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kerokerokook · 9 months

Text

the rebound girl: chapter two

pairing: nerd pro-gamer jeongguk x reader

word count: 25.5k wtf

warnings for this chapter: oc just goes for it, jeongguk is hot as usual, lots of kissing, finally some smut, first time, virgin jk!, subby jk! with dom! reader at first but that changes, oral (m. receiving), oral fixation, fingering, jeongguk does the lower stomach trick from tiktok (iykyk), he's a little shit but it's okay.

other tags: lots of overthinking, oc goes back and forth a whole bunch (she's confused and hurt ok), jeongguk is a giant MF green flag (obvi), vmin and 2yeon being chaotically gay ofc, some brief physics mentioned, a bit of angst, oc has been hurt in her teen years.

a/n: sorry this took 9 million years but ya girl just got into her masters program!! hopefully, i can update this once/twice a month? maybe even more but, that's the plan!

enjoy :)

<3 mal

original post

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

The first day of school hit you in the face like a speeding fourteen-wheel truck.

Okay, that’s a bit of an exaggeration because you’ve known the date since the beginning of summer break but time flew by so quickly that you couldn’t believe September was starting and another school year was too.

Soon, you’ll graduate and get a job and move on from all of the shit you’ve gone through to become a whole adult. It’s terrifying yet exciting all at once.

Fortunately, you picked out your outfit last night: baggy blue jeans, a white cropped tank top and an oversized black corduroy button up shirt. It’s simple and comfy which you always prefer for school outfits. Simple gold jewelry sits on your neck and in your ears and you keep your hair back with a clear claw clip. You keep your makeup light, being that you’ll be back home in a few hours where you’ll just slip back into your pajamas and do nothing for the rest of the day.

While packing your things, you make sure to tuck Jeongguk’s t-shirt that you’ve washed and his umbrella into your backpack, then give Snowball her last few pets for the day while checking her food and water bowl.

“I’ll be back in a few hours cutie,” you coo, scratching underneath her chin. Her head tilts up, a content smile on her cute face, eyes shut while pushing into your touch.

Adopting Snowball sort of just happened. You were lonely last Winter break after a guy you met in your Economic Growth Seminar had moved on and your mom was talking about how your neighbor’s cat just had a litter of kittens. Thankfully, your landlord was okay with pets and boom, there was a little fluff ball making your day better little by little. After a long day, there was nothing you liked doing more than stroking her soft fur and listening to music or throwing a movie on while she purrs right next to you. She’s a great comfort to you and your friends love her too.

Tearfully, you rip yourself away from your little baby and step outside of your comfortable apartment. The hallway is empty at this time. Your building has mostly college students and a few bachelors and bachelorettes here and there so it’s surprising that no one else is walking out at the same time as you. But that’s fine. No polite greetings necessary. You put your headphones in, play some music and begin your trek to school.

Living one subway ride away from university is a privilege. It never takes you that long to get to class and it’s easy to get back home. It’s the best thing about living here.

Plus in the springtime, the blossoms decorate the streets with little pink petals and it’s a sight to see.

On the way down the subway steps, you check your schedule once more just to be sure of your class load today. You have a 9am lecture, then an 11:30am lecture and then a discussion at 1:45 but those only start the second week of school every Monday, Wednesday and Friday. On Tuesdays and Thursdays, you have classes from 8am-3pm which sounds like ass now that you think about it.

Fuck, were you drunk when you selected these courses?

You shake your head. Whatever, not like there’s much you can do now, right? At least you’ll be busy so less time to mess around.

Your walk down the steps continues and you shove your phone into your jean pocket as you rush over to make the train before your first class, taking out your metro-card.

After dodging some lethargic businessmen and starstruck tourists, you manage to reach the train with a few seconds to spare. There’s a towards the back so you quickly walk over and grab the handle when there’s a vibration against your ass.

Confused, you pull your phone out. It’s probably a tiktok sent to you by Jeongyeon of a cat with a funny filter on or something but the screen shows the message icon and you use FaceID to unlock your phone to see who the sender was.

It’s a text from Jeongguk.

jeon jeongguk

hey

do you want to give me the stuff outside the engineering building?

maybe around 1?

by stuff i mean my shirt and umbrella

You smile to yourself. The fact that he felt the need to explain what he meant by stuff is unbelievably adorable to you.

sure, i’ll be there :)

You almost wonder what Jeongguk’s schedule is like but you stop yourself quickly. You tried to not to think too much about him on Sunday when you got back. It was enough that his sweet smelling shirt was on your body and you still had the lingering imprint of his hug on your skin but now that you know he goes to the same school, you’ll become more interested and you can’t. Jeongguk isn’t going to be the next boy to occupy your mind.

This year is going to be different. You won’t be the rebound girl anymore, you won’t sleep with guys from your school, and you won’t give in.

After everything that went down with Wooshik, it’s just better for you to distance yourself from this stupid label of rebound girl. It’s done nothing but hurt you and worsen your relationship with the people in your department. First year you were hanging out and eating with them and now all you have are Nayeon and Jeongyeon. Not that you don’t like them but you just hate what being the rebound girl has done to your college life.

Your mother used to say your college years are your prime years to be young and stupid and learn about life.

But college is nothing special to you. The classes are harder, people are smarter, meaner, better, and all you can do is push yourself to do the best that you can. Sometimes it’s enough, sometimes it isn’t. Your friends are great and you’ve made some good memories, but so far, college isn’t that coming-of-age life lesson that your mother always talked about.

You’re not particularly upset about it. You just wished you could do more. Live your life without eyes all over you and whispers at every mistake.

As the train lets you off at your spot, you make sure to triple check your schedule for the day so you know where you’re going after your first class.

9am is your Macroeconomics lecture in the Economics building which is fine. Your professor is nice and the class seems interesting enough that you know you’ll do well. Mostly test based which won’t be a problem because economics is your thing. You’ve been studying it diligently for three years now so you can confidently say that.

But 11:30 is your worst nightmare: physics.

This is all your fault. Nayeon told you to get all of your general education requirements out of the way quickly your first and second year so that you wouldn’t have to worry about them later but you didn’t listen.

Look, science is simply not your thing. High school courses were hell on earth thanks to your asshole of a Chemistry teacher. You managed to gaslight yourself into thinking math was easy enough as long as you studied like a mad person and got those requirements out of the way but science is hell on earth for you. Your university requires one life science and two physical sciences. Life science was an easy choice: zoology. You got to learn about cute animals and watch videos about them. First semester of your first year was easy.

Then you decided to take Geology for physical science during your second semester. It sounded easy but memorizing all of those different rock formations was starting to wear you out from the inside. Somehow you managed a B. And after that, it was either meteorology, astronomy, or some form of physics since every other course required you to be enrolled in the Physical Sciences department or have some prerequisite that you didn’t want to take. None of the options sounded appealing to you so you put it off until now. Then, when the realization hit that you had only one more year after this to make up for all of those credits, you decided astronomy might be the best choice after reading some professor reviews.

Only for you to sleep through registration and wake up in a frenzy to find the class completely full.

Yeah, you almost started crying.

So physics it was and, how wonderful, the only class available was with an unlikeable teacher that has a horrible rating. Amazing.

Panic floods your system as you walk into the large lecture hall. You aim for a seat in the middle, take out your supplies, and start diligently listening. Your professor is a stout, sad, little man who is trying to improve his professor score online so thankfully, he says he’s going to be more lenient when it comes to tests but demands that homework be turned in on time otherwise points will be deducted. Fair enough. You could do that.

But then he starts going into course material.

Energy; alright.

Motion; cool.

Thermodynamics; okay.

Optics; excuse me?

Electromagnetism; sound the alarms.

This class is going to kill you. Even if it’s Physics 1 and your class is filled with mostly underclassmen, you know you won’t grasp the concepts easily with all of your other classes weighing down on your head. There’s so much to do and so little time to do it all.

“.. previous students of mine have so graciously offered tutoring hours so if any of you are confused, I highly recommend meeting up with them and going over concepts. They have taken my tests before so they know what to expect. It is the best way to ensure you do well.”

Most of the students behind you have gone to sleep or started scrolling through their phones but you have a lightbulb moment.

Perfect, okay. All you have to do is check the list of tutors online and schedule appointments with them. Shouldn’t be that bad. Another thing to be strict about.

This is just what you wanted: a tight enough schedule to keep you too busy to think about anything else.

Once class is over, you pack all of your things and check your phone once more. Jeongguk said he’d be outside the engineering building which is close to the physical sciences building. The time reads 12:50pm so you have some time to make your way outside.

So far, the first day has ended and it’s gone pretty well. You’ll go back home, create a strict study table on your Notion, rent all of your books and then relax for the rest of the day. Then the rest of this week should be smooth sailing as you get into the groove with your new professors. Nayeon and Jeongyeon are going to meet you at your place for home-cooked dinner this Friday( a little first week back tradition) which you’re excited for. You should look up some recipes and make sure Nayeon stays out of your kitchen so she won’t blow anything up. That girl is incapable of not making a disaster in the kitchen.

You sigh through your nose, studying the sights you see on campus. Various students walking in small triplets or duos. The occasional lone wolf with headphones on to block out the world. Some clubs are putting up posters or setting up tables to grab first years as they explore campus. The path that is currently running outside the STEM buildings break off into various courtyards and cafes where students of all departments come to chill or cut through to go to their other classes.

It’s about to be a great scenic walk just until you run into Wooshik and his buddies as they’re exiting a café with drinks in their hands.

Kill me now.

You pause like a deer in headlights when you make eye contact with him, stopping midway so your lips can part as your entire body goes stuff.

Now, more than anything, you really wish you were walking with someone.

“Hey,” Wooshik forces out, crossing his arms over his chest. His polo shirt is open enough to show a random cluster of dark hickeys from the middle of his throat to the beginning of his chest. Real subtle.

Before seeing that, you were thinking about apologizing but now, not so much.

“Hi,” your tone is short. You can feel eyes dance over your body, the swell of your breasts and the sliver of skin revealed between your crop top and pants from one of his creepy pals behind him and you have half a mind to kick him in the balls.

Wooshik’s eyes bounce back and he juts his face forward like he’s waiting for you to say something to him but you keep your lips perfectly sealed. If he wants an apology, he can wait until he’s dead. His other friends exchange weird looks at the lack of conversation going on between you two, probably wondering if this standoff is going to linger forever.

It makes you wonder what Wooshik told them.

Guys love having their ego fluffed. If they get rejected by a girl, they’ll tell their best friends that she was an ugly slut or they’ll flip the story to say that they rejected her to save face. The last thing they want their friends to know is that a girl rejected them. It dims their coolness. However, you really don’t give a fuck about Wooshik looking cool in front of his boys. If anything, you revel in the cutting deflation he’ll feel when you tell them the truth.

“Did you get the wine out of your shirt?” You ask innocently. “I should’ve aimed it more towards your face and less towards your clothes.” Shrugging, a satisfied smile grows on your lips.

Wooshik’s ears turn red. “I–” he cuts eye contact as his friends snicker behind him. You watch in satisfaction as his expression changes from surprised to annoyed to angry. “You know what, fuck you. You ruined my shirt. I had to take that hot waitress back to my place instead of a hotel so I didn’t reek of wine.”

You scoff immediately. “Damn and I was trying to do her a favor. But congrats, looks like you got your tiny dick wet for two minutes.” You start to clap. One of his friends chokes back a splutter of laughter at the jab.

Wooshik wasn’t anything amazing but you sort of expected that. Most of your hookups are satisfactory. They get the job done and they give up. As stupid as it sounds, you’ve always gone above and beyond to pleasure someone. There’s something amazing about making your partner feel good but most men see sex in a selfish lens.

For most guys, sex means sticking their dick in and sloshing it around a few times until they feel good. Boom, sex over.

Now, if they want to make you feel good, it still won’t be about you. Orgasms are like points. They don’t get off on your pleasure but more on the fact that they’re so amazing at sex that you experienced pleasure. Another way to fluff their egos.

For once, you’d wish for a guy to actually care about you and your pleasure in an unselfish way, the same way you do for them.

Wooshik stumbles for a moment but he jumps back quickly to get you too. Especially with all of his boys watching.

“You didn’t seem to complain about it at first. What, changed your mind because I didn’t want you anymore?”

Oh, please. A plastic vibrator has done more for you than he ever will.

You laugh sardonically. “No, I just felt bad for you.” You say it wholeheartedly and it's the most truthful you’ve ever been with him.

His friends then burst into giggles and snickers, shoving him around when he fails to retort, left dumbfounded by the sheer audacity of you but you don’t care. You don’t get to see the look on Wooshik’s face but you don’t care. The laughter is your cue to leave him.

That chapter of your life is over now and you won’t ever have to deal with him again. The last man you’ll let trample all over you the minute you show them some sympathy.

All you can hope is that the pesky nickname that’s been poisoning you since your first year college can fade away into obscurity forever and ever.

Then, you can just be you. No label, no nickname, no reputation. Just a regular college senior.

The walk to the engineering building is lighter now. You feel like one of the falling petals gently flying through the sky from the branch down to the ground. A new journey begins and you can’t wait for it.

After another minute of walking, you reach the engineering building. Painted a soft brown with tons of posters and clubs waiting to talk to students. You dodge all of them to head inside where Jeongguk is waiting by a random classroom. You navigate through the crowd until you finally locate a mop of gorgeous dark hair and bright clear eyes.

He’s facing his phone screen, one leg crossed over the other, but you’re still mesmerized by him. Beauty is in simplicity but with a face like that, Jeongguk could wear a burlap sack and make it work. But currently, he’s dressed in baggy gray cargos and a dark blue long-sleeve shirt with some brand name logo on it. The urge to sigh like a satisfied cartoon character is intense.

You hate and love it at the same time. How on earth can he look so boyfriend without trying?

“Hey, Jeongguk,” you call softly, taking short strides towards him, hoping that your hair looks good and not like a frizzy mess from the wind.

His head pops up, glimmering eyes like two black pools of water gazing back at you. Then a soft grin forms on his lips, skin creasing, dimpling, and cute.

“Hey.” Jeongguk tucks his phone into his pants pocket. His perfume wafts over to you the moment he moves, welcoming you like a warm hug after a long day.

You want to bury your nose in it and never forget the smell.

“Sorry, I got caught up with something on the way here. Were you waiting for a while?”

“Nah, I’ve been here for like two minutes. Did you bring it?” He adjusts his bag for a moment.

“Yep.” You hand him the shirt, neatly folded and smelling of your fabric softener, along with the umbrella tied. “All clean.” A cute smile grows on his face as he gently takes the items and puts it in his bag, humming excitedly under his breath which makes your entire body warm. “Listen, are you off for the rest of the day?”

“Yeah, I have all morning classes on Mondays and Wednesdays. You?”

“Same and it just so happens that I needed a walking buddy to the subway station.” You take the first step towards the exit when he agrees with a short chuckle and a nod. Your apartment building is one stop away while Jeongguk is about four stops away so you won’t get to talk much but the sentiment is what matters.

Plus, all you really want is to be close to him and his family again. There was a real bond going on when you were young and now you’ve been handed a golden chance to reignite that spark.

Fresh air fills your lungs while your ears pick up on the sounds of fading conversations, the smell of food and new school supplies greets your nose. You have yet to reach the economics building, where more people know you, so people here aren’t staring just yet. They’re preoccupied with their own lives and you want to appreciate it for a little longer.

“By the way, thanks for Saturday. I’m sure dealing with five drunk weirdos must’ve been annoying,” you add.

You barely remember the words coming out of your mouth. It was a slew of garbled song lyrics, high thoughts and giggles and that’s the best you can do. There’s no way Jeongguk was walking out of the night sane.

He huffs out a laugh and then shakes his hair out of his eyes in a very attractive manner. “It was… well, it was something, I’ll tell you that much. But you don’t have to apologize. I don’t mind.” Then Jeongguk looks at you with his chin tilted down, lids low, almost glazed over like he’s checking you out but his gaze just dances over the features of your face.

You get incredibly shy with him staring at you like that.

Let’s hope you aren’t turning tomato red right now.

“Jimin and Tae go out a lot so I’m used to making sure they don’t, like, die.”

Jeongguk is like Jeongyeon in that sense. Always taking care of people and making sure they are safe in bed before worrying about themselves. Sometimes, she forgets that she’s allowed to have fun and let loose too and you don’t want Jeongguk to fall into the same mindset. Being the caretaker all the time can be draining.

“I mean, it’s your birthday and the rest of us were getting fucked up. Usually, it’s the other way around.”

Your 20th was nothing short of a hot mess. Nayeon snuck in bottles she got her older brother to buy and you tried to take a shot from every single type he brought. Whiskey, vodka, soju, sake, and beer. Safe to say, that was a rookie mistake that ended up hunched over a toilet bowl for almost an hour. Nayeon held your hair while Jeongyeon ordered just enough carbs and hangover soup to make it all better.

But it was a memory you hold dear to you because it was one of the last moments you felt like it was okay for you to be a stupid teenager and make a mistake.

Jeongguk didn’t get that moment and you want him to because that sloppy behavior won’t be cute when he’s in his late 20s or early 30s.

“I didn’t want to,” he shrugs simply. “Drinking is sorta fun but I don’t love it and I never let myself get super drunk.” You want to ask why but Jeongguk continues speaking. “But we had cake and barbecue before coming to the club and my parents sent a care package, so it was a good birthday. Taking care of you guys didn’t ruin everything.”

You relent a little. Perceptions of fun are different after all and maybe, for Jeongguk, he got exactly what he wanted so he isn’t complaining. The residual guilt fades slowly inside of you.

“As long as you enjoyed your birthday,” you sigh, a wave of something sentimental coming over you causes your heels to raise up so you can be tall enough to ruffle his fluffy perfect hair. The same boy who only dressed in Pokémon shirts is now legal, old enough to do whatever he wants, and you’re starting to feel a little soft about it. “Can’t believe you’re twenty!” You squeal. “You’re all grown up!”

Jeongguk cringes, turning away from your constant pinches and prods and whining as a few eyes drift towards the two of you. His ears get the tiniest bit red but he doesn’t scold you so you continue teasing him.

“Remember when you used to hand draw all of my birthday cards with little cartoons and you and Eunchae would come with my mom and I to look at all of the cakes at the store?”

The filmstrip of memories is painfully nostalgic. That one nice cake store a few streets away from your apartment building that made the best cakes. If you close your eyes, you can smell the sugary air as you walk in, a tinkling bell on the door to let the owners know someone was there, and the various cakes put in the display case. You always got the fudgiest chocolate cake with bright red strawberries on top. Your mom could only afford the small size but that was fine. You just wanted a cake.

Jeongguk would come with you and press his face to the glass in complete awe. Sometimes, the three of you would pretend like you were rich people who got to buy big cakes whenever they pleased and you’d pick the biggest sizes of your favorite flavors.

You always got chocolate, Jeongguk got some sort of fruit while Eunchae would get red velvet and you would dream of the day when you had enough money to indulge yourself on a whim. .

Then, when Jeongguk’s mom opened up her bakery, she began making your birthday cakes so the three of you sort of got your wish but those were free. Made with love and compassion until you moved too far to feel it.

“You still remember all of that?” He asks. The stone pathway turns. A signal that the economics building is getting closer by the second.

Trying not to think about it, you answer him. “Of course, why wouldn’t I?” You’ve always had impeccable memory but you treasured every second of your childhood.

Because your later teens, in Seoul and away from all that you knew, were terrible.

“I barely remembered what I ate yesterday,” Jeongguk laughs, staring over at you. “That’s pretty impressive.”

“You think so?” You turn to look at him when you feel his eyes linger for longer than usual. His stare isn’t piercing but it leaves a viable imprint on your skin like a thick layer of lotion. “What?” You get self-conscious. Is there something in your hair? Did a bird shit on you without you noticing?

“I like your hair,” Jeongguk says after a moment, pointing to the clear clip holding all of your hair up.

A few of the shorter strands come out from the tight hold with time, framing your face, while the rest remain bunched up with a large claw clip. It’s such an effortless look. This morning you were too lazy to fully style your hair with a hair dryer and a brush after spending too much time on it for your sham date with Wooshik. It’s starting to get a little greasy so you plan to wash it tomorrow but this is your go-to dirty hair look.

“Oh, thanks.” A goofy grin nearly breaks out onto your face but you stop it halfway. “I like your earrings.” You want to return Jeongguk’s compliment with one of your own. Your pointer finger runs through the three thick hoops like a wind chime, causing Jeongguk’s shoulder to rise up thanks to the ticklish sensation, getting shy. “How on earth did your mom allow all of these piercings?”

Mrs. Jeon lost her shit when a 14-year-old you greeted her with a second hole in your ears when she was coming home from the grocery store. An upperclassman offered to pierce everyone’s ears using the nurses supplies in exchange for cigarettes or candy from a nearby convenience store. Since she was your guardian for the day while your mom was out for a certification exam, she felt irresponsible but you assured her that your mom was okay with it.

Well, she had no idea at the time but you knew she’d get over it at some point. It was a second ear piercing, not like you got a tattoo on your forehead.

“These were all presents, actually.” Your fingers brush the back of his palm as you get closer to the economics building at the end of the road, a little before the sidewalk down the main road begins, as your dread multiplies. “I learned that from you. Convinced mom and dad that my good grades warranted some award and they had no choice but to say yes.”

A dangerously familiar feeling mixed with pride courses through your veins like the newest drug. Jeongguk says he doesn’t remember much but he manages to reach in and pull out a sickly sweet memory from your childhood that has your insides turning into mush. You almost want to wrap your arms around your stomach to get it to stop flipping so much.

You didn’t ask for much as a kid. Growing up you knew that money was tight so expensive things like the best console or brand name clothes were simply out of the question. But you liked to barter with your mom for more simple things. A good grade for ice cream or a day at the beach or a trip to the bookstore to buy a manga edition you’ve been waiting to read.

It wasn’t all the time but when you felt like you wanted to celebrate yourself. You earned it after all.

Then you got a little older and you wanted to become like the cool older girls you went to school with. So you dropped ice cream for piercings, nail polish, and CDs from all of the new idol groups that were popular at the time. Your mom was frugal of course, most of your stuff was cheap from the local dollar store or second hand markets, but she loved to treat you. She wished she could spoil you one day, buy you everything you could lay your eyes on, however the universe didn’t allow her to do that.

She still can’t but that’s okay. You’re glad you didn’t grow up a spoiled brat. That you learned humility and patience and empathy because it’s those traits that set you apart from most of your classmates.

“I taught you well.” Fingers itching to flick his chin, you hold back. You don’t want to make him uncomfortable with all of the touching.

Jeongguk hums. “Got these and these,” he turns his head to the other side to show you almost five studs in his ear, “after my class rank and CSAT score came out.”

“Didn’t that hurt?”

You do your best to keep your eyes either on the ground or on Jeongguk as the almighty building comes into view. Despite the heavy beating in your chest, your inner turmoil shouldn’t be obvious.

Jeongguk doesn’t need to know about your problems. Those are yours and yours alone.

“Yeah but it wasn’t unbearable. I swear, Eunchae almost passed out when she got her doubles. She hates needles.”

You laugh. “I remember. Your sister was freaking out when we were all getting our vaccines because she literally slithered down onto the floor the moment she saw the thing.”

Jeongguk hums. There’s a small break in the conversation as the two of you pass by a huge yet short wave crowd of people who are either rushing to the cafeteria or to their next class but even through all of that, you can feel eyes all over the two of your backs. Especially yours.

Your department members linger by the vending machines and smoking areas in little judgmental pods, whispering about you amongst themselves.

You can predict what they’re saying.

There she goes again, latching onto another guy after Wooshik dumped her poor pathetic ass.

Will she ever learn?

Poor thing. He probably doesn’t know that he’s dealing with the campus whore.

That word. That one word, repeats in your mind. Whore, whore, whore. That’s all you’ll ever be to them.

Fear sets in. What will they say about Jeongguk? Will he get teased? Will he find out about your reputation and want nothing to do with you afterwards? No, the last thing you want is for him to get tangled in all of this. He shouldn’t have to deal with all of this. Know about all of the things people whisper about you when they think you aren’t listening.

At some point, he’ll find out. No matter how hard you try to hide it, push it down, pretend everything is okay, Jeongguk will come to know what everyone thinks of you and all of the nasty vitriol they throw your way.

And when he does, you’re going to have to learn to let go of whatever you two have right now and whatever builds in your heart until all you have left to cling to Jeongguk are the sweet memories of your life in Busan.

Because that’s how it goes for you.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Jeongguk stumbles into his apartment and throws his backpack onto his gaming chair, quickly calculating the amount of free time he has right now.

He has a group match in about two hours for League of Legends and he plans on canceling on them since he had to wake up early today. Jeongguk’s sleep schedule was fucked up all summer and suddenly, waking up at 6am instead of going to bed around then was quite literally torture.

There’s no guilt when Jeongguk texts them. He doesn’t owe his teammates anything, not like he’s joined a real league anyways. He has other priorities.

Now that he’s a student again, his sleep schedule sort of matters. His mother would cry learning about the absolute buffoonery he was committing over summer session with his new league he met online. Playing various games until the sun was peeking through his blinds and then ordering breakfast from McDonald’s while entering another battle. Usually that would entice him but all he feels is exhaustion.

Most of it is from lugging his heavy ass backpack around all day in the sun. Some of it is still from this weekend. There’s a reason Jeongguk isn’t an avid partier.

Quickly, he throws whatever pre-packaged dish he bought into the microwave and changes out of his school clothes into some sweatpants and a different shirt. All part of his usual after school routine. Then he carefully takes the steaming plate out once it’s done and sets it on the counter to cool before going to the bathroom to wash his hands.

As he walks through his hall, something presses into the soles of his feet. It’s soft but flexible and round with a hard plastic bit strung onto it that digs into his skin.

“Ouch!” He stops midway, moving his foot and staring at the mystery item. Jeongguk’s eyebrows furrow at first.

It looks like one of Taehyung’s many charm bracelets that he buys from those street vendors in Hongdae with the cute little charms around colored string. Jeongguk has one from him ( a black string with a baby pink bunny charm that he wears every now and then). The idiot probably dropped it while singing karaoke or doing his Scarface impersonation to make Jimin laugh. Jeongguk takes his phone out to text the guy but he realizes that Taehyung hasn’t been to his apartment in a few days.

The only other person that has been here was… you.

He bends down to look at the bracelet. Were you wearing one that night? Your bracelets didn't look like this. They were metal, not string. Jeongguk bends at the knees and picks it up. The string is elastic and stretchy but loose enough to fit around his wrist if needed.

Oh, it’s a hair tie.

You must’ve dropped it when you slept over. Jeongguk turns the thing around to see the charm. The elastic itself is plain black but the charm seems to be some Sanrio character that he recognizes but cannot remember the name of.

Hello Kitty? No, he knows her and she doesn’t look like this.

Cinnamoroll? No, that’s a puppy. This is some weird purple looking thing.

My Melody? Maybe.

Fuck, he doesn’t have time to worry about this. Jeongguk shoves the damn thing in his pocket, makes a mental reminder to text you about it after eating lunch, and goes to quickly wash his hands. His fingers push the door open to his bathroom. Clean white tiles, the scent diffuser smelling of white musk, and his TMNT towel drying on the rack.

Jeongguk looks up at himself in the mirror. His eyes are sunken in and a little swollen from the lack of sleep. His stomach rumbles as he lathers his hands in his fresh cotton hand soap.

But all he can think about is you on that night.

Saturday Night.

The night felt never-ending.

Jeongguk was doing his best to get everyone in a car ride home safely after song after song on the dance floor but he was getting a little overwhelmed with all that was thrown onto him in the span of a few short minutes when Nayeon decided she wanted to go home.

