is just enough to tip you over.
"Kook," you whimper as your walls begin to tighten around him, but it's fruitless. There's a shake to your legs, and he's the only thing keeping you supported.
"Oh, fuck," he curses from the strength of your pussy around him. He's shaking just as much as you are. "Cream on this cock, baby. Oh, fuck. Yeah.Just like that. You're gonna make me cum, too. Gonna make me cum so fuckin' hard. All in your pussy. You want that, huh?"
It's as you're desperately whining, cumming all around his thick shaft that Jungkook feels his body lose control. There's a tightness to his balls, and a shudder to his sternum, that he hasn't felt since the last time he was in your bedroom. Last time he was in you, more specifically.
"Kook," you whimper his name, and that's when Jungkook really can't hold back.
"Yeah, babe," he rasps, as his hard thrusts become pathetic stutters. "I'm cumming."
The announcement isn't needed, for you swear you can almost feel it as his thick cum begins to fill you. The lack of a condom makes it all the more primal, the way his body shudders indicative of just how much cum he's filling you up with.
His body collapses on yours a little, his clammy torso pressed to your back. The dress you're wearing is barely on properly, and the feeling of his skin against yours is catastrophic. As intimate as sex is, it's this right now, the beat of his heart thrumming against your spine that is the real disaster. How you can ever look him in the eye again is beyond you.
But then his lips are pressing chaste kisses to the curve of your neck, and his hands are squeezing at your hips. He doesn't pull out. Keeps himself warm inside you. Says, "How the fuck am I ever supposed to give you up, huh?"
That's the thing.
He isn't supposed to, and you damn well know it.
Reaching back for some tissue to help you out, Jungkook slowly withdraws. Holds his hand beneath your pussy, then replaces it with tissue. Turns you around and lets you take over.
"Here's a radical idea," you offer, not looking at him as you quickly make sure you're decent. Stay standing with your legs crossed, just in case. "Don't."
Pulling his shirt back over his head, Jungkook presses his back to the wall. There's a distance between you, yes, but you don't really feel it, 'cause it's purely physical.
And it's not like it lasts for very long either, 'cause Jungkook decides he needs to kiss you all over again.
"Alright," he whispers against your lips. "Say we don't. Say I wanna be yours. What the fuck do we do now?"
You shrug. The answers aren't yours to decide. It's up to you both.
"Well, firstly I'm gonna text Tae," you hum. "Tell him you're still an asshole and that I need to be let out immediately."
It's been half an hour.
He came to check on things about ten minutes ago.
The music might be loud, but not loud enough to drown out the way you guys fuck.
Summer had been quiet. In his car, in your empty house, you've never had to keep it down before. Didn't even realise quite how loud you were being.
Which is why Jimin is the one who unlocks the outside bolt with a smirk a few minutes later, Taehyung watching on with a little disgusted grimace a metre or so back.
"Gross," he whisper shouts at you, but then he's smiling, too. Notices how Jungkook touches you—the hand he has on the small of your back, and the way he clasps your hand as you begin to walk ahead of him—and finds it impossible to be mad.
"C'mon," Jimin calls behind himself, leading you up and out of the basement. "We're going to the diner."
"We?" You question, incredibly confused.
"We." He simply says. Doesn't leave it up for debate. Gathers up the rest of the Untouchables (though Claudia is noticeably absent), and tells them the same thing he told you. Drags Taehyung along as well.
Jungkook was scared of integrating you into his life, but there's no other way to do it. Has to rip the band aid off.
As you walk into Montgomery's, hand in hand with the boy who had spent his summer wasting away with you in here, both of you realise that maybe it isn't such a huge deal.
Or at least, you do until Maria clocks you. Eyes darting from you, to Jungkook, and then to your gently clasped hands, she's in a state of absolute shock. Almost drops her tray.
"Sorry, what the fuck?!"
#byholly#jungkook fanfic#jungkook fanfiction#jungkook angst#jungkook smut#jungkook ff#jk ff#jungkook x reader#jungkook imagine#bangtan fic#jungkook fluff#college!jungkook#non idol au#bts fanfic#bangtan ff#jungkook fic#jeon jungkook x reader#college au
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Thinking about best!friend!Haechan who had enough from ur teasing, u wanna test his limits? Ohhh u r not ready for what's about to happen
Best!friend!Haechan who tries his best to not run to ur house and fuck u senseless after sending him again a nude waiting for him to see it first before u delete it and only wasting a "sorry not for u" when it was clearly for him, cause who tf does the same mistake every day?
Best!friend!Haechan who suddenly grabbed u by the hair and forced u on yr knees after u so accidentally rubbed ur feet on his crotch, his other hand gripping ur jaw making u look at him before he spits on ur face making u gasp from shock and that only earning u a chuckle from him "what? U r surprised? Isn't that how u want to be treated?" He mocks his hand letting go of ur jaw,.resting comfortably next to him
Best!friend!Heachan who hold ur head and stuffed his cock deep down ur throat, making u choke, ignoring ur hands that r tapping his thighs eagerly when u felt short of breath, waiting until a few seconds passed by to free ur throat giving u no time to catch ur breath before burrying his cock on ur throat again.
Best!friend!Haechan who smirked down at u after seeing how messed up ur make up has become, ur face glistening with a mix of his precum and saliva, mascara smeared down on ur cheeks, god he loves that so much, it's better than any of his imaginations, he watched as ur eyes rolled back holding for dear life on his shoulders as u ride his thigh, squirming around when he held u down even after ur orgasm, so sensitive but that's what u deserve for what u did. Best friend Heachan who bend u on the same table u were just having a diner at, pressing ur face on the cold surface, his cock stretching u out so deliciously "u've been playing all- fuck sort of games god to have this dick" he paused groaning at how ur walls sucked him in tightly "fuckk, now take it" he started picking up his pace, pounding u so hard that u saw stars, ur mouth mumbling incoherent words, whimpering, moaning, not sure what to do with urself as he kept hitting ur g spot.
Best!friend!Haechan who puts ur hands behind ur back and let go of ur hips using ur arms as he thrust so deep into u, making u moan so loudly that u couldn't believe it was coming out of u, feeling his dick hit that spot every time he pushed back inside of u, tears streaming down on yr face when he whispered in yr ears "you love being a slut for me don't you?"
Best!friend!Haechan who didn't stop even after cumming twice, not even when ur voice was gone from moaning too loud, he fucked u like his life depended on it, his hand moving from ur hips to ur throat, wrapping it around ur neck as he pulled you back on his lap, the position making it possible for him to fuck u even deeper, his lips kissing the side of ur neck as he fucked into you.
Best!friend!Haechan who finally let ur wrists go only for him to wrap both of his hands around ur throat as u came again, clenching around his cock and that was it, he filled u up, his cum overflowing ur insides and spilling out of u, your mind was so hazy and unfocused, u could barely register him asking if u could feel him.
Best!friend!Haechan who put ur clothes back on, cleaning his cum off of ur thighs and carrying you back home, he didn't leave after making sure u were okay, he stayed and watched a movie with u and when he was leaving, he kissed u softly and promised to come back again, that was the night that made u realize you have fallen for him.
#kpop#kpop smut#nct#haechan#haechan x reader#haechan smut#haechan scenarios#donghyuck#lee donghyuck#nct haechan#nct dream#nct dream x reader#nct dream smut#nct dream imagines#haechan imagines
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I added these two together. I hope you guys don’t mind! Since I added them together I’m also making this a two parter. My first one ever!!
Comparisons Pt.1
Jason Todd x Jealous!Insecure!Fem!Reader || Angst/Fluff || Word Count: 2,488
Warnings: not proofread as of yet. Maybe will after i post who knows
After a six hour morning shift as a dishwasher, you were ready to head home.
It was the early afternoon, your shift having ended at 12. It was sunny. Warm, but not too hot. You were still in your work clothes, simple black pants and a black t shirt, your tote bag full of belongings over your shoulder. It was nice weather for the half hour walk you had back to your apartment. Better than the weather you’ve faired before.
Jason usually picked you up after your shifts, no matter where he was, as long as he wasn’t on patrol. He never wanted you to be seen in public near the Red Hood. He didn’t want you as a target.
“It’s bad enough I come straight here after patrol some nights.” He had said once.
“I’m just that irresistible, eh?” You had smiled.
He laughed, kissing your shoulder, “Damn right, baby.”
This day, though, you knew he was busy with a certain case he was working on. One he wouldn’t tell you about. He had been hard at work on it for the last few weeks, barely able to make much time for you. You didn’t mind. He tried as much as he could, even if it ended up being a five minute phone call, or a visit in the middle of night in between beaten-up thugs.
The sun hits your face and warms your skin in a comfortable way. Your headphones blocked out the Gotham noise, making the moment more enjoyable. Your favourite music instead of honking horns, sounds of engines, distant sirens, and people yelling.
You were stuck in your own world. You began thinking of asking Jason if he wanted to take you for a ride on his bike later. If he was free. You knew it’d be hard for him to say no. He loved taking you for rides. He didn’t have to say anything for you to know that.
You turn a corner, stuck in your head. Thinking about what you were going to do when you got home. You weren’t used to the morning shift.
You start your walk down the road, passing busy storefronts. Crystal shops. Pet stores. Mostly cafés and diners. You briefly considered working as a dishwasher at one of these places instead so you didn’t have to walk as far.
Maybe you and Jason could go to a diner tonight? That was a hopeful thought. There wouldn’t be time.
You’re walking past the third outdoor seating that takes up most of the sidewalk, small bistro tables hidden from the sun by large, white, beach-style umbrellas. Nearly identical to the two others you had passed, only different colour schemes.
You stare straight ahead, the extended seating narrowing the sidewalk and making it harder for people to walk around. You’re nearly halfway past the café when a hand reaches over breaching the shaded area and entering the sunlight to gently grasp onto your wrist.
You’re already twisting, ready to pull the mace Jason had bought you (though you more-so believe stolen from Batman himself, as you could see where he had scratched out the bat symbol on the canister) out of your tote bag and aim, when your eyes land on the owner of the arm, stretched across the thin barrier separating the seating from the sidewalk.
It’s Jason. His face hidden behind sunglasses, a small frown on his lips as he looks up at you from the shade. He waits for you to slip off your headphones before speaking.
“I was waving to you,” his thumb absentmindedly stroking the back of your hand. “You didn’t see?”
“Sorry,” You smile in relief at him, stepping closer to the barricade so as not to impede the flow of foot traffic. “I was more focused on getting around.”
There was someone sitting across from him. You didn’t think much of it at first. You saw red hair. That was regular with Jason, since he was always hanging around with Roy. Or Kory.
That’s who you thought it was. Roy. Nothing different at all. You turned to greet him, a smile ready on your face.
The second you clocked the pretty face, the waist-long, flowing, shiny red hair, your smile faltered.
Artemis gave you a sincere, friendly smile, her fingers swirling her straw in her cup.
Something churned in your stomach, “Hello.”
Jason’s grip on your wrist tightened slightly once, speaking up, “Why didn’t you call me to pick you up?”
You look back to him, “You said you were busy today.”
He frowns again. Technically, he had never said that. But it was true.
“Sit with us,” Artemis said, pointing behind her. “The entrance is there. We’re almost done anyways. Jason can drive you the rest of the way.”
You nodded, sending the best smile back to Artemis that you could muster in the moment.
As you approached, Jason reached towards the empty table behind him, flipping the chair and placing it at their own table, in between him and Artemis, facing where you had just been standing.
Something in the back of your mind noted how he didn’t even stand to do it, his face still pointed towards Artemis, his eyes concealed by his shades, hiding his expression. You sit down, placing your tote bag on the ground beside on, on your right, between you and Jason.
He picked it up and moved it onto the table without a word.
“This is my girlfriend,” Jason introduces you, his hands back on the table, folded in front of him. “This is Artemis. She’s helping me with my case.”
You nod, your mouth suddenly dry as she smiles at you again, “Nice to meet you.”
“Likewise,” she smiles again, stretching out plump lips to present straight, shiny teeth.
Jason’s quick goes back to talking with her about whatever they had been talking about before you had walked past, wrapping things up.
You weren’t even capable of listening at this point.
You trusted Jason. You’d always trust Jason. This was for the case and nothing more. You knew that.
Jason had never really spoke about Artemis before. He had mentioned her once, in the early months of your relationship. You had done something. He had later asked you not to, saying he had a bad memory of it from his ex. He had never even mentioned her name. You knew he didn’t like talking about her.
However, you had been out with Jason and Roy at a bar once. Roy had briefly mentioned Jason’s ex, since she was included in the story. Jason had changed the topic fast after that. Then when he’d gotten up to use to washroom, you’d asked Roy to tell you more about her.
“Just what she looks like,” You reasoned. “So I can recognize her if need be.”
Roy hesitated in telling you, but he still did.
You trusted Jason. However, you were losing trust in Roy. He had never mentioned how gorgeous this woman is.
Her skin was smooth. Not a blemish or wrinkle in sight. You tried not to stare, but you couldn’t help it. Her hair was perfect. Her skin flawless. On further inspection you even realized she wasn’t wearing any makeup.
She wasn’t wearing any makeup and she looked that good?
Artemis lifted her coffee cup to her lips, nodding to something Jason was saying. Nothing you understood, anyways. Even if you were listening. You caught sight of her flexed arm as she finished off the drink. She was strong. Probably worked out nearly as much as Jason, but far more slim than he was. But in a good way.
She smiled again, wide, displaying her pearly whites. You ran a tongue over your own teeth, pursing your lips quietly in thought. Yours weren’t anywhere near that.
Your arms suddenly felt itchy as you looked over Artemis’ again. You looked down. You needed to take your eyes off of her. You were being stupid. Jason had broken up with her. Jason had picked you. He had been dating you for nearly a year and a half.
Your eyes drifted to your own arms, spots of acne along biceps. No definition in sight. Your under eye bags suddenly felt like they were on broadcast. Your face felt gritty, your hand coming up to absentmindedly scratch at the break out you had along your cheek. The frizz of your own hair visible in the corner of your eyes.
You looked back up, looking out at the busy street. Jason had chosen you. Jason loved you. Jason kissed you everyday and always made sure to tell you how much he loved you.
Except in the past few weeks while he had been busy with this case.
Had he been working with her this whole time?
You glanced back down as Jason placed his hand on your knee. He always did this when you guys were out. You look back up at him. He’s leaning on the table with her other arm, straight-faced, nodding along to something Artemis was saying. Even her voice is pretty. Her tone carrying a confidence you were failing to find in the moment.
You looked back down to your own legs, Jason’s thumb moving lightly back and forth over the side of your knee. He didn’t even know he was doing it. He never did.
You looked over to Artemis’ legs, hidden underneath a pair of jeans. Even then you could see how skinny hers were. Could see that her thighs weren’t spilling off the sides of the small metal bistro chair.
Soon enough, she was standing, beginning to say her goodbyes. You swallowed thickly. She was tall too. An amazon, you remember Roy mentioning. How could you forget.
The crop top she was wearing fit her nicely, showing off her toned stomach and even dipping down at the neckline to show some cleavage.
You looked away, your arms folding across your stomach, hiding your own torso.
She smiles at Jason. You quickly look to Jason and find him smiling, too. A genuine smile. One he had yet to give you while you’d been sitting here.
You’re his girlfriend, you remind yourself. He loves you.
She smiles at you and gives her farewell. You can only nod. You watch as she leaves.
God. She was nice, too. Nicer than you had wanted to be to her.
She walks in the direction you had come from. Her hair flowing behind her, an expensive-looking purse hanging from her shoulder. Most men walking past stop to turn and look at her. She ignored them all.
That never happened to you. In fact, Jason had been the first guy to ever even ask you out. You never understood why you were his choice. Not when he was able to pull women like that.
Jason pats your knee and pulls you out of your thoughts, “Want to get anything before we go?”
You can’t even face him. She’s perfect. Absolutely perfect. A fucking amazonian warrior.
You stare down at the table, catching sight of your own hands. Your nails worn from your shift at the restaurant, fingertips still wrinkled from the water.
Why the hell would he ever stay with you if she was still in his life?
“No.” You finally answer. “Thank you.”
He nodded, sighing as he fished out his wallet to pay for their coffees. He counts the bills and change, speaking with his head down, “How many times have I told you not to walk around with your headphones on?”
You lift your head to look at him, “What?”
He doesn’t look at you, his eyes still hidden by his shades. “Your headphones. You get so lost in your music you couldn’t even see me waving to get your attention.”
Your fingers curled around the edge of the table, “I was looking past you. I didn’t expect to see you—”
“I was calling your name, too. If your headphones were off then you could’ve heard me.” He tossed a twenty onto the table, leaning forward on his elbows to look at you. “Anyone could sneak up on you.”
You pursed your lips, your brows tightening at him.
Why did she get a smile and not me?
Jason gestured to your bag on the table, “Same with this. The hell you putting it on the floor for? You wouldn’t notice it was taken until far too late—”
“You don’t have to drive me,” you interrupted. “I’ll walk.”
Jason cocked his head slightly, looking genuinely curious, “Why? Car’s right over there—“
“I’ll walk.” You repeated. Firmly.
You needed the walk. You had to try and work the jealousy out of your mind before you got into it with Jason. You didn’t want to argue. Not now. Not in public.
Jason sighed, running a hand over his mouth, “Don’t be like that.” He started to stand, his keys jingling in his hand, “Come on.”
He reached to take your bag for you, a large brown envelope already in his hand. Whatever Artemis had given him.
You reached out and snatched it from his hand. You stood, throwing it over your shoulder. “I’ll walk.”
Jason stared at you for a moment, seemingly frozen in place.
He sighed through his nose, “What’s wrong?”
You took a deep breath trying to control your emotions. This was stupid. Jason had broken up with her for a reason. Had been dating you for the last year and a half for a reason.
Unfortunately, your mouth was working faster than your mind, “Don’t act like you didn’t start this.”
Jason pushed his shoulders back. He tried again, “What’s wrong?”
You shook your head, frustrated.
“Fine,” he stuffed his free hand in his pocket. “Just don’t be wearing your headphones while walking around.“
You were tired. Your shift had been long. You were worked up from your mind running all the comparisons between you and Artemis. It was still running them, you suppose, as otherwise you wouldn’t have said, “I guess you wouldn’t have to worry about her all the time. She can handle herself.”
Jason’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, his first shown emotion since that smile he’d given her, “Who?” Then they shot up almost just as quickly. “Artemis? Is that was this is about?”
You felt your face heat up in embarrassment at his realization. He’d figured you out.
His shoulders tensed, “Do you really not trust me?”
The way he had said it, his tone, has made it sound like the silliest thing in the world. Now it made you feel even stupider. Of course you trusted him.
You caught people staring in the corner of your vision. You ducked your head back down.
You gripped your tote bag at the straps over your shoulder and stormed off.
You heard Jason call your name as you passed by him again, on the other side of the barrier, headed back to your apartment.
Hope you guys enjoyed!! Pt 2 will be out later this week!!
#jason todd#jason todd x reader#dc#red hood#jason todd fic#red hood x reader#jason todd x fem!reader#jason todd x you#red hood x you#missy writes#ask missy#jason todd x y/n#dc x y/n#dc x fem!reader#dc x you#dc x reader#dc fic#red hood x fem!reader#red hood fic
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Dp x Dc AU: Not exactly a meet cute between Jazz and Jason.
Jason's had a long night of beating the shit out of a gang that dared to sell in his territory, the last thing he needs is the Bats on his tail. He can always sense them when he leaves Crime Alley- they watch for him. Waiting for him to fail. It pisses him off.
So Jason shakes his tail, he's pretty sure it's the demon brat, parks his bike, removes his helm and heads into the loudest bar he can find, ditching his mask along the way. There are no camera's and there was no one watching, so Jason just looks like any other angry frat guy at the bar. Well, he supposes that the Leather jacket might be a stand out.
He grabs a drink, and looks at the time. Jason just needs to wait out the chance that a baby bird saw his bike and hope that curfew kicks in before this has to be a 'conversation'. Besides, the music is good and despite all the people, the crowd is pretty behaved.
"Hi! I'm so glad you're here!" A woman approaches, he can tell she's had a few drinks from her walk but her eyes scream sobriety and fear. She's tall in her flats, her hair looks disheveled (from dancing maybe) and her outfit screams 'this is the one fun black top I own'. She's beautiful and her approaching him might've been a wet teenage dream if his suspicions weren't immediately raised.
"I certainly am here." Jason replies, a smirk set into his features easily and as he straightens out his back he can see the three men watching the back of her head like predators. They're wearing super lame white hoodies and coats, like they're organized somehow.
"That's why you're my hero! Always ready to grab me at a moment's notice! Any chance you'll be good to leave after you finish that drink?" Her eyes are pleading but she keeps the same happy smile and joyful tone the whole time.
"Nah, no worries about the drink. It was cheap and I was just getting bored with it anyway. " Jason explains, setting his glass down on the counter. He's mentally photographed the three creeps, "Did any of your friends also need a ride home?"
"Nope! They all got in an uber... without me. So they'll be just fine!" She explains and there is an anger in her eyes that clearly meant she was telling the truth. Her hands are straightening out his jacket collar, making it look like they're more comfortable with each other than just strangers. She lays her hands flat on his chest once her task is completed and Jason feels his throat go dry.
"I'm always telling you to find better friends. Now c'mon, I parked out back." he wraps an arm around her waist, though its not tight, and peers over his shoulder. These guys weren't going to leave without a fight it seems, Dumb, Dumbie and Dumber are all watching her with evil in their eyes.
The two of them walk out and before she can even say thank you, the door swings back open and she's sucker punched one of the assholes and Jason's pulled his gun out for the other two.
"You gents are gunna go home, or you're gonna end up in the dirt. Pick." Jason growls. Not taking him seriously at first, he shoots one dudes foot and the last one standing looks like he might pass out. He picks up his fallen comrades and backs away into the bar.
"For ancients sake those dudes were trying to traffic the hell out of me." She sighs, and Jason holsters his gun.
"Yeah no shit. You okay?" Jason inquires.
"I will be. I'm Jazz, thanks for saving me Hood."
"I'm no-"
"You're literally leaning comfortably on Red Hoods motorcycle that still has his helmet perched on it. No one would do that unless they were suicidal or him." She challenges, but then a look changes in her eyes and she almost looks nervous "But still, do you uhm, wanna get out of here?"
He blinks. She was trying to pick him up? AFTER finding out he was a crime lord??
The answer is that yes, Hell Yes, Jason does want to get out of here. None of the Bats will bother him while he has a civilian, not at the diner he takes her too and certainly not while he's taking her back to one of his safe houses.
Jason had expected one of his siblings to show up in the morning and cause a ruckus. He hadn't planned for a dude to let himself into his kitchen screaming about government agencies tracking Jazz down that wasn't related. Turns out it's her brother and he's floating and no he's not going to explain why he's there or how he found them.
Jazz has a lot to explain to the both of them and it starts with "So I can admit that I have a thing for motorcycle guys-"
#dpxdc#dcxdp#dc x dp#dp x dc#danny phantom#dc crossover#dp crossover#anger management ship#anger management#jazz fenton#jason#long post#your honor there is no way in my mind that these two aren't bangin within 24 hours of meeting#the chemistry is there#jazz was being followed by the giw and jason saves her#jazz is literally in love from that point forward#she has a type and he checks all her boxes your honor#danny just wants his sister safe but he will shovel talk the zombie later
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somewhere to run | 2. book club
Pairing: sheriff!Joel x f!reader
Chapter Summary: An incident at the diner causes you to get shaken up, and Joel is there to help.
Chapter Warnings: language, slow burn, mutual pining, PTSD type symptoms, flirting, jealousy, attempted robbery, reader gets mildly injured
WC: 6K
Series Masterlist
"So you see why it's so important you keep on top of your oil changes, yeah?" Mr. Connor finished saying as you set down his plate of waffles and sausage. You nodded enthusiastically while you filled up his coffee.
"I was never really any good at car stuff," you admitted, but he shook his head.
"If you take care of it, that car'll last you five more years and save you boatloads of money," he told you, wagging his finger. "You come by my shop any time and I'll take a look at that beater you're drivin', won't rip you off, either."
You laughed as you heard the bells above the door ring and Maria greet the next customer.
"I'll hold you to it," you said with a wink before turning to put the coffee back on the burner.