Laughing, tripping, complaining about vomiting, a smell coming from some random spot that’s making someone nauseous, Jeongguk felt like a parent trying to get their kids together. His phone was glued to his hands to call cabs and type in addresses while making sure the five of you didn’t wander off into the unknown without his supervision.

Thankfully, one of your friends managed to usher the other into a cab and Jimin was able to shove a whiny Taehyung into the one Jeongguk had ordered so now all he had left was you.

Drunk you was something else. Stuck onto him like a second layer, arms twined tightly around his waist, mumbling about something random while stumbling over every step. Jeongguk had half a mind to just pick you up and walk to where the guy had parked but he didn’t want to make your nausea even worse by swinging you around.

“Wait! Jeongguk, I can’t find my phone, we have to go back,” you whined, tugging on his arm with one hand. “I-I can’t–hiccup–I can’t live without my-my phone!”

You were clutching your phone in your other hand.

He sighed. “You’re holding it,” motioning to the device pressed into your fingers. “Come on, the cab is parked there.” The yellow thing looked like something descending from the heavens while the driver finished the last of his cigarette and belched loud enough for Jeongguk to hear.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Are you really sure?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, I trust you.” You mumbles, hugging him close like he was a large pillow.

The next few minutes passed by a bit quicker as you let Jeongguk help you into the car and started on your way back to his apartment since you and your friends were incapable of remembering your address.

He leaned against the tough upholstery as the car began moving. Muscles tight and tired. Jeongguk felt the rivulets of sweat dripping down on his neck which he quickly wiped off and onto his pants, something he usually doesn't do but he’s at the state of not really giving a fuck about clothes he’s going to wash anyways. His body bobbles with a shaky turn and somehow, your limp body ends up pressed into his side, head leaning on his chest while a muffled groan leaves your painted lips.

“Ah s-sorry,” you slurred, attempting to sit up by placing a hand on Jeongguk’s mid-thigh. “I forgot to put on my belt.” Your perfume flowed to him, a soft clean scent, maybe a bit sucrose when mixed with the scent of your shampoo.

“Oh, the belt is finicky on that side, ma’am.” The driver informs. He meets both of your eyes in the rearview mirror. “It’s okay. Lean on your boyfriend for the rest of the drive. Should only take a few more minutes!”

Jeongguk opens his mouth to correct but you interrupt him with a giggle. His head switches to you, mouth covered, skin dimpling. “Boyfriend.” You repeat.

The driver plays along, most likely very confused, just like Jeongguk. “You two make a lovely couple.”

That next statement makes you giggle a little more. Jeongguk wants to know what is so funny about this cab driver assuming the two of you are dating. Do you find the hypothetical to be so insanely outrageous that it’s hilarious? Should he even bother asking or should he let it go to save himself the pain from hearing your brazenly honest answer?

Jeongguk chooses to ignore it. He knows another turn is coming up so he raises his left arm and nudges you closer to rest on him comfortably. That same arm circles around your shoulders and the top of your head tickles the bottom of Jeongguk’s nose. You’re warm and comforting after a long night, bringing up a slew of feelings he’s been pushing down for years at this point.

Still mumbling to yourself, you become distracted with the jewelry on Jeongguk’s hand so you don’t hear the questions that the cab driver throws your way.

“How long have you two been dating?” He asks, turning down the late night radio station playing old hits.

Jeongguk just goes along with it. “It’s-uh-very recent, sir.” A four hour relationship to be exact. “But I’ve known her since we were kids.”

“How cute! My wife and I only dated for a few months before I proposed, you know,” he proclaims proudly, shoulders broadening. Jeongguk nods and fakes a grin in hopes that the conversation ends here.

Jeongguk wants to laugh. Marriage?

He’s never even been in a relationship before. He’s barely gone past kissing someone for longer than two minutes. With the way things are going, Jeongguk will probably live his life exactly like Steve Carell in the movie The 40-year-old Virgin only there’s no way he’ll get a happy ending.

The cab driver laughs to himself when he sees the look on Jeongguk's face before turning the music back up. You’ve successfully knocked out on Jeongguk’s chest so you miss the faint redness creeping up his neck and to his ears but it’s not something he wants you to see either. His brain zeros in on his own pathetic state of affairs.

He’s always prided himself on his emotional maturity for someone so young but romantically? Horrendous.

Jeongguk has always stood behind the belief that he simply isn’t meant to be in a relationship with anyone. Sometimes he can be too shy, too closed off, and people don’t gravitate towards people like that. They want someone who can be openly affectionate after a few conversations and Jeongguk simply isn’t the type. The only reason why he has friends like Taehyung and Jimin is because they made an effort to get to know him at his pace. It’s the same with you, who was older and a girl but you still made the effort to invite Jeongguk to watch Barbie movies or search for coins to get the cheapest candy at the convenience store. People usually don’t care after he brushes them off a few times but you did, Taehyung and Jimin did, and Jeongguk gets all fuzzy inside.

Would he ever find someone like you three again? Would he ever be so lucky? Probably not.

He looks over at your face smushed against his chest, playing with the zipper of his jacket. You’re so pretty, always have been, always will be, like a rare flower. Even after all of this time, he’s so taken aback by how effortlessly beautiful you are; on the outside and the inside. The way your hair falls delicately over your face, cheeks puffed, lips puckered; the way your shirt gives you an angelic look and your necklace lies perfectly in the middle of your collarbones.

It’s enticing. Jeongguk can’t take his eyes off of you. He never could.

Fuck, this random reunion might do more harm than good if Jeongguk doesn’t learn to control himself. This isn’t the time to reawaken old feelings that he pushed down for a good reason.

Once the cab stops in front of his apartment building, Jeongguk pays him and then helps you out of the car. Body limp and slippery like slinky.

“No, I forgot how to walk,” you mumbled, leaning against one of the pillars outside the building to keep yourself up straight. “Can’t I just sleep here? It’s comfortable.”

“That’s a concrete pillar.” Jeongguk runs a hand through his slightly dampened hair. “Come on, there’s an elevator and I don’t live too high up. You’ll sleep better on my bed.”

A pout grows stronger on your face, a few streaks of something black collecting in the corner of your eyes and your lipstick is smeared a little but Jeongguk still finds you so put together and exquisite. Still like that rare flower on top of a mountain peak; beautiful yet impossible to reach.

“Fine.” You peel yourself off the pillar. “But if you’re lying to me, I’m gonna pinch those cute little cheeks right off your face.” Squishing his flesh momentarily before dropping your hands, Jeongguk blinks a few times in shock.

Focus, Jeon. She needs to rest.

Getting you inside is easier than he thought. The promise of the elevator and a warm bed with some water turned you much more docile. But you’re still enamored by his rings which you slip on and off his fingers as the elevator beeps. Then, Jeongguk slips off your shoes and tells you to wait by the kitchen counter while he rifles through his things, handing you a shirt and directing you to the bathroom.

A loud sigh escapes his lips once he’s all alone. Jeongguk has about ten seconds to change himself. He’s been in these tight jeans that squeeze his legs like anything. Maybe he shouldn’t have gone so hard in the gym over the summer. Now most of his old clothes don’t fit him as well as they used to.

Quickly, he throws on his pajamas just as you emerge from the bathroom and hum a random song from tonight.

Then, he helps you into bed, groaning out at the soreness in his muscles from all of the lifting he’s been doing today. You don’t fight back too much, clearly worn out, so you sink into the soft padding easily like a little kitten. He throws the blankets over you, does a quick check to see if you’re okay, and then gets into his own makeshift bed made out of a thin mattress and a set of sheets.

It’s not nearly as comfortable as his own bed and his back might be mad at him tomorrow but it’ll do for now.

Just as Jeongguk is beginning to fall into deep sleep, he hears you rusting around, mumbling under your breath about something. Your hands push yourself up on your elbows. For a second, he thinks you’re going to throw up so he gets up quickly and makes his way to his kitchen to grab a plastic bag.

But you start speaking louder.

“I can’t believe you, Seojoon.” Your hair sticks out from every corner as you flop back down, lips bloated and pouty, slapping around the comforter and pointing to no one. “I hate you.” Jeongguk’s eyebrow raises, pausing in the middle of his kitchen to decipher what on earth you are talking about.

Clearly, you’re having a nightmare. Jeongguk takes quiet steps back to his spot on the floor in order to avoid that one squeaky

“You cheated on me with Somin, didn’t you? You bastard. You told me you loved me,” whining, your body twists around. “Why else would I let you fuck me?”

Jeongguk reels his brain back to stop the curious sympathy right there. He doesn’t want to prod further into this bad dream involving a fight with an ex of some sort. It’s none of his business and clearly this wasn’t meant for him to hear. All he does care about is if you’re going to vomit or not.

He calls your name. “Are you okay?” Jeongguk whispers.

You don’t respond. Instead, your face twists in discomfort as you continue to mumble into his mattress and writhe around.

Jeongguk grows increasingly worried. He doesn’t want you to choke or anything of the sort while he’s deep in REM. Slowly, he gets down on his knees to get a closer look at you tossing and turning.

“It hurts so much.”

Jeongguk gently places a hand on your arm, saying your name softly so you don’t wake up. “Hey, you okay? Do you want water?” You twist away from his touch at first. “It’s me, it’s me, it’s Jeongguk,” reminding you as your lids barely part. He thinks you register him, that maybe you’re somewhat awake right now as you begin to curl forward.

But then your hands clasp Jeongguk’s arms tightly, restricting his every move.

“You’re going to leave me, aren’t you?” Your voice slurs, the tip of your nose meeting the fabric of his shirt, fingers digging into the flesh hard enough to leave indents.

Nothing but confusion clouds Jeongguk’s brain. What are you talking about?

“You told me you loved me. What? Don’t you want me anymore?”

Tightening around him, you bury your face into his neck again. Your arms begin to raise, wrap around his shoulders to bring your body closer to his rigid frame. Jeongguk feels wetness from your eyes begin to drip onto his skin, dampening his shirt.

“Just do it then. Just leave me. No one ever sticks around anyways. Guys always leave me the moment something new comes along. Every single one,” you enunciate, vibrating into him, crying softly. “You don’t even care about how much you hurt me. No one cares.”

Jeongguk is paralyzed under your hold as your tears start to roll down. Your sobs are loud and erratic and painful, as if all of this hurt has building until you eventually couldn’t hold onto it anymore. That it took alcohol and a long night to wedge it out of you.

It’s contradictory; holding him tight and telling him to leave you.

But he doesn’t push you away and he doesn't let go. Jeongguk lets you grip onto him for safety because he’s terrified that removing his touch could break you even further.

He doesn’t know what is happening in your dream to make you behave like this, he doesn’t know what made the previous glee that used to make your eyes bright fade away after all of those years passed. He wants to ask but he doesn't know how.

All Jeongguk does know is that you were different. Not in a good or bad way but you were simply different. The happy go lucky little girl grew into a hardened adult. When he looked into your eyes tonight, he saw traces of all of this hurt woven alongside other emotions. Like a heavy blanket that only pushes you further and further deeper into a more melancholic way of being.

And as he helps you back into bed once your tears stop falling, rubs some cooling Vicks rub on your forehead and pulls the cover close, his brain turns into an echo chamber until he tires himself to sleep.

No one ever sticks around anyways.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

A week has passed and while you thought you could gain control of your physics plight, it seems like the universe has some different plans.

The tutor that you selected, a second year girl who is majoring in electrical engineering, has been a total flake. You exchanged numbers with her on Thursday during Week 1 and she fed you all of these sweet words about wanting to become friends and teaching in a friendly, kind way which immediately softened you. The last thing you wanted was for some dickhead to call you stupid because you didn’t understand the concept the first time.

She said she’d meet you at the library that Saturday at 3pm to come up with a schedule and she never showed. So you rescheduled to Sunday, then Monday, then Tuesday and now you just feel like an idiot.

There’s always some excuse. Either she slept in or she’s not feeling well or her roommate needs her but you’re losing your damn mind right now.

“You’re not paying her, right?” Jeongyeon asks, rummaging through Nayeon’s bag for something. “Maybe she’s a scammer?”

You give her a dull look. “She doesn’t get paid by me. I think the university does or she’s earning credits, I don’t know. But I’m fucked for the big quiz we have next week.”

It’s only Week 2 but the material is daunting and frankly put, you’ll shit your pants the day of the actual quiz and whatever date the final is. This is all so unfamiliar to you and, unlike other subjects, you struggle to find that area where the content becomes interesting. All you feel is terror.

Nayeon, ever the optimist, tries to lift your spirit.

“Girl, that shit is next week. Do yourself a favor, find a new tutor, study a whole bunch and then ace the quiz. There’s no point in waiting for this random girl to start caring. It’s your grade after all.”

“Yeah but I just don’t want someone that’s going to be an asshole when I get things wrong.”

People love to dumb you down, especially those in your own department. Obviously your promiscuity directly correlates to your intelligence. Girls can only be slutty or smart, right? There exists no gray area. But you know yourself. Even if science and math aren’t your thing, you’re a smart person. You got into a top performing university without any fancy prep classes or coaches and you are consistently pulling good grades each semester. That speaks more about you and your capabilities than anything else.

“I’ve heard this one guy is pretty good. He’s a teacher’s assistant pursuing his masters degree here.” Nayeon takes her phone out to look him up. “My friend was in his Chemistry group sessions and he was apparently super helpful and kind. I think he does physics too. Let me ask her.”

You perk up. It would be perfect if you could land a tutoring session with this TA instead of your missing student tutor. Even if it’s a group setting

“Let me know what your friend says.” You look away from the two in front of you for a split second as your attention was cut by your phone vibrating on the table. Flipping it over you see a text from your flakey tutor herself.

Reading it over, you roll your eyes heavily. Another lame excuse about her skipping out on your tutoring session because she scheduled a meeting with her professor at the exact same time by accident. You ignore it and plan to respond with a passive aggressive rejection to end all of this bullshit. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Jeongyeon and Nayeon try to discreetly take their edibles before digging into the food you all ordered.

Steaming plates of rice, kimchi, stir-fry and meats along with a few fried foods makes your stomach grumble. You flip your phone back over and grab your chopsticks, changing the subject quickly.

“What are you guys doing after this?” You ask. The edibles are going to last a while and considering a weed high has different stages, there’s no way these two are going to be eating the entire time. Munchies aren’t that strong.

Jeongyeon wiggles her eyebrows suggestively to her girlfriend, cheeks full like a chipmunk, and Nayeon turns beet red. Enough context for you to figure it out, breaking into a fit of giggles.

“Ohhh, I see.”

Good for them. If only you were getting laid too. Lately, your vibrator has been your best friend late at night when your mind wanders.

With thirteen settings, it’s safe to say you won’t be getting bored for a while.

However, you’ve never done it while being high. You’d want to do it with someone you’re comfortable with, maybe a consistent trustworthy hookup and only if consent is 100% enthusiastic, but you can only imagine how heightened the senses feel.

Getting lost in thought, you cross one of your legs over the other, thinking about the haziness parting as you ride them slow but deep. Your hands will grip their shoulders, nails digging into the tight flesh as the drag of their length is delicious inside of you. Moaning out loud at how full you feel, watching the sharp bone of his jaw unhinge with pleasure, thick silver earrings brushing your skin, dark hair between your fingers as you increase the pace and drive the two of you to the tipping point.

It sounds… so satisfying.

Fuck, okay, you need to get some control over yourself. It must be the week before your period or something because your mind has been cooking up these scenarios that demand attention.

And most of the time it involves some familiar looking yet faceless character giving you the best dick you’ve ever gotten. It’s really messing with you.

How the fuck are you going to be Miss Celibacy if your ass can’t go a week without sex?

You stab your chopsticks into a large chunk of tofu and stare at the red sauce over the surface before shoving it into your mouth in hopes of distracting you when an angry recognizable voice flutters past your table.

“..and this bitch has the nerve to look me dead in the eye and go, ‘well, you just lost yourself a customer,’ as if any of us give a shit. Like ma’am I get paid minimum wage to make watery coffee and reheat cardboard sandwiches regardless of your purchase, please leave me alone and die.”

Turning your head, you see tufts of blonde and shiny boots combined with the soft smell of peaches: Jimin.

And right next to him is none other than Jeon Jeongguk who is chuckling at Jimin’s whiny Karen tone to describe his awful customer. His cheeks creasing, eyes getting shinier and cute.

You can feel your body thrum with excitement.

“Hey guys!” Nayeon waves, setting down her utensils. They turn to look at her, then Jeongyeon and then at you, bowing while greeting. Your shoulders cave in when you feel Jeongguk’s stare on your face. “Do you wanna eat lunch with us?”

“Hell yeah. Is the menu today good?” Jimin asks.

Jeongyeon, with a mouth full of food, nods excitedly which is perfect. Jeongguk and Jimin laugh, motioning to the lunch line quickly so you save the table and go back to eating your lunches. Your brain demands another curious glance at Jeongguk’s retreating figure.

What? He looks really fucking sexy from the back.

Ever since the first day of school, you agreed to ride the subway back with Jeongguk on the days you end class at the same time and you've come to the conclusion that he is quite literally the hottest guy on the entire planet. Hotter than any other guy you’ve wasted your time with.

He has the most boyish features but his body is perfectly crafted. Wide shoulders, defined thighs and arms, a super sculpted back, but not overly burly where he looks fake. Like an exquisite marble statue from the Hellenistic period.

Yes, yes, you know it’s sort of weird considering the fact that you’ve watched grow up from a cute kid to an emo pre-teen and now jumping to the absolute meal he is now but it’s just some simple attraction.

One that rears its ugly head whenever Jeongguk laughs or smiles or pushes his hair out of his face or tongues his cheek or does literally anything.

There are a million reasons why this could’ve happened. From all the time spent together from the subway rides to morning coffee and dinner one night (with all of your friends but it still counts) or you’re thinking this silly little attraction might be a combination of a lack of dick, PMS and pure loneliness. Either way, it isn’t anything major.

Finding a way to ignore it is the next step.

Nayeon nudges you. “Remind me again, how exactly are you two childhood friends?” Her cheeks puffed with food.

“Oh, I lived in Busan until high school and he was my neighbor. I would always hang out with him and his two sisters.” You explain, taking another bite of soft sticky rice.

“Older sisters?”

You shake your head. “One older and one younger.” Wondering why this is relevant.

But then, Nayeon and Jeongyeon make eye contact, eyebrows raising like they do when they know something you don’t. Meanwhile, you’re just sitting there like an idiot, waiting for context with your chopsticks held halfway up to your mouth.

“Green flag. Bright green fucking flag.” Jeongyeon whistles.

“Huh?” Your chopsticks barely prod your lip without your mouth opening. Did the edibles pull out some secret stoner knowledge that you aren’t aware of?

Jeongyeon decides to explain it to you. “According to the girlies on tiktok, men with older sisters are usually green flags. Something about learning gentleness and patience and respecting women from an early age or whatever. I don’t get you heteros so it went past my head.”

You’re puzzled at first. These men all have mothers, they came from a woman who nursed them and cared for them until now, why is having an older sister so different?

But then it hits you.

The way Jeongguk treats you is so different from the way most guys treat you. There’s no domineering masculinity coming from him in heavy waves trying to overpower you. It’s softer. He’s so approachable and gentle. He never touches you unless you’re okay with it, he’s always polite and kind and sweet. He never makes you feel stupid or inadequate, doesn’t talk over you, nothing of the sort.

And while it’s the barest of minimum, Jeongguk makes you feel safe.

Even Jeongyeon and Nayeon, who are often not comfortable around straight men, found him to be a delight. That has to mean something.

“I…I never thought about it,” your voice goes a little husky. Tucking a stray piece of hair out of your face as your cheeks get a little warm. “He’s just a good guy, you know. Jihyo, his sister, always kept him in check. I guess, it’s a good thing.”

Kids lead by example. Growing up in an environment where the adults around you were treating women poorly or pushing people around will appear in relationships. But Jeongguk was the opposite.

“It is. Think about it,” Nayeon leans in, “after all of those duds you’ve been with, he’s just what you’re looking for.”

The way your heartbeat accelerates is not a good sign.

Your chin pulls back, like you’re leaning away from the possibility. “What? I’m not gonna date him, Nayeon,” you groan under your breath.

“Why not?” She whines, slamming her fists onto the table, then laughing slightly at the indents left on his skin.

“Because he has no interest in dating right now,” you grumble, remembering his words from his birthday.

Even if you did try to pursue it, there’s a high chance Jeongguk might only see you as his older sister’s friend. Which is how it should be! It’s best that you let this silly little crush die like a lonely star and maintain your promise of making this year all about you. Your bullet vibrator is going to have to help you whenever you get the urge but besides that, no sex, no dates, no boys, nothing of the sort.

“Did he tell you that?” Jeongyeon asks, eyes glazing over. The weed must be hitting pretty hard. You’re surprised they can keep up with this conversation.

Then again, they’re probably used to it.

You nod. “At the club.” Snorting, your eyes briefly flick to the other side of the cafeteria where a certain someone sits. “Juri offered him her number and he said he wasn’t going to go out with her.”

That seems to wake the brunette up. “Fuck, really? I wish I saw that,” she pouts, leaning on the blonde curled up next to her. Cute.

“Well, he didn’t say no since you two started fucking hazing him the moment you saw him,” you scold. “But he told me he was going to reject her if/when he saw her in person.”

“Hey! You were the one who directed us to shoo away any man that came up to you that night.” Nayeon defends. “We were just listening to instructions when we came over to stop you two.”

Jeongyeon joins in. “Yeah, and he looked like your usual type so we assumed we should pull you away. How were we supposed to know the super hot guy you were talking to was a friend?”

You open your mouth to quip back when you feel a presence behind you, casting a shadow on your back. The lingering smell of cologne and food dance in the air. A wave of despair crashes inside of your stomach and you really wish a black hole would open up right under to sweep you away from this hellscape.

“What are you guys talking about?”

Taehyung Jimin split to sit on the bench between Nayeon and Jeongyeon’s bench and yours. It's a square shaped table with four benches on each side, so enough space for two people per bench. The two couples share a bench while you and Jeongguk get your own, although he still sits closer to you on his own bench.

“U-uh–” Jeongyeon stutters, looking at you with wide eyes for help.

“Oh, just some guy,” you fake a laugh, flicking some hair out of your face and turning to food so you can shovel it in your face like a starved person.

Taehyung laughs a little. “Just some guy? Jeongyeon was saying that he’s super hot and your type.” He’s being cheeky, like he always is, but this time, you can’t engage in a back and forth with him.

Because the hot sweet guy you were talking about is sitting right next to you.

Your brain urges you to take a peek. Jeongguk is dressed like he usually is; a pair of baggy cargo pants and a light gray sweatshirt, and he always looks attractive. The fall wind is allowing you to smell the scent of his flowery shampoo in combination with his usual perfume and it’s such an addictive scent that you never want to forget.

But you can’t think about that. You should be thinking of a lie.

“I’ve always wondered if you had a boyfriend,” Jimin asks, resting his chin on his palm. A sly smirk forms on his lips, just as cheeky as his own boyfriend’s. “I asked Jeongguk and he said he didn’t know.”

Fuck. You look at him now, hair swishing with your movements. The boy is eating without a care and shrugs in response. “You never mentioned one.”

Yeah, because there isn’t one. You’ve never had a boyfriend in your life.

Sweat beads your palms. There has to be some guy that you can just drop in here for the sake of the conversation. Some random guy out in this cafeteria that is insignificant enough to never cross paths with you again so you can nip this conversation right in the bud.

You scan the place. There are a few guys you’ve already hooked up with so that’s a no. Some groups of first-years and that’s also a no (you’re not trying to catch a case here).

For fucks’ sake, are the only hot guys at this school Jimin, Taehyung and Jeongguk?

“Uh–”

Nayeon swoops in like a guardian angel. “We were talking about the Physics and Chem tutor. I don’t know if you guys have had him but, Kim Namjoon?”

Right, the tutor Nayeon’s friend went to. The really nice one.

She sends you a hidden wink from her end of the table and you respond with a quick finger heart. Bless her soul.

“Joon? Oh, he is so hot.” Jimin, to your surprise, bounces at the chance to thirst over this supposed sexy tutor that you’ve never seen before. His eyes roll back at the sheer thought of him, leaning closer to gossip. “He was our tutors for Physics 2 last semester and wow.” He shakes his head, marveled at such a man. “He could top me and then never speak to me again and I’d be okay with that.”

Now you’re curious about this Kim Namjoon. Just how hot is he?

Taehyung jumps in. “I agree, however, “he holds a single finger up, “I would also like to add Kim Seokjin, the bio tutor.” His eyes roll back dramatically. “Dream threesome. Foursome if you want babe,” he nudges the blonde who blushes in agreement.

Then the entire table breaks out into giggles and with a little coaxing, Nayeon and Jeongyeon reveal their ideal threesomes which you already know the answers to (Han Sohee and Irene from Red Velvet) since they share the same girl crushes. Then you answer begrudgingly which are the two male leads from Business Proposal because, obviously. However, the person next to you is rather quiet. You lightly nudge his side with your elbow to check in with him.

“You okay?” You’re asking just in case Jeongguk isn’t comfortable with sex talk.

But he nods. “Sorry, I’m still listening. Just really hungry. All I had for breakfast was a protein shake.” Jeongguk inhales the glazed stir-fry chicken on his plate, a dot of sauce landing on the corner of his lip and, oh my, do you want to wipe it off for him because he is so cute with his bready baby cheeks all puffed with food.

“Come on,” you pretend to scold. “Breakfast is the most important meal of the day.” Jeongguk’s mom would weep if she heard about him skipping.

He waves it off but you can see his ears get a little red. “Yeah, yeah, I know but I slept through my alarms so I was in a rush this morning. Almost pulled a Taehyung and crashed into the wall while trying to run out.”

You laugh at the image. Taehyung can be a bit of a klutz. At the club on Jeongguk’s birthday, he almost crashed into an entire table because he was dizzy from doing tiktok dances all night. Your head throws back slightly, eyes fluttering shut, and when you open them again, Jeongguk’s eyes are on you.

They feel explorative, searching every inch of your face like he doesn’t want to forget a single inch, lips quirked up in a half smile but it’s Jeongguk’s eyes that really take you aback. His eyes have never looked at you like that before.

As if something is swimming deep in those pools of glimmery chocolate brown; something warm and sweet in there.

“Sorry,” he blushes, turning his eyes away from your face and back onto his food. Your heart stops for a moment, looking down at his pillowy soft lips. They’re right there, moisturized and pink. All you really have to do is lean in.

And with the way Jeongguk looks at you, you really fucking want to.

He’s so beautiful. So pretty and sweet and kind and unlike any other guy you’ve ever wanted. The urge to go for him is almost primal that you can barely hold yourself back.

Your friends are like little angels in your head, goading you on to just do it. Just kiss him and take him and then drop it. Satiate that part of you that needs sex, that needs to fucked just right, and then move on. It would be different than usual because Jeongguk is different from the previous men so you wouldn’t get hurt.

Although…

He’s Jihyo’s little brother, the boy who needed to hold your hand when crossing the street, the kid always on his skateboard or his nose buried in a manga. Would it tarnish everything that you find familiar to just go for it? Would years of a perfectly healthy happy friendship go right down the drain?

But Jeongguk is an adult, only one year younger than you. There isn’t anything wrong.

Ideally, you could just lean in and–

“Jeongguk, what was the name of the blue penguin in the Backyardigans? I really need to know like now,” Taehyung urges, breaking your train of thought immediately.

You fly back as if the contact singes you, curling into yourself and placing a single hand on the surface of the table to catch your breath. You completely forgot about the whole conversation going on around you when you stared into Jeongguk’s pretty deep eyes.