Out of the corner of your eye, you saw the familiar outline of a man settle into Joel's usual seat at the counter, and you felt the butterflies stir up in your stomach. You glanced up to make sure there wasn't any food getting cold in the window before pulling out your notepad and walking over. As you approached, you mentally braced yourself for the onslaught of his cologne, but as you got closer, you couldn't smell it. In fact, all you could smell was soap and maybe a faint hint of oil from his gun.
When you paused in front of him, the realization dawning on you, he glanced up from the menu with a smirk. A slow smile spread across your face when you looked him in the eye.
"Better?" was all he said, and you couldn't stop the giggle from escaping your lips.
"You didn't have to do that for me," you said, suddenly feeling bashful and looking down at your blank notepad.
"I know, but I wanted to," he said, leaning back and closing the menu. He didn't even know why he looked at it anymore, he knew it by heart already. "Thought maybe it'd make you stick around long enough for me to get to know you better."
You definitely felt your cheeks flare at that comment, and it must have been visible because Joel just grinned, clearly very pleased with himself.
"Where are you from?" he asked, determined to try to make some more progress with you today.
"Pennsylvania," you said, finally looking back up at him with a smile as you tapped your pen on the pad.
"Northerner," he said with feigned disgust. "And what brought you all the way to Texas?"
"The incredible job opportunity, isn't it obvious?" you said, and he laughed. A real laugh, one you hadn't heard before, and it did something to you. Uh oh.
"You're funny," Joel said, almost as if he were saying it to himself. You grinned and decided to steer the conversation in a different direction: away from you.
"What about you? Have you lived here your whole life?"
"Born and raised," Joel said with a nod. "Our pop used to be the town sheriff, before he passed 'bout ten years back or so."
"So, you followed in your father's footsteps?" you asked, raising an eyebrow at him.
"Suppose I did," he told you, leaning forward. "But can I tell you a secret?"
You hummed and leaned forward as well, trying to bite back your smirk.
"Kinda wishin' now I was the one who bought this place instead of my brother," he said quietly and so close to your ear that it sent a shiver down your spine.
Still leaning in, you dropped your voice to match his and said "then who would stop those teenagers from drawing phallic images on street signs?"
He laughed again, the same deep, throaty laugh as before, and you felt your stomach clench at the sound.
"You heard that, huh?" he asked, smiling and leaning back. You shrugged.
"Lee isn't as quiet as he thinks," you told him. You wanted to say you had to learn early on to eavesdrop, that listening and anticipating danger became second nature to you, but you caught yourself.
"Howdy, brother," you heard Tommy's voice boom from somewhere behind you. You took the opportunity to sneak away and check on your other customers while they talked, but you made sure to set Joel up with coffee before heading towards the other end of the counter, his eyes trailing after you and staring a moment too long on your bare legs.
"You givin' her the business?" Tommy asked, nodding in your direction, and Joel nearly choked on his coffee. Tommy raised his eyebrows.
"She's, uh... she's a nice girl," Joel finally managed to get out after wiping his mouth with a napkin.
"He's got the hots for her," Betty whispered to Tommy as she ambled by. Joel cleared his throat loudly and gave her a stern look, but she just laughed and kept walking.
"Oh, Joel, I'm beggin' you, don't screw this up for me. She's a real good waitress, I don't wanna lose her - "
"Would you keep it down?" Joel whispered, his eyes darting around to make sure you weren't within earshot. "I ain't gonna screw anythin' up for anyone, don't worry. She's just... nice."
"'Nice'," Tommy repeated, clearly not buying it. He was about to say more, but Joel straightened up in his seat and averted his gaze, trying to wordlessly warn him you were heading over.
"Sorry to interrupt. Are you ready, Joel?" you asked him, your pen and paper in hand. He looked up at you and it was hard to fight the goofy look on his face now that you didn't regard him with such disdain.
"Yeah, sure. Let's put this guy to work, huh?" Joel said, pointing to Tommy, and you giggled. Behind you, Tommy rolled his eyes. Nice.
Joel told himself he was only allowed to think about you on his walk back to the station after lunch. You had told Betty you weren't interested in dating anybody at the moment, but he could wait. He wondered if he could change your mind, if he could make you come around to the idea of being with him, or at least give him a chance. You definitely seemed much warmer towards him today. He must have been wrong yesterday, you really must be sensitive to smells if all it took was for him to stop using that obnoxious cologne Sarah got him that he felt too guilty to throw away.
"Hey boss, how was lunch?" asked Bobby, the town's deputy and Joel's right hand man.
"Good. Anythin' goin' on here?" Joel asked, shrugging off his blazer and hanging it on the coat rack outside his office.
"Not much. I was 'bout to let Ollie outta the drunk tank. His wife was callin', askin' after him," Bobby said before rising to his feet with a groan. Although the man was ten years younger than Joel, his joints seemed to be ten years older.
Joel glanced at the time on his watch with a nod.
"Yeah, go ahead. Third time this month, though. Next time it happens, I'm keepin' him longer."
"Alrighty," Bobby said over his shoulder as he pulled the keys from his pocket and headed back towards lockup.
Joel sighed and began flipping through the papers littering his desk before giving up and leaning back in his chair to stare out the front window, watching people as they walked past. Before he could stop himself, his mind had already wandered back to thoughts of you, and it took him five whole minutes and Ollie's hungover ramblings to snap him out of it.
Maybe Sarah would want to get pizza for dinner.
It was nearly seven at night as you made your way back home from work, your feet aching and your head throbbing. At the very least, it was a cool, summer night. The breeze was enjoyable and the sun was still peeking out just enough to keep your skin pleasantly warm. All you could think about was getting home and running a bath to soak your sore muscles. It had been a long time since you held a job, let alone a job that kept you as active as this one.
Patrick didn't like the idea of you working. When he first suggested you quit your job and stay at home, you thought it was sweet. You took it to mean he wanted to provide for you so you could relax and be a homemaker, maybe even a mom one day. But after a few months, you quickly realized he just didn't want you around other people, or more specifically, other men. Without even knowing it, you trapped yourself at home without a lifeline, and it was exactly what he wanted.
Even though you were sore now, you felt good. You were taking care of yourself. Providing for yourself. And you never felt more proud.
You were juggling your keys, trying to find the right one that opened the door to the sidewalk, when you heard a familiar voice exit the pizza place.
"Well, look who it is," you heard Joel say, and you let the keys dangle at your side as you turned around with a smile.
"Evening, Joel," you replied, your eyes quickly drifting down his body. It was the first time you had seen him in casual clothes. Every other time you ran into him, he was in his work uniform, which usually consisted of some type of suit. But tonight, he was wearing dark blue jeans and a beige button up shirt with short sleeves. As he strolled over to you, balancing a pizza box in his hand, your eyes were immediately drawn to the way the muscles in his arms strained against the fabric of the shirt, making your mouth go dry.
"Tommy finally let you leave, huh?" he joked, and you had to remind yourself to laugh, your mind still too fixated on the way he looked in that shirt.
"Dad?" you heard a girl's voice call behind him, and you both turned your attention towards the voice. You remembered your brief interaction at the pharmacy and realized that she must be Sarah. Her eyes flickered from you to Joel, then back to you, clearly waiting for Joel to introduce you, but he seemed frozen in place. So, you stretched out your arm and introduced yourself with a smile, which she reciprocated.
"You look familiar," she said, tilting her head to the side the same way her dad did.
"I think I saw you at the pharmacy a couple days ago," you reminded her, and she snapped her fingers.
"That's what it is," she said, giving you another smile. "Are you working for Uncle Tommy?" she asked, looking at Joel again, who was still standing there, unmoving, watching the two of you interact. She frowned slightly at him, picking up on his strange reaction as well, before giving you her attention again.
"Yeah, at the diner. He hired me earlier this week, brand new," you told her, rocking back and forth on the balls of your feet. Joel's silence was deafening at this point and starting to make you uncomfortable, so you held up your keys and pointed to the door.
"I won't keep you guys. It was great to meet you, Sarah," you said with a wave, but before you could turn towards the door, she stopped you.
"Why don't you join us?" she asked, shooting Joel a mischievous look as if she finally realized the reason for his behavior.
"Oh, no, that's so nice of you, but I'm just gonna jump in the bath and go to bed, it's been a long day," you replied. Joel's body stiffened next to you when you announced your plans.
Finally, he managed to clear his throat and speak.
"We'd love to have you join us, we were just gonna grab a picnic table out back," he said, and you swore his cheeks looked a little pinker than usual.
You were struggling to find another polite way to turn down their offer when he added "c'mon, why don't you lemme serve you for a change?"
Sarah smiled as she watched the two of you. She couldn't wait to tease her dad about it in the car later.
"Alright," you said slowly, lowering your keys once again. Joel's face broke out in a huge grin before leading you and Sarah down the short alley to the small courtyard behind the building, where there were a few picnic tables and string lights draped overhead.
"Are you sure I'm not intruding?" you asked again, and they both vehemently shook their heads.
"No way," Sarah said, licking the sauce off her fingers after she picked up her piece from the box. "It's nice to have another girl around for a change."
"Sarah," Joel said warningly under his breath.
"I just mean it's nice to hear about something else other than work and football," she said to him with a grin, and he rolled his eyes, choosing to sit on your side of the table instead of hers.
"So, you live above the pizza place? That seems pretty cool. Pizza whenever you want," she said, covering her mouth as she spoke. You swallowed your food before responding.
"Yeah, it is pretty convenient. And they actually have good pizza," you said. "I think I'm finally getting used to the smell."
Joel's knee accidentally knock against yours under the table and you had to fight the urge to jump away, the contact startling you.
Sarah asked the same questions everyone in this small town inevitably asked you when you first met: where are you from and why are you here? The first question was easy, the second one always gave you pause. It wasn't until Sarah asked that Joel suddenly realized you never really answered him when he asked the same question earlier that day, so he stopped chewing to pay attention.
"Just looking for a change," you said with a shrug, taking another bite of pizza. Sarah considered your answer for a moment before following up.
"Have you ever been here before?"
"Nope."
"So you just got in your car and ... drove?"
"Kind of," you said with a nervous laugh. Joel frowned slightly.
"That's so cool," Sarah said, a smile stretching across her face. "Dad, doesn't that sound so cool?"
"Yeah," he said with a nod, finally joining the conversation. "Do you got family down south or anythin'?"
"Uh, no," you said, shaking your head. "Just always heard it was nice down here so I thought I would see for myself."
"You think you're here for good, then?" he asked, his voice a little more hopeful than he wanted to come across.
"That's the plan," you said to him with a smile.
"Do you have a boyfriend?" Sarah asked out of the blue, and your eyes darted back to her in surprise.
"No," you replied slowly, heat creeping up your neck and guilt dancing in the back of your head while Joel hid his grin behind his pizza. "Do you?" you deflected, raising your eyebrows at her with a smirk, and she giggled, shaking her head.
"You better not," Joel said, and the two of you laughed.
Over the rest of the hour, you listened to Joel and Sarah crack jokes and argue over what movie they would end up watching later that night and you felt the smile slowly begin to slip from your face as you came to the sobering realization that the type of dynamic they had, one that was so obviously built on love and trust, was something you never truly experienced before. It wasn't just something you saw in the movies or read in books. People in the real world actually got to experience it, and you couldn't help but feel a little jealous. Why not you? What did you ever do to receive the type of life you got?
After parting ways and thanking them over and over for dinner, you finally headed upstairs and collapsed on your small sofa. You untucked your work shirt and unzipped your skirt, but that was as far as you got, exhaustion winning the fight.
You closed your eyes and wished you had the energy to get up and run a bath, but you just couldn't bring yourself to do it yet. Instead, you let your mind wander, imagining a life where you could call out to someone who cared for you in the other room and ask them to run the water. Maybe they would surprise you and light a few candles and mix in some soothing bubble bath. You knew that would never happen. You could never let yourself be honest enough with anybody to allow them into your life, but it didn't stop you from wishing for it, anyway. And right before you drifted off to sleep, you imagined that certain somebody had dark brown eyes and soft curls on the top of his head that you were itching to run your fingers through.
As hard as you tried to keep to yourself, the town was very small, and eventually you found it was nearly impossible to keep from making connections with people. Whether it was through work at the diner or striking up a conversation with someone at the store, you were quickly becoming interwoven in the lives of the people who graciously accepted you as one of their own.