It’s clear as day to you. With the man he’s become, it’s obvious that you are definitely into Jeon Jeongguk.

“Huh?” He rasps, slightly out of it too. “Oh-uh, Pablo. He’s the one that sings International Super Spy.”

“Pablo! I knew it.” Taehyung snaps his fingers loudly. “How do you still remember that?”

Jeongguk awkwardly forces out a laugh. “We watched a few episodes together this summer, remember?”

“Right. Pretty sure I was blazed out of my mind, though.”

Jimin nudges him. “Babe, when are you not blazed out of your mind?”

“When I’m with you, baby boy,” he coos.

The boy next to you groans out loud. “Ugh, you two are so nasty.” His voice is muffled by food but he still gets his point across. You bite back a giggle at the disgust on his face.

“Jeongguk, you can’t be mean to us. It’s homophobic.” Jimin points a chopstick in his direction but Jeongguk simply shrugs and continues eating without a care.

Jeongyeon pipes up. “I agree. That applies to you too, Queen of the Straights.”

The direct hit has pulled you out of your internal panic, reminding you to contribute to the conversation like friends usually do. Your eyes dull a little. “Yes ma’am.” Faking a soldier’s salute to make everyone laugh.

You’re glad that everyone else seems oblivious to what just happened because you know that had the two of you been alone, the situation would be entirely different.

And you don’t know if that outcome would be any better than this one.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

On Friday, classes get canceled.

Thankfully, it’s nothing bad. All of the buildings are getting fumigated to keep out any infestations that might’ve crawled in over the summer since someone thought they saw a cockroach in the Arts building so all the professors decide to post the lecture information online or have virtual class if necessary.

You had no complaints with this change. Attend class in your pajamas, in your bed, and have the option to fall asleep without getting caught? Sounds perfect.

Although, no in person class means you don’t get to speak to your Physics professor to complain about your flakey tutor and find a new one which you were banking on completing before you had your huge quiz next week. So, once your final lecture ends, you begin to worry about how the hell you’re going to resolve that problem.

Sure, you could easily self-review with the resources online but you’ve always learned more theoretical concepts with someone explaining it to you in person so you could ask questions immediately.

You shut your laptop off and place it on top of the long coffee table you use as a desk. An open notebook with notes sits on your right, pen clicked off, highlighters placed neatly in your pencil case, and the silence of your studio apartment almost starts ringing in your ears.

Who do you know that can tutor you for physics?

Nayeon sent you the email address for the Namjoon person whom everyone is vouching for. You asked this morning if he had any space in his tutoring session but he responded saying that he does but he isn’t having a session today and he’s happy to answer any questions over email or through a video call individually.

You genuinely consider that option until you look up at the decor in your room that Namjoon has no chance of missing during the video call.

Now, you wouldn’t call yourself a strange person, if anything you are a well-adjusted member of society, but the pieces chosen to hang up in your studio apartment would raise some eyebrows. From the poster of Bibble from Barbie saying Gaslight, Gatekeep, Girlboss to the concerning amount of Sanrio plushies you’ve collected over the years to all of the cat beds and toys thrown around the place and the impressive array of diffusers in every corner, your apartment is an amalgamation of you.

And you don’t know if this Namjoon guy is going to take one look at the place and peg you down as a fucking weirdo or not. You want to make a good impression on him.

So, you wrack your brain for a different option to help you just before your quiz next week.

Someone. Anyone.

Your worst bet is to walk over to the nearest cram school and ask someone there but those are all high school students and you’d die of embarrassment.

Then you remember, Jeongguk took Physics last semester. Maybe he can help.

Quickly, you pat around your duvet for your phone. It’s lying screen down a few inches away from Snowball’s sleeping body. Carefully, you grab the device, scroll through your contacts and call him with fiery hope coursing through you thickly.

“Hello?” His voice drips from the speakers like flowing water and you want to drown in it.

“Hey, are you done with online classes?” You ask, on your back and knees to your chest in a very suggestive position.

“Uh almost,” Jeongguk trails off. “Why? What’s up?”

You hold back a goofy smile at his distracted tone. “You know how you said you took physics last semester?” He hums in response. “Do you think you could explain a few concepts to me? I have this big ass quiz soon and I don’t wanna bomb it.”

You wait. The pessimist in you expects a rejection, a flat out ‘I’d rather die than waste my time explaining physics concepts to a 21-year-old,’ but the optimist is waiting with a bouquet of roses on the other side.

This is Jeongguk we’re talking about. Sweet, sweet, lovely Jeongguk. Not that dickhead that sits in the back of lecture and watches hentai on his phone.

“Oh. I’m not the best teacher.”

Both the optimist and pessimist in your head are waiting on the balls of their feet. That wasn’t the answer you were expecting but it's an answer you aren’t hurt by!

“That’s okay! I just need someone to go over it with me. As long as you aren’t mean, I won’t complain.” You want to appeal to Jeongguk in a way that’ll get the guy to bend a little and what other way to a man’s heart than food? “I’ll repay you with dinner,” you sing-song.

There’s a brief pause, like he’s considering the option while noises mumble in the background. “What’s the menu?” Jeongguk asks.

God, he’s so cute. Your cheeks are raised so high, they might as well curl into your eyes.

“I live near a great fried chicken place.” Works out perfectly because you’ve been craving something fried for a while now. Must be your period.

Jeongguk barely waits a second. “Sold. Text me the time and your address.”

You cut the call after bidding each other goodbye. A giddy squeal almost bubbles out of your lips until you realize that you have about two hours until Jeongguk is in your apartment for the first time ever.

Alone. No friends. No family.

Just you and this super hot guy.

No interruptions. Complete privacy.

You launch out of bed so fast that you wake up Snowball from her slumber. Quickly, you shower and you take your time to scrub your body with lilac body wash and shave. Usually Friday is your pamper day so this isn’t anything out of the ordinary. Then you wash your greasy hair to rid yourself of the conditioning hair mask you slathered on this morning. After your shower, you walk around your studio with your fluffy bathrobe and microfiber towel on to find the perfect outfit.

It has to be comfortable but cute. Even though Jeongguk is just tutoring you and there is a high chance that this meeting will only be platonic, you still want to look your best.

Rummaging through your dresser drawers and closet, your eyes immediately fall to your collection of baby-doll lingerie sets in various colors. An expensive purchase, but you’ve always enjoyed dressing up every now and then. Your fingers dance across the itchy lace, thinking about which one Jeongguk would like? Lilac? Baby pink? Maybe the nude one with the intricate designs on the cups? Or how about the blood red and black one that looks like it came straight out of a BDSM film?

Nah, that’s too much. You go for yoga pants, a plain t-shirt and a quarter-zip with your university’s logo on it. Then selecting a lacy pair of underwear and no bra. You hate wearing one at home anyways.

The clothes lay spread out on your bed as you begin your post shower process of lotion, deodorant, a soft scented body spray and then your clothes. Then, you dry your hair and then begin cleaning up the little clutter you have over the place. You’re a neat person, which others find shocking, so there isn’t much to do. You dry some dishes on the rack, reset your bedsheets, light up a candle, empty the litter box, and eat a mediocre salad as you wait for the clock to strike 5pm.

Time moves at a microscopic pace, probably because you’re staring at the moving hands in hopes that you’ll blink at the pretty boy will be standing at your doorstep. You should focus on something else in the meantime. So you take out your physics notebook and begin reviewing.

Next week’s quiz will be on a little under ½ of the energy chapter covered so far. You’ve been paying attention, taking diligent notes, and doing pretty good on the homework but the topics still freak you out.

It’s a STEM thing. You haven’t taken one since your first year so you’re rusty and the material seems extra intimidating. Unlike Jeongguk, Jimin and Taehyung, you don’t study this on a daily basis.

But there’s nothing you won’t be able to conquer without working.

About halfway through your revision is when the buzz of your home intercom rings, shocking you out of your thoughts. Slowly, you get up, dusting the invisible particles off your clothes and going over to the machine to let Jeongguk in. There’s a short waiting game, lasting about two minutes, as he probably comes up from the lobby and reaches your door before knocking.

You’re putting a kettle of water to boil as the sound resonates and you rush over to open the door with a bright smile on your lips.

“Hey,” you breathe out, taking in the sights before you.

As always, Jeongguk looks perfect in a gray long-sleeve t-shirt and black sweats. Like the comfy soft boyfriend of your dreams. His hair is a little damp at the ends but it waves a little past his eyebrow as it grows and his backpack straps pull his shirt wide to show off his broad shoulders.

Fucking hell, you think. You want to eat him up and ruin him.

Swallowing shakily, you step aside as he grins. “Hi.” Jeongguk’s voice is low, like usual, but a little buttery and less hoarse. Almost sexy.

Basically, it’s doing things to you.

Carefully, you lead him inside where Jeongguk takes his shoes off and stares at the place with those big eyes of his. You wonder what goes through that pretty head of his as he stares at the various stuffed animals and the wall art. But, instead, he lands on the Kirby shaped cat-bed at the base of your bed holding Snowball’s half-asleep body.

“You have a cat?” He asks.

“Oh, I forgot to tell you.” You walk in front of the thing, squatting down in front of the entrance to hold a hand out for the ball of fluff to sniff. Snowball headbutts you immediately. “You didn’t inherit your dad’s allergy, did you?”

That would crush you. As much as you like dogs, you’re a cat person at heart or a Snowball person at heart.

Jeongguk shakes his head no. Then he comes to the same spot you are and gets on his knees on the opposite side of you, watching with curious doe eyes. Slowly, Jeongguk extends his hand out, thinking Snowball needs time to get used to him like some cats do, but no. She’s friendly and extroverted, getting out of the bed to welcome Jeongguk with an excited soft-tone trill.

It’s heartwarming watching her melt into his touch, purring and climbing into Jeongguk’s lap the more he pets her on all of her favorite spots.

“You’ve been accepted,” you muse, crossing your arms over your stomach in hopes that by pushing on it, that buttery, gooey, sugary feeling will go away.

“Yay,” Jeongguk cheers cutely. “What’s her name?”

“Snowball.”

“Snowball!” He coos. “You are the cutest ever!” Jeongguk leans down to tell her, slight aegyo in his tone. The rounded tip of his nose brushes the top of her small head

No, you are, is what zings through your mind but don’t tell Snowball you thought that.

Since your knees start screaming at you to get up, you leave Jeongguk and Snowball to go check on the kettle which is at its very end of boiling the water. You get up on your tiptoes to pull out two white mugs and before grabbing your go-to peach green tea packets, you ask Jeongguk.

“Tea or coffee?”

Jeongguk looks up from Snowball curled on his lap, the body of a bright grin on his lips. “Coffee please.” When you nod, he goes back to petting the white feline without another care.

His adorable politeness removes any nerves you had or any prior sheepishness from the way your studio apartment looks. Small and decorated with all of your interests. The only people that have ever been here are your mother, Jeongyeon and Nayeon. Hookups were always at their place or a hotel so it’s a little odd to see Jeongguk seated on your floor.

But at the same time, it’s Jeongguk on your floor so you aren’t that worried.

Pouring the mugs with steaming hot water, you grab a packet of instant coffee while your tea bag steeps and you make Jeongguk his coffee. In the meantime, he’s seated by your coffee table/desk, shrugging his backpack off while Snowball sits beside Jeongguk diligently. Like she’s protecting him from whatever she thinks is going to attack him.

“I like your place,” Jeongguk says, shocking you for a moment. “It’s very,” he trails off. “Very you.”

You give him a dulled look over your shoulder. “What do you mean by that?”

“You know, it’s got all of your favorite things.” His chin gestures to the Sanrio stuffed animals, the various figurines from all of your favorite animes, the vintage posters, the bunny paraphernalia, all of your favorite things, like Jeongguk said.

You turn, pressing the small of your back to the cold counter behind you. “Your place is nice too,” you add for the sake of returning the compliment, although it is true.

Jeongguk shakes his head. “Yeah but, my landlord is a gaping asshole and hates the idea of posters and paintings since he’s scared it’ll fuck up the wall. It’s nice but it feels dead,” he gives your apartment one more look, “but yours has some personality, you know? I’m kinda jealous.”

His smile is genuine, sweet and kind. You find yourself melting from the sheer sight of it but you hold yourself back. Don’t want to look too whipped.

Exhaling with some laughter, you start bringing the mugs over along with some biscuits since it’s tea time. “The first apartment we had when we moved here was like that. The landlord didn’t even let my mom change the curtains even though the ones that came with the place had stains all over it.” Jeongguk grimaces at the thought. “But Mrs. Jeong from our Busan apartment was so nice.”

What a sweet woman. She would often come down whenever she heard one of them had a cold or if there was a birthday and she was never harsh when your mother’s checks bounced or if she needed an extra day because she hadn’t gotten paid yet. She was the reason you thought all landlords had some semblance of empathy but no.

“We lived there for about fifteen years. It sucked having to leave.”

“Oh my god, I didn’t know you moved out!” You gasp, shifting yourself to face him completely. “Is your current place closer to the bakery?”

“No, it’s actually farther but it’s closer to the center of Busan so public transport is good. Plus, noona got a car so it’s not too bad.”

You sigh. Fuck, you miss Busan so much. Even hearing the slight satoori in Jeongguk’s voice does wonders for your nostalgia as yours only peeks out when you’re angry thanks to teasing from all of the Seoul elitists.

The beach, the food, the fresh air, the streets, you miss all of it. Such a simple time. You’ve always dreamed of settling there once you’ve figured your life out. It was your end goal.

“I wanna hear more but let’s get physics out of the way first,” you tap your notebook twice and Jeongguk moves to his backpack to take some items out to start the tutoring session.

And, to no one’s shock, Jeongguk is actually a really great tutor.

He’s patient with you and doesn’t mind giving you constant encouragement when you get a bit insecure halfway through a word problem. On concepts you’re unsure about, Jeongguk explains them in the simplest way possible without getting haughty. No outbursts if you make the same mistake two times in a row, he never once calls you stupid or says you’re wasting his time. Jeongguk gently coaches you until you try to solve some problems on your own from the textbook without his help and he checks them afterwards, telling you what you did right and wrong.

Quite literally, this is all that you wanted.

Someone to answer your questions, explain a few concepts, and walk you through a couple of examples without questioning your smarts as a whole.

It’s nice. You feel safe and even better, you feel actually prepared for the quiz which is the opposite of how you felt this morning. You aren’t even worried about it at all.

After clearing through the sample quiz and practice problems easily in a matter of about 2 ½ hours, you two are all done tutoring. Which means freedom for the rest of the night.

Quickly, you connect your laptop to the small TV mounted on the wall and put on Love Island since neither of you have watched it. Jeongguk is rather curious about it since Jimin and Taehyung won’t stop talking about it, so you decide to jump into the newest season with him while leaning against your bed and pulling up the menu for the fried chicken place.

“I’m getting honey garlic,” you tell him when you hand him your phone.

“Then, I’ll do the spicy cheese one.” He leans closer instead of taking the device and you really wish he didn’t because your body reacts to the proximity with goosebumps erupting all over you like you’re a teenager again.

Your eyes flick up to his side profile, which is literally perfect. His jaw is strong, well cut, defined and his skin is the color of fresh milk tea. You can see little imperfections on his skin like old acne scars, the slightly chapped surface of his lips, and all of his shiny earrings. You love the way he looks and how Jeongguk has grown into his features. The urge to trace his jawline with your tongue is insane, almost caustic inside of you. It’s impossible to push down. You sort of dressed up for this tutoring date, throwing on a pair of your favorite panties, lathering yourself in the softest lotion; you took all of the right steps and you’re hungry for a certain ending even though there’s a high chance it won’t happen at all. The horny side of you is begging for you to shoot your shot.

But you stop. Not yet. Not right now.

While Jeongguk picks out drinks, appetizers and the dessert he wants, you rush to the bathroom for a second. In the mirror, you take notice of your reddened cheeks and parted lips and the messy wisps of hair sticking out. You quickly tie it back into a loose braid and then splash some water on your face.

Reel it back, bitch.

While in the bathroom, you call out. “Hey Jeongguk? Could you get my wallet? It’s on top of my dresser, the one next to my closet.” Might as well pay now so you can get the chicken faster.

“Okay!” He responds.

The noise your stomach makes is loud and painful. The salad you had did nothing to satiate your cravings so the thought of chicken, perfectly fried to a crisp and covered in garlicky sweet sauce has you practically salivating. Especially since you’ve been eating so healthily as of late. It’s nice to treat yourself to some fast food.

Afterwards, you trudge back on over to the coffee table and plop down silently while Jeongguk puts in your card information. Meanwhile, you remember to feed Snowball for dinner and give her some much needed attention by bringing her to sit with the two of you so she can be pet and loved.

Jeongguk’s warmth emanates from his shoulder that is inches away from you while the Love Island intro song plays at the start of every new season. Half-heartedly, you watch the corny antics as each contestant introduces themselves with the main host speaking over and you think about how much internal anguish you’re feeling at the moment.

An object prods into your forearm. You look down to see the rounded edge of your credit card. “I paid,” Jeongguk tells you. You don’t respond verbally, taking the plastic and shoving it into the slot of your card wallet.

“Thanks,” you mumble. You bring your knees up to your chest and rest your chin on top of them, hoping to get into the various shirtless tattooed guys on your television screen. It’s an easy task. Shows like Love Island don’t ask too much of you but you can get into it enough where other thoughts begin to fade.

You check your phone to see that the chicken should be delivered in about 10 minutes. Then you can have food and TV to reward you for all of your hard work.

The beginning is awkward as each person picks their couple purely based on looks and their name. You cringe when a guy comes in and no one steps up to match with him so he has to randomly choose a girl who was either too shy to step up to say she thinks he’s cute or not at all interested in him. It sounds like such an awkward place to be in and you’d hate to be on either side of the situation.

Jeongguk, on the other hand, isn’t a reality TV kind of guy. So he has a million questions and comments throughout the 57 minute episode.

“I don’t get it. They just shove 10 hot people in a house and they have to like each other?”

“Fuck, that’s how you’re supposed to say Leicester?”

“That one guy looks like such a fuck boy. Why would you ever get a chest tattoo of an eagle?”

“What happens if you don’t like anyone you match with? Can you just leave?” You shrug in response. This is your first time watching this show too. “I’d leave so fast if I was on this show. None of these people would interest me.”

“Me too,” you respond, playing with the frayed edge of an old receipt sticking out of one of the wallet pockets. “I’d get the ick so fast and then hop on the first plane back home.”

Jeongguk’s bantering turns the simple binge into something more. You start laughing, indulging his every whim, making fun of the guys trying too hard to flirt and seem suave and it’s really fun. You manage to barely remember the way you felt when you came out of the bathroom.

Is this how it should always be? Platonically hanging out?

Was it a good thing that you stopped yourself before your desires took over your logic?

You don’t know. You don’t want to either. You just want to sit back and enjoy the rest of this lovely day off.

After another few minutes of watching the show, you feel Jeongguk’s eyes on you. Wide, glittery, washing over every inch of your skin like he’s trying to commit your features to memory. You raise an eyebrow in question. For a moment, he doesn’t do anything, just stares at you, and then he points to your phone screen where a notification from the delivery app shows.

The food is here.

Quickly, you go down, slipping some slides on your feet and shoving your hands in the pockets of your sweater. The delivery person hands you the plastic bag with steaming boxes and you thank them before trundling back upstairs. The smell that wafts to you is mouth-wateringly delicious.

This. This is your treat after a grueling two weeks of school.

You bring it up for you and Jeongguk to dig into. The chicken is fresh and delicious and in combination with Jeongguk’s commentary, you start to really enjoy yourself. Especially as all your sex related thoughts begin to push to the back of your brain and the night gets more fun yet relaxing. The food is good and the drinks are refreshing.

Afterwards, you crack open a bag of kit kats to share with him to cap off the meal with something sweet since none of the desserts at the restaurant sounded appealing to either of you.

Love Island is addictive. Your friends were right about it. Two episodes later and the two of you are curious about who is the new islander coming and how they are going to shake things up.

The TV is on the wall mounted across your bed and coffee table. For the sake of your backs, you move Jeongguk to the bed and take some pillows to lean against so your backs aren’t completely sore by the next morning.

Although, you do wish your back was sore for another reason but let’s not get into that just yet.

Since you don’t have a lot of pillows, you share your main one, meaning you’re a lot closer to Jeongguk than you originally planned. To the point where your arms are pressed against each other and your legs are brushing. It makes you nervous to be this close. His perfume is a strong elixir, heady and comforting, pushing you to lean in and bury your face into the delectable skin of his neck. Even his neck, wow. The skin is so smooth, there’s a mole right in the middle of it. You want to sink your teeth into the flesh and use your lips and tongue to paint it all sorts of beautiful colors.

Sweat begins to form on your hairline. You get nervous with Jeongguk sitting so close to you, hands itching to do something. First they play around with the single star pendant on your necklace, then at a loose thread on your comforter, and then you decide to redo your hair.

The braid has become a straggly mess with you leaned against things so you pull your hair tie off and begin to undo your braid. At the very least, it is something for your hands to do, keep them occupied and away.

From Jeongguk that is. You don’t want to obstruct his view or break his attention.

Pushing off from the pillow, suddenly something happens on screen that makes your head turn abruptly to see who said what and your hair wacks Jeongguk right in the eye.

“Shit,” he hisses, clutching his face, curling inwards.

You begin to panic, turning in on your knees to get closer to him.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry! I was trying to tie my hair and then something happened on screen so I–” you stop midway, no need for an explanation. Instead, check to see if your hair scratches him in the cornea or not.

Jeongguk’s legs, that were once crossed, are now spread wide without your body taking up the space next to him on your bed. Without a second thought, you cross over the one closest to you and end up in between his two long legs. One hand on his shoulder to grab his attention.

“Are you okay?” You ask worriedly, trying to search his gaze but Jeongguk’s eyes are turned down. “Jeongguk?”

Muffled, he speaks up. “Y-yeah. I’m fine.” Jeongguk drops his hands onto his thighs before blinking a few times and you see a telltale tear pool from his big doe eyes, dripping down the slope of his cheek.

A huge wave of guilt crashes inside of you.

You made Jeongguk cry.

Not intentionally but still. He’s crying.

“Aw,” you cup his cheeks, searching his irises for anything like you’re a licensed ophthalmologist or something, wiping the stray tear with your thumb.“I’m really sorry. Do you need eye drops or anything?” You sit down on your feet, leaning closer to see him. “I can go check in my medicine box if I have any left from Spring.”

He doesn’t respond.

Jeongguk freezes immediately with you between his legs. As if all of his blood stops flowing through his veins and he’s turned to stone by Medusa. He glances at every corner of your face, at the strands of hair framing it, like he’s never seen you before. His jaw unhinges and the tip of his pink tongue is just barely visible.

You don’t even notice how close you get. So worried about the possibility of your hair scratching his cornea that you forget that your knees are brushing against his crotch. Nor do you think about how your face is near, you’re literally staring down like you’re about to kiss him despite dreaming about being in this position all day.

The only thing echoing in your mind is: Is Jeongguk okay?

Not another thought.

“I–” he stops, lips parted, “I’m okay, really.”

Jeongguk’s palm gently pushes your hands off of his cheeks and he shifts in his spot.

He’s practically shielding himself for you. His legs are pushed up to his chest now. Jeongguk looks like an animal that’s getting scolded for spilling food everywhere and you cannot understand why on earth he’d be making a face like that.

“Is something wrong?” You ask. Jeongguk covers his face but you can see his ears starting to turn red.

You inch closer to him and gently wrap your fingers around his wrist. You’re so close you can smell the gentle perfume he’s sprayed on his neck and the inviting scent of his hair serum. But he’s wriggling around like a fish out of water and it’s scaring you.

His hands move down, ripping his wrist out of your grip to cover up his crotch and you see a glimpse of the obvious bulge poking from his sweatpants.

Oh.

You recoil, muscles tightening as your brain moves a mile a minute. Something Jeongguk must sense from you because he starts explaining way faster than you thought he would.

“I’m sorry! This is–I can leave if you’d like–”

“It’s okay, Jeongguk,” you mumble. Your voice is soft.

It’s okay. It’s more than okay.

It’s better than okay.

Jeongguk continues to panic, deaf to your obvious nonchalance about him popping a boner right after you almost blinded him. “I don’t–It just sort of happened-and-and I wasn’t like–thinking a-about you or doing anything–it just,” he pauses midway, sighs to catch his breath, stops nervously stuttering, and then turns to get up which makes you a little nervous. “I’ll go to the bathroom and get rid of it–”

In a flash, your hand wraps around his wrist to stop him from moving.

“It’s okay,” you repeat. “I’m not grossed out.” Literally, you are the complete opposite of that but barely you mull it over one last time before speaking up again. “I could fix it, if you’d like.” Just before your conscience could stop you.

This is it. This is your chance to have him. Just once, satiate that need, and then you can go back to normal.

The universe practically handed you this opportunity on a golden platter so you should take it. Given that Jeongguk is down too.

His eyes go adorably wide. “W-what?” Jeongguk stutters.

“I could help you deal with it.” You say once more.

At least your voice is clear and sure. On the inside, you’re just a giant piece of adrenaline.

Jeongguk relaxes some more, gulping, and you watch his Adam’s apple bob. His shoulders broaden like he’s trying to seem confident but you can tell that he’s nervous as fuck too.

“Why would you do that?”

Oh, you pretty thing. You have no idea, do you?

“I don’t mind,” you shrug. Feeling bold, the hand that rests on his shoulder squeezes the mass indulgently and Jeongguk feels exquisite. You want to rip all of these clothes off of his body. “You helped me with physics so,” trailing off, as if it’s the only logical solution to this problem.

To you, it feels like it is. Trade an A on a quiz for an orgasm.

Plus, you finally get to rid yourself of this intense sexual tension building inside of you. A combination of your hormones and your loneliness all cooked up to make a touch-starved mess at the tiniest thing. Being with Jeongguk could be just what you need to get your focus back on yourself. He’s gorgeous, inside and out, so there’s no intense guilt to bubble from letting some douchebag grow an even bigger ego by sleeping with you.

Jeongguk is still apprehensive. “You… you know you don’t-like-owe it to me to fix this, right? Just because I got hard doesn’t mean it’s your job to do something for me.”

You’re taken aback.

Most guys wouldn’t have even protested. Your mouth would be on his dick and the minute they come, you’d be all alone. They’re the types to view sex in a very individualistic manner.

A dopey smile makes its way to your lips. “I know. This isn’t a really transactional thing.” You cup his cheek with one hand this time and trace the deep scar there absentmindedly. “I actually want to do this.”

If Jeongguk were to hear the insane things your brain produces, you wonder if he’d run for the hills or be flattered. Definitely the former.

“Okay but um,” he avoids your eyes, looking off to the side and you sort of love Jeongguk like this. It’s so different from his nonchalant easygoing behavior. “I’ve never,” he searches for the words, changes his mind halfway through, and finds another path. “No one has ever like-oh god this is embarrassing–”

You decide to save him. “No one’s ever given you a blowjob?”

He nods behind his hands that rose to cover his reddening face during his reveal. God, he’s adorable.

“Really?”

“Is that such a surprise?”

“Yeah, I mean, you’re hot.” You say truthfully. His change of expression does wonders for your confidence. So much so that you decide to bite the bullet and run a hand through his hair affectionately. “How far have you gone?”

The strands are silky smooth, flowing through your fingers like water, and Jeongguk’s eyes flutter shut at the sensation as he mumbles out a response.

“I kissed someone but only a few times. I got dragged to a high school party and played spin the bottle but nothing more than that.”

This is new for you. Almost every guy you’ve ever been with is experienced or way more experienced than you. From the guy in high school who took your virginity all the way to Wooshik. And they varied from vanilla guys to those who are super into the dom/sub spiel. You’ve never been the experienced one and it feels different.

Like you’re corrupting him, forcibly taking away something precious. Like Mrs. Robinson on the prowl for someone younger whom she can use to her advantage.

And even though that isn’t the case with you and Jeongguk, you want this to be different than your first time. If anything, you want him to feel safe and wanted and to let him know that, at any point, if he wants to stop then it will stop. Just like there’s no obligation for you to make him feel good, there is no obligation for him to return the favor.

“Then let’s start with that and then we can move on if you’re comfortable. Or we don’t have to do anything and we can just forget about it. Whatever you want.”

You won’t do anything unless he wants you to. As much as you want to touch him, as much as you need sex, you’re totally fine with taking things at his pace.

And if he rejects this entire thing and opts to fix his situation in the bathroom, that’s okay too.

Jeongguk presses the back of his head against the wall in thought, giving you an amazing view of his jawline, until he shyly speaks. “Okay.”

“Okay?” You want to be sure, hiding the fact that you are utterly elated on the inside. Jeongguk just turns more red as he avoids your eyes peering into him.

“You–we can start. I-if that’s what you want.”

You exhale through your nose. “Oh, you have no idea how much I want to.”

Before he can question you, you lean down and gently connect your lips with his.

There’s a moment where it feels foreign, where your body becomes covered with goosebumps at the sheer adrenaline coursing through you and the way your brain freaks out at the change. This is happening, you’re finally doing this, but you take a second to just press and feel. Be in the moment and stop trying to control everything, then you’re fine.

It’s easy because Jeongguk’s lips are pillowy soft.

Starting off with a quick peck, you split for a second, nose brushing, and then you kiss Jeongguk again. This time it’s much stronger. Any lack of confidence melts when your lips move languidly against Jeongguk. He’s responsive to your every movement, feeling the inside of your mouth with his own, while his hands rest appropriately on your hips. His lip balm is rose flavored and delectable. Jeongguk is a good kisser.

The noises fill the quiet apartment as you move closer and cup his jaw on one side while your other hand goes back to his silky soft hair to move your lips cohesively. You adjust yourself so that instead of kneeling between his legs, you’re straddling his thick muscular thighs and they feel exquisite against you, pulling a soft sigh from your lips.

Jeongguk must feel your exhale, gaining some bravado to take the lead when he kisses you, setting the pace as his own hands begin to move from their comfortable spot on your hips. Part of you really wants to push them down to your ass to feel those big sexy hands grab a handful but you want to wait to see what he does.

He kisses you a little wet but wanton, igniting a deep burning flame inside of you. It’s bright, hot, and you can’t pull yourself away from him the more your lips collide, suckle, and slot.

Jeongguk’s hands begin tracing up your back with a feather-light touch, and your lips part at the feeling when he unexpectedly inches his tongue into your mouth.

Looks like he wasn’t lying when he said he’s kissed before.

Crackles of pleasure bubble in you. Kissing can turn you on, if the guy is good at what he does, and Jeongguk is doing just that. That throbbing sensation takes over and you find yourself clenching around nothing, dreaming of having something just fill you just how you like. His tongue tangles with yours. The kiss starts to get much sloppier, something you didn’t realize you were craving until now, and you rise up on your knees while gently tugging on his hair in a flash of atypical roughness on your end.

Your mind refuses to process that this is Jihyo’s little brother who is kissing you silly. Right now, he’s Jeongguk.

Jeongguk with the gorgeous eyes and the gorgeous body who got hard the moment you inched closer.

You decide to grind down on him, especially when the curve of his bulge becomes more prominent against your ass, and Jeongguk muffles a noise into your mouth. The fabric of your underwear drags across your neglected clit, pulling another sigh out of you. It’s a small jolt of pleasure and you can feel yourself dampen even more. From the action and from the way Jeongguk sounds.

Another moan comes from Jeongguk when you grind against him again and again, whiny yet soft. It’s doing something to you. His hands squeeze your hips and then one drifts to the back of your thigh.

Pulling away to catch your breath, you press your forehead against his. There’s a thin layer of sweat building on your skin but your arms loop comfortably around Jeongguk’s neck, tugging his body forwards. His eyes glimmer at you, with kiss-bruised lips and the beginnings of his pearly white bunny teeth peeking out from between. You resist the urge to dive down again, instead wanting to appreciate the absolute view you have right now.

Your fingers tangle in a lock of his soft black hair. “You’re so gorgeous,” you whisper, taking in his forehead, his jawline, his perfect nose, and every single one of his moles.

Jeongguk, who is already blushed and heavily breathing, gets even more shy at your compliment, looking away from you to avoid your teasing smile. Which just makes you want to shower him in more praise just to see how embarrassed he can get.

“So pretty, so handsome,” your finger traces his jaw before going down to his unblemished neck where the skin looks so soft but the area is taut and beautiful. You want to see how he’d look with hickeys. “I want to mark you,” you point to the middle of the right side of his neck, “right here.”

Jeongguk’s eyebrows raise to his hairlines. “You want to give me a hickey?” He says incredulously. You nod.

“I want you to remember this.”

Usually, you aren’t the possessive type but you think about Juri, walking through campus and finding Jeongguk, someone that she’s expressed interest in, like this. Covered in marks you left, reeling after the pleasure you gave him. You know the chance is unlikely and if Jeongguk were to run into her, you doubt he’d tell her any bit of what you two had done but it’s the principle of it all.

That she can be a misogynistic pick-me/not-like-the-other girl all she wants, you still pull better than she ever will.

Maybe then, she’ll keep your name out of her damn mouth.

Jeongguk exhales quietly, holding some weight. “Do you actually think I’ll forget this?”

You smirk. “Dunno, but I can’t let a pretty little thing like you get away, can I? Especially with all of those other girls who love to stare.”

It happens often whenever you two would be walking from class or on public transport and people would stare at Jeongguk. Not that you’d blame them. With a face like that, Jeongguk could debut as an idol and win the hearts of millions, he could act or model even, but then you become more aware of the fact that someone even better could scoop him up at any time and you wouldn’t stand a chance against them.

“I won’t,” he starts, shaking his head with eyes so honest and truthful that you almost collapse in his hold. “I won’t go away and I won’t forget, okay?” Jeongguk pleads with you, holding your body still with two exact hands on your hips.

You swear your stomach feels a group of butterflies flapping about, along with unicorns and rainbows and glitter and all of that silly shit when Jeongguk says that. The hand in his hair cups his cheek, thumb tracing his cheekbone.

“You won’t?”

“Never,” Jeongguk presses firmly. “And,” he hesitates for a moment, “and I’m not looking at anyone else right now, either. There’s just you.”

There’s just you.

The sentence sounds like a confession. Like he’s being honest while you were just being horny and possessive. You feel your act drop, whatever front you were putting up, it drops, and you don’t know what to say at first.

The truth? You aren’t thinking about anyone else either. You don’t want to. You want Jeongguk. There’s only Jeongguk right now.

Had this been with any other person, you wouldn’t feel comfortable being honest with them. You wouldn’t trust them not to use that against you but you know Jeongguk and you trust Jeongguk more than anything.

“I… I’m not looking at anyone either,” you manage to mumble out. Now you’re the one who is all red and shy.

And watching Jeongguk’s expression change when you said that… priceless.

He stares at you like you hung all of the stars in the sky, that you push the sun up in the sky every morning, like the dew droplets on the blades of grass, like it was just you.

It’s perfect yet so much at the same time. You want to say more but you don’t know what else you could say so you meet his gaze, then dip down to his lips, and he nods so you lean in to kiss him again.

He makes a noise of surprise, immediately licking fiercely into your mouth to meet the movements of your lips. Slowly, Jeongguk pulls away from the wall and begins moving down to lay against the bed, holding himself up with a forearm on the soft material and strengthening his hold on you so you wouldn’t slip off from him.

You feel Jeongguk grin against your lips at your eagerness but he maintains the energy. Arching your back a little, mostly for show, you reach back and push one of Jeongguk’s hands further down to your ass. He’s been so careful and gentle with you so far and, as nice as it is, you want more. His eyebrows furrow against you, curling his palm over the tangible curve before giving your ass a tentative squeeze and pulling a muffled moan from you.

So Jeongguk does it again. Does it with more vigor, digging his fingers into the flesh of your cheek and grinding his hips upwards. Gets you throbbing insufferably and so wet.

“Jeongguk,” you gasp into his mouth, meeting the movement of his hips with your own. The bulge in his pants becomes really prominent as you break the kiss, moving down his strong jawline to his perfect neck.

Whatever perfume he uses, the smell is strong now, filling your olfactory senses with sweet powdery softness. Your lips search for that spot you ache to mark, digging your teeth into the gentle flesh and soothing the area over with your tongue.

The noise he makes…

Jeongguk whimpered when you were sucking and biting on his skin.

It took so much willpower for you to not rip his damn top off when that sound reached your ears. You were so wet and throbbing in your pants, desperate for some form of touch besides your soaked underwear against your clit. If you could, you’d cover his entire body with hickeys, paint his neck all sorts of beautiful colors if it were socially acceptable for someone to be walking around like that and not have everyone’s immediate thought be that he got jumped or something.

But you practice restraint and suck on the hot skin, kissing, and doing your best to keep yourself under control even if your wetness was starting to become bothersome. Jeongguk’s hands on your ass don’t help with that either.

The hold helps you feel the shape of his fingers which are pretty long and thick. You’ve seen them writing, typing, gripping onto the pole in the subway so the veins and tendons pop out and you’ve reached a conclusion that you need to feel them inside of you. Pumping deep and slow. Since the digits are longer than yours, they would reach that damned spot inside, turn you into a shaking, coming, mess. You crave that.

Even before Wooshik, these dry spells weren’t uncommon. You know that it’s just your monthly horror revving up the hormones that’s making you want some dick like water in a desert but still.

A girl has her needs. Especially when said girl is constantly hanging around a hot guy.

Once you pull away from his neck after creating a total of three hickeys, you sit up. All of the kissing and petting and grinding has made you all sweaty so you quickly pull off your quarter-zip hoodie, leaving the plain t-shirt you have on underneath with no bra.

Jeongguk’s eyes fall to the way your breasts lift and fall with the movement, jiggling into place as you throw the piece of clothing somewhere. The change in temperature has your nipples straining against the thin material and you can tell his attention has shifted.

With a cocked brow, you smirk. “Want my shirt off?” You ask, slowly twisting the hem around a single finger.

“Yeah.”

His hands give your ass another appreciative squeeze. One that nearly has you dropping the control but you rebuild quickly.

“Take this off then.” You place a hand down on the base of his stomach. Jeongguk’s shirt is thin so you can feel his stomach through the fabric. You need it off asap.

Jeongguk’s lips part. You think he’s going to deny at first. Maybe he isn’t comfortable showing you his body yet. That’s okay; you don’t mind. Whatever he’s comfortable with, right?

But in a split second, he grips the gray fabric and sits up slightly to peel it off of his body and gives you a view of what he has underneath.

Which is just exquisite.

Jeongguk treats his body like it’s a work of art. When he isn’t gaming or studying, he’s in the gym and he has one of the strictest meal plans you ever see. Allowing himself one cheat meal out of the week and then sticking to his rice, steamed veggie and lean meats for the rest of the days. And that dedication shows in the way his body looks.

While still being thin and put together, his stomach is defined with steel-cut abs and his obliques are enviable along with sturdy shoulders, firm chest and deliciously bulky arms.

You’ve never really cared about the body of whoever you were sleeping with. Muscles are nice and hot but they aren’t a necessity. Honestly, having a handsome/pretty face can get a guy farther than a six pack but now you might be changing your mind on that stance. Because Jeongguk has a pretty face and a six pack.

Or is that a twelve pack? You didn’t really count.

A single finger starts at Jeongguk’s sternum, tracing down his body to the waistband of his sweats, taking your time to appreciate every patch of skin and flesh. You inch backwards so you are sitting more on his thighs than his lap where his bulge is firmly straining against his pants. Looking all inviting. Your thighs clench together to relieve yourself from the lack of attention.

But before you can wrap your hands around him, Jeongguk’s fingers close around your wrist to stop you.

“You said if I took my shirt off, you would too,” he reminds you. His tone is low, barely teetering into a domineering one. Brings a rush of arousal to your pussy and you immediately bite the inside of your cheek.

Jeongguk ordering you around is… really hot.

“Eager.”

The plain t-shirt is rather unflattering on the outside so you do away with it quickly, feeling the mass of your breasts lift and bounce back down while adjusting to the temperature change. Your nipples are hard and goosebumps cover your upper body.

But that’s mainly caused by the way Jeongguk’s eyes practically ravish you.

You wonder if he’s more of an ass guy or a boob guy. Because his grip has stayed on the plump curve of your backside but his tongue swipes over his bottom lip while staring at your tits like he’s at the Louvre and he has two seconds to take a glance at the Mona Lisa.

There’s a sense of vulnerability to have him look at you like this. Like you’re something perfect when all everyone else, including yourself, does is point out your faults.

It’s too much. You need to make a move, get his eyes off of you, so your hand goes back to the waistline of his pants where his boxer band flashes quickly. Calvin Klein, black in color to match the color of his sweatpants.

“Can I?” You ask, looking down at the heavy print showing through the material and your mouth waters.

Jeongguk nods immediately. “Please.”

Carefully, you peel back the first layer of clothing. The tight elastic pressure around his waist is enough to slowly peel back Jeongguk’s boxers, exposing the beginning of his ilium but then he raises his hips some more until his sweatpants are pushed a little past the beginning of his quad muscles. You desperately want to see the sinew on his legs because you’ve been feeling them flex and move against you this entire time and they are just to your expectations. His skin is soft, a little tanned, thin hairs barely visible on his thighs from the hallowed light.

“What do you want? My hand or my mouth?”

You said a blowjob but whatever he wants, you will do.

His eyes darken with lust. “Y-your hand, first,” Jeongguk stutters, shaking some hair off his sweaty forehead. You try not to smile excitedly at the word first.

“Okay.”

After pressing one more kiss on his perfect nose, your palm cups his bulge. Against the material, you can see somewhat of a defined shape. It’s thick, impressive looking, and your wetness is soaking through your pants, effectively ruining the pair but that’s the least of your concerns. You fight the urge to grind into something, relieve some of the throbbing pressure from your core, clenching around nothing in hopes that it will fix.

Jeongguk says your name carefully, checking to see if you’re still okay with continuing and your attention is back on him. You give him a wry smile in response and then work on slowly tugging his boxers off of his hips to free his cock.

You gasp when his length slaps against his bare stomach, incapable of holding it in.

He’s big and thick; bigger and thicker than any guy you’ve ever been with. Jeongguk’s dick is pretty. Two veins trailing up the sides and pulsating with blood, the tip peeking with a small droplet of pearly white pre-cum.

“Fuck,” you curse, reaching a hand forward to barely wrap around him. Your fingers manage to encompass the whole circumference but you can only accredit that to your long digits. Otherwise he would be too girthy.

Jeongguk’s eyes flutter shut when you pump his length once. His jawline strains sexily as little puffs of air escape his lips. He looks so good when he’s pleased. As if he was made to only look like that. The emotion sits perfectly on his pretty features.

A bead of pearly white fluid seeps from the stop, collecting slightly over the flesh-toned head. You lick your lips. “I don’t think you’ll fit in my mouth.”

“W-what?” He stammers.

“You’re too big, baby,” you purr, panicking momentarily about the pet name. “Shit,” swearing under your breath when you feel him twitch. Then, you let a fat drop of spit fall from your mouth and onto the head to aid your hand gliding up and down. “My throat will definitely be sore tomorrow.”

Not that you’re complaining.

The boy beneath you flushes. “I–” his breathing quickening when your hand works over him expertly, barely a moan. “You–um–you don’t have to,” Jeongguk offers.

You coo, reaching forward to boop Jeongguk’s cute little nose with your free hand, still slowly jerking his cock with the other, giving the fat length a nice squeeze at the base. “But I want to,” forcing a pout and watching his gaze turn heady with euphoria. “Don’t you want me to use my mouth? To suck you off nice and properly?”

This is new for you. You are usually rather submissive in bed and you’ve always liked it that way. If anything, you sought after guys who were more dominant because it was an immediate turn-on for you but now that you’ve made Jeongguk all pliant and soft, you can’t stop. He just looks so perfect. His eyes clench shut, creases appearing at the sides when your hands squeeze his length teasingly on the upstroke, legs going more rigid.

Jeongguk doesn’t respond at first so you lean down, holding yourself up with one hand splayed on the mattress, right next to his head, and increase the pace of your hand. You pay special attention to the tip and the spot right under where he’s sensitive, rubbing a thumb over the area to collect more precum on the way down his cock. Jeongguk sputters out a soft noise, gritting his teeth tightly.

“You have to tell me what you want, Jeongguk,” you muse. The tips of your noses graze, your breasts meeting his hot skin. Jeongguk’s hands, which switched to curling into the fabric of your duvet, go to your thighs to squeeze them. At that point, you decide to only stimulate the head of his cock with the pad of your thumb, rubbing teasingly tight circles while Jeongguk leaks all over, rivulets of creamy white decorating his length. “My hands? Or my mouth? What do you want me to do?”

Jeongguk goes crazy. His back arches off the mattress along with a high whine emitting from his swollen lips. He looks so overwhelmed with red cheeks and his hands gripping onto your body like it’s a lifeline.

“Y-your mouth! I want your mouth, please,” he whines once more, digging his nails into your thighs, surely leaving indents. You smile, pressing a sweet kiss to his lips before descending down his taut body.

Jeongguk is a work of art after all and you need time to appreciate him.

Your hands stop their tortuous movement, leaving Jeongguk’s cock to hold yourself up while inching down. You kiss down the right side of his neck. The skin is salty from sweat but you don’t mind. You kiss all the marks you left, the mole on his chest, the beginning of his abs (you pay special attention to this area), licking up a stripe to feel the ridges of his body before you end up on your knees in between his legs.

While you were kissing him, Jeongguk kicked his sweatpants off his legs, allowing you to capture a full glimpse of his meaty thighs. His skin is flawless and soft looking and you bookmark the thought of leaving red lines atop his thighs while riding him like a fucking stallion for later.

His length deliciously twitches again from the brief lack of touch. You eye it for a split second, mouth watering, before taking the head between your lips. He throws his head back in satisfaction.

Jeongguk tastes good. A mix of skin, salt, but he isn’t bitter; soft, pliable skin meets the plush membrane in your mouth. You moan out while your tongue circles the head, awarding you with a fresh spurt of pre-cum.

Giving head isn’t everyone’s favorite (totally understandable) but it’s definitely yours. You don’t know why, maybe you have an oral fixation that you don’t know about, but it always makes you wet and desperate for more. Especially when the guy you’re blowing has hot moans like Jeongguk does.

“Fuck,” he drawls out, while your tongue moves over him. He wraps a hand around the back of your hair gently, barely pushing you down to take more of him into your mouth.

Ideally, you’d punish Jeongguk for that. If you were continuing this dominatrix stint you have going on then he shouldn’t be pushing you and trying to choke you but you drop the whole act.

Because he feels so good.

Your wetness is trickling down the swell of your ass as more of your mouth stretches to accommodate his length. The back of his head is about to reach the back of your throat when you wrap a hand around to pump what you can’t reach. It’ll be impossible to take him all in one go. You need to warm up first. Fat rivulets of spit trail down to his base and collect there to ease your ministrations.

“So good,” Jeongguk praises, tangling his fingers in your hair while the wet sucking noises filter through your apartment. “You’re s-so good at this.”

Jeongguk’s low voice isn’t helping you. Another pathetically whiny noise is muffled by his big dick going back into your mouth, swallowing around the tip as you take a little more than before.

Swirling your mouth, using the inside of your cheek, the side of your tongue and the puckered membrane of your lips in conjunction with your nimble hands, jacking his thick cock and feeling the skin get hotter, wetter, with every second that passes by.

He’s probably big enough to make you squirt. Though, you are the type to squirt easily, but guys around his size tend to hit the g-spot head on, to turn you into a shaking, coming, moaning mess in their arms. The thought really gets you going, imagining yourself sinking down on him like a Queen perched on her throne and spilling all over his thighs with a loud noise.

Would he like it? Would he want to see you do it again?

Fuck, you need a little bit of friction here. The combination of sucking him off, Jeongguk’s breathy whiny noises, and the deranged thoughts in your brain make your pussy so needy, demanding attention.

You think about reaching back and rubbing yourself, just for a second, but your brain is too transfixed on Jeongguk.

“P-please don’t stop-p,” he begs, “Please–Ah, yes.” Sounding like he’s about to cry.

Your wrist flicks up during your motions while you pay special attention to the head. Jeongguk twitches some more and judging by how hard he grips your hair, he must be close.

So you make sure your tongue stimulates all of the areas that make Jeongguk quiver in your hold. Your back arches, suckling at the skin.

“Can I,” he interrupts himself with a moan, hands shaking, “Can I cum in your mouth?” He asks politely.

You pull off with a breathy sigh, moving your hand to respond. “Please.” You want to taste more of him, until he’s filling your throat up completely.

Sinking back down, you take in as much of him as you can, deep-throating his cock to the best of your abilities. It’s wet, the noises are filthy, salacious, but you don’t really care that much. Jeongguk’s cock twitches again as he spurts into your mouth, awarding you with his release as he whines throughout.

And like a good girl, you swallow every last drop, refusing to let even a tiny drop of it go to waste.

Jeongguk pants. His fingers slip out of your ratty hair and his hand slap over his forehead while he collects himself. His thighs shake with the aftershocks of his orgasm, sweat collected at the enticing dip of his collarbones, making his skin look like it’s speckled with diamonds. While you sit up slowly and wipe the back of your mouth, tucking his slowly softening length back into his boxers with a soft pat.

For a few seconds, he doesn’t say anything to you. All Jeongguk does is try to catch his breath, probably slow his heart rate a bit.

In that short period of time, your brain speeds at 100 miles per second. Did Jeongguk like it? Did Jeongguk hate it? Will he let you do it again? Oh my god, do you want to do it again and again and again. Is he uncomfortable around you now? What next?

Your thighs are folded under you, watching Jeongguk’s stomach tense and flex as he leans on his elbows to look at you.

His lips are adorable pouty and the hickeys look really pretty on his skin. You want so much more from him but you’re too afraid to vocalize it. You don’t want to stop. You don’t want to wake up and force this memory out of your brain. Jeongguk is so pretty and perfect and so easy to want.

“C’mere,” he says softly, exhaling quickly with a stupid grin. Unsure if he meant his lap or right next to him, you shuffle closer until Jeongguk pats the space next to his body and you move accordingly. Hands an knees on the bed like a slinking cat.

The air, which was once zinging with tension, has simmered down a little. Jeongguk’s arm stretches out for you to lean your head on his bicep. Up close, his eyes sparkle more than the stars in the night sky as Jeongguk pushes all of the loose strands of hair out of your sweaty face.

“You were really good,” he repeats. “Thank you for that.”

It feels weird to be thanked for sucking dick so you shake your head. “No need to thank me.” And because it doesn’t hurt to be truthful, you open your mouth once more. “I really wanted to.”

Jeongguk’s expression warms; his smile gets wider and his cheeks get rounder. His thumb traces the curve of your jaw, dancing over your features like he’s trying to commit them to memory again.

“So can I return the favor?”

Your heart leaps to your throat. You were sure Jeongguk was under the impression that this was a simple blowie, the end. Nothing else and nothing more. Even though you wanted more, you were ready to leave this romp at that but he proves you wrong once again.

You raise an eyebrow. “You want to?”

Most guys don’t. Most guys give up the second they cum without even offering.

But Jeongguk fucking smirks when he noticed your shocked expression. “I really want to,” he copies you.

Fuck, you think. You put on a nice pair of underwear thinking that this would happen and then the entire tutoring session you were gaslighting yourself into thinking that nothing would ever happen and now here you are.

There’s no doubt in your mind that you want this. Your panties are soaked and your core is aching to be touched. You need it so bad that you might never forgive yourself for turning this down.

“Okay.”

“Okay?” Jeongguk repeats.

“Touch me. Please Jeongguk,” you plead with him, placing a soft hand on his warm chest. The breath is just about to escape you when he leans in to kiss you with his supple lips.

You almost cringe. You must taste like him and you’re sure that there’s still some moisture collected in the corner of your mouth but Jeongguk doesn’t care. He licks hotly into your mouth, taking control during the kiss which surprises you completely.

Gone is the shy whimpering boy who begged you not to stop. Jeongguk’s fingers squeeze your hips then pull one of your legs over his thighs so that you get even closer to him and your center is more exposed. That same hand travels upwards to your tits and cups the mass, and it’s your turn to shake in his hold.

He’s starting off perfectly, like he knows what moves drive you crazy just by looking at you.

You sigh softly when your lips break and he begins kissing down your neck. Unlike you, Jeongguk doesn’t leave any marks. Instead, he’s strategic about creating a clean line from your mouth, smooching along your jaw, then the side of your neck, to the middle of your collarbones before meeting your boobs. Jeongguk hauls you up the bed a little so he’s facing your chest instead, bringing your body closer with a splayed hand on your back.

“Jeongguk,” you try, unsure as to why you’re calling him out. Jeongguk pays you no attention, transfixed by your naked breasts. He expels something inaudible under his breath and then takes one of your nipples into his mouth while tweaking the other, causing your body to go rigid.

His lips wrap around the bud, sucking and circling his tongue over it while his other hand tweaks and pulls at the other. Like his tongue, his finger moves in time to turn you into a pile of mush. You grind onto nothing, wishing it was his thigh instead because you need friction from how wet and needy you’ve become in the span of like 20 minutes.

Moaning out at the feeling of him slowly stimulating you, Jeongguk switches to the other one until your nipples are left shiny, wet, and puffy from his lips and tongue.

He picks up fast, it seems. While kissing down your stomach, he asks you, “What do you want me to do?” Just like you did.

“Anything,” you respond. You don’t care what he does, you just want him to do something.

Jeongguk shakes his head. “Gotta give me a real answer,” he pulls up a little closer to your face, cupping your swollen bottom lip thanks to all of his work. “Tell me.”

“I,” you start. In all honesty, you wouldn’t mind anything from him. But you feel the length of his fingers, thick and perfect, and you remember your pressing desire of having them inside of you. “I want your fingers,” deciding on that.

He grins softly at how cute you become when you’re overwhelmed. Jeongguk doesn’t wait around any longer, fingers going to the waistline of your yoga pants and tugging them down slowly. They’re tight, sticking to you like a second skin, so they snag along the meat of your thighs. Jeongguk doesn’t seem to mind as the fabric bunches up into a little ring and you kick it off to a random spot on your floor.

Cold air meets your soaked underwear, making you cringe at the feeling, totally unaware of the way Jeongguk gapes at the flimsy little thing hugging your hips. He gently traces the band over your pelvis, almost like he’s hesitation.

You open your mouth, ready to check in to see if Jeongguk still wants to do this for you or not, but before you can, his fingers dip into your panties to feel just how wet you are from him.

His expression morphs beautifully. “You’re…” he’s speechless at first. Jeongguk’s finger trails up and down your center, barely grazing your sensitive clit.

A whimper escapes you. His touch is feather light and barely enough yet so much all at once.

“Fuck,” he groans, hiding his face into crook of your neck, soaking up all of your arousal while his ears and neck get bright red. You’d be embarrassed by the rushing gush coating you even more if Jeongguk’s thumb hadn’t stopped at your clit to draw tight, short, slow circles.

Such a gentle pace, way less intense than the bullet vibrator you’ve been using, and the pressure builds gradually. One of your hands wind in his hair and the other grips his bicep, openly feeling him up.