You were particularly becoming fast friends with the girl who worked the register at the pizzeria below your apartment. Her name was Hailey and she was a couple years younger than you, but you had a lot in common, one of which was a shared taste in the same movies and books, so you were excited when she invited you to join a book club she and a couple other women in town started. As much as you enjoyed talking about books, you found you also very much enjoyed listening to all the town gossip that inevitably came out after everyone had their first glass of wine.
"So, Nikki, did I hear Sam asked you out on a date?" an older woman named Martha asked. Nikki blushed when the group turned to her, some women poking her in the side and others murmuring excitedly under their breath.
"Yeah, but it's not a big deal," Nikki said, flicking her long, dark hair over her shoulder. She looked to be a little older than you were but it was hard to guess her age.
"Not back in town for two weeks and she's already got a date," Hailey said, rolling her eyes next to you playfully. "Some girls got all the luck."
"Oh, stop it," she chided with a smirk, then paused as if she were rethinking her next statement before blurting out "kind of wish someone else woulda asked me out instead."
That got the whole group's attention, even your own, and you barely had any idea who most of these people were. But you supposed any amount of gossip paired with alcohol is good gossip.
"Oh, please, you don't gotta say it, we all know who you've been chasin' after all these years," another woman chimed in with a giggle. Fortunately, you weren't the only person in the dark.
"Who?" Hailey asked, leaning forward eagerly.
"Joel, obviously," the other woman replied, and while the rest of the group groaned, everyone tossing in their two cents and offering up their favorite things about him, you remained frozen in your chair, blood running cold.
"Lord, he came into school last week to pick up Sarah, and the way his ass looked in those jeans..."
"Did I ever tell you about the time I nearly slipped on the ice and he caught me? Had to go to confession the next day..."
"... and I swear, I've considered committing a crime just so he would throw those handcuffs on me..."
"I don't know how that man has been single for so long..."
Part of you wanted to laugh at some of the things the women were saying about Joel, but the other part of you felt hot and angry. You wanted to scream shut up, don't think about him like that, don't even look at him. And through your alcoholic haze, you realized you were jealous. Jealous of all of these women, young and old, barking out comments about the town sheriff you had no business feeling jealous over.
The next day when he came into the diner for lunch, your head was still swirling with all of the comments the women in town made the day before. Distracted, you dropped your pen and pad on the ground as you made your way over to greet him, cursing under your breath.
Joel grinned when you finally approached, looking every bit as frazzled as you felt.
"Tough day?"
"Huh? Oh," you said nervously, tucking your hair behind your ear and shaking your head. "N-no, not really. Well, maybe - shit," you said when you knocked over a box of straws with your fidgeting.
Joel laughed and leaned back in his chair.
"What's got you all worked up?" he asked, and you felt your cheeks flush with embarrassment.
"Nothing," you said, shaking your head again, trying to focus. "What can I get for you?"
"Nuh uh, darlin', not so fast," he said with a tsk, and you sighed. "What's goin' on? You can tell me, y'know. I am a man of the law."
He meant it to be playful, but with your history, it had the opposite effect. You winced and swallowed the lump in your throat, and trying not to make matters worse, you caved.
"I went to a book club last night," you mumbled, and he raised his eyebrows.
"Book club, huh? Sounds like fun," he said, watching you carefully. "Maybe had a little too much fun?"
You finally dragged your gaze up to meet his and saw he was grinning at you, and you managed to force out a small laugh.
"Yeah, you could say that," you said, hoping that would be enough, but he wouldn't let it go.
"Can you get me a coffee? Then when I get back from the restroom, I wanna hear all 'bout your little book club," he said with a wink, then stood from his chair and turned around, heading towards the bathrooms while your gaze landed on his ass. It didn't look too bad in dress pants, either.
You tried to steady your breathing while you flipped over a clean mug and filled it with coffee, your mind racing and wondering what lies you could come up with to prevent telling him the reason you were so distracted.
Lost in thought with your head down, you didn't even notice when another customer took a seat at the counter until the man cleared his throat. You glanced up and apologized before bending down to grab another mug and set it down in front of the stranger.
You were pouring his coffee and telling him about the specials, your eyes glued to the counter, when he slid the barrel of a pistol across the table and into your line of sight. You froze, your hands gripping the coffee pot fiercely as you broke out into a cold sweat. You flicked your eyes back up to him. He didn't appear to be much older than you. He had his unkept hair hidden underneath his black hoodie, and you noticed his eyes looked bloodshot, his skin clammy. You knew that look. You've seen that same look one too many times.
"What do you want?" you whispered, your voice shaking.
"Open the register, gimme all the cash in this bag," he said quietly, tossing a tote bag across the counter at you. You nodded, grabbing the bag while your fingers fumbled with the buttons, desperately trying to remember how to open the drawer without a sale. You could sense he was growing frustrated with how long it was taking, and you felt the tears welling up in your eyes.
"I'm sorry," you sobbed quietly. "I-I'm new, I can't remember-"
"Hurry the fuck up," he growled, and you blinked rapidly, trying to clear your vision, the tears falling down your cheeks.
"Drop the fuckin' gun, Marcus," you heard Joel's voice call out, and a wave of relief coursed through your body. But Marcus got startled, and instead of doing as he was told, reached across the counter and grabbed you by the throat, pulling you against his chest to partially shield his body, the gun pressed against your temple as your fingers clawed at his arms.
You couldn't move. You couldn't breathe. Tears just streamed down your face as you locked eyes with Joel. They no longer carried that playful glint, his lips no longer turned up into a grin. His brow was furrowed deep and his gun drawn, cradled expertly in his large palms as his eyes shifted back to Marcus.
"I'm not lookin' to hurt anyone, sheriff. Just lemme walk outta here," Marcus rumbled behind you, his sour breath invading your nostrils and making your stomach roll.
"Now, you know I can't do that," Joel said, taking a small step forward. "But put down the gun, let her go, and we'll talk."
The grip around your throat tightened and you let out a small, pained squeak. Joel's jaw clenched when he heard the noise, his patience running thin. You hadn't noticed at the time, but the entire diner had gone quiet, some patrons slinking down in their seats, others craning their necks to get a better look.
"Goddamnit, Marcus, don't test me today," Joel growled, his eyes ablaze. "I don't wanna call your mama and tell her I had to spray her only son's brains all over the floor, but I fuckin' will." The tone in Joel's voice sent a shiver down your spine as you stilled, waiting for the stand off to be over.
Finally, after what felt like hours, the grip on your throat loosened and you no longer felt the cold metal pressed against your head. Joel locked eyes with you again as you coughed and shakily fell down to the floor behind the counter, curling yourself into a ball while you heard Joel reading Marcus his rights, the jingle of his handcuffs rang like bells in your ears.
Once Marcus was restrained, you heard Tommy bolt out of the kitchen and rush over to you. He knelt down on the ground, asking if you were okay, if you needed a doctor, concern lacing his voice but when he reached out to touch you, you flung yourself backwards violently, knocking the back of your head against the counter.
"Shit," you muttered, rubbing your head as fresh tears fell down your cheeks.
"Hey, easy now," Tommy said soothingly, glancing over the counter as Joel spoke on the phone with Bobby, ordering him to bring a car to take Marcus back to the station and book him.
"I'm fine," you whimpered, still rubbing your head as you shakily forced yourself to your feet. You watched as Joel marched Marcus to the front of the diner, his knuckles white from how hard he was gripping his shoulder as he directed him through the door. A few patrons clapped weakly as the two disappeared outside, and the diner filled with excited chatter once again.
"You alright, sugar?" Betty asked, suddenly appearing beside you, face etched with worry. You flinched and brought a shaky hand to your sore neck.
"Yeah, I just need to use the restroom," you said, and before anyone could say anything further, you tore off your apron and made a beeline for the women's room.
You locked the door behind you and slid down to the grimy floor, burying your face in your hands as you sobbed, the adrenaline wreaking havoc on your nerves.
It was too much. It was all too much. The look in Marcus's eye was one you saw too many times. A junkie in desperate need for a fix. A drunk who would say or do anything for another drink. The fingers around your neck were no longer there, but you still felt them squeezing every last bit of oxygen from your lungs, every tear from your eye until you could hardly breathe.
The door handle jiggled and you jumped, wiping furiously at your face before shouting out a shaky occupied!
"Hey, it's me," you heard Joel's voice say from the other side of the door. No longer did he have that hardened edge to his tone. The warmth and softness in his drawl had returned.
"I just need a minute," you said quietly after a long silence, and you heard him shift his weight.
"I know, but I - can you let me in?" he asked, and you could hear the concern in his voice. You slid your eyes shut as fresh tears drenched your face once again. You ached for comfort. You wanted it so badly you would do just about anything for it. But every other time, you've been let down. Over and over and over again.
"I just need a minute," you repeated, just a whisper, not even sure he could hear.
"Then I'll be right here til you're ready, alright?" his voice came back, even softer this time. You nodded, even though he couldn't see you. You heard him sit down against the door with a tired sigh, and you let your head tilt so it rested against the door. There was a small bit of comfort to be had when you knew only an inch separated you from him.
"You were real brave," he said after a few minutes of silence. You scoffed and wiped your nose.
"Is that why I'm crying on the floor of a bathroom?"
"Please don't cry," he said, his voice strained. But you didn't say anything in return.
"He wasn't gonna do nothin'. He's got troubles, is all. Bad habits get the best of him, but he's harmless," he said, trying to make you feel better.
"I don't know, these bruises on my neck say differently," you replied, and you heard his breath hitch. Then you heard his shoes scuff on the tile floor.
"Lemme see," he said, his voice firmer now. He was standing, his voice above you, waiting to be let in. You hesitated, the tone of his voice putting you on edge, but you knew you couldn't hide in there forever. With a trembling hand, you reached up and unlocked the door, then scurried backwards so you were pressed up against the opposite wall as he swung the door open and stepped inside. His gaze fell on you and his eyes went soft at seeing your wrecked state before clicking the door shut behind him.
He rushed forward and you flinched. A bad habit of your own. He paused and slowed his movements, crouching down in front of you instead. He lifted a hand to pinch your chin but you turned your face away.
"Will you show me?" he asked gently. You gazed up at him with red rimmed eyes, your knees pulled tight against your chest. Finally, you lifted your chin. Again, he reached a hand out, but you stopped him.
"Please don't touch," you whispered. He looked at you and nodded slowly, dropping his hand again, examining your bruises with only his eyes.
"Maybe you should see a doctor," he said after a few minutes, but you shook your head.
"I'll be fine, it's just sore," you said, and his gaze flicked up from your throat to your eyes. His lips parted the longer he stared at you, and you felt the tremor return to your hands. You couldn't look away, his gaze too magnetic.
"Don't like seein' you cry," he murmured, still gazing deep into your eyes, trying so desperately to read you.
"I cry all the time," you said without even thinking. He blinked and frowned. He was about to say something else when a gentle knock on the door interrupted him.
"You okay in there?" Maria called out. You sighed and stretched out your legs, standing up and waving off Joel's helping hand.
"We don't gotta do it today, but I'll need you to come by and give your statement sometime soon," he said, glancing down at you with a sympathetic look.
"Okay," you replied, your voice cracking a bit. You looked at one another, both of you wanting to say more but neither of you could. So you reached out to open the door, forcing a smile for Maria.
"Sorry," you told her meekly, and she laughed.
"You're sorry? You just had a gun pointed at your head and you're sorry?"
You laughed weakly, then stopped short in pain, your fingers brushing against your throat.
"I just wanted to bring you your purse so you could sneak out the back," she said, lifting your purse up and handing it over to you.
"But my shift-"
"Oh my god, take the day off," Maria said, shaking her head and grinning. "Think you earned it."
"Okay," you agreed, then turned to walk through the kitchen where you could leave out the back so no customers would gawk at you.
"Lemme walk you home," Joel's voice said, startling you. You had just assumed he went back out front.
"Don't you have to, you know... work?" you asked, floundering for the right word.
"He ain't goin' anywhere," Joel said, shoving his hands deep in his pockets as he walked by your side down the sidewalk.
The two of you walked quietly for a few minutes.
"I've never seen you like that before," you said, breaking the silence. He turned his head towards you, raising his eyebrows.
"Like what?"
"Like, all... cop-like," you said, chuckling at your terrible choice in words.
Joel grinned and glanced down at his feet.
"Yeah, well, job's not all inappropriate graffiti and speed traps."