“Fucking soaked,” Jeongguk grits, moving his thumb a little faster.

Your eyes shut. “Oh J–” interrupted by a shaky noise spilling from your mouth. Jeongguk takes that as a good sign, deciding to torture you even further by moving his lips back to your stiffened nipples and using his tongue to suck and lick at them as if you aren’t already sensitive.

“You’re pretty too, noona,” Jeongguk says, looking at you this time. Slowly, your eyes peel open to find his big brown irises glimmering at you. “I think you’re beautiful. Always have.”

You blush immediately. You don’t know why this feels so intensely intimate, like a pan that’s gotten too hot. Is it Jeongguk’s tone, the fact that he’s so close, the way he looks at you to make sure you know and understand him? What is it that has you so stupefied by such a simple comment?

Boys have called you pretty before, called you much worse too, but you should be used to it. Over the years you’ve started to develop a thick skin but this one gets to you.

That flutter of butterflies comes back, dancing from the tip of your toes all the way to your head. Jeongguk has seen you grow, from a kid to a pre-teen and now an adult.

And he still finds you beautiful. Even after every embarrassing phase.

You begin to smile, cupping his cheeks and leaning down to press a short kiss to his lips, then the corner of his lips, his cheek and his nose, because he deserves it and he’s cute.

“Thanks,” you mean it, even if the sweet moment cut all of the flourishing beginnings of an orgasm from you and Jeongguk’s fingers halted, out of your underwear and holding your hip instead.

Jeongguk mirrors your expression. Then he looks down at where his hand is and back up at you, nervously tonguing his cheek. “Can I move now?”

You nod your head yes quickly after he asks.

“And…” Jeongguk still looks awkward. You go back to cupping his soft cheeks. “Tell me if I’m doing okay?”

You want to melt in his grip. “Of course, Guk.” Thumb swiping over his cheekbone affectionately.

Jeongguk takes that as the greenlight and slips his fingers back into your underwear. His gaze is on you, studying your features when his thumb goes back to your clit while his middle finger teases around your opening. You clench, desperate for something to slip inside of you, lifting your hips up in hope that Jeongguk would take the hint and put his fingers inside but he continues collecting your arousal to get his digits wet enough.

“Jeongguk,” you call tightly, digging your nails into the meat of his shoulders. He hums in response. “I need more.”

His thumb decides to go faster at your demand but not fast enough and his middle finger still traces your opening instead of slipping inside.

“More?” He repeats, lilting his voice teasingly.

Shithead.

“Yes, more.” You want to whine, kick your legs even.

He can feel how wet you’ve gotten, does he not know how much you want this?

“You want my fingers?”

“Yes,” you grumble but it sweetens at the end because his thumb starts moving faster over your clit and you feel the waves of pleasure swirling in your stomach, turning into a half-moan.

Jeongguk angles his hand a little differently and, gently, pushes his middle finger inside you. He groans at the feeling of you. “So tight,” breathing out against your skin.

You react immediately, throwing your head back. There’s a slight pinch but it's not even the slightest bit painful. The intrusion is welcomed; although small, you need it. Jeongguk’s finger is nice and long and he pistons it out of you with so much care while hitting just the spot.

“Fuck, right there,” you moan out, turning your face into the soft material of your sheets, eyes rolling back.

Jeongguk slips another finger in and he stops teasing your throbbing bundle of nerves to focus fully on moving his digits, curving them upwards to your walls as you release a symphony of noises. Finding that soft spongy part inside of you and massaging it.

“F-faster please, please, go faster,” begging him out of the fear that he’ll tease you just like he was doing before.

But Jeongguk plays fair and fingers you even faster, upping the ante even more by removing his free hand and pressing down on your lower stomach, right before your pelvis.

And you lose it.

The pressure from his hand on top, plus the way his fingers are moving, just becomes too much. The gradual pressure starts accelerating and accelerating until it drops like a rollercoaster and you feel a burst of tingling pleasure rush through your veins and all over your body.

“I’m cumming!” Crying out, tears pooling inside your eyes streaming down your cheeks as your legs shake with the crashing waves of your orgasm.

Different than when you do it. As good as your vibrator is, something about it has yet to make you orgasm like this. Heavy, powerful, almost numbing. Waves crash inside you, again and again, cresting at the peak and slowly simmering out into a soft current and then nothing at all.

Your breath comes out in heavy pants, limbs feeling like jelly, slowly opening your eyes to find Jeongguk staring back at you in bewilderment. His lips are parted but his cheeks aren’t red with embarrassment. If anything, he looks like the complete opposite of that.

Like he could watch you do that again and again. Something you would gladly agree with.

Jeongguk takes his fingers out from your underwear, glistening with your arousal, and before you can offer him a napkin, he slips his digits into his mouth and cleans them off. You really begin to question if this man is a virgin or secretly a sex god waiting to be discovered. He’s way better than you were when you were inexperienced. Does he watch a lot of porn?

Or do Taehyung and Jimin just talk about sex around him too much? Must be that.

“Mmh,” his fingers come out with a soft pop noise, “You taste amazing.” Jeongguk’s clean hand brushes some hair out of your face as he smiles. You lean into his touch like a purring kitten, curling into his chest because your entire body feels weak.

“You okay?” Jeongguk asks, closing his arms around you.

Nodding into his chest, “Yeah. Felt really good.” You want to say more but there’s no energy for you to do so.

“Did it? You looked really hot when,” trailing off, you know what he means, and you press a kiss to his chest. “Kinda want to see it again.”

That takes your attention.

Removing the fact that you haven’t been touched in a bit, two orgasms from Jeongguk might put your legs out of commission and that was just with his fingers. You can’t imagine what it would be like with more of him, especially as he learns more about how to pleasure you and gets better. Your poor vibrator might be out of a job.

“I would love to, but you definitely wore me out.” Pulling your face away, you look up at his perfectly crafted face. “Can we try that another time?”

Another time, you get giddy even before he agrees. After getting addicted to Jeongguk’s touch, you don’t want to entertain the idea of this being a one time thing.

“Of course.” And neither does he.

Jeongguk kisses the top of your head gently, rubbing soothing circles on your back. You tangle your legs with his, inhaling his scent and doing your best not to fall asleep.

It feels sticky and wet between your legs. You should change and you should get ready for bed. Jeongguk probably wants to go back to his house, right? He probably doesn’t want to stick around your place after what just happened.

But you think about it and that’s the farthest thing you want.

Being in his arms, you feel safe and protected, like you drifted off to another dimension where nothing bad has ever happened and you were still the girl you were when you left Busan. Happy and lively.

You don’t want him to leave you. You don’t want this to be another shitty hookup or one-time thing that makes both of you blush and walk-away. You just want Jeongguk to be in your life.

So you hold on tight, avoiding his eyes when you ask: “Do you want to stay here with me tonight?”

Please, please, you beg internally. You’ll make breakfast, there’s a pack of toothbrushes under your sink, anything. Just stay.

And thankfully, Jeongguk responds without wasting another second of your time, putting you at ease once again.

“Please.”

a/n: okay yes, that was a lot but more smut will come and more angst will follow!

taglist:

@iwuzhere

#jungkook x reader #bts fanfiction #jungkook fanfic #jungkook smut #thereboundgirl #nerdjungkook #smut series #bts x reader #gamerjungkook #bts smut

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updownlately · 7 months

Text

it was late at night (you held on tight)

| alessia x reader | hurt/comfort | 2.4k | disclaimer: slight mention of heavy topics- read at your own discretion! | a/n: based of this and another ask (that i lost). got it a while ago, inspo struck now, yenno the drill- i do reqs eons after they're sent in. to the anon that req'd it, it's not the most angst to fluff but i hope it's fine? space song just radiates h/c vibes and so yeah...anyways, happy reading folks!

“it was late at night, you held on tight from an empty seat, a flash of light it will take a while to make you smile somewhere in these eyes, i’m on your side" "tender is the night for a broken heart who will dry your eyes when it falls apart?”

~~~

Some nights were good.

The type of good where breathing came easy.

Where the air was light, the stars bright.

Nights where friends felt like family, a house a home.

Dark hours where light shone easily, mind at peace.

Nights where everything felt okay- good even- for a short while.

However, tonight? Tonight unfortunately was not one of those nights.

Not when all you could do was sit in the corner of your living room, knees hugged to your chest, eyes trained on your window as you stared at the light-polluted sky.

Not when all you tried to do was figure out if any one of the stars in the sky was staring down at you, cheering for you, once on this earth, a being, now gone.

Not when all you were left with was a treasure chest full of memories, ones you so desperately wished you could bury deep, deep into the ground, hopefully, slowly, eventually to be forgotten so you could move on.

Tonight was not a good night, and as you shuffled uncomfortably on the hard floor, your eyes fell on your phone settled beside you, the glaring message from a few minutes ago taunting you, it reminded you painfully so.

‘Are you okay?’

It had to be criminal, the way she knew you so well.

Three texts you hadn’t responded to throughout the day and bam, the guess that you weren’t okay.

You’d call her overprotective if she wasn’t right, but she was, and you didn’t know what to do.

Hovering over the send button, your eyes traced over what you had typed, having already gone back and changed it nearly four times before settling on debating whether you should send this.

The simple ‘no’ that was typed out in the text box glared back at you almost pleadingly, your heart turning in your chest, the implications of the word terrifying.

You could hit send, and it would be okay. You could hit send and she’d probably come over and it would be alright. You could. But could you really?

Because she’d make the drive out at nearly eleven at night. Because something could happen on the way over and you wouldn’t be able to forgive yourself. Because you were supposed to be strong, for fuck’s sake. You were an adult, you could handle a little bit of gloominess, right? Because you didn’t need help, you were the helper. Because this wasn’t fair to her, and you didn’t want to be a burden- you couldn’t be a burden.

Swallowing the lump in your throat as the small voice in your head got louder, you took ahold of your phone, bringing it up to your face.

You could send this, or you couldn’t.

You could make it through the night, but she’d make it easier.

You could be strong, but asking for help didn’t make you any weak.

You could sit here and hurt, alone, but you didn’t have to.

Sharply inhaling, your other hand curling into a near-painful fist, nails digging into your palm, you pressed and held the button with the arrow you promptly locked your phone, tossing it gently to the rug in front of you instantly after, the voices in your head getting just a tad bit louder with each passing minute.

You’d be okay…eventually.

~~~

It’s nearly twenty minutes later that you hear the gentle knocks ring through the apartment.

You make no move to get up, however.

In fact, you couldn’t get up even if you tried.

Mind frozen as the consequences of your actions finally set in, all you could do was stay rooted to your spot as you heard another set of knocks ring through before the tell tale sound of a key turning in the lock reached your ears.

Head rising from where it had been resting on your arms, you stared intently at the hallway by your front door, the opening and closing of the door distinct, your breath stilling with each footstep that made its way closer towards you.

“Hey?”

The soft voice floated down the hallway, the lump in your throat lessening ever so slight at the mere sound of the blonde. Yet, you couldn’t muster up the courage to speak, the fact that she was here still not having sunk in.

You listened closely as Alessia’s cautious footfalls slowly picked up pace, the worry clear in her voice as she called out again, this time more confidently.

“Love?”

Just barely finding your voice as she reached the threshold of the living room, your dark figure called out quietly, if nothing than to save her from panicking any further.

“I’m here…”

Your meek reply was accompanied by you raising your hand ever so slightly, one eye wincing as an embarrassed look crossed your face.

Watching ashamedly as Alessia raked her eyes over your figure, you awkwardly lowered your hand as she stepped towards you.

You waited for her to question you. To question the three texts you had missed earlier. To question why your apartment was bathed in darkness. Why you were on the floor.

You waited for the questions. You waited for the disappointment.

You waited only for it to never come.

Eyebrows furrowing in confusion, you stared, mouth agape, as she silently made way to sit beside you, an arm coming to rest on your shoulder as she stretched out her long legs.

You wouldn’t know it, but you looked like a wreck. The way your hair was unruly, tangles clear as strands flew in every which direction.

Tear stained cheeks just barely visible in the dim light shining from the window. The way your knees were tucked to your chest made you look tiny, both combining easily to wordlessly convey that you needed a little bit of extra love today.

It was why Alessia silently made way to sit beside you, ignoring the questions running rampant in her mind.

Letting her emotions make the calls, she quietly let her heart speak, the arm resting on your shoulders gently bringing you closer to her, your head now leaning on her shoulder.

It seemed like the right move too, with the way you immediately sighed at the contact, tension deflating ever so slightly as you let yourself rest, revelling in the tender care.

And it’s how the pair of you sat, leant up against each other, heartbeat a bit more regular, breaths a bit easier, as the sky got darker, the stars a tad bit brighter.

Intently watching as you slowly got more comfortable, she took note of your puffy eyes, the dark circles clear beneath them, the tired sag of your shoulders even though you both had been only sat for the past bit. It was clear that the tiredness wasn’t a day to day type of exhaustion, and that worried her the most.

This wasn’t you- not the normal you.

The normal you ran on full batteries, always- lovingly nicknamed the team’s very own ‘Energizer bunny’.

The normal you whose smile would light up any room, presence enough to bring a ray of light, airy positivity never too far from where you’d be.

The normal you that everyone got to see.

But this? The side that not many saw? Alessia wanted to make sure it was a secret for the right reasons. That it remained unknown by many because you never felt low often, because if she could, if it was in her control, she’d make sure that a smile would permanently be on your face, effortlessly.

So as minutes passed, the quarter of an hour flying by, then nearly a half an hour, the pair of you didn’t move, Alessia well aware that comfort was the best she could give right now.

Despite how uncomfortable the ground had gotten, the blonde didn’t dare say a word, instead choosing to hide her discomfort by turning slightly towards you, arms coming to wrap around your torso and head as you two slouched slightly against the wall.

She’d sit her for as long as you'd need her to.

Consumed by the silence, she rubbed gentle circles into your shoulder blades, hoping the action could provide some sort of grounding presence as your breaths slowly evened, head becoming heavier as it rested, your grip on her arm loosening.

It was only when the clock nearly hit midnight, when the city slowly geared to a stop, did she speak- a hushed voice squeezing through the calm.

“Did you eat yet?”

The question had you stiffening, quickly being pulled out of your calming state into one of disdain.

Because of course she’d know you weren’t taking care of yourself.

Eyebrows furrowing in worry as you shook your head in response, you not meeting her gaze, the striker gently straightened, bringing you up with her.

“If I make you a snack, and I promise it’ll be a snack, would you have a couple bites?”

Some T&C couldn’t hurt, right?

The gentle question had your stomach sinking, the thought of consuming anything in this state nearly unbearable, yet you couldn’t find it in yourself to disappoint her- not after she came to check in on you.

Hesitantly nodding, you watched as Alessia studied you, the blonde mirroring your nods encouragingly as she began to rise from the ground, hand extended towards you, pulling you up as well.

Leading you to your kitchen, she helped you settle on a bar stool, foregoing the main lights and instead turning on the range lights, aware that you more likely preferred a darker setting right now.

Quickly making a sandwich, the blonde presented you with a plate, taking a seat beside you as her hand went to rest on your thigh in quiet reassurance.

Reaching for one half, so she could encourage you, the Gunner held it out expectantly, small smile on her face as she waited for you to bump yours against her.

Unable to keep a straight face at her antics, a small but grateful smile broke through your face, Alessia’s mission successful. Bringing your own half up to gently knock against hers before taking a deep breath in, you watched as she eyed you whilst taking a bite out of her sandwich, gesturing at you to do the same.

Matching your pace, not pressuring you to eat anything you didn’t want but eating with you in support, the both of you managed to slowly but surely finish, your mind already a little distracted from the spiral earlier.

You watched as Alessia gathered your dishes, tossing them in the sink to be dealt with in the morning, and quickly cleaned up the kitchen, wiping the island free of crumbs, turning off the light, and washing her hands before making her way over to you once again.

Intertwining your hands in the dim light from outside, she raised her eyebrows at you, a small yawn escaping her, inciting one from you.

“How are we feeling about heading to bed?”

She pressed a quick kiss to your forehead at your quick small nods of agreement, glad that you were at least coming out of your shell a bit, a tiny but sure indicator that you were pulling out of the storm in your mind.

Leading you both to your bedroom, the other girl well familiar with your apartment and you trusting her easily to guide you, you followed compliantly.

With Alessia quickly changing into a spare set of clothes she kept at your place, and you into a pair of old shorts and an oversized t-shirt from years ago, the both of you quietly did your night time routines, never apart for more than a few seconds.

Be it brushing your teeth or as you took turns cleansing your face, the both of you were attached at the hip, you for your own sanity and the comforting aura of the taller girl, and Alessia because she felt better knowing you were okay beside her.

It was only when the both of you were ready to sleep did you make your way over to the bed, each going to your own respective sides, having spent the night at each other’s place countless times before.

Minutes later, when you’re both settled in, cuddled up near the middle of the mattress as you lay your head on Alessia’s shoulder, your body nearly covering hers whilst she had one arm wrapped around your waist and another running through your hair, the room bathed in near darkness save for the light that sneaked through the drawn curtains, you let yourself break gently, the comfort of her arms safe.

Silent tears leaving your eyes, you quickly felt them wiped away by the girl below you, the hand that was running through your hair now resting on your cheek without question, ready to catch any more tears that would fall.

It’s in the shelter of her arms that you let the quiet words slip, the admission causing a stabbing pain in your chest as it reminded you of why life felt so bleak as of late.

“I miss them…”

“I know love, I know….”

There was a pause in the air after the hushed words, Alessia adjusting herself so that her arms came to fully encircle you, trapping you in a bubble of her warmth.

Pressing her lips to your crown, muffled words escaped her, the reassuring tone bringing you a small breath of relief, her belief in you lifting a weight off your chest.

“You’ll be okay though, soon enough, yeah? And until then, you’ve got me, I’m on your side.”

Nodding surely at that statement, not a doubt in your mind that the blonde would always be there for you, like you would for her, you let your grip tighten, the silent thank you easily spoken as you let the tiredness and warmth take over you.

Alessia’s presence making even the worst of nights a little easier, a tad bit more bearable, you let yourself drift off into a dreamless sleep, well-aware you were in safe hands.

Early in the day, or late at night, you knew that at the end of the day, she would be there in an instant to dry your eyes, and you loved her more than ever for it.

#alessia russo #alessia russo x reader #alessia russo imagine #woso fanfics #woso one shot #woso imagine #woso x reader #woso community #woso #my writing #fic req #hurt/comfort #iwlan #fic

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formulaforza · 1 year

Text

miss americana & the heartbreak prince

—03. i think i fell in love today —word count: 7.5k —warnings: despicable tooth rotting clawing my eyes out eating the stuffing in my pillows fluff. truly its horrendous. lets talk about it. —love, mackie... i'm sleeping hopefully. right now I am hammocking. the ice cream truck just drove past. I love June.

After Paris, Chris was a bit apprehensive when it came to her ability to navigate the airport in Abu Dhabi with any sort of efficiency. Especially not now, where she needs to go through customs and register for a visitor’s visa and find her luggage and get her money exchanged. Pleasantly, though, she’s surprised at the ease she works through her notes app checklist. It’s within the hour that she’s climbing into the backseat of a taxi and heading to the hotel.

She spends the entirety of the twenty-something minute drive doing a deep dive on Joris’ Instagram. He’s going to be waiting for you, Charles had told her the night they’d worked it all out. How he knew his friend would be free is beyond Chris, but that's not even the bigger issue at hand. The issue is, of course, that she’s had no more than a momentary interaction with Joris in the background of a FaceTime call two weeks ago. The thought of breezing past him in the hotel lobby is a mortifying one.

It’s quarter after seven by the time she gets there, and when she catches a glance of herself in a mirror on the wall and almost bursts into laughter. Someone could tell her that she fell down the stairs in Austin and hit her head and is in a coma and it would feel more believable than her life right now. This just… this doesn’t happen to her; five star hotels in foreign countries and heavy accents and guys who call her beautiful from the other side of the globe.

She spots Joris in an armchair on his phone at the other end of the lobby. She approaches nervously, and he stirs from his phone at her sudden proximity. “Hi,” Chris greets, sounds almost apologetic for interrupting him. “Joris, right?”

“Uh, yeah,” he nods, dragging out the vowel sounds when he glances back down at his screen. Chris wonders if he knows he’s waiting for her.

She smiles. “I’m Chris.”

“Right!” He snaps his fingers, shoves his phone into his pocket. “Chris.” He stands and opens his arms to hug her like they’re old friends. It’s a move straight from her book, one that she’s pulled on dozens of people before. It’s not one that she’s met with often. Chris thinks they’ll get on well, her and Joris. That’s a good thing, right? Friendly friends.

Chris’ mom had told her more than once that the quickest way to know someone’s character is through their friends. Only a maniac is rude to animals and elderly and children, she’d said a million times over, it’s the character of the people they choose to spend time with that matters. Joris has no idea Chris is silently observing his every action, picking them apart on a human level.

On the elevator ride up, Joris fills Chris in on everything that’s happened during the free practices that day, tells her that it’s been a relatively clean couple of sessions. You do know of the risk this weekend, yes? P2 or P3, he asks and answers his own question. Chris nods. If she didn’t know, she does now. The room is on the fifth floor, she notes, staring at the glowing five button as she picks at her cuticles. It hits her like a ton of bricks, her anxiety skyrocketing as the elevator ascends, her stomach left behind on the ground level.

This whole thing is crazy, and not the quirky, silly story you tell your friends about over a vodka cran crazy. Just plain crazy. Insane. Off the wall absurd. Why, why are they sharing a room? Why is she even here? What is it about her that can’t be found somewhere, anywhere, else? And the most prudent question, the one ringing in her ears louder with each passing moment; what is it about him?

Chris has never considered herself to be logical, not in the slightest, but she does like to maintain the idea that she’s well grounded. She might not always act in a way that makes the most sense, but she always makes those choices within the bounds of her reality.

And, because her nerves permeate off her like a thirteen-year-old’s B.O, Joris takes a stab at cooling her down. “How was your planes?”

“Good. Smooth.” she nods, forces a smile. Her weight shifts from heel to heel, thumbs looped through her backpack straps. The floor is a shiny black marble with white and gold veins, one that commands your attention. Chris pulls her eyes from it to look at him anyway. Nervous and insane or not, she wants to make a good impression. “I could do without navigating the airport in Paris ever again, though.”

“Oh,” he laughs. “It never gets easier.”

“Does any of it?” She offers up a laugh, but it’s as genuine as the smile her face held before.

He opens his mouth to speak but is cut off with the ding of the doors opening. There, in the hallway with more marble floors and a wallpaper that walks the line between elegant and gaudy, a couple stands on a white carpet runner. The man has on a Mercedes cap. Chris wonders if they know a Formula One driver is staying on their floor.

The four of them sidestep awkwardly around each other with polite smiles to the floor, and before she knows it Joris is holding a keycard over the lock on a heavy door and handing the piece of plastic to her.

It’s not a room. It’s a suite. There’s a living room and a kitchenette and a whole separate bedroom to this place. It’s expensive, wildly so, she’s sure.

She wheels her suitcase into the bedroom, leaves it in the corner by an armchair with her backpack. At the bottom of the bag is her purse, which she digs out while Joris is using the bathroom, moving things around from one bag to the other.

The drive to the circuit is twenty minutes, at least, and Joris talks the whole time, mostly about how nervous he is and how hard he’s trying to make sure Charles doesn’t notice. Chris doesn’t tell him that Charles is also beyond nervous about the whole thing–or that he knows good and well everyone around him is losing their minds. It doesn’t seem like the type of thing that would make Joris feel any better.

“Pascale and Enzo, you know them, yes? Charles’ Mum and brother?” Joris questions.

“Nope,” Chris shakes her head. “Not yet.”

Oh, he doesn’t say. “You’ll like them if you like Charles,” he laughs. “You do like Charles?”

Chris bites down on a smile, a laugh leaving her nose in an exhale. “I do.”

“Good, good.” He nods. “Anyway, they are not here tonight, they already have gone back to the hotel. Arthur is there, still. Do you know him?”

“I think it’s going to be easier for both of us if you just assume I don’t know anyone.”

“Ah, okay. Will do.”

Chris wonders what Charles has said about her to Joris, to Arthur, to anyone. All of the stories he has or hasn’t told them about. She has almost exclusively not talked about him back home. Not because she doesn’t want to, she just can’t figure out how to say anything without sounding like a reality television star. Maybe he’s the same way. There’s a real chance that nobody in his family even knows that she’s coming, and maybe that’s the way she’d like it to be.

Her reunion with Charles couldn’t be more different than their first meeting. The paddock is empty with exception of team crews and straggling media members. There isn’t a Bud Light in sight and the pass hanging around her neck has a picture of her on the back. He must’ve pulled it from her Instagram, the one that he keeps talking about wanting to follow back. A picture of her and CHRISTYN ELLIOTT - FULL WEEKEND written in bold letters.

“He’s probably at the briefing,” Joris explains, checking his watch and walking one stride for every two of Chris’. She tries her hardest to keep up with him as he expertly navigates the paddock, all while trying to memorize his moves so she doesn’t end up stranded sometime this weekend.

A whistle gets their attention, cutting sharply through the hot desert air. Her and Joris both snap their heads around to find the perpetrator of the summons. Charles pats Pierre’s shoulder and jogs ahead of the group of drivers, all already engaged in their own conversations and heading off into different directions.

He has such a carefree smile on his face, jogging over with happy eyes and wiggling brows and a stupid little wink that puts a smile on her face. “Hello, Christyn,” he quips, greets her with open arms. And then, once his arms are pulling her to him so tight she can’t take a full breath, when he has so much energy to give her he can’t help but rock on the sides of his feet, he whispers just for her, “Hi,” a soft kiss on the crown of her head, “I’m so glad you’re here.”

All she can think about is how warm he is. Warm, and smells so nice. She doesn’t know how she’s going to ever go home. Not when he’s so warm.

“How was the planes?” He asks, an arm comfortable slotting around her as they resume their walk to wherever it is she’s being led.

“Uh, I’m tired, but.” She smiles. At him. Right there where she can touch him. Where he is touching her. “I’m here, so. I’m happy.”

On the walk back to hospitality, she asks him how his day’s gone. He’s sure she already knows, that Joris talked her ear off the entire drive over or that she’d checked the media reports of the practice sessions, but it’s nice to pretend she doesn’t know. He tries to summarize everything as concise as he can, because even though he loves talking to her, he’d much rather listen. He can listen to her talk until the sun burns out.

He’s not surprised to notice that Joris has peeled off from them, especially not because he didn’t even realize he wasn’t trailing behind him and Chris until he held open the door to his driver’s room and Joris was nowhere to be found.

He can’t count the amount of texts he’s had to have sent Chris from his driver’s room. How badly he wanted to just be talking with her, and now she’s here. She’s here, she’s here, she’s here with him.

He moves around the room, cleaning and reorganizing his things for a fresh start in the morning. Casually, he mentions that he has a sponsorship obligation tonight, last race and all, and that Arthur and Joris are coming along. He doesn’t speak it so offhandedly because he’d forgotten, but because he didn’t want her to get freaked out by the idea of it. He explains that she’s welcome to tag along, or, if she’d feel more comfortable, she can stay here while Andrea packs up his things.

She’s leaning against the wall just next to the doorway, watching him. Without hesitation, she replies, “I’ll come with you.”

“Are you sure?” He asks, looking to her. “You don’t have to.”

She nods, looks at the ground or the couch or something that isn’t him, folds her hand to look at her nails and lets out an almost silent laugh. His stomach drops. “You sound like you don’t want me to go.”

“No, no.” He corrects, and she still doesn’t look at him. He waves for her attention, cocks his head to the side when he gets it, “No. That’s not. I just want you to do what you want to do.”