You hummed in agreement as you kept walking.
"Do you have to unholster your service weapon often?"
"'Service weapon'?" he repeated, surprised at the term you chose. Although it wasn't wrong, it typically was not something most people said. You just looked at him, not acknowledging it, so he let it go.
"Uh, no, not really," he said, biting the inside of his cheek.
"Oh," was all you said, taking a deep breath and continued to stare straight ahead. He watched you from the corner of his eye for a moment.
"When I came outta the bathroom and saw - " he stopped short, then rubbed his lower lip with the pad of his thumb as he collected his thoughts. "You were scared. And I... reacted."
You glanced his way again, but he kept his eyes focused straight ahead. What was he trying to say?
"Thank you," you said softly, but he was quick to shake his head.
"Not lookin' for you to thank me," he said, finally allowing his gaze to drift back to you, giving you a small smile.
When you finally reached your apartment, you took out your keys and turned to him, ready to thank him again, even though he told you not to, but he spoke first.
"Here, why don't you take this," he said, holding out a small white card between his index and middle finger. You gingerly took it and flipped it over, reading the text on the other side.
"It's my card. Call me when you wanna stop by the station," he reminded you, and you nodded.
"My cell's on there, too. If you ever, y'know," he said, half a smirk playing on his lips as he nervously shifted his weight. "You ever wanna talk 'bout anythin', really. 'Bout what happened today, or... book club," he said, and you laughed. He grinned, relieved to finally see you smile again.
"Okay," you said with a nod, and turned to put the key in the lock.
He watched as you made your way all the way up the steps, and didn't leave until he saw the second door at the top of the stairs close firmly behind you.
Taglist: @harriedandharassed@merz-8@sarap-77 @nandan11 @anoverwhelmingdin @fandomscollide @survivingandenduring
#joel miller#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller fic#joel the last of us#joel miller smut#joel miller x f!reader#joel miller series#joel miller angst#joel miller fluff#joel miller x reader#pedro pascal characters fanfiction#pedro pascal#the last of us hbo#the last of us fanfiction#the last of us#sheriff!joel#waitress reader#STR fic
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Girl Of My Dreams
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader
Warning: nothing but fluff
Summary: You work at a small diner down the street from the compound which Bucky visits often, so often that you remembered his order.
It was another boring night shift at a small diner you work at, outside of town, you leaned against the counter waiting for anyone to show up. It was a slow night and you hoped for any type of human interaction even someone asking for directions, you tapped your fingers on the counter groaning as the cars outside continued to pass by “Hey, Y/N if no one comes, in the next 20 minutes we’re going to close up.” Normally the diner was open 24 hours but on nights like this one, you give some time and then close if no one comes in. You nodded your head and started wiping down tables, you knew no one was coming in so you might as well stay busy for the next 20 minutes. Just as you were wiping down the last table you looked at your watch and saw that there were only 5 minutes left and then you could close. Soon the bell rang above the door you internally groaned but when you turned around you came face to face with a very gorgeous and mysterious man, you smiled over at him and grabbed a menu asking him to follow you to the table. "Can I start you off with something to drink?" He looked at the menu for a bit then asked for coffee you nodded "I'll give you a few minutes to look over the menu and I'll be back with your coffee." You smiled sweetly at him and turned to walk away; you watched as he intently looked at the menu trying to decide what he wanted to eat, slowly and gently biting his bottom lip you couldn't help but stare at him, he was gorgeous. You were snapped out of your thoughts by the sound of his voice "I think I'm ready." You strolled over notepad and pen ready he told you his order along with a glass of water. You smiled once more and nodded "Of course, I'll be right back." You walked over to the window and told the cook to make pancakes with eggs and bacon on the side. You took him his coffee and some cream and sugar just in case he wanted it which he didn't use it. Soon his food was done, and you decided to make a cute smiley face with strawberries and blueberries on top of the pancakes and take it over to him. "Enjoy, if you need anything I'll be right over there." He couldn't keep his eyes off of you but still nodded so you knew he understood, you walked over to the bar and sat down, and your manager came over and handed you the keys to the diner "When the last customer leaves lock up for me." You nodded and patiently waited for the man to eat his food you kept looking over periodically not because you were impatient, but because you felt his eyes on you, and you couldn't shake it. You went over to check on him one last time and noticed he only ate half of his food "Do you need a to-go box for the rest of your food?" He nodded and took a sip from his coffee "I'm sorry for staring, you are just really gorgeous." You felt your cheeks heat up, and you couldn't help but smile "I'm sorry was that creepy?" You shook your head "No, it was very sweet." You smiled once more before turning around to get him a box and his receipt. Just then the bell above the door rang you looked behind you and saw a muscly blonde guy along with another muscly dark-haired man "I'm sorry but we're closed." The dark-haired one came up to you holding his hand out “Hi, I’m Sam, we’re just here to get our friend we’ve been looking for him for a while now.” You looked at Sam and it hit you “Wait a minute, are you?” You looked between Sam and the blonde one “Are you the Avengers?” They nodded “It is amazing what you guys do, so you must be Steve Rogers?” His smile was so perfect you could literally see it sparkle “Yes and this is Bucky, I'm sure he was too shy to tell you, his name." You made eye contact with Bucky; it was an odd name, but you liked it for some reason your gaze went back to Steve "Do you guys want some food to go, on the house?" Bucky raised an eyebrow "Didn't the cook leave already?" You nodded and shrugged "I know how to cook." They all shared a look "Actually, we have food at home, maybe next time." You handed Bucky his to-go box and receipt. "Have a good night, guys." They all waved, and you locked the door behind them.
The next couple of nights, Bucky came in at the same time and ordered the same thing each night, to the point where you would have it ready for him when he came in the next night. Tonight, he came in with Sam and Steve and you didn't want to embarrass him, so you pretended not to know his order. "What can I get you guys?" Bucky furrowed his eyebrows but then kind of got upset, did you forget about him already? Did you not like him anymore? Which was far from the truth, you were head over heels for him, but you didn't know if he felt the same way, so you ignored all of your feelings and stuck to doing your job. After you collected their orders, you went over to the window to place them. Bucky watched your every move and once it looked like you weren't busy, he got up from the booth and walked over to you. "Y/N what was that about?" You looked up at him and raised an eyebrow "What are you talking about?" He tilted his head at you "Not knowing my order" Your shoulders slumped, and you stood up straight "I didn't know if me knowing your order would embarrass you in front of them and that's the last thing I want to do." Bucky smiled slightly trying not to seem so happy "I like it, don't worry about embarrassing me I do that enough on my own." He winked at you and returned to the table. You brought over their order and went back to where you were sitting waiting until they were done since they were your only customers, when they were done you took the check over and did something really bold in your opinion, you wrote your phone number down on it with a winky face. You sat with your back to them so they wouldn't see the embarrassment on your face if you got rejected. All of a sudden you hear the guys 'oohing' like teenagers, and you can't help but feel a bit embarrassed, but soon you feel a hand on your lower back, you look over and it's Bucky "I'm not really a phone guy, but for you I will try." He patted your back and went on his way. For the past couple of days Bucky has been texting you nonstop, asking how your day was going, if you were hungry, and making sure no one was messing with you. You stopped texting him for a couple hours because you got busy at the diner, just as you were about to text him back and apologize, he walks in the diner looking for you a huge smile spreads across his face when he sees you “I’m sorry to just pop in, I got a little worried when you didn’t text back.” You smiled and poured him a cup of coffee “It’s okay, it got a little crazy in here and I couldn’t text back, but my shift is almost over you wanna do something?” He nodded taking another sip from his coffee “What did you have in mind?” You shrugged and thought for a minute “How about you come back to the compound with me and we can watch movies and talk” You scrunched up your face “Movies and talking don’t really mix” He chuckled slightly and leaned his cheek on his hand “What I meant was, we talk and get to know each other while there’s a movie playing in the background that we are not paying attention to.” You smiled and nodded “Sounds like a plan.”
You finish up your shift and of course, Bucky is there waiting for you. It made you feel safe, and you liked it. You got in your car and Bucky got in his, he was driving in front of you toward the compound since you didn't know where it was. Finally, you two got there, got some snacks, and sat on the couch, you turned toward him "So... tell me about yourself." You start to list things that happened in your life knowing it doesn't even come close to what he had to deal with, the two of you sat there talking and laughing for hours. "Oh, is this your new girlfriend, Bucky?" Her voice laced with sarcasm and hatred even though she doesn't know you. "What is this one, number 75? Don't get too comfortable you won't last long." By now your fists are balled and your teeth are clenched, how dare she say that shit to you "Enough, Sharon." Bucky gritted through his teeth; you picked up your bag and put it over your shoulder. "This was fun, but I think I should go." And just like that you turned and walked out the door and got into your car, you don't remember your drive home but all you know is you got home, and Bucky has been calling and texting non-stop asking if you're okay, instead of responding you just turn your phone off and go to sleep.
Tags: @megamindsecretlair @kandis-mom
Divided Credit: @firefly-graphics
AN: I hope you guys like it, at first there wasn't going to be a part 2 but I tend to ramble so now there's gonna be a part two
Main Masterlist - Bucky Barnes Masterlist
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The Greaser Au!
(oh goodie! it's here!)
bwah, where to start?
long, long, long rambles below! (Beware!)
Wally! I'll start with Wally!
As you can imagine, Wally is the little leader of the group! Promptly dubbed after his last name, "The Darlings"! (how darling they are indeed!)
Wally had grown a fascination with the trend, though he didn't quite understand the need to act so tough and mean, so he decided to make his own group! (with the help of Barnaby!)
Motorcycles, catchy tunes, being free on the road is something everyone should enjoy! So who cares if you're big or small, or if you like the color pink? Anyone can be a greaser as long as they got a jacket and a bike to go along with it!
At least, that what he believes anyway!
Speaking of a certain beagle...
Barnaby!
Barnaby of course wanted to join in on the fun, and he very publicly advertised Wally's gang at his little comedy nights! (It did catch a certain blonde's attention!)
it did garner attention, with the way the beagle so affectionately told of Wally's endearingly comedic actions from their day to day life. Barnaby also helped Wally organize the entire set up, helping him get paint and base jackets for the painter to personalize! (He also suggested Poppy's diner as a hangout spot! He had it all thought out!)
Plus, it made his best friend happy! Who could ask for more? Well... maybe Barnaby would ask for a hotdog or two.
Julie!
Julie is a seasoned hair stylist! She owns her own hair salon! She's excellent at her job, however more often than not she gets a unpleasant customer.
Stress can pile up unfortunately, and when she attended a comedy show one evening she couldn't help but be ecstatic at such an idea of being free on the road. It felt like the perfect destresser!
Talking on the phone with Frank was great and all, but nothing compares to feeling the rush of wind in her hair... So she jumped at such an opportunity! And of course, Julie doesn't go anywhere without a certain frowny bookworm!
Frank!
Frank is an entomologist! (and a part-time librarian during the summertime!) A dream job really, but every dream comes with its hurdles! Similar to Julie, Frank found themself stressed. Usually books were able to decompress them, but lately they've been growing frustrated, the one thing they hate the most is incompetent writing!
It took a lot of convincing to get Frank to even consider the idea of being a greaser, let alone get on a motorcycle... but Julie can be very insistent when she wishes to be! Not even a week passed before they begged Julie to stop her nagging, but in exchange they had to at least go with her once on a motorcycle...
how mortifying.
However! the thrill of being on the open road at a high speed was something they never knew they needed! Needless to say, after that, they were hooked!
Sally!
Sally was the last member to join! and she took her spot quite quickly!
Sally had been in Poppy's diner when she saw The Darling's walk in, she was in awe! Colorful motorcycles? Matching jackets? They all looked marvelous! The star couldn't help herself when she walked up to them, simply starstruck at such a group!
They all looked to be having such fun... she wanted to take part!
When Sally asked if there was a spot left for her, Wally softly smiled at her and stated, "Anyone and everyone can join!"
She was content that day, and from then on, it really was the best group of friends she could ever ask for!
---
whew! im done!
(this is my second time typing this... i had lost it all the first time. bwah. but it's here!!!)
im quite happy how everything turned out! I think i'll use this as a master post of sorts, just so you don't have to dig through my stuff just to find anything specific!
I'll leave Poppy's & Howdy's explanations here! (Just know those designs are old! All the designs in this post are the ones i will be using!)