“I want to go.”

“Okay,” he smiles.

She crosses her arms over her chest, looks like she’s trying so hard not to smile at him. “You’re being weird, you know?”

He shrugs, because she’s right. “I told you I would be.”

“Well,” Chris sighs, moves across the room to the small couch in the corner, “why are you being weird?”

“Because.” I want to kiss you, he stops himself from saying. I’ve wanted to kiss you since I saw you twenty minutes ago, since you decided to come, since I met you, maybe.

“Because, why?” She laughs, and he’s suddenly struck with the thought of what her laughter might taste like. Sweet, surely, just like it sounds. Like a popsicle on a summer day.

His phone buzzes in his pocket and he tries his absolute hardest to wipe that thought from his brain before texting his brother back. “Je veux t'embrasser tout le temps,” I want to kiss you all the time, he mumbles, isn’t even sure it actually leaves his lips or if he keeps it locked in the vault. He continues to send his reply to Arthur.

“You know I don’t understand what you just said,” Chris reminds him. That’s why it came out in French, he thinks. Not everything is meant to be said.

“I said,” he pauses, sends the text, looks back at her. God. “I said I want to kiss you.”

She crosses one leg over the other, looks down at her pants like there is something in her lap to fix. He can see the blush on the tips of her ears, even though she’s trying to hide her cheeks. When she does look up, face still flushed, she tucks her bangs behind her ears and replies softly, “you’re allowed to kiss me, Charles.”

He can’t believe he hasn’t yet. That he’d hugged the life out of her, kissed her hair and told her how happy he is she’s there, that he’d thought about kissing her for weeks, that he didn’t fucking kiss the girl yet. They’re sharing a bedroom tonight, and he still hasn’t kissed her. He thought about it, he did. But they’d promised to keep things as quiet as they could. Now, he’s pretty sure she wouldn’t have stopped him from throwing all those conversations out the window.

If there wasn’t something weird in the air before, there certainly is now. A new weird. A good weird. An implication of something in the air, weird. It’s out there now, ust hanging above them. I want to kiss you. You can kiss me. Now all that’s left is for one of them to make the move.

It’s the least he can do–make the first move. She flew across the globe, he can fucking kiss her. He wants to fucking kiss her. He feels like a little kid, the giddy smile that pulls on the corners of his lips when he walks over to her. He does little to conceal his intent.

“What?” She asks with a smile on her face. A tease, she has to know.

He holds out his hands, palms forward to her and she follows his lead, reaches up to lace their fingers together. “I like you, you know?” He asks, leans his weight against her hands. Some hands are just meant to be held.

She giggles like a child, pure and innocent and like nothing bad has ever happened to her. Like the childhood dog and all four grandparents are still kicking. “I can’t hold you up.”

“What?” He quirks a brow, leans more weight onto her hands and she laughs harder, her arms shaking below him.

“Charles!”

“I said I like you, Chris!”

Through weak arms and uncontrollable belly laughs, she manages to choke out in gulps for air, “I like you, too.” In a swift movement, he recenters his weight on his own feet, pulling Chris up from the couch. The force of his pull almost knocks her from her feet, both of them still laughing, fingers dancing with the others on either side of their frames. The laughter is light and airy and barely there, but it’s laughter nonetheless. When their hands do fall apart, their pinkies stay looped together without force, without any pull at all, just comfortably slotted against the other. “I really like you,” she adds, and her voice sounds like smiles look.

She blushes under her own words, over the entirety of their private moment, eyes darting from eyes to lips and back to eyes. “Yeah?” He asks quietly, like he’s scared asking might change her answer. She nods, biting down on the smile that paints her bottom lip, and it’s more than enough for him. She’s so good. She’s too good not to kiss.

He moves a hand to her jaw, thumbs her cheek with fingers slotted behind her ear, dancing along her hairline like a whisper of what’s to come. Like a promise. In the absence of his hand, hers finds his chest, just his thin Ferrari shirt separating her palm from the butterflies stirring wildly in his chest. “Me, too,” he says softly. Softer than she did, more to her lips—soft and pretty and his favorite shade of pink—than to her eyes. And then, either so softly only the atoms hear it, or maybe in his head entirely, “very much.”

And then he kisses her.

She tastes like mint chapstick and biscoff cookies and coffee. Her lips are soft, softer than they looked, softer than her voice. It’s like a boost of energy, kissing her. Like an immediate and complete charge.

She tightens her grip on his other pinky. Tightens it, loosens it, re-intertwines the whole hand somewhere off in the distance, far, far away from where he wishes to stay forever. This alone is worth a flight anywhere. Altitude sickness and limbs falling asleep and jet lag and headaches from screaming babies are all poor inhibitors when this would be waiting for him on the other side.

He pulls his hand from hers because it's just not close enough. Nothing is going to be close enough, but he’ll try his damndest to cup her jaw and pull her deeper into the kiss. Their noses bump awkwardly and they pull apart in a breathless laugh. Nothing more than a quick, shared smile and he’s kissing it off her face, tugging on her bottom lip with his teeth and letting her hum mumbles into his mouth. Teeth clacking and more laughing, so breathless it’s practically silent.

“Chris Elliott,” he says all sing-songy, just because he knows it’ll make her laugh. A quick peck, because he can. “You are something.”

“Charles Leclerc,” she mimics, wide eyes and raised brows and a beaming smile. A quick peck, because he’s never going to stop her. “Something good?”

He hums. “Something great.”

“You’re silly,” she says, and he laughs.

“Silly?” She nods. “You’re cute.” Chris rolls her eyes, but still has that child’s smile on her face and a pink flush to her cheeks. He kisses her again, quick, because he has a month to make up for.

“I know,” she retorts, deadpan. He laughs louder than any sane man should.

Joris, Arthur, and Andrea file into the room a few minutes later. Chris is leaning against the wall again, scrolling through her phone. She clicks it off when they walk in, shoves it deep into her purse pocket.

Andrea’s eyes bounce from Chris to Charles, and then back to Chris, holding out a hand for her to shake. “Andrea,” he greets, formal and cool.

“Chris,” she smiles, shakes the outstretched hand.

“Nice to meet you.”

“Yeah,” she nods. “You too.”

First bad impression. She doesn’t know what it is she did, but with the simple half-minute observation of his interactions with her versus the rest of the people in the room, it’s obvious he’s already soured on her.

Arthur, though, Arthur is almost off putting in his resemblance to Charles. Same voice, same face, certainly same bloodline. She thinks she could recognize him anywhere, probably. He, however, on his phone, doesn’t even notice Chris’ presence in the room until Joris elbows him on the sofa.

“Quoi?!” He exclaims in a defensive tone that transcends language barriers. The kind that only brothers know how to use.

“Hi,” Chris says, and Arthur’s head shoots from Joris to her in the doorway. He almost laughs, he’s so surprised by her presence. “I’m Chris,” she adds, holding out a hand only because he's sitting and she’s standing and a hug doesn’t feel logistically sound.

“Ah, Chris,” Arthur nods, shakes her hand. “Charles does not answer my phone calls because of you.”

“Oh,” she offers a weak smile. “I’m sorry about that.”

“No, no. I do not want to hear from him.”

Chris laughs. From the other side of the room, Charles chimes in, “then why are you calling me?”

Arthur rolls his eyes. “Maman say, ‘do you call Charles’ and I say ‘yes he does not answer me.’”

- - -

They run into Carlos and co. on the way to the sponsorship event. Chris tries to hang back towards the end of the group, back with Joris and Arthur and away from Charles, purely out of self preservation. They’d agreed in passing that everything would be much easier, hundreds of times simpler, if nobody knew Chris was there this weekend, if everything was kept under the radar. Charles, however, seems to have forgotten that agreement because, no matter how engaged he gets into a conversation, he is constantly looking for her in the group, reaching his hand out to her if she’s within distance to do so, keeping her as close to him as he can.

She keeps falling back though, falling into ranks. She doesn’t want to look like a girlfriend, because she isn’t.

Chris has no idea how to be a public… girl? A fling or a girlfriend or anything in between. She’s at home at a race track, yes, and during Chase’s championship winning season, she got stopped three times to take pictures with fans, but, really. Nobody has ever cared about what she’s doing or who she’s doing it with.

Walking in behind Carlos and Charles is like walking in behind celebrities. Everyone wants to shake their hands, to pat them on the shoulders and tell them this thing or another. There’s lots of languages being thrown around that she doesn’t recognize, accents she struggles to understand.

“This is crazy,” she says quietly, just to herself.

Arthur nudges her with his elbow to steal her attention, furrows his brows for a moment and holds up a quizzical thumbs up. Chris nods, smiles gratefully.

Charles promised that it was going to be nothing more than a quick stop at the event, and he meant it. They aren’t even there long enough to sit down. Instead they hang out in the back of the tent near the bar, watching Charles and Carlos talk on stage with several different people about how important this brand is for us.

They decide to go out to dinner after, despite Chris’ burning desire to go to sleep for a couple years. They get sat at a booth that’s probably made to hold no more than four people; Andrea and Joris on one side, Charles sandwiched between Chris and Arthur on either side. He finds her hand under the table, his thumb tracing along the lines of her fingers. Chris, against all urges to rest her head on his shoulder, rests it instead on the wooden divider between their booth and the neighboring one.

Arthur is the only one who struggles to speak English rather than his mother tongue, and while Charles corrects him each time, Chris doesn’t dare. She’d rather die than imply someone speaking in a second language needs to improve the way they speak it.

“Are you going to be with us all weekend?” Arthur asks around Charles’ frame.

“I’m actually going to be in the grandstands,” she smiles. Charles rolls his eyes.

“Oh?” Arthur asks, looks to his brother, but Joris beats him to the punch.

“You couldn’t get her a pass for the whole weekend?” Joris chirps. Andrea laughs and Charles reaches for the pass hung around her neck. She didn’t even realize she was the only person still wearing it until now. Charles flips the pass over, points out the FULL WEEKEND on the back.

“Her choice, not mine.”

She reaches to take the pass out of his hand, to pull it off over her head and put it into her purse. “I’m hoping for a drama-free weekend,” she says, and the boys laugh. Charles’ hand finds her thigh, gives it a little pat and a comfortable squeeze.

Her hands are meant to be held, they really are. He could hold her hand until the moment she leaves, fingers locked together as they walk through the hotel corridor, empty and echoey with their voices and the sound of their feet on the carpet runner.

Once in the room, face to face together with the single bed, they both burst into laughter. He’s glad he cleaned things up before she got here, because the room was starting to look a little like his driver’s room–clothes strewn about messily, plastic water bottles on the end table, a television remote he lost the night he got here and hadn’t found until this morning. In the corner, Chris’ luggage sits beside the armchair, backpack neatly stacked with a single suitcase.

“Did you bring your whole wardrobe?” He jokes, and maybe it’s because he’s never been great at conveying jokes in English, or maybe it’s that they’re both absolutely exhausted, but the joke doesn't land. She’s immediately apologizing, spewing out a jumbled apology about I didn’t know what I was supposed to wear, and then– “I’m messing with you,” he says, and hates that she thinks he’d be that worked up over a suitcase, especially when he’d brought at least double what she had. She could have shown up with twenty suitcases and he still wouldn’t have thought it was too much because, well, she’s here. Right in front of him.

“Oh,” she pouts, and he kisses the look off her face. He’s wanted to do that since he saw it for the first time. “Oh. I like when you do that.” Good, he thinks. Get used to it.

They both make plans to shower; her before him. He’s on the couch in the living area of the suite when she re-emerges from the bathroom, the TV rolling and absentmindedly scrolling through his phone. When the sliding door to the bathroom opens, he looks up to watch her.

Her hair long down her back, carefully combed out so that the soaking ends turn the fabric of her sun-worn blue t-shirt a darker shade. It’s big on her–the shirt–hangs almost long enough that you wouldn’t be able to spot the flannel shorts underneath. He can still hear the sink running in the bathroom and she’s got a toothbrush in her mouth.

He whistles when she walks back from the bedroom towards the bathroom again, and she stops in the doorway, laughs around the toothbrush and does a sweet spin. “Bellissimo,” he says, gestures a chef’s kiss and she bows dramatically.

After his shower, he finds her in the bedroom, comfortably perched against the headboard, tucked under the crisp white duvet. The only light in the place is coming from her end table lamp, casting a soft shadow on her face, her knees pulled up close while she turns the pages of a book. He hovers around his suitcase watching her, completely in her own world, the only hint of her presence on this plane being the subtle lean into the light to better illuminate the pages she turns.

It’s not the first time he’s found himself looking at her like this. She’s easy to get lost in and almost never notices him staring. She just gets so focused on the task at hand–grading papers, cooking a meal, painting her nails, watching a television show, or like tonight, reading her current library rental.

“Do you want a water?” He asks. Her eyes don’t leave the page, a subtle shake of the head before she finally mumbles a no, thank you. He navigates the dark suite to the kitchenette, finds himself a plastic water bottle in the mini-fridge, and then he’s pulling back the comforter to climb into bed with her. “So, I was thinking tomorrow–” he starts, but she cuts him off with a singular finger held in the air. He can’t help but laugh, stupid smile on his face while he watches her eyes hurriedly finish the page, dog ear the tiniest fold onto the corner.

“Sorry,” she unapologetically offers, setting the book down on the end table. “What were you saying?”

“Uh, I don’t remember,” he says, because he lost it while he tried to guess what she was reading based on the little microexpressions that crossed her face. His eyes fall to the gold chain around her neck, to the small cross that lays over the blue fabric of her shirt. He’s noticed it dozens of times, it’s constant presence in every picture, every video, every call and outfit and event. He doesn’t even think when he reaches for it, examines it with gentle fingers. “Is this a, uh…” he struggles to find the word, “how do you say, family tradition?”

“Heirloom?”

He nods, drops the piece of jewelry back to its rightful spot. “Heirloom.”

“No, it was a birthday gift,” she explains, fingers the chain of it, “from my brother when I turned eighteen.”

He nods, points out the other necklace she’s wearing, a flower with a pearl in the center. “And this?”

She laughs, “it’s silly,” she says. “It goes with these earrings I have, they’re from my parents when I graduated college.” He learns the flower is a chrysanthemum, that her dad has always called her Mum, that her mom has a particular affinity for pearls that she’s passed onto Chris, that all of these things have combined into this piece of jewelry hanging around her neck and that she cried and cried when they gifted it to her.

Because the sun is still burning, he doesn’t stop asking about the different pieces she wears until he’s run out of ones to point to. He learns the story of a ruby ring–her birthstone–that she found in a thrift store for seventy-five cents when she was fifteen, how it used to fit on her pointer finger but now it fits her ring finger, how sometimes she makes up elaborate stories of how it ended up in the bargain bin of a Goodwill in North Georgia.

She tells him about three friendship bracelets. The first and second are made by students, her favorite gifts. The third, blue and yellow–NAPA colors, her brother’s racing colors–made by her nephew. “He’s four, and he is everything annoying about my brother and everything good about my best friend, and I think I would kill someone for him.” Charles is sure that tomorrow he’ll be telling someone they wouldn’t believe the way she lights up when she talks about this kid.

When he’s run out of things to question, she’s examining the red string tied around his wrist. “What about you?” She asks, “what’s up with this guy?”

“My mate, Pierre. He learns about it from our other friend Yuki,” He explains. “They always know the strangest things, Pierre and Yuki,” he chuckles, continues to explain the traditional symbol of good luck. “I don’t know how well it works, though,” he laughs, and she kisses him. It surprises him, but he’s in no place to complain. Perhaps the bracelet works quite well, he thinks when she moves closer, snuggles under his arm while he continues.

Three metal bracelets. One red, one silver, one stainless steel. Morse code: Amour, Bonheur, Smile. A ring that matches the bracelet. Two hex rings that track his heart rate and his sleep and a million other things.

He spins the rings while he talks, pulls them off and hands one to her without missing a beat in his sentence. She toys with it while she listens, hands it back to him with a quiet yawn. When he kisses her hair, it’s still damp and smells like the shampoo she used, something he can’t place, something he hopes eventually to memorize. “You’re cute when you’re sleepy.”

“You told me that last week.”

“I know,” another kiss against the unfamiliar scent. “I meant it.”

Charles wants to order room service for breakfast. Chris shuts that idea down the minute it comes out of his mouth, furrowing her brows and making him attempt to rationalize waiting half an hour for food that’s five minutes away. He can’t, so they head to the lobby.

Chris is wearing the same shirt, pulls a pair of sweatpants over her flannel shorts and ties her hair into a messy, tangled ponytail. She’d keep it down, but her hair dried while she slept and it’s pointing in directions that defy gravity. A ponytail was the only option. Charles doesn’t change, keeps the t-shirt and shorts he slept in on.

They find Andrea in the lobby, eating at a table for two by himself. Charles pulls a chair over from a nearby table and they sit down with him. By the time Joris appears, the table is officially too full of food to comfortably function.

She hears his phone vibrate against the hard plastic of his chair, and he casually mentions that the rest of his family is on their way down.

Chris doesn’t react, not externally, anyways. She finishes what’s left in her mug, bee-lines it over to the coffee bar to make another. Absent-mindedly, she tears the foil from the creamer cups, rips open the sugar packets and stirs it all together. His mom. His mom. His mom. It’s all she can think about. His mother. The woman who gave him life. Chris knew she’d be meeting his mom this weekend, but she figured she’d have more preparation than a couple minutes warning, assumed she’d be dressed, hair styled, makeup done. That she’d be presenting herself as someone you’d be happy to have your son spend time with, not like a 7/11 customer in Dahlonega at one in the morning. Maybe Charles was right and room service was a good idea.

Even once she’s back at the table, every elevator ding makes her jump, shoots her head in the direction of the opening doors just terrified the people walking out are going to be his family.

“Are you good?” Charles asks after she flinches at the third elevator bell.

“Yup,” she lies, slaps a big, phony smile on her face and takes a sip of her coffee. His hand finds her leg, gives it a little you’ll be fine squeeze.

The next elevator is carrying his family. She instinctively straightens in her seat, moves things around the crowded table so her food looks neat and managed. Joris looks at her with concern, Charles laughs when she refolds a napkin. “Don’t laugh at me,” she whispers.

Out of earshot, Arthur says something through a stretch and a yawn. His mom rolls her eyes, pushes him in the direction of the coffee bar, mutters something to his other brother that makes him chuckle. When his mom spots Chris, she makes a bee-line for her with open arms. Chris practically trips over the leg of her chair trying to stand up before the hug reaches her.

“Come here, chérie,” she smiles. It’s warm, just like her boy’s. “I have heard so much about you.” Oh? Chris smiles, suddenly aware that she’s apparently horribly unprepared for this entire introduction. He’s telling his mother about her?

She hugs Pascale back and looks over her shoulder to Charles with wide eyes. She’s met with a matching expression, Charles shrugging and shaking his head as if to adamantly tell her he has no idea what his mom is talking about. “And what have you heard, Maman?” He asks with a laugh.

“Don’t start with me,” she says, wagging a finger at her boy, and then to Chris, “Ignore him.” She holds her at arm's length, hands on either shoulder and looks her up and down. Chris laughs, nervous but still noticeably genuine. “You are just beautiful, aren’t you?”

Well. Beautiful isn’t a word Chris would use to describe herself at this moment. Ratty, perhaps. Disheveled. Off-putting. But sure, beautiful is a word she might sometimes describe herself as. “Me?” She shakes her head, “ma’am, look at yourself.”

“Oh, please,” his mom scoffs. “Pascale.”

“Pascale.” Chris smiles, goes in for another hug.

Whether it’s because he’s a brother and not a mother, or because meeting said mother is done and over with, Chris is significantly less anxious when it comes to her introduction with Lorenzo.

Chris attempts to insist Pascale take her seat, but is out-insisted to finish her breakfast. Charles finds her hand under the table, winks at her when she interlocks her fingers with his.

– – –

Outside of their shared breakfast, Saturday is a long day apart for Chris and Charles. A quick kiss goodbye in their hotel room when Charles finishes getting ready, a quicker “good luck,” from Chris called after him on his way out the door, and a thumbs up over his head as a response summarizes their interactions for the rest of the day.

Chris works on next week’s lesson plans for a few hours, nothing better to do while she waits to leave for the track.

She watches the third practice session and quali from the grandstand across from the pitlane, and while neither are his greatest showing, Chris can feel it in her bones that everything is going to fall into place for him tomorrow. A third place start is more than good enough to beat out Perez at Red Bull. She knows it like she knows her own name, and nobody is going to tell her otherwise.

She goes back to the hotel after quali, doesn’t bother to attempt sneaking into the paddock to try and find him. It just doesn’t feel worth it–navigating a place she doesn’t know, avoiding the cameras and the reporters and the chaos–not when he’ll be coming back to the hotel, back to her.

She falls asleep moments after sitting down on the couch, and isn’t woken up until she doesn’t even know when. It’s the middle of the night, Charles tells her, guides her to bed and tucks her in like a child, complete with a kiss on the forehead.

- - -

The first words out of her mouth on Sunday morning are an apology.

When Charles tries to cut her off with a laugh and a kiss, she stops him just short of her lips, claiming morning breath. “Wow,” he feigns shock. “First you fall asleep on me, now you will not kiss me?”

She rolls her eyes, grabs the back of his neck and pulls him down to kiss her. “Happy?”

He nods and kisses her again. He keeps waiting for it to not feel so exciting, so much like a stupid movie, so young, and it’s yet to reach that point. It’s not even coming close. “Yes, thank you.”

From the other side of the bathroom wall she dares to ask him if he’s nervous, if the pressure is finally manifesting itself into stress. He’s quiet for a while.

“No,” he eventually calls back.

“No?”

He peels around the doorway, messing with the collar on his team shirt. “Yes,” he admits with a scale-breaking sigh. She wishes he was as sure as himself as she is, that he could feel in his bones it is all going to work out perfectly.

“Well, I’ll be here when you’re done, and we can either celebrate Charles Leclerc, Vice World Champion,” he turns away at the title, the side profile of a smile turning the corner back into the bathroom. “Or, we can celebrate the end of an exhausting season. Either way, we’re celebrating.” He stays quiet. “Okay?”

“Yeah,” he finally speaks, tone lackluster, unconfident. It’s hard to hear him like this, to hear the distinct shards of doubt that rattle in his chest. “We’re celebrating.”

We’re celebrating. Tonight is a celebration. The positives with the negatives, the good always outweighs the bad. She reminds herself like it’s a mantra. Tonight is a celebration.

- - -

Alone in the grandstands with an air of certainty about her, Chris’ bar for friendship has never been lower. She finds a group of girlfriends who appear to be sort-of, almost, kind-of, maybe in the same age demographic as she is. They speak English and don’t ignore her when she talks, and that’s enough for her to latch onto for the evening.

We like McLaren, they tell her, But those Ferrari boys–they’re cute. You can’t help but feel for them. Chris just smiles and nods, offers up a laugh and pretends she won’t be falling asleep next to one of those cute boys later tonight.

The girls–flew in from London on Friday just for this-fill her in on everything she already knows. They tell her about Charles and his fight for P2, about the strategic pitfalls of Ferrari and the fact that on paper, it was Charles’ year to win it all.

They’re more nervous during the race than Chris is, not to say that her leg isn’t bouncing watching the times constantly changing, that she isn’t whispering mumbles prayers into the air between here and there, just that she knows. She knows.

If it was possible to stare through a helmet, Chris would’ve done it during his pitstop, burning the confidence right into his frontal lobe. Her eyes are glued to his car, his helmet, distant and small and buzzing with energy. He’s got it under control, like a perfectly wrapped gift sat in his lap, like a row of monkey bars and hands hardened by months of blisters, like a first kiss and a second kiss and a third kiss. He’s got it under control.

He does, because after what feels simultaneously like the longest and shortest fifty-eight laps of her life, Chris practically has a front row seat to Charles doing donuts. She’s so happy that she thinks she might cry, not that it takes much of anything to pull a tear from her when she’s this exhausted. The girls she’d befriended jump and celebrate and cheer louder than the fireworks.

Chris tries to live the moment. To feel it all, the energy and the roar and the joy, which only makes it that much harder not to cry.

Suddenly, momentarily, irrationally emotionally, while she watches him celebrate with his family and his team in front of the whole world she wishes she was down there with him. Screw the world watching, she wants to hug him until her arms are numb and kiss him until she passes out.

There’s no telling when–or even if–she’s going to ever live through a moment like this again. It’s not one she wants to forget. In the chaos of it all, her hand finds her chest, the hard metal of her cross necklace through the fabric of her top, the pulsing of her heartbeat, loud and racing.

It’s hours before he’s back to the hotel, but it doesn’t feel late at all. He’s still running on adrenaline, just as ready to celebrate as he was when he jumped into his team’s arms. Over the mechanical shifting of the door lock, he can hear Chris’ feet echoing on the floor just on the other side and before he can even make it through the doorway she’s crashing into him. The pure energy that she is knocks him back a few steps, but then he’s hugging her back just as hard, maybe harder.

He can feel her tears soak through his shirt, and with a laugh asks if she’s crying.

“Shut up,” she says, and it only makes him laugh harder, hug tighter. God, the show he would have put on if he could’ve found her right after the race. The trouble he would make. “Oh, my god!” She sniffles, pulls her head off his chest and wipes away her tears. “Kiss me, already!”

And so he does. He kisses the shit out of her.

She pulls away with a smile, arms slinked around his neck like it belongs to her. “So, how does it feel?” She asks, “Vice World Champion, Charles Leclerc.”

He gives her a quick kiss, nothing more than a peck, shrugs, and repeats the action. “Too busy kissing the girl.”

“You’re such an idiot,” she laughs, drops her head so it’s against his chest and vibrates his entire being. It’s a laugh that lights stars, dances around the room like a windchime in the warm August air. The kind so distinct you could hear it across a room ten years later and still know it was her. “A walking cheeseball.”

“A cheeseball?” He humors.

“I said what I said.”

His satisfied hum says more than words ever could, fingers comfortable dancing along the bone of her hip. “We gotta get ready,” he says.

“For what?”

“The celebration.”

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akuvrus · 11 months

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[12:31 pm] ☆ choi beomgyu x reader.

— synopsis. when beomgyu tries to cook for [name], but he ends up burning the water and almost burning his house as everything starts to go downhill from there.

ʬʬ﹕genre .. crack crack crack + fluff ; no angst!! disclaimers! : beomgyu not being able to cook nor bake in this ff, him accidentally burning his house, possibly cussing; poor beomgyu he just wanted to cook 4 [name] but ends up getting banned from the kitchen until he actually learns how 2 cook...

beomgyu stared at the pot of boiling water in front of him. he decided he was going to cook today for him and [name], hopefully without failing this time. he had his phone in his hand, watching on youtube while constantly glancing back at the pot, waiting for it to start boiling bubbles before he opened the pack of ramen.

however, he disliked how slowly the water was boiling, so he decided to set the stove all the way up to max heat, before he had placed a glass cover over the pot. almost immediately, the heat was fogging up the glass cover, making it unable for him to see if the water was boiled enough before dropping the ramen inside.

whatever though, he thought. it wasn’t going to be a big deal, he'll still know when it's ready enough, right? he shrugged it off, leaning onto the counter, before he accidentally fell asleep, with the stove set all the way up max heat. now, anyone with normal common sense would never do that, right? but apparently, not for beomgyu.

half an hour later, his fire detectors had gone off, waking him up from his slumber.

the first thing he had woken up to, the moment his eyes opened was the stove. the pot of water was on fire. how was that possible?? can it even be possible? he didn’t know. “shit.” he immediately cursed, before he quickly leaned off the counter and dialed the first person he could think of. which was you, instead of the police and fire department.

he quickly typed in your number, before hitting the call button. for a few seconds, the phone rang and you eventually picked up. “hello?” your voice rang from the other side. “umm, beomgyu.. why is your fire detector going off in the background..?”