Poppy's Diner!
additionally! I will give you everyone's closeups!
#oh goodness here comes the tags#welcome home#welcome home au#welcome home greaser au#wally darling#barnaby b beagle#frank frankly#eddie dear#julie joyful#sally starlet#howdy pillar#poppy partridge#rainy dewdrop#welcome home oc#bwah!#i need to make a relationship chart...#oh my goodness!#i dont know why the white on the diner clothes looks kind of grey...#bwahhh#at least it's ignorable!#OH I FORGOT TO COLOR EDDIES NOSE IN. OOPS.
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Simon Riley who had been on a lookout for a particular peer of his after high school, sweet little girl who normally did all of the schoolwork for him. Even behind the teachers back. Even when their handwritings never, ever matched up; but the teachers only let her off because, at the very least, he was passing with an A.
Sweet, somewhat nerdy!Reader who actually felt bad for a guy, in general just a person, going through such a rough time when in reality school would only fuck up people into being robots for the government and absolutely do no help for the post puberty and traumatized Teenager!Simon. She tries to have sweets on her for whenever he pops in, also tries her hardest to be nice to the other Riley. Sweet young lady Reader who somehow becomes well known around their high school after winning a last minute game in volleyball, followed by basketball, tennis, track, and soccer. Medals and whatnot. Even earned a goddamn picture in the Coach’s office — the female coach, the male one who seemed to be more like a father to sweet Reader.
Sweet!Reader who is suddenly gone. Desk of hers absolutely empty. No pens, no pink notebooks mixed with pastels. Not her signature backpack in sight. No scent of hers, no constant chirping, no glances that arrived at Simon once she caught glimpse of him in the hallways right before first period. Third period feels… loud. Ironic since there’s a pin-drop silence, even breathing. He normally has the rest of the periods with her from then out, until seventh period. He could recite her entire schedule.
Simon can’t help fidgeting, biting his tongue from asking where she is. Not to be nosy, not to be teased, outwardly and fucking pushed into the lockers teased. Perhaps she was coincidentally absent?
Years pass on, evidently screaming she was, in fact, gone. Even on missions, Simon can’t help but glance everywhere. He’s more fucked up, a bitter version, working exactly for the monarchy (almost forgot he’s British, for God’s sakes) and saving his people.
And just one day, one day that everything seemed normal for Johnny and the rest of Simon’s boys, he catches a goddamn glimpse of her. Her face, specifically. Rushing around, apron around her waist and down her thighs. Appropriate attire of a waitress serving a man with a comically huge cigarette and in a suit whilst speaking to another duplicate of his.
His grip on his whiskey tightens.
(Andddddd you continue!!!)
-🍓
ohoho, strawb anon you genius >:)
simon feels his chest tighten up, his grip on his drink tightening as he glances at the mom and pop diner across the street. no… could it..?
before he can indulge himself with another thought, gaz nudges simon gently. “you alright there lt?” he asks sincerely, an eyebrow raised as he tries to figure out what simon was glancing at. he just grunts in response, relaxing his shoulders as he downs the last remaining drops of whiskey. “thought i saw someone. ‘scuse me—“ he murmurs in response, standing up from the pub booth as he saunters past gaz and up and leaves. when one of the lads asks where he’s going, simon grumbles out a ‘goin for a fag’ while lifting up a ciggie and his lighter.
simon leans against the alley wall that faces the diner, deep in thought as he exhales plumes of smoke while glaring right at the restaurant. come on, he thinks to himself, show yourself. he begins to wonder if he was just seeing things, like you’re an oasis in the middle of the desert or something. wishful thinking, he muses to himself.
and just when he pushes himself up from off the wall, his lips drawn into a thin line in disappointment— he spots her.
she’s absolutely beautiful, breathtaking even. the faint crows feet around his eyes crease as his gaze softens. it’s funny how time has treated them both. one of the only friends he had considered himself to have during school has found herself working as a waitress, cute pinafore hugging her curves in all the right places— while he’s just a bigger, meatier version of the boy he once was. he’s just a husk of a man now. war’ll do that to a bloke.
he fidgets nervously with the zipper of his windbreaker, chewing the inside of his lip as he contemplates popping over to say hello. would that be weird? hell, would she even remember him anymore? his feet are itching to move, but he’s cemented right there— forced to stare at the diner, and the siren within that seemingly tempts him.
with a groan, simon pulls out his phone to text the group chat— “gonna head off, see you back on base” before shoving his phone into the back pocket of his jeans. and with a clear of his throat, he steadily paces across the road to the mom and pop diner. simon feels sick with anticipation, a feeling he’s never really felt before in his life. even when he had found the bodies of his family, even through the torture— he’d never felt quite a strange amalgamation of emotions before. and that really freaked him out.
the diner’s door bell rings, the dulcet tones of doo wop music playing in the restaurant greeting simon when he steps inside. he waits patiently in the small foyer, calloused fingers reaching out to smooth over the creased laminate menu on display. and his heart damn near falls out of his ass when the waitress greets him with a friendly smile.
“hi there! welcome to pop’s EZ diner! my name is ____ and i’ll be your waitress today!” you greet enthusiastically, beaming up at the stranger stood in front of you, awkwardly glaring right into your soul with hauntingly beautiful stormy blue eyes. it was kind of creepy, but weirdly endearing. you just wrote it off, assuming he was socially awkward— after all, he clears his throat and struggles to find the words to say for almost a minute before finally opening his mouth.
“uh… hello. you don’t—“ simon pauses, clearing his throat again as his hands continue to fidget with the menu, his gaze nervously flitting from the menu back to you. “you don’t happen to recognise me, do ya? simon? simon riley? from st matthews?” he says, the timber of his voice itching the back of your brain in a pleasing way. st matthews? how did he know where you went to school?
you shake your head politely, nervously tucking your notepad and pen back into your pinafore pocket. “oh, um. sorry, i don’t—“ you reply, offering him a sympathetic smile. the man, simon, turns bright pink— again, nervously clearing his throat as he nods, lowering his head as he turns on his heels to head back out the diner. “oh, sorry. nevermind.” he murmurs, raising his hand politely to you before his hand reaches for the door handle.
and then it clicks.
oh. my. god.
it’s been YEARS since you had thought about simon riley, and suddenly your mind was being overwhelmed with all these memories of helping a teenage simon out in school. your eyes widen, a hand reaching out to gently grip on his windbreaker sleeve. he freezes, half glaring and half shocked as he turns to face you. but the expression on simon’s face eases when he realises that he was right, it was you.
“simon riley? oh my god—“ you gasp out, eyes wide as you look up at him with a dumbfounded expression, one that sends a shiver down simon’s spine.
what an interesting reunion this would turn out to be..
#elexaria writes#cod x reader#simon ghost riley#simon riley#simon riley x reader#simon ghost x reader
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"uh-oh, i'm falling in love."
being Bobby's adopted daughter and falling in love with Dean...
[requested - anon]
You were around 15 when your parents were killed in a hunting incident and as a result, Bobby ended up taking you in.
You’d spent the first few months sulking around the house, something which began to worry Bobby as months passed and your behaviour seemed no different.
He knew he had to break your behaviour somehow but he was completely stumped. That was until one day he woke up to John quickly shoving his sons in the door before running off to do go knows what.
Silently cursing the man out he quickly invited the two boys inside before continuing with breakfast (now for 4 people).
“Who are they?” You looked up from the book you’d been reading, frowning in slight confusion at the two boys who were currently standing in the doorway. The younger of the two smiled brightly before almost tripping over himself to see what you were reading while the older silently gapped in the doorway. Since when did Bobby have a daughter?
After this, you quickly found friends in both the boys.
While Sam was someone who you could talk to about lore and any other books you might have been reading, Dean was someone who you were able to fully confide in.
Over the three weeks the boys stayed you and Dean quickly became inseparable and for the first time in months, you didn't feel grief-stricken constantly. You actually felt happy.
Over the years Sam and Dean became a constant in your life. As you grew older Bobby began letting you go on hunts with the Winchesters (something which Dean enjoyed more than he would admit.)
Over time though you felt a slight shift in your feelings towards the older boy. Every time you saw him or even heard his voice butterflies would swarm in your stomach and your cheeks would quickly grow hot.
The shrill ringing of your phone pulled you from your book. A small frown played on your lips as you noted the name on your screen. “Hello?” Placing your book down you crossed your legs sitting up properly on your bed. “Hey. I didn’t wake you right?” Dean sounded sheepish almost as he spoke. At the sound of his voice, a small burst of butterflies exploded in your stomach. “no..no I was awake.”
Late-night phone calls quickly became an almost daily occurrence whenever you weren't together, and when you were together these phone calls were exchanged for late-night diner trips just the two of you.
Every day you felt yourself falling harder and harder for Dean Winchester and little did you know he felt the same.
After Sam had gone to Stanford Dean had showed up on your doorstep only hours later, his eyes red as he’d quietly asked to stay the night.
He’d ended up staying for a few weeks after that. You’d spent every day together over that time simply listening to him talk about what had happened between his dad and brother and how he was scared for Sam being on his own.
As happy as you were that Sam had gotten out it broke your heart slightly to see how Dean was handling the situation.
Over this time you’d found yourself more than once falling asleep beside him (something which Bobby wasn’t too happy about) and you’d also felt yourself grown closer and closer to him.
He’d allowed himself to be vulnerable around you, something which you knew was hard for him. The idea that he trusted you enough simply left your heart fluttering in your chest.
During these few weeks, Dean quickly found himself falling further and further in love with you. He’d known for a while now that he had feelings for you but the way you’d allowed him to unload onto you and made him realise how utterly in love with you he truly was.
One night when you’d both been sat on one of the old cars in the scrap yard he finally felt his feelings bubble over.
The world was quiet as you and Dean both sat watching the stars above. You knew he had to leave soon, his dad had been relentless with his calls saying that Dean needed to come back to his job and that he’d had enough time. Truthfully you didn’t want him to leave. Over the last few weeks, you’d grown used to the warmth of him beside you. “My dad’s coming in the morning.” Dean turned to face you. “He insisted this time.” He frowned, rubbing his thumb over your hand. “What time?” You asked quietly turning to look at him. “He didn’t give one,” Dean answered. You both fell slightly for a moment, simply gazing into each other's eyes. As if being pulled in by a magnet you felt your body move on its own until you met Dean halfway. As his lips pressed against yours you felt his hand cup the back of your head while your own moved to his knee.
After that night your relationship changed. Neither of you actually asked the question but the unspoken promise was there. Dean Winchester had stolen your heart and it seemed you had also stolen his.
#supernatural#spn#dean winchester#dean winchester fanfiction#dean winchester x reader#dean winchester x you#dean winchester headcanon#dean winchester fluff#dean winchester x y/n#dean winchester imagine#sam and dean#bobby singer#sam winchester#sam winchester fanfiction#spn headcanon#spn fanfic#spn x reader#spn x y/n#spn x you#supernatural x reader#supernatural imagine#supernatural headcanon#supernatural x you#jensen ackles#john winchester#supernatural drabble#spnedit#.mine#.spn#.deanwinchester
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@steddiemas Day 22: Santa Shenanigans
Steve was going to kill Robin.
Well, not really because he doesn't think he'd survive more than a couple days without her. But he'd certainly be giving her the stink eye next shift for suggesting a secret Santa between the older ones of the party.
"We just rog it so that I get Vickie and she'll fall madly in love with me, it's a perfect plan Steve!"
To her credit it was an ok plan.
"Last week you spent an hour bemoaning the fact that she smiled at a boy."
"But yesterday she spent two hours studying with me in the library!"
Steve rolled his eyes at her shenanigans but agreed nonetheless. They drew names the next time they had all gone out for burgers at the diner. Steve tried not to make it obvious when he saw who his name was. Eddie.
Steve wasn't disappointed, no, far from it, he'd been hiding a crush on the older boy for a few months now, let's just say Eddie spent a lot of time by Steve's pool last summer. But now he felt the pressure to get him the perfect gift. The plan hadn't even worked for Robin.
"I got Argyle! Now how will I win her heart."
"Could always plant some mistletoe."
"You're a genius! Who'd you get."
"It's Secret Santa, Rob's, it's meant to be secret."
"Boo you're no fun, bet it's me."
It took Steve weeks to finish his gift for Eddie and Steve found himself hastily wrapping it the morning of their little Christmas party, grateful that Robin had thought of the plan well in advance otherwise he'd have never finished.
Steve greeted everyone and watched as they placed their secret Santa gifts under the tree. They ate, laughed and picked a Christmas movie to watch after presents. One by one they opened their gifts.
Nancy got Vickie some water colour paints.
Argyle got Jonathan rolls of fresh film.
Jonathan got Nancy some new notepads with larger covers.
Robin got Argyle a big bright tie dye shirt with Groovy printed on the front, he quickly put it over the sweater he was already wearing.
Vickie turned to Robin and Steve quickly saw her cheeks start to redden. She passed her the gift and Robin unwrapped a bag full of pins and badges.
"I've been collecting them for a few weeks for you from around town and around where I went to visit my grandma, thought your work vest needed some more fun ones."
Robin grinned widely at Vickie, the effort making a big impact on her. Steve knew he'd be hearing about it for weeks but he hoped the mistletoe in the kitchen sped things along.
Steve was about to give Eddie his gift when he realised that this meant Eddie also got him for Secret Santa. He turned to the metalhead to find him already shyly holding out a gift.
"It's not much but I hope you like it, Stevie."
Steve unwrapped the small package to find a collection of mixtapes inside, Eddie's handwriting clearly scribbled on the side.
"I started making a mixtape of songs that made me think of you but U ran out of room on the first one and might've gotten carried away," he said shyly scratching his neck.
Steve glanced over the names of the songs and it was clear that the majority of them certainly wouldn't remind someone of their dear platonic friend. Steve smiled softly at him and passed him his gift.
"I think I know what you mean."
Eddie slightly confused at the statement unwrapped the gift, his mouth forming a small o looking inside. He took out the book, a worn copy of The Hobbit that Steve had thrifted as soon as he knew Eddie was his secret Santa.
"Stevie, you know I've got this one, it's my favourite," he said slightly awkwardly.
"Look inside."
Eddie slowly opened the book to see small dribbles of ink between the words. The handwriting clearly Steve's. As he flicked through he saw Steve's thoughts spilling into almost every page.
"It's your favourite and you're always wanting me to read it so I did, I thought it'd be fun if you saw exactly what I thought of it."
Eddie's eyes caught on one of the words near the end, a small red shape next to them, yeah, he thinks he and Steve are on the same page, but he'd wait until the end, no spoilers early after all.
"I love it, Stevie, thank you."
As Steve sat curled up next to Eddie on the couch watching the film he too had the same thought, definitely on the same page.
Ao3
#Vickie just looks like shed like water colouring#some people hate when people annotate i dont mind#enjoy a book how you want to its your experience#stranger things#steve harrington#eddie munson#steddie#st christmas#steddiemas#rockie#background robin and vickie#stobin#how is it week 4 already of steddiemas
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𝐈𝐍𝐕𝐈𝐒𝐈𝐁𝐋𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆
pairing: college!steve harrington x fem!reader
word count: 2.8k words
summary: in which a plethora of coincidences keep pushing you and steve toward each other and you kind of hate it
warnings: slight!fuckboy steve, explicit language, angst, some fluff
author’s note: hope y’all enjoy<3333 (full folklore series masterlist here!)
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。
“and isn't it just so pretty to think, all along there was some invisible string tying you to me?”
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。
You didn’t know his name, but you saw him almost everywhere.
Actually, you did know his name, Steve, but you didn’t really know him.
What you did know was that he had been a shitty group partner to have last semester for a history class, and that he had an on-again/off-again, more so off-again, relationship with your roommate who you had a polite but surface-level friendship with. He also frequented the diner you worked at a few minutes off campus with his basketball friends and dates; and you couldn’t help but notice that it was always a different girl each time.
Even though there were a bunch of opportunities for something to happen between you two, you’d never had an actual conversation with him. Not that you necessarily wanted to. But, after having the plethora of instances where you could’ve talked to one another, it sometimes surprised you that you didn’t at least have some sort of a friendship with this guy you’d see way too often.
You chalked it up to the fact that even though you two would share passing glances every so often with one another, you’d never been in a one-on-one situation with him.
Until you finally were, and it was in perhaps one of the worst and weirdest ways possible.
You were walking down a random aisle on the fourth floor of the campus library when you bumped into Steve. Well, “bumped” is a bit of an understatement because you quite literally tripped over him.
For some reason, he was sleeping in the middle of the aisle, and you didn’t notice until it was too late since your eyes were solely trained on the shelves as you searched for one book in particular.
“Jesus Christ,” You yelped as you tumbled to the ground, glad that your brain thought quick enough to put your hands out so that you didn’t completely faceplant.
When you looked at what caused you to fall and saw Steve leaning against a bookshelf with his legs out, you inwardly groaned because, of course, it was him.
“Ouch,” He said with a small yawn as he rubbed the leg that you tripped over. “Weird wake-up call.”
“Why the hell are you sleeping here?” You asked as you started to get up.
“I was trying to study for a test and then I got tired,” He shrugged and then finally looked at you. “Hey, you look crazy familiar.”
You almost laughed at that and thought about simply walking away from him, but decided against it. The universe clearly wanted you two to have a conversation with one another, so you decided to finally give it what it wanted.
“We were in the same group for a history project last semester,” You answered.
“Oh yeah,” He said and his eyes cast downward. “Sorry about that. I know I was probably the worst person in that group.”
“Very, very true,” You nodded, although you were no longer upset about that whole situation. Not that you were ever truly mad, anyway. “Also, you had, or maybe still have, some sort of fling going on with my roommate. Lissa.”
“That is definitely a past tense thing,” He responded with so much certainty that you silently wondered what happened between them. You weren’t close enough with Lissa to talk to her about that sort of thing, though.
“I think I’ve seen you somewhere else though, too,” Steve said and then thought for a moment. “Oh, you work at that diner, right?”
“Yup, mostly weekends but some weeknights too.”
Steve nodded at your words. “Huh, surprised we never talked before.”
You didn’t tell him that you had been thinking the same thing and instead decided to sit down across from him putting your legs out as well. “What class are you studying for?”
“Psychology,” He answered and then showed you the textbook next to him, which looked eerily familiar.
“With Dr. Brooke?”
Steve nodded and you fought the urge to look around to see if you were on some sort of elaborate prank show. Because it didn’t fully make sense to you how all of these fucking coincidences were happening.
“I’m in that class too,” You responded after a brief stint of silence.
In this case, it kind of made sense that you didn’t know he was also in that class because it was huge, with at least a hundred fifty people in that auditorium-type room.
“Wow,” Steve verbalized the surprise you were inwardly feeling. “Weird.”
You couldn’t help but finally let out a small laugh. “‘Wow’ and ‘weird’ are probably the understatements of the century.” You pulled your legs up and wrapped your arms around them. “I think we kind of have to be friends now. These coincidences are too fucking insane to not be.”
He smiled at you and there was something about it that made you fully understand why he so easily had a new girl to bring to the diner every week.
“What if I take you on a date?”
A part of you immediately felt surprised by his question and how abrupt it was. However, the other part of you sort of saw it coming because it made a little bit of sense. Case in point, the fact that you would frequently see him with a new girl. Asking someone out was probably equivalent to breathing for him.
“No,” You answered simply before standing up.
You didn’t notice the immediate confused look on his face as he followed suit and abruptly stood as well.
“Why not?”
There were a lot of reasons you could’ve given him as the answer to that question. Such as how he’d been with your roommate, and although you weren’t best friends with Lissa, something about it still felt at least a little wrong. Or the fact that the thought of being added to his list of conquests made you feel physically ill.
“I’d just rather not,” You ultimately answered with a small shrug and then started walking away. You quickly pushed away your lingering thought that told you that if the circumstances were different you would’ve fully considered saying yes to him.
Steve didn’t follow you as you walked away. Instead, the wheels in his brain started turning as he thought about how he could get you to go out with him, something told him that you would be harder to get than the majority of girls he’d been with before.
However, he never shied away from a challenge. In fact, there was a part of him that loved them.
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。
“time, curious time. gave me no compasses, gave me no signs. were there clues i didn't see?”
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。
Somehow through the hordes of people, Steve managed to find you the next day in your shared psychology class, and he sat right next to you.
“Hi, friend,” You said when you noticed him and smiled.
Before he could say anything in response, class started and the professor started speaking, almost immediately jumping into the lecture; and he was very intense about his no talking policy. As you half-listened to him discuss the final chapter that would be on the test next week and tried to take somewhat useful notes, you were interrupted by Steve bumping your elbow with his and sliding his notebook over to you.
Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion at the action before you read what was written in the margin.
Do you like pizza?
You almost laughed at the randomness of the question. You met his curious gaze for a brief moment and then wrote your response.
Obviously. I’m not a psycho
You pushed the notebook back to Steve and then went back to paying attention to the lecture. Moments later, he slid it back toward you.
Wanna get some tonight? I know a really good place a few minutes off campus
If it’s just a friendly hangout then yes
No. Date?
You rolled your eyes at the question and moved the notebook back toward him without saying anything. You could see in your peripheral that he was adding something else before pushing the notebook to you.
Please?
You crossed out that question and his previous words, and then under it drew a tic-tac-toe board, putting an X in the middle.
You watched as Steve made his move, an O in the top left corner, and then wrote something else.
If I win, will you say yes?
Your one worded response was immediate.
No.
And then you made your move, putting an X under his O.
He didn’t write anything else, which you were actually surprised about, and instead just continued playing tic-tac-toe. You won the first game, and then he won the next two, and you were close to starting another one with him, because you wanted to redeem yourself, but you forced yourself to listen to the end of the lecture.
“So pizza date tonight? I’ll pick you up at 8?” Steve asked when class was over, and the both of you started packing your things.
You laughed a bit. “I think we have very different memories of the conversation that just took place in your notebook.”
He opened his mouth to respond, but you were glad when he was bombarded by a few of his basketball friends. You used that opportunity to slip away and out of the room without having to say anything else to him.
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。
“gave me the blues and then purple pink skies. and it's cool, baby, with me.”
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。
Surprisingly enough, when Friday night rolled around, Steve showed up at the diner alone; for the first time probably ever.
You didn’t say anything to him aside from giving him a small wave, which he returned with a smile.
You weren’t the waitress taking care of him that night, and you could tell that Casey, who you worked with most nights, was also surprised to see him by himself because just like you, she was used to seeing him with girl after girl.
Toward the end of your shift, you slid into Steve’s booth, sitting across from him. “You’re probably bored out of your mind being here alone, aren’t you?”
He shrugged nonchalantly and then took a bite from one of the few stray fries left on his plate. “I’d rather be alone if it’s not gonna be you sitting across from me.”
You pretended as if his words had no affect on you, even though they slightly pulled at your heart. You had to remind yourself of his track record, most of which you’d seen firsthand. And because of that, you also reminded yourself that you could only be friends with him.
“Very smooth,” You said and then slid back out of the booth. “But, also probably the cheesiest line I’ve ever heard.”
“It’s the truth.” You heard him say as you walked away, and you couldn’t help but smile as you rolled your eyes.
Barely ten minutes later, he went up to where you stood behind the counter putting napkins in a dispenser. His bill was paid and you had expected him to leave at any moment, and you hated that the thought of him leaving made you feel a little bit sad.
“What time are you done here?”
You met his gaze. “In exactly five minutes, actually.”
“Can we do something after?” He asked and when you tilted your head at him, he followed up with, “I promise I only have the friendliest of intentions.”
“I finally brought you to the friendship side?”
“No, but for this instance, yes.”
That managed to make you smile a bit. “Can we go to that pizza place you were talking about? If they’re still open?”
“Yeah, it is. They close at three because the stoner crowd usually shows up around one and that’s peak business.”
“Makes sense,” You nodded. “I don’t drive, so I’ll meet you at your car.”
A confused look crossed Steve’s face. “You don’t drive? How do you get here?”
“I walk from my dorm, it’s only about ten minutes,” You answered with a small shrug.
“Oh, okay,” He responded, and didn't say it aloud to you, but he now knew that he would make it his mission to pick you up at the end of your shifts so that you wouldn’t have to walk alone in the dark anymore. “I’ll meet you outside.”
When you stepped out of the diner, a minute earlier than expected, you were quick to get in Steve’s car.
“Do you have a sweater or something I could wear? I left my jacket at home,” You asked, not really thinking too much of the question because you hated wearing the baby blue dress that was your uniform anywhere other than the diner.