“i burnt the water.” he confessed. there was a moment of silence before you spoke up. “what? beomgyu, how the fuck do you burn the water..” your voice rang back in mild confusion. “um,” he paused. “i don’t even know, it just caught on fire, and—”

an explosion sound had interrupted him, “beomgyu—” he cut you off, nervously glancing back on his now set on fire stove. “umm, shit. now my whole stove is on fire.” he nervously muttered, glancing back to the phone in his hand. “[name]... what do i do..”

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN ’’WHAT DO I DO’’ YOU OBVIOUSLY CALL THE FIRE DEPARTMENT??”

“but i don’t wanna hang up..” he sulked, visibly pouting even though you couldn’t see it. “what if it gets worse right after i hang up?”

“then die.” your sudden comment takes him back. “[name]!! that’s so mean of you!”

“beomgyu, literally shut up and get out of the house unless you have the balls to hang up and deal with it yourself.” he nervously gulped, glancing back at the enlarging fire in front of him, slowly growing larger each second.

“okay.. maybe you’re right and i should get out...” he slowly started to side-walk out of his own kitchen, making his way slowly out of his house, watching the smoke starting to cover up inside his house.

the next second, you had hung up on him. “rude..”

｡｡｡

by the time you had hung up on beomgyu and called the fire department to his address, you were huffing and puffing. you were almost there, and you could see the large amount of smoke that was coming out of his house’s windows. good thing he at least opened a few windows?

you sped up your pace, running faster towards to beomgyu’s house. luckily, before you had ended the emergency call, a firetruck was luckily nearby and had arrived in time to his address. now you were wondering how this all even started; and you were going to find beomgyu for the answers.

you quickly spotted his figure sitting by a fire truck, wrapped around in a warm blanket, watching his house currently on fire. seeing beomgyu, you slowly made your way to the wolfcut haired male, sitting beside him.

“i messed up big time.” he sighed, tilting his head down once he spotted you next to his sitting figure. “uh-huh, yeah, you did. what did you even do?” you ask.

he nervously fiddled with his fingers, slowly confessing. “i tried to make ramen for us, but i fell asleep with the stove on and the water ended up starting a fire..”

“what.” you were BEYOND flabbergasted?? words couldn’t even explain either. “you fell asleep with the stove on, and was able to somehow BURN the water.” you deadpanned at him with furrowed brows.

“yahh, i’m sorry i can’t cook!” he admitted, sighing deeply. you were not going to let that slide.

“you’re banned from any type of cooking, baking and the kitchen for safety measures.”

“yes ma’am...” he obeyed with a pouty expression on his face. you sighed at his expression, “..okay, i guess it was cute of you to try despite your horrific cooking skills.” he was then instantly smiling again at the compliment he had received.

©akuvrus | don’t repost.

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writeforfandoms · 1 year

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Love Letters pt 2

Find the Halo masterlist

...this chapter also known as Oops I did it again

This is honestly just ridiculous fun at this point. A few people wanted to see how John would react to her getting into a Situation because of the Jeffries tubes again... and I couldn't resist.

Warnings: Fluff, minor panic attack, swearing, sass overload, but it's because she's terrified, remember she's scared of heights? Yeah she sure remembers.

In your defense, you had been in the Jeffries tubes for legitimate work this time. The engineer on duty was a douche, she always ignored your requests.

So you decided to just not make a request and do it yourself. It was a simple fix, after all. You could do it yourself.

The repair was easy. As expected.

But you might have gotten turned around in the tubes and taken a wrong turn.

And now you couldn't find a way out.

Well. When in doubt, keep climbing down. You were bound to find an exit eventually.

"Should've marked my way," you grumbled to yourself. "This is stupid. Roland needs sensors in here too."

You paused for a moment, putting your forehead against a rung, holding tight. Your heart was hammering against your ribs, and you were trying not to panic. There would be an exit. Absolutely. Because the Jeffries tubes didn't go on forever with no purpose.

One more deep breath and you continued down. This stretch of tube was straight, which made you think it was leading to something.

Hopefully that would be a good place to exit and get back to your room.

A quick look down showed a hatch, and you let out a relieved breath. Oh good. You were almost there. You paused at the access panel and hit the button to open the hatch.

The hatch opened below you and you looked down… into the engine room. You were not right above the slipspace drive, fortunately, but you were still far, far above the floor.

"Fuck." You looked down at the floor, eyes wide, heart slamming even harder into your ribs. "Oh hell."

You counted yourself lucky that the engine room was always manned, because it only took a minute for an engineer to spot you and shout. You clung tighter to the rungs in front of you, eyes closing.

"Hey! You okay?"

You didn't look down when you heard the yell, but you did nod. "I'm okay," you called back, voice wavering.

But you couldn't move. Too scared.

"Hang on," the person yelled up to you. "Someone will get you."

You whimpered, very quietly, and pressed your forehead into the rung in front of you.

John was going to have an absolute conniption fit.

You could hear the commotion down below you, voices and clanging and the background noise of the engine. If you could move, you could close the hatch and probably climb back up to another access point.

Probably. Your arms felt like jelly now, but that also could have been the fear.

Someone down below called your name, but you didn't look. You didn't need to. You knew that voice.

"Hi Fred." Your voice was more tremulous now, a little thready. Definitely showing your fear.

"Wait there. We're coming to get you." Fred, in contrast, sounded quite calm about all of this. Of course, to him, this was nothing. He'd faced down so much worse. He probably wasn't even scared of heights. Shame washed hot over your cheeks and into your chest.

You were pretty pathetic, clinging to the rungs of a Jeffries tube above a hatch that probably wasn't even supposed to open. Your fingers clenched impossibly tighter around cool metal.

The next call of your name was much softer and closer. You swallowed hard.

"Look at me."

You pried one eye open cautiously and looked down. An all too familiar gold visor met your gaze.

"You have to jump."

"What?!" You clung tighter, fingers aching, shoulders tense.

"I can't fit in there," John continued, calm as anything. "You need to jump."

"Or not," you started, swallowing hard. "I could stay here. Or climb back up, I can climb back up, just give me a minute and I can do that."

John said your name again, soft, steady. "I've got you. I won't let you fall."

And you believed him. You knew him. John was a good man, an honest man, a protective man.

"How are you even up here?" You worked on slowly prying one hand loose from the rung.

"Jetpack."

"Oh good, you've got a jetpack," you muttered to yourself, probably edging a little into hysterical.

John huffed softly and rapped the bottom of your shoes with one hand. "Sass won't keep you from needing to jump."

You took a deep breath. And then another. "I can't."

"You can." John somehow didn't lose any patience, still steady and confident.

"John…"

"I know you're scared." He rapped the bottom of your shoes again, just once. "But you can do this."

Idly, you wondered if this is how marines felt when he showed up to help. This surge of hope, this feeling that somehow just by being there John would make everything fine. Then you decided it didn't matter, because you weren't brave.

"Hey." One more gentle rap to your shoes. Almost despite yourself, you looked down. The visor was surprisingly comforting. "You can do it."

The encouragement from this man in that tone… well. You believed him.

So you swallowed once more, nodded jerkily, and… pushed back. You had one moment of weightlessness, one moment of sheer panic, and then firm arms caught you and held you tight against the armor. Granted, it was not comfortable, but you still wedged your fingers in as tight as you could manage, hiding your face.

At least you hadn't screamed.

Honestly, you barely felt the descent. You did feel when another set of hands helped to detach you from John and held you steady.

"Told you we'd come to you."

You laughed a little at Fred's matter of fact comment, choked but still a laugh. "Yes you did." You squeezed one of his hands, feeling rather light-headed now. "How long do I have until the Captain arrives?"

"Now." Captain Lasky stepped through the gathered crowd, arms crossed over his chest in blatant disapproval.

Your shoulders crept up to your ears and you averted your gaze.

"Captain," John started, not physically moving.

Lasky looked at him, looked at you, and then sighed. "Fine. Get out of here. I want you in my ready room at 0800 tomorrow." He pinned you with a look to make sure the order stuck.

"Yes, sir," you agreed, just a little squeaky.

Lasky nodded once, muttered something under his breath, and left again. Fred patted your shoulder.

"You should go lay down," he offered, very serious. Too serious.

"Uh." You twisted a little to look between him and John.

"I'm sure Chief will make sure you don't get lost again."

You blinked and nodded slowly, looking up at John. He just nodded for you to go first.

Except you'd barely gotten halfway back to your room when John nudged you a different direction. Curious, you followed his silent instructions.

And ended up standing outside his door.

John reached past you to open the door, and you stepped in. The room was pretty bare, with very little personality. You were not surprised.

"John?" You turned to look at him, still feeling unsteady.

A moment later you were being squished yet again to the armor, but this time you were better prepared. You looped your arms around his neck, holding tight.

"Thank you," you whispered into the quiet space between you. Absurdly, you felt tears welling in your eyes.

John just hummed softly. "Wait here," he finally said, halfway an order. "I'll be right back."

Curious, you let go of him and sat on his bed to wait.

But you got bored pretty quickly and decided to do a little investigation. (Snooping.) Not that there was all that much to investigate.

You did find a little treasure trove in his desk. All the letters. Every letter you had written him, neatly stacked and saved. Your lips lifted in a soft smile.

The door opened again and John came back in, out of the armor and dressed down in a simple t-shirt and sweatpants. Wordlessly, he walked over to you and gathered you into his arms again, holding you close. You breathed easier, nestling in to the warmth of him.

“You need to wear a tracking fob,” he murmured into the top of your head.

“I do not,” you grumbled back, pouting. “I was in there for work!”

“Above the engine room?” John’s voice couldn’t get any more dry.

“No.” You hid your pout against his chest. “I just got turned around, that’s all.”

John huffed very softly and squeezed you gently. “Tracking fob.”

“You’re awful.” But you were smiling when you shifted back from him. “When do you need me to go?”

“When do you need to get up?” The question was serious, even with the humor still lingering in his gaze.

You blinked at him and then smiled. “You want me to stay?”

He nodded once, gaze never leaving you.

“Okay.” You cuddled back into him, unable to contain your smile. This was new. But the good kind of new.

But you weren’t eager to get lost in the Jeffries tubes again.

#john-117 x reader #john-117 x you #lasky is still not paid enough for this

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ash-whimsicalfanfic · 1 year

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Serendipity (CH 5)

Leroy Jethro Gibbs X Fem OC/Reader

Word Count: 2586

Warning: Mild language, fluff, smut, angst, graphic scenes, death, murder, gore, violence, mature material…

Prompt: You have a major crush on Gibbs, however you choose to push it away as you fear he doesn’t feel the same way. Suddenly there is a bunch of chances that lead to a happy ending…

I was calm now and Abby fixed my makeup for me. She had an extra shirt for me to borrow. It was a black crop top with a plunge neckline. I had more chest area than Abby so I pulled at the shirt trying to cover it some. It had some chains criss-crossing across it and there was a skull with a bow on the shirt.

"You look great! Now go kick some ass...and save that camera and sketchbook." She says.

I laugh, hugging her before taking the stairs. It goes silent in the bullpen as they look at me. I shift uncomfortably.

"I-I didn't have an extra shirt. A-Abby lent me one of hers." I mumble.

Gibbs walks to my desk, grabbing my blazer as he throws it at me. Tony catches it before it could hit me in the face like it would have. He gives me a small smile, handing it to me. I nod slightly, shrugging it on as I go to my desk.

I open my sketchbook, grabbing tissues to soak up some of the coffee. It was effortless, but it kept me distracted. I grab my camera, pulling out cleaning wipes to clean it up. I turn it on and was relieved to see that it worked. I move the pictures over to my laptop before sending them to Tim and Abby.

I open my sketchbook and work away at it in silence despite the tension I felt. I could feel his eyes on me and it made me want to shrink away and disappear.

I start pulling the sketches out, pinning them to my empty bulletin board. I study them, trying to ignore the coffee stain. I grab the sketchbook and throw it in the bin.

"Problem, Y/L/N?" Gibbs asks.

"Boss, she has to have clear paper. It bothers her if it isn't. I think the coffee is making her upset." Tim says quietly.

"Y/N/N, don't you have an extra in your drawer?" Ziva asks softly.

I hated this. I was being treated like a baby since this stupid accident. I pull the sketches down, shoving them in a drawer as I grab my keys and my phone, jogging towards the elevator.

I was in the closet art store within minutes. I stood in the sketchbook aisle for a good twenty minutes, just staring.

"Ziva said you'd be here." Gibbs mumbles, moving to stand beside me.

I continue staring at the sketchbooks. I was kind of mental over my sketchbooks. I knew I was. But, I've never experienced something this bad before. Not to mention on top of this last week.

Gibbs stands next to me silently, observing me. I tried to keep my cards close to my chest, not wanting him to figure me out. I was falling to pieces and the only person who knew was Abby.

I step forward, grabbing a pile of sketchbooks and adding them to the cart. I got three different sizes, all the same color. I got like ten of each one. Hopefully it'll be awhile until I need more. I push the cart to the pencil aisle with Gibbs silently following behind me.

"Your trying to find a sense of control." He murmurs from behind me.

I keep silent. Maybe he was right. Maybe he was wrong. Either way, I found myself angered that he was trying to profile me. I reach out, grabbing a pack of sketching pencils to read the back. It's the brand I always get, but I found peace in reading the description on the back before tossing a bunch of packs of pencils in my cart. I found myself drifting through the aisles, tossing random stuff in my cart before paying.

I get to my car, ignoring Gibbs. I drive back, aware that he was right there behind me. I grab the bags and head towards the building. I try going for the stairs, but he grabs my arm and pulls me into the elevator. I stay silent, even when he presses the emergency stop button.

"I shouldn't of snapped at you earlier." He admits.

"Rule six." I mutter.

"I didn't say I was sorry. I just admitted I was in the wrong earlier." He says, quirking a brow at me.

"Sounded like an apology." I mutter.

"Maybe it was. Look, I shouldn't of snapped. I had no right. Your right though. I was jealous. It's hard not to be jealous though. The thought of losing you...it's a hard one to grasp." He admits quietly.

"Your the one who said we can't do this and I should just lose my feelings for you. Your the one who said I should find someone else. All because of your stupid rules." I snap.

"I know...can we talk after this case is done? At my house over some steak and beer. Please." He asks.

I stare at him for a moment before nodding slowly. I wasn't sure if this was a good idea. It probably wasn't. He probably was going to explain how we couldn't be together and why. Did I want to hear anymore bullshit? No. I didn't.

The elevator doors opening snap me out of my thoughts. Gibbs walks out, stopping as he waits for me to step out. I ignore the teams concerned stares as I walk to my desk. I sit on the ground, opening the drawer as I pull the coffee-stained drawings out.

"Next time I see that asshole, I'm going to deck him." I say.

"What?" Tim asks horrified from behind me as Gibbs chuckles.

"Who is she talking about?" Ziva asks surprised.

"Where has our innocent baby Y/N gone?" Tony asks.

I wasn't one for violence. I looked at the upside of...well everything. Even if someone made me upset, I tried to keep it together. I run out of room for my sketchbooks and sigh.

I look up when Gibbs grabs a pile. I was confused as he puts a pile in his bottom desk drawer before handing a pile to Ziva, Tony and Tim.

"There. You have plenty on hand and now everyone has them on stock in case you run out." He says, patting my head since he could ruffle it since it was up.

I pull out a new sketchbook, taking the plastic off it. I grab a pencil and start sketching the crime scenes away. I didn't like to redraw. It threw me off. It didn't feel right having to do it a second time.

Nonetheless, I finish them and hang them back on the bulletin board, tossing the other ones in the trash. I study the drawings, my pen between my teeth and my notepad rested against my knee.

I start writing away, glancing up at the pictures occasionally.

"Y/N?" I hear.

I look up and see the shrink. I let a puff of air out, quirking an eyebrow at her.

"Yes?" I ask.

"I don't think we are done talking. You dodged all my questions. I won't let up until I get answers." She says.

"I died. Then Gibbs brought me back. I died again on the ambulance. They brought me back. Then I was in a hospital for two days. Alone on one. Talked to the shrink there. Went home. Dreaded not being able to work a week, but now I'm here. I'm fine. Can you please leave me alone now?" I ask.

"I talked to the therapist at the hospital. Who said you also dodged their questions. You never should have been discharged until you properly answered the questions. That is why I'm not letting up." She says.

"I'm this bloody close to decking you. Your really starting to piss me off." I grumble.

Thankfully, Tim only heard me and he slowly turned to me with wide eyes. I tilt my head at him, narrowing my eyes, daring him to say something.

"She's great! She's just a little grumpy from her run in with this guy earlier. He spilt coffee on her." Tim says.

"Your intimidated by her. From what I gather, she's typically happy and bubbly. However, she seems to be quiet, distant, agitated, on edge and even a bit angry. None of you are use to this side of her." She says.

I take a deep breath in before slowly letting it out. My phone rings and I give her one final glare before answering my phone.

"Hey Abs, what's up?" I ask.

"The shrink lady is coming to talk to you! She wouldn't stop asking questions and more questions and I snapped! But I was trying to understand why she won't stop prying because she doesn't even do that on Ziva or Gibbs! So I did some digging! She's the wife of the get-away unsub who tried to kill you!" Abby exclaims.

"Thanks Abs. I'll be down here in a bit. Relay the message to Gibbs." I say.

I smile, hanging up the phone as I look at the shrink. She taps her clipboard as Gibbs' phone rings. I stand, walking towards her. I heard Gibbs set the phone down and I pull my fist back, hitting her in the nose.

She sways before falling back. I look down at her before heading back to my desk. It was quiet and I look up, smiling.

"Boss!" Tim exclaims.

"The man who tried to kill Y/N...that's his wife. She wanted to see if she remembered her husband or not." Gibbs says, shrugging.

"Did you know? Is that why you said you wanted to deck her earlier?" Tim asks.

"I didn't know then. She was making me mad. I feel better now. A lot better. I think I just needed to hit someone!" I say, smiling.

"Let's not make this our way of letting our anger out." Gibbs says, giving me a lopsided smirk and I shrug.

"You can always come with me to the gym. They have some punching bags there." Ziva offers.

"I'll take you up on that." I say.

"There is also other ways to let your anger out, Y/N. It can be with a lover, between the sheets, hot...passionate and anger. Ah! I'll stop boss! Please don't hit me!" Tony pleads as Gibbs slowly stands.

"I don't have a lover, Tony. So a punching bag will do." I say.

"You gonna fill us in on what you know, Y/L/N?" Gibbs asks.

"On what?" I ask.

"The case of course." He says in a duh tone.

I scramble up, my cheeks flushing red as he chuckles. I grab a random clear board we keep nearby just because I do my sketches and hang them up before putting them at the front of the bullpen. I stand, staring at the board from the end of the bullpen.

"Alright, the unsub stood between two big oak trees for awhile. I'd say he's been watching out victims the past two to three days at most from the cigarettes on the ground. He had perfect view through the window and the sliding doors. Through the window, he could see the kitchen and living room. Through the sliding doors, he could see the hallway. Our unsub slips in, walks to the living room, pulls the gun out, bam. Husband is dead. The wife was the target." I say, the scene unfolding around me once again.

"How do you know that?" Tim asks.

"The husband was shot execution style. However, the wife underwent extensive pain. She was stabbed in the chest several times, each wound reaching her heart. Maybe a way of communicating his heartbreak or jealousy. Then postmortem he went to overkill by one shot to the head, bam. He took his time with the wife from the report I gathered from Ducky. She went through tremendous pain and was awake." I say.

"Why was the living room trashed then?" Tony asks.

"Well, earlier that night before the couple was murdered, the neighbors filed a noise complaint which then turned to a domestic violence call once the dispatcher gathered that there was screaming and some furniture could be heard breaking. The officers came and went, hesitant. The fight picked back up after, before the two went to separate rooms. From what I could gather, they seem to be on rocky terms. Her ring was in the sock drawer and she had the bedroom. He was sleeping in the living room." I say.

"So, what about the unsub in all of this?" Tim asks.

"I'm going to say that it's safe to assume that the wife walks to her room to take a breather, maybe go to the master bath and splash some water on her face. Then the unsub comes in from the sliding doors. The husband, our marine sergeant, wasn't paying attention. He was trying to cool down himself and get a grasp on his temper. There's a painting above the fireplace. It's of their wedding venue. He was staring at it when he heard a noise. He turns around, bam. The unsub fires of a shot before he could fight. Unsub hides around the corner as the wife comes to investigate when she hears a big thump and finds her husband dead. Then the unsub attacks her." I say.

"I like it. Now, we need to determine who our unsub is." Gibbs says.

"I've narrowed it down a bit. I found a boot print and a bunch of cigarettes between the trees. Abby is still running some tests on the cigarette buds. However, the boot print is a size thirteen marine boot. The pattern is one to the marine boots. Could be a buddy of the husbands maybe. I'm going to estimate that he's about six two with a heavy build or he's heavier set because the weight left behind on the boot print." I explain.

"Any profile?" Ziva asks.

"Again, I think it's safe to assume the wife was the target. The couple is our only murder so far and hopefully it stays that way. So, it's kind of set it in stone that the unsub is more than likely an ex-lover, the baby daddy, a jealous friend of the husbands friend who wanted the wife, or maybe this man knew something we didn't and thought he was protecting the husband. However, that's a leap as he did kill the husband. The wife was the target. She was overkill. I'd suggest that it stems from betrayal, jealously and definitely anger. With how motivated he was for the murders, I'd also like to suggest that he's going to be quite cool and laxed about this. He's probably narcissistic, has strong views on a woman's role, temper-issues and I'd say even paranoid. However, I don't have enough to build on the profile so it very well could be wrong." I say.

"What does your gut say?" Gibbs asks.

"That I'm hungry." I say and everyone chuckles, including Gibbs.

"We will go get lunch soon." He says.

"Okay. However, aside from being hungry, I feel pretty confident about the case built and the profile I presented." I say.

"Then we will go with your word." He says.

I sit, feeling relieved we were closer to the end of this case. However, it did make me nervous at the thought of the end of the case. That meant I'd have dinner with Gibbs and I was dreading it. I knew how it'd go.

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more-cardigan-than-woman · 1 year

Text

The Babysitter- Day 3

Summary: Jason tries to train you, you try not to push his buttons for a change.

Theif!Reader x The Red Hood

Words: 2.8k

Day 2

Warnings: 18+, Fluff, pining, tension clad training, swearing.

"Get up, trouble maker," his fist raps on your door, "we've got places to be."

“Get fucked,” you mumble, putting the pillow over your head and rolling back into the sheets.

“You swearing at me?” he hits the door again, “Don’t you remember what I said about that?”

“Yes.” you moan, swinging your legs over the side of the bed.

“Are you getting up?”

“I’m up. I'm getting dressed. Give a girl a second.”

“Put on something comfortable.”

“Can do, Mr bossy boots,” you poke your tongue out at the door, searching through your drawers for your favourite pair of pink leggings and that cute black crop Harley gave you. “Shit, where are my sneakers?” you start crawling under the bed looking for them.

“You’re taking too long,” you hear his voice echo from down the hall. “Hurry up.” “Yeah, well,” storming out of your room, “You said to put on something comfy and all I could find were my pumps, which are not comfy and my sneakers seemed to have vanished into thin air. I also wanted like one second to maybe, too I dunno, put my hair up and not look like a trash panda first thing in the morning. But here we are." You sigh dramatically, "I look like shit, my hair is a wasp's nest and I still don't have any- Ugh!” you look down at the green pair of shoes now resting in your hands, “You found my sneakers! Thanks'' you beam, sitting right down on the ground and slipping them on.

When you look back up at Jason he stares at you like you've grown a second head, “I know my hair is a mess, you told me to hurry. What do ya want from me?”

“No, nothing. Here,” he says, handing you a coffee, “Found these to go cups,” shit, did you actually listen to him? He tries to pinpoint what he said, maybe he’ll be able to replicate it? Hopefully, because fuck, he never expected to get a thank you this early or to even have you listen to him long enough to do what he asked.

“So, what's the plan? You're going to take me out the back and shoot me for being the most annoying client ever? Maybe take me out for breakfast, wine and dine me?" You shrug, your hands flying around as you talk, "Throw me into a fighting pit and see if I don't die? Lots and lots of options for you.”

“You’ll see when we get there." Jason says as he picks up his duffle bag, "And if you’re good, I’ve got a gift for you.”

“Good? But that's so subjective,” you sip on your coffee, “Good could mean a number of things to numerous different types of people. Your version of good is definitely very different from mine, so how will I even know if I'm being good?”

“You want rules?”

“No, but some guidelines would be nice. Do I need to bring anything else?”

“Nothing else. How about we start with, don’t steal.”

“Boring." You roll your eyes at him, "how about I don’t get caught stealing.”

“Don’t steal from me then. How's that?”

“Fair. anything else? Oh Mr big boss man?”

“No more swearing at me,”

“You really don't like it do you?”

“I do not and since I'm stuck with you for a week, I’d like you to respect it.”

“Fine, I won’t swear AT you. Maybe just around you.”

“That's the best I'm going to get isn't it?”

”Better deal than anyone else has ever had.”

“Lets go then. It's not far from here,”

“What isn't?” he ignores you, opening the door to your apartment and silently waiting for you to follow.

“We’ve got a ten minute walk ahead of us. How about you guess where we're going and I'll tell you if you get close.” Jason offers, thinking that maybe if he can make a game of your talking he can keep you on track. Maybe keep those distracting thoughts and wandering eyes from things in people's pockets if he finds something to occupy you while you walk. To his great shock you smile at him, almost delighted at the idea. An idea he came up with and fuck its almost as hot as that fierce smirk you gave him yesterday.

“Perfect.”

“I was so close,” you say, pushing your arms together in excitement, “I nearly guessed gym,”

“But ya didn't. For some reason you keep thinking I own a castle. Do I give off vampire vibes or something?”

“Maybe, vampires are supposed to be pretty to lure in prey,” you press your back into the gym door and it swings open, “and you're ok looking I guess.”

“Really?” he stalks in infront of you, “You said I was pretty the other day. What's changed?”

“Nothing, you're still pretty. Now I just know how mean you are.”

“Mean? You haven't seen mean.”

“Ooo big threats from the macho man.” you shake your hands in front of you as you walk backwards. “I'm shaking in my sneakers.”

“Not yet. But you didn't notice,”

“What?” you stare at him before realising how quiet the gym is and take a look around, “Where the fuck is everyone?”

“You scared now?”

“Not really. You're big, but I'm faster,” you take off running around the gym, trying your best to get away and when you turn he hasn't even moved. “Knew you couldn't catch me and gave up already?”

“No, you can make all the trouble you want over there. I’ll be over here when you're ready. We’ve got all day and if you get hungry there's snacks in the break room.”

He what? Fine. well. You have been entertaining yourself for years. Surely you can do it for a whole day. You grab the rope dangling from the ceiling and start to climb. Climbing for some reason always clears your mind. Maybe it was because if you didn't focus on where your feet are or your hands, you would literally fall and break your neck.

When you reach the top you peer down and see him with his hands bound, punching hard into the bag. His shirt is off and you can see the large muscles of his back flex with every single swipe. “Whoops'' you laugh, almost losing your grip. Now, how does Harley do it? You think, twisting your leg through the rope releasing one hand and falling down to grip it with the other. Wow. this is easy, think to yourself. Before your hand slips and you're crashing into the ground. "Oh, closer than I thought." You say rubbing the sore spot on the back of your head.