Steve reached into the backseat and handed you a hoodie, which you immediately slipped over your head. The hoodie swallowed you whole and made it look as if you weren’t wearing anything underneath, but it felt so comfortable that you couldn’t even bring yourself to care.
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。
“hell was the journey but it brought me heaven.”
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。
“What are you thinking?” Steve asked when you both finally decided to leave the pizza place around two in the morning. He had walked you to the passenger side of his car, but before you opened the door to get inside, you turned around to face him and you didn’t say anything as you met his eyes, which was what prompted his previous question.
There was a lot that you were thinking right then, and most of the thoughts surrounded the fact that you had thoroughly enjoyed yourself on this “non-date” with Steve. He was genuinely nice and funny, and such a fucking charmer that it made you want to roll your eyes while giggling at his words. And he was being honest about keeping things friendly for the most part, although you had a feeling that not being a least a little flirty was impossible for him.
And it was all of that put together, that made one thought sit heavily at the forefront of your mind.
“I think I wanna kiss you,” You finally answered, and you were surprisingly not scared by your complete honesty.
He smiled at that and his hands found your hips as he moved the tiniest bit closer to you and his next two words came out softly. “Do it.”
You had to pull your eyes away from his because you were so close to listening to him.
“I can’t.” Your voice was quiet.
“Why not?”
“Because I really just want us to be friends.”
“We can still just be friends even if you kiss me right now,” Steve told you, and although you were unsure if you fully believed him, you still decided to take his word for it and you pushed yourself up on your toes a bit to press your lips against his.
You could tell he was initially surprised by the abruptness of it, but he kissed you back almost immediately. Your arms came up to wind around the nape of his neck to steady yourself as your back was pressed into the side of the car.
It felt almost surreal how much better this was than you thought it would be. Your mouths moved against each other so seamlessly, almost as if this was already something that had happened a million times before.
You expected to be able to kiss Steve once as a way to sort of get the attraction you felt toward him out of your system so that you could then let things become completely normal and solely friendly between you two. But, right then– with his lips against yours, and one hand on your waist and the other cupping your cheek– you were hit with the sudden thought that you would need this to happen so many more times.
You didn’t necessarily want to pull away from Steve at that moment, but you had to because you were completely out of breath.
“That was— That was really good.” Your lips were still tingly as you licked them and you felt slightly light-headed, but in a good way, if that was possible.
Steve pressed a chaste kiss against your cheek. “You sure you wanna still be just friends?”
That was the question that you now were unsure of the answer to.
However, a small “yes” was what you responded with after what felt like a year’s worth of silence, and you could hear exactly how unconvincing you sounded.
Steve nodded and you could tell that he was pretending to believe you. “Okay.”
He was about to finally pull away from you, but you stopped him. “What if…What if we are just friends, but we can kiss and maybe do other things,” Your mouth was moving much quicker than your mind could fully process the words you were saying. And you weren’t entirely sure how you felt about what you were proposing, but most of it seemed really good to you. “But, you shouldn’t date people, and I won’t either.”
“Okay,” Steve responded, smiling amusingly at your words. “But, this is starting to sound a lot different from a friendship.”
“Shh,” You said as you slotted your lips against his again. You knew how all of that sounded, but it made you feel a little better about the situation you were putting yourself in because you convinced yourself that you couldn’t get hurt this way. And aside from kissing Steve, not getting hurt was all that really mattered to you right then.
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。
“one single thread of gold tied me to you.”
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。
let me know ur thoughts<333
#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington x fem!reader#steve harrington imagine#steve harrington x you#steve harrington x y/n#steve harrington fluff#steve harrington fanfiction#steve harrington smut#steve harrington fic#joe keery x reader#stranger things fic#steve harrington#stranger things fluff#stranger things smut
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16!Dazai x PM!reader smut where:
Reader was on a mission with him and since he's stressed as fuck he got more stressed since he saw you(his lover) flirting with someone(even if it's a mission). Once you got home he did the thing and overstimulated you.
Ty! Take your time ♡
Tiny but important note:In one of my posts I did put that I wasn’t on board with doing minors (16 yes is close but still not really comfortable) but since Dazai does have a canon adult age I’ll make it 19 cause I’m not comfortable doing ages under 18. Thank you, I hope you understand and I don’t think it affects the story that much.
Let’s get a move on now!
“𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓌 𝓌𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒹𝒾𝒹..”
Pairing: 19!A bit of Dom!Dazai x Sub!AFAB(FEMALE)!PM! Reader
TW!: SMUT, NSFW CONTENT, MAINLY FOR THOSE OF MATURITY, eating out, overstimulation, and y’all already know Dazai is a bit of sadist but I don’t think that’s in there much
Synopsis: It’s been busy in the Port Mafia, so busy that Dazai l hasn’t seen you in a while. Lucky for him Mori sends you two on a mission, he was happy at first but you seemed to not give him the attention he craved. Now, you’re getting punished.
Mori sent you and Dazai on a mission. Of course, Dazai, being Dazai, was more focused on being with you than the actual job. But here you are now sitting at a table in a fancy diner waiting for a specific waiter by the name of Ruki Satō (not a canon character just made it up) Ruki Satō was one of the best performing waiters, but he screwed over the Port Mafia after not repaying a debt and killing two of the Mafia’s men. Mori sent you two to kill him, and lucky for you he was your server tonight.
Dazai was ecstatic to see his lover again, but unfortunately for him his belladonna was paying more attention to ANYTHING but him. You would hear him go.
“Bella…” “Come on (name).. look at me.” “Love, let’s chat, the waiter isn’t even here yet~”
“Not now ‘Samu.. we have something more important than what your trying to do right now.”
Now, Dazai would usually laugh it off.. but the way you said it wounded him. You were cold and it was like a dagger to his heart when he heard your tone. This whole week had been a mess for him, and now his belladonna? The love of his life had became part of that mess…
He stayed quiet
You no longer heard the sweet nothings he’d say, only silence.. Awkward silence, until Ruki broke it.
“Oh hello I’m Ruki Satō and I’ll be your server tonight. What can I get you two~?”
You proceed to order something light
“Awesome, that will be it for the lovely lady? How about him?”
Dazai looked painfully at the waiter ‘What did he just call (name)..’ he thought, he didn’t answer the waiter in spite of how pissed off he was with Ruki hitting on you.
But you took the Ruki’s flirtatiousness as an advantage and proceeded to flirt back.
“He’ll have the same thing. Thanks sweetie for being so polite tonight. And forgive my friend, he’s tired.”
You blew a kiss at the waiter before he left.
Dazai did not like this one bit. ‘Friend?? What the hell is that kind of excuse?’
He stayed quiet though, because he had plans for later.. on his revenge.
A few minutes passed and Ruki brought your food. Of course wanting to seduce him more, you asked him to stay and chat.
The waiter liked this and at this point Dazai wouldn’t be surprised if you two made out already.
Dazai’s hell of you two basically asking each other to fuck, goes on for about an hour. When it’s finally over you say this.
“Dazai, please meet me in the parking lot. I want to give our waiter here’s special tip in the alleyway~”
He was scared now, he thought if you were about to do what he thinks your about to do he’s done with you. He left for the parking lot, reluctantly, as you guided Ruki to an alleyway.
“This might be the best customer I had tonight~”
“Hehe, let’s have fun.”
The waiter was vulnerable now, and you start shuffling at the back of your pants, which made him think you were gonna remove them.
..but instead, you pull out a gun.
“Wait! You- know don’t do this don’t-“
Bang..
You used a silencer.. to of course cause less commotion. Now the job is done.
You leave the alleyway and go to the parking lot. Dazai waiting at the car, engine ready. Once you enter, it’s straight home, he has some matters he needs to.. deal with.
Once you get home, he slams the door and locks it, removing his coat.
“I’m gonna go change ‘Samu.”
You said, heading for the bedroom not even taking a single look at Dazai. But this was perfect for him, because he had a plan.
Ignoring your “warning” he swung the bedroom door wide open and pushed you onto the bed, you were already half-nude. Bra off, and the only thing covering you was a pair of lace underwear, and your hands.
“You look pathetic, belladonna.”
“Dazai- I told you I was- MGH!”
He cut you off by inserting 3 fingers into your mouth
“You’re gonna have to be punished for your whole act, back at the diner.”
He said as he removed his white dress shirt, revealing his bandaged body.
“I should’ve left you at the diner y’know.. but now your helpless. Who knew the cold and fierce (name) would be so quick to submit.”
You whimpered but he removed his fingers from your mouth.
“Quiet now belladonna. I need you to lay back for me.” You followed his orders.
“Great now open your legs wide for me darling.” You tried to do so, but you were so intimidated so you could even move an inch!
“You can’t do anything right, can you?” He leaned forward, resting himself on the bed, and then harshly opened your legs wide. You let out a slight whine from the sudden movement. He placed his face in-front of your sopping cunt. The wetness bleeding through your underwear.
“Gotta get rid of these somehow~” He said, immediately ripping the under garment and throwing it to the side.
(too bad you bought those last week 😬)
“You’re soaking wet already? Such a slut (name) such a slut!” He said deviously, as he prodded his tongue around, and circled around the outer lips of your cunt.
“You still taste as good as last time, but how you spoke to me in the diner may have ruined it~”
You wanted to sock this little bastard into a duffel bag. He was being such a jerk right now.. he was probably gonna edge you, or that’s what you thought. Until he said..
“Don’t worry belladonna, you’ll get your sweet release, but you will have to pay for stressing me out so badly.”
Your fucked..
Dazai inserts his tongue, deep inside of you. Then, he started to make more friction and lapping up your insides like a dog. The more he licked, the more wet you got. He hit all those sweet spots that made you see stars.
You reached your high and a loud moan filled the room. Dazai made a stifle grunt, pleased by the *honey* you made, he licked all up like it was maple syrup.
“Fuck! ‘Samu.. so good. H-hey wait I’m not-” your sentence was interrupted by a groan, as he started to abuse your cunt, with that silver tongue of his. He went back to eating you out and muffled “I don’t like it when my meal gets interrupted.” The vibrations of him speaking against your pussy made you arch your back beautifully.
“Beautiful, belladonna..” Dazai said, while adding in one of his slim fingers to run around your clit. This caused you to gasp in the immense arousal you were feeling. His free hand wandered, massaging your breasts. That’s when you came a second time, but instead of a short pause he kept going, lapping you all up.
“Wait- Osamu! W-wait-mhgh~”
You could barely fabricate sentences at the overstimulation. Your 2nd orgasm just happened, and he didn’t even pause!
Tears started forming in your eyes, and you were a moaning mess.
“Shh, belladonna I need to hear your moans not you sobbing.” He said harshly, you nodded. Yours eyes like a puppy’s big and.. “innocent” not you in this case, a better word would be helpless.
Dazai was abusing your sweet spots and your his tongue hitting exact one with such accuracy. It was like he saw inside of you.
You had your 3rd orgasm, still no stopping.
You were fucked silly, like it was some sort of euphoria coming over you. This round however was the fastest pace.
Cunt, puffy. Clit, swollen. Sweet spots BRUISED. And your throat hurt from your high pitched gasps and moans coming out of you. At some point you felt part of his teeth, but he was unstoppable. You were whining and sobbing. Tears streamed thinly down your eyes. You were pretty sure you were trying to say “Too much! Too much!” But it came out as a bunch of gibberish.
Then his tongue finally hit that special spot that made you see stars, and your 4th orgasm came. Thank god he stopped at that. He took his hand that was playing with your clit, and licked it clean. He proceeded to give you a few kisses before going to the drawer.
“What are you- doing?” You said, catching your breath.
“Just the finale of my punishment for you.” He pulled out a vibrator.
Dazai proceeded to place it near the entrance of your cunt, and set it to the weakest level.
“Have fun~!” He said, while sitting in a nearby seat smirking at you as you struggled
What a cruel asshole.
Hii this the end I hoped you kinda liked this. I’m not awesome with smut but I’m willing try yk.
#dazai x y/n#dazai x reader#bungou stray dogs#dazai smut#bsd smut#smut#dazai x reader smut#dazai x y/n smut#dazai x you#bsd x you#Bsd dazai#dazai Osamu#osamu dazai#bsd Dazai#bsd dazai x reader#port mafia dazai
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