He glances back, catching your eye, but turns right back around and continues to hit the bag. Fucking woman, he thinks to himself, as he unleashes his frustration on the punching bag, "she's more of a danger to herself than than anyone else. Doesn't fucking listen, except apparetnly, when she fucking wants too. We're only on the third day and she's already making my skin crawl. "He slams a fist into the bag, "even giving her space doesn't seem to be calming her down any. And there she goes climbing shit again, like she's fuckin Grayson."

Though, he admits to himself, it may have a little to do with his own frustrations. He can't help but watch you. Those tight ass pink leggings carrying you into the break room, your ass on full display as you, is that a hop or skip? Either way, it's fucking cute. Cute? Fuck, he hits the bag again, this time blowing it off the chain and sending it flying.

Maybe he needs a break too. Wiping his face with the towel he trudges on over to the break room. Not expecting to find you balancing on a chair as you reach for the top shelf. "What are you doing?"

"People always hide the best snacks here," you say, because you're right.

"Let me." He says grabbing the chair and pushing you out of the way, letting out a little laugh as you struggle not to fall from it. He grabs the box of cookies from the very back of the shelf, "here."

"Thanks," you smile, snatching the cookies from him and sitting your ass on the table.

"Water?" He asks, did you just say it again? What the fuck is with you today? Maybe you hit your head too hard on the ground, or someone knocked you with a sense hammer while you were asleep.

"Please, I'm so thirsty," you ogle him when he turns to the fridge. Smiling at him in the way you’ve seen Harley do to Ivy when she wants something. Noticing that manners seem to be getting you things and he promised to give you a gift if you were good, so maybe the gift will be a batarang. But it feels weird when he looks at you like that, like you want to make him angry again. To see just how far you can push him before he snaps. Those eyes though, what is he looking at? What is he seeing? And like what is up with him?

"Catch," Jason throws a bottle of water at you and you catch it spinning it around on your palm before taking a sip.

"Just what I need,"

"Drink up because if you're done playing around it's time to train."

"That mean I've been good?"

"Yes. Now get out on the mat."

“But my gift?” you make eyes at him, holding out your hand, like where the fuck is my gift.

“I didn’t bring it with me. You’ll have to wait.”

“I can have it though?”

“You can. Now what did I say?’

“You don’t have my gift?”

“No. Get on the fucking mat.”

"OOo, was that a swear? Bad bad man,” you laugh at how serious his expression is, “What happens when I get on the mat? Is it easier to kill me?"

"Yes.” he ignores your comment, clenching his fists at his side, “But you want to learn how to disarm someone. So, go."

“Ok and you're definitely not going to kill me?”

“I don't get paid if you're dead.”

“Did they not already pay you? That's dumb, you should've gotten paid upfront. They're more likely to swindle you if you don't get it all at once.”

“And who told you that?”

“One of the 2 faced guys, he was nice. I don't remember his name, maybe Luke? Leo?” You say as you make your way out into the gym and towards the matted area, “it was definitely an L or maybe a J.”

“Does it matter?”

“Spose not, bats caught him last week. Guys rotting in arkham.” you shake your arms out and crack your neck, “So how do I do this?”

"Stand like," he moves you, his huge hands on your shoulders making your tummy do flips, his strong legs kicking your knees apart and almost sending them crumbling down.

"I feel like a doll," you swat him away, while trying to push the heat in your chest away too, "stop doing that, just tell me how to do it."

"I'm trying, if you would just-" he runs his hands down his face. He picks up a stray foam roller, "take this from me."

"Really? Not even going to give me a tip?"

"Be fast."

"Right, so helpful."

"Well you didn't want me moving you around, so do it yourself."

You try just jumping forward, but he moves so fast, easily jumping out of the way. You go to the side and he darts away. After four tries of this you sigh, "fine. If it's going to help just show me."

"Ask nicer."

"Please, will you help me?” you roll your eyes at his predictability.

“Without the attitude.”

“Please, Mr man handling macho man.”

"Good girl," you feel a shiver run down your spine as the words leave his lips and he stands in front of you with his fingertips on the edge of your skin.

"No man handling, ok?"

"Yes, just listen. Keep your legs apart, your arms loose- yeah like that. Now I'm going to stand still and I want you to reach over it, grab my hand and run yours down until you feel the roller and then pull back. You got it?"

"I think so," you step forward, reaching your arm out.

"Keep your feet even."

"Like that?"

"Yeah, but more on the ground. The tip toes will throw you off."

"What?" You say, not even realizing you were doing it. Not noticing him moving before the roller pushes into your tummy and you're on your ass, "hey! Rude!"

"See what I mean?"

"Point taken. No tip toes." You take his hand as he helps you to your feet.

"Try again," he steps back unto his previous potion, "flat feet."

"Yeah, so I just," you focus too hard on your feet and trip into him, "shi- I mean shoot. Sorry."

"Go again," he pushes you back up, “maybe just try it from here," his hand on yours guiding you along his arm, "this too much manhandling?"

"No, it's," your eyes locked on where your hand is touching his sculpted forearm, "down like this?"

“Yes, now grab a hold-" your fingers wrap around the foam roller but you can't seem to get it from his hand. You peer up only to see him staring back down at you "-take it," he whispers in a voice so soft you think your insides might melt out your ass.

"You're holding it too tight," you complain, yanking on it, "that's not fair."

"You think people are going to let you take whatever you want from them?" he smirks down at you, his eyes daring you to prove him wrong.

"No," you slide your hand down to hold over where he's gripping the roller, "but that's never stopped me before," you jump, swinging your legs over, using him as a balustrade as you flip over to sit on his arms, bouncing your ass to try and get him to let go.

"And you were being so good," he chuckles, dropping the roller and you onto the mat. "Shame," he looks down on you stepping away, fuck you were so close he could smell the candy scented shampoo in your hair, and feel your perky little ass on his arms. It was all he could do not to spin you around and kiss you. "I was going to show you how to aim properly once you got it out of my hand."

"No, no. I want a rematch. Give me another go," you pause, wanting to get him close, just one more time today, "please?"

"1 more."

"Yeah, just one, come on. Please? I think I've got the hang of it now. Please."

"Ok, but I'm not going easy on you like last time."

"Ready?"

"Always."

You leap at him, faking out to the left and zapping back to the right before your hand is on the foam roller. You know he's stronger than you, so you bend your legs gripping tight to it as you bounce up, flipping but instead of going up and over, you plummet face first into the mat, "what the fuck?" You mumble into the plastic.

"That was a good tactic," he leans down onto your ear. "It might've worked if I hadn't seen it coming," his hand reaches down to you, "But you've got the hang of it. Tomorrow we can work on your aim.".

"My aim is fine,"

"Is it? because you've yet to hit me."

'Maybe I'm doing it on purpose," you mumble, turning away.

"What was that?"

"What? You think you're all that, Macho man? Fine, show me, you got any guns I can play with anyway?"

"Not here."

"Where we going?" You say, following him as he heads towards the front door.

"Back to your apartment."

"But guns.." you whine, rolling your eyes behind him.

"We can do that tomorrow. Right now I need some decent food and some quiet."

"Quiet? Well Honey, you’ve come to the wrong woman."

“We will see.”

“Nearly got it,” You smile to yourself as your tools pick at the lock on your window. “Just a few more, yes!” You throw your hand over your mouth hoping he didn't hear you.

“Macho man thinks he can boss me around and keep me locked in my own apartment. Idiot. Pretty fuckign idiot.” Fuck, what is wrong with you? Here's your escape and you find yourself looking at your door, wondering what he's doing right now.

Didn't take as long as I expected, he stares down at the notification on his phone as he lays back in your spare room. “I’m so impressed, little trouble maker,” he whispers, glancing at your closed door across the hall, “managed to get it unlocked in 3 days. Now the real test begins.”

Day 4

Taglist:

@letmebebatmanpls @hypnobanditprofessorhorse-blog

@nutmeg030 @igotanidea @tild3ath @halbhohehalluzination

@goblinhobo @efam @princessbl0ss0m @bubbles-incorrect-yb

@ilikw @megumisbabymomma @mxtokko

#red hood x reader #reader x red hood #red hood fanfic #red hood #jason todd fanfic #reader x jason todd #jason todd x reader #x reader

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fiixerupper · 1 year

Text

Christmas at the Player’s House

Alluded to(?) spoilers for ScarVi below! Basically the result of me imagining the friend group when invited to spend Christmas at the player’s home with their mother. Merry Christmas to those who celebrate, and Happy Holidays to those who don’t!

Fluff, general headcanons, player is referred to with they/them pronouns though they’re not mentioned too much.

I mean given all we know about his upbringing with his parents I doubt he’s ever had much of a nice Christmas

But this year is different! He has friends he cares about! And they care about him!

But…how the hell do you know what to gift those people?

He’s not the smartest, and he’s not really the arts and crafts type. Shoot, he really should’ve been writing stuff down all those times he’d hear his friends talking about something they wanted that year!

Well, if there’s one thing Arven is good at, it’s cooking. So a special dish and dessert should do the trick! …Hopefully.

He definitely drops way too obvious signs the entire month. Asking what the player and the others usually look forward to for their holiday meals and whatnot.

Definitely comes over and greets the player’s mother with an awkward smile before revealing what he made for everyone.

He anxiously watches for everyone’s reactions when they first take a bite.

And oh! The relief when everyone says they love it and that he did a great job on it!

Don’t fill up too much, he also made marranitos for dessert! (They really do look like Lechonks…)

This is the time of year where she really shines

I can see her planning out all year what she’ll gift all of her friends

Plus all the extra gifts she spontaneously buys because “Ooh! They’ll LOVE this!” Every. Single. Time.

It’s a good thing she’s from a rich family because the amount of gifts she’ll come over with is staggering

Gift giving is probably her love language, that or quality time. Lucky for her the holiday season let’s her indulge in both!

She probably also decorates like crazy

Like, you know how some people put those blow-up decorations on their yards and cover every inch of their home with lights?

Yeah that’s definitely right up her alley. Don’t even get me started on the tree!

Would love to walk through Mesagoza with her friends at night and see all the Christmas lights throughout the town

Spending the holiday with her friends, seeing those lights together, that’s the greatest gift she receives that year in her eyes

Given how she spoke about her dad being really annoying and embarrassing, I can imagine she jumped at the opportunity to be somewhere else for the holidays.

And the player’s mom is pretty normal! And she’s not suffocating her child with embarrassing nicknames and stuff!

She probably brought over some anime she really loves for everyone to watch on the player’s TV in their room.

The player’s mom comes upstairs with hot chocolate, and I can see her putting a big pile of whipped cream on top of hers.

I can also just picture her excitedly talking over the anime she put on at times to explain how Huge this current scene is, and at other times she’s completely silent as her eyes are glued to the screen.

And then it’s time for everyone to exchange their gifts with each other. They all moved to the living room since everyone had dropped off what they brought downstairs by the tree.

Seeing the player receive and gift presents with their mother…Well, it admittedly made Penny feel a bit bad for ditching her dad.

So after the gift exchange she’d excuse herself to make a call outside.

It took her a second to build up the nerve to hit the button on her screen, but eventually she’d wait just a few seconds as it rang before it would be answered.

“…Hey, Dad? It’s Pen-pen. I uh…just wanted to say Merry Christmas.”

#pokemon #pokémon #pokemon scarlet and violet #pokemon scarlet #pokemon violet #pokemon scarvi #pokemon scvi spoilers #nemona #arven #penny #pokemon nemona #pokemon arven #pokemon penny #pokemon headcanons #headcanons #pokemon hcs #fiixerupper

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always-andromeda · 2 years

Note

Calvin ideas you say? Can you imagine having to awkwardly hang around him when you take your dog on a walk or to the dog park (or both) because your dogs are like in doggy love with each other and you just think Calvin is the biggest asshole alive

Dog Days | Calvin Weird-Fields x GN!Reader

Calvin Weir-Fields x GN!Reader

Word Count | 666

Author’s Note | SHSHSJSJDJS THIS IS SUCH A GREAT IDEA! I HAD to make a little blurb. I went a little sappy here though, lol.

Warnings | this is pure fluff folks, none!

Lula, you better be happy. You think to yourself as you watch your black Pomeranian romp around with the scruffy little border terrier she now considered her best friend. You went to the dog park pretty often. But it wasn't until Scotty scampered into Lula's life that she found a playmate she couldn't get enough of. The man Scotty dragged with him didn't seem too bad himself either. Or so you thought until he opened his mouth.

Calvin Weir-Fields was...irritating. If you were reading something he'd already read, he didn't hesitate to spoil it in order to spout his opinions. You wouldn't necessarily mind the company if you didn't escape to the dog park just for some alone time. Calvin, on the other hand, was all too eager to make friends. That's what he'd gotten Scotty for, after all.

He looked like a dream in his cream colored cardigan and plaid button up. But the more he talked, the more you realized he was just another one of those nightmarish male artists who flocked in droves to Los Angeles. So of course he slotted himself into your life alongside his dog.

When he'd asked to exchange numbers, the original intent was so you could sync up your trips to the dog park. Calvin had said that he'd just gotten Scotty and he hadn't seen him get so comfortable with another dog so quickly. You relented, giving him your number.

Calvin didn't abuse this, by any means. But something about his dorky little texts made you roll your eyes.

Going to the dog park at 1 PM today! Hope to see you and Lula there! :)

Maybe you'd find it more endearing if it was in line with his behavior in person. He was always so awkward; like he wasn't quite sure what to do with his lanky figure. You're almost grateful that he seems to be completely unaware of how attractive he is. If he knew how to wield his looks, he could ruin you completely.

Okay, we'll be there! You typed back lamely. The most you would give him is common decency. You'll go to the park to make sure Lula gets some play in, but you won't be making friends with Scotty’s owner. At least that's what you tell yourself when Calvin catches you looking at him while he reads.

Calvin smiles slightly before his look fades into one of concern, "You're looking a little tired." he states bluntly.

"Yeah, I didn't get much sleep last night." you reply. Lula had woken you up asking to be let outside at least once every two hours the night before. That's partially why you took Calvin up on his offer to go out today; if you can tire her out more, hopefully she'll be more willing to sleep through the night.

Calvin begins to take off his cardigan and places it on the grass beside him. "If you wanna lay down, you can. I can watch the dogs." he offers. You are tired. And he is being nice. It's probably one of the first times he's said something entirely kind, without even a hint of passive aggression in his voice.

So, begrudgingly, you lay your head down on his bunched up cardigan. You're immediately hit by the smell of cedar wood; probably the scent of the soap he uses. The fragrance is inviting enough that you cuddle up more to the sweater and shift a little closer to him until your head is almost resting on his thigh right next to the book he's reading.

Calvin wasn't expecting you to get so close so quickly. He tries to move on and not overthink things. But how can he when within minutes, you're gently dozing, hair messily splayed across your forehead and his cardigan pulled up underneath your nose? All he can think to do is to softly pet your hair as he continues to read his book, this time struggling a little to follow the story.

#paul dano #danonation #danocel #calvin weir fields x you #calvin weir fields x reader #calvin weir fields #ruby sparks #˚ʚ meda writes ɞ˚

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tonixe · 2 years

Note

Heyyy:)) can i please ask for a clavis x reader smut(with lots of fluff as well), thank youu💕💕

matching・Clavis Lelouch x Reader

genre・Smut 😈with fluff at the end + reader with female genitals

warning・P + V

words・1.75k

+ This is my first ever smut fic, so feel free to judge or criticize this ig. Hopefully, you enjoyed and sorry for the long wait >3 💗

+ Also sorry if it wasn't what you imagine or want. 💖💘💕💞

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

Time goes slowly as it passes by...

It felt like time was purposely slowing down; it felt like centuries past without seeing your trouble maker of the prince in the castle doing his princely duties around the kingdom, sitting on the comfortable sofa. Waiting for him to come back, to come back to you in your arms. As you reminisce about his soft touches that were dealt on your body, that you terribly missed.

Sitting down on the soft piece of furniture, wearing one of his jackets he lent to you, still enveloped with his sweet-smelling scent.

Waiting for him. Even if the world was ending, you would be in the exact spot waiting for him to finally come to you, even if it means ignoring your responsibilities as Belle.

As the day becomes night and the night becomes day, you would still return to the same spot. Staring at the window, your sad expression reflects the glass window as for his absence.

That once sad expression soon turned into an expression of beaming joy; seeing horses carrying in a snow-white carriage, hope was still in your heart that he would come, and I guess that same hope was on your side today, rubbing your eyes wake. When you saw that little troublemaker coming down from the carriage.

His dusty purple hair flowed around his handsome face; it felt like forever until you saw him wearing his usual cheeky smile.

Immediately open the door, using all your strength in your body, and run down the stairs to the gate where he arrived—further stopping until you saw him, unharmed and perfectly okay. That little troublemaker of you caused you so much worrying just for him to come; with that cheeky smile of his, you were breathless from the running right in front of him.

"C..clavis," a hoarse whisper came out of you, barely having energy in your voice, smiling at him in joy as your salty tears stained your face, your cheeky turning into a salty stained mess.

"Was I gone for that long?" he said, not.

Even acknowledging what he said and hugging him tightly was surprising to Clavis, especially for you have this comfort of finally having him in your arms made your heart swell.

The worry in you was gone when you got to touch him. When the curtains were drawn, when the time you got to be recovered by the touches and kisses you longed from him. Your leg wrapped around his waist as you both shared a passionate kiss; he was your addiction, someone that you yearned for, finally satisfying your craving for the word love.

Your back hit the soft bed as you both redrew from the kiss, and the wetness between your legs started to ache; being without Clavis in the castle did take a toll on you and your body. "C-clavis...I-" you were shortly overtaken by another deepen kiss than before, your tongues interlinked, moaning from immense pleasure.

Wrapping your hands over his neck, propping yourself and look at him with a hazy expression. "You were worried, weren't you" he whispers while unbuttoning his shirt. You were embarrassed to admit that you genuinely needed him and waited for this moment.

Your gaze follows his slender fingers unbuttoning his shirt as he lowes his fingers to lose off the last buttons, making your core ache further; you didn't know that your body was deprived of the sexual tension. "You're acting like it's your first time, darling; you were lonely without me, weren't you?" Your eyes laid towards his naked chest, his slender fingers slowly traveling to your clothed arousal.

His finger stroked your clothed arousal as he leaned into you, closing the proximity between you as he started nibbling on your ear and rubbing your arousal; the room was engulfed with your moans and whimper of pleasure as your once tidy display turned into disarray and a sensual look. A patch of wet stain was showing on your panty from the sheer fact of your satisfaction,

"Excited, aren't you, princess" he whispers, withdrawing his fingers away from your cloth arousal.

Your whimpers were sounding in the room. "I think it unfair your one being pleased. It would help if you started undressing" his eyes have a glint of desire and lust in them as he licked his finger covered by your essence.

You hurriedly slipped off your pantie, and your hands trembled as you unbuttoned your blouse; his eyes were still laid off your disarrayed figure. As you finally took off your undergarments, you felt small under his gaze, with your naked figure shown, as the glint of desire was established in his eyes; needless to say, it wasn't a lie that he was one of the dangerous beasts of the kingdom, and true to say it wasn't a lie.

The coldness of the air hardens your peaks.

Opening your leg, propping your hand behind you, showing your gaping hole ready to pleasure one of the beasts of the kingdom, giving him the puppy eyes and motioning your eyes between your legs. Your appearance gave off an alluring and seductive look as the tension inside the room turned into a risqué moment.

His eyes were allured to your suggestive position as you scanned his leaned position to see his hardened shaft forming at his pants.

"Clavis...let me pleasure you, and give you good welcoming" smiling at him and tracing your finger from the outline of his chest to the outline of his shaft. For the most part, throwing him off from that alone.

Throwing a suggestive look at him biting your bottom lip, as your dribbling cunt was tempting him to devour you and fuck you mercilessly. As he throws off his briefs and pants, soon being flashed by his hardened shaft making your arousal even more. Your eyes were laid to his post, propping yourself open as your fingers open your cunts lips. As he inserted his shaft into you, you jolted from the spread of pain through your abdomen.

"F-fuck" you hissed out, wishing the 3rd prince would get it over with and fuck you straight.

Digging your nail into his shoulders and throwing your head back, adjusting his size while inside you. "Ready darling?" he whispered, As he snapped his hips, "H-haah," moaning out as the sensation of pleasure in you from the simple moveth. Grinding your hips for the desprate for the delicious friction you craved so bad.

He was once teasing you again.

The moan and the act of reassurance sent the 3rd prince off the charts, triggering that animalistic urge. Placed his head on the small back of your neck and thrust inward while massing your inner wall and left small kisses throughout your neck, as the burning sensation spreading turned into fleets of pleasure. Forcing to jolted up

"C-clavis, stop being such a tease." softening your grip on his shoulders, tilting your pelvis for an entrance to fill the desperate void. "You sure" as he gave you a mocking cheeky smile and caress the fat of your cheeks.

"Please," giving him puppy eyes, finally sending him off the edge. As the message inside his eyes was working to the allure with a lustful gaze, he was still inside as you trusted inside and out of you with a frantic tempo.

As his room was soon filled with your breathy moans and languid pants.

Your exposed bosom bounced up and down from the frantic pace, and the slapping of skin echoed the room. This is the welcoming you wanted to give him as his long departure; as your gaze becomes hazy from the pleasure and the heat of your body increases, your body feels it is on fire. Marking and spreading kisses through your collarbone and breast as he thrust inside you.

"S-shit," you screamed, as the pace was in tempo, feeling that the 3rd prince enjoyed your welcoming gift from the extended pace, the sensations of the pleasure act.

As he was holding your hips securely, thrust inwards and out, "This is a good awakening, princess. I didn't know you were this good at giving gifts"

Giving him a hazy expression as your tongue was loled out. "You look good this way, (MC)" giving you a hard thrust, jolting you up again, moaning out. Stars were flooding your visions as he trusted inside on your walls.

While you let out a shaky breath as he pounded into you, savoring the delicious sensation. Goosebumps spread through your arms, feeling a coil tension pooling throughout your abdomen as he played with your clit. Enjoying the simulation from the sensation of biting the bottom of your lip. "C-clavis, I'm close," you panted out.

Feeling him pulsate inside you, tighten around him inside your inner walls. "Is that so" his pace was more animalistic than ever as his hips collided with you. Your hips stuttering, the brutal pace wearing you out, as you wrap your neck around his neck, your breast bouncing from the tempo.

"C-clavis, I think-"

"Do it, princess," he caresses your hips; soon, your coil snapped as the long crescendo of moans ranged out through the room, your mind shattering.

The heat pooling from your abdomen dropped, linking out of you. Your released your essence, coating his shaft as your body fell limped from the sensation, leaving you weak.

As his thrust becomes sloppier, feeling him pulsate more inside of you noted that he was close and soon feeling the warm sensation. He takes himself out of you and feels his warmness gone as he empties himself on the sheet.

Your body slumped down, your back hitting the bed. Both of your pantings echoed the room, as your body was covered in sweat, your half-lidded look at him, "S-so, did you enjoy your welcoming gift" you panted out, your legs exposed, still dripping from your earlier release.

His body was caved over you, "Mhm," he panted out, "you always give the best gifts, darling," playing with your hair and kissing and planting hickies on your neck.

As you both share a passionate and sweet kiss, "M'thats good."

"Say, your gift was wonderful darling, let me repay you for it, sharing a hot bath together" as he nuzzled your neck and massage your bosoms. Biting down your bottom lip holding your moans back, from the pleasure "Doesn't that sound good, princess"

Letting out a breathy moan, "Ngh-y-yeah...it doesn't sound good," he soon carried your limped body and walked to his grand bathroom chamber.

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

· ➳❥ Criticizing or judgment is welcome here; reblogs are greatly appreciated.

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thelibrarylesstrektraveled · 1 year

Text

Nightingale Chapter Fourteen - The Reckoning

Summary: Jensen Ackles seemed to have it all. A hit television series fifteen years running, a budding music career and a stunning wife. To the casual observer, his life was perfect. But it was a façade. No more real than the supernatural world created on a soundstage.

That day on the lake had started with uncertainty, but when he pulled you from the water everything became clear. The truth was, he’d been the one drowning.

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Reader, Jensen x Reader, Jensen x You

Characters: Jensen Ackles, Jared Padalecki, Genevieve Padalecki, Misha Collins, Reader

Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Hospitals, Drowning, Fluff, Angst, Smut, unprotected sex

Chapter Fourteen: The Reckoning

Word Count: 6072

Author’s Notes: This is a complete work of fiction about a real life person. The circumstances are totally made up and are in no way a commentary on the fantastic Jensen Ackles or his family.

This is also a unique reader insert story as I have given the reader a physical description including hair color, eye color and body type. Hopefully you can still lose yourself in the utter fantasy where Jensen is the hero and you are ripe for rescuing!

Masterlist

Nightingale Masterlist

Jensen followed the smell of freshly brewed coffee to the kitchen. When he woke alone, he had that brief moment of panic that last night was just a dream. But there you were. Bare footed, wearing his button down from last night, humming as you iced hot cinnamon rolls. You licked white frosting from your thumb while spreading your knife with the other hand. Delightfully unaware that you were being admired from the kitchen doorway. It was a charmingly domestic scene that Jensen didn’t think he’d ever witness again.

You were lost in your own thoughts when two thick arms came around your waist. A very warm, solid, familiar form molded to you from behind. Jensen’s breath tickled your ear as he rested his chin on your shoulder.

The hot kiss he pressed to the junction of your neck and shoulder had you humming happily. “Well, good morning.”

“Very good morning.” He grinned as you turned in his grasp to face him. Your arms wound around his neck and your lips found his.

You nipped playfully at his bottom lip, “Are you hungry?”

“You offering breakfast or round two?” You swatted his backside and slid out of his grasp. “I mean, I’m down for either! Or both… hopefully both…”

You handed him a large mug of black coffee and instructed him to sit while you plated up the cinnamon rolls. You had to smile at the surprised look that crossed his face when he tasted them.

“Wow, these are actually edible.”

You narrowed your eyes over the rim of your cup, “I’m not completely inept in the kitchen.”

“I have three scorched saucepans that would disagree,” Jensen leaned over and grabbed another roll. “Seriously, these are like blue ribbon at the county fair.”

“Alright, fine… they’re Maddy’s recipe. I was living on ramen and Captain Crunch when I first moved back here so she made a bunch of stuff and filled my freezer. All I had to do was follow the instructions”

His smile faded a bit at the mention of the days right after your breakup. “I’ll have to thank her the next time I see her. Although, I think she’d rather spit in my face.”

“She wouldn’t do that. Not if the kids are with her,” You reached over to toy with his fingers, “Besides, Chrissy still likes you.”

“I’m pretty sure he’s just using me for my Nintendo.”

“Not anymore, he got one for Christmas.”

“Now I really am screwed!”

The two of you laughed softly before falling into an awkward silence. You kept the contact of his fingers in yours, hoping that he knew you weren’t angry with him. The guilt was coming off him in waves. There was so much unresolved between you. It was ignored easily enough in the night, but it loomed large in the unforgiving light of day.

“Hey.” You squeezed his fingers, prompting him to look at you, “I love you.”

He let out the breath he’d been holding, “I love you too.”

“Good.” You nodded; it was a start. “Now what?”

Jensen chuckled, “I have no idea. Go home?”

When your expression fell, he panicked. “Sweetheart, it’s your call. Whatever you want, I’ll do anything…”

You put your hand to his lips, stopping his rambling with a sad smile. He was worried. Afraid, and God did you understand that.

“I love you.” You said it again, just to make sure he never doubted it. “But Jay, we can’t go back to the way things were.”

“Because you don’t want to?”

“Because it didn’t last. You know when Clif showed you those files…”

Jensen cut you off, “I meant it when I said I don’t care about the files. Or the articles or any of it.”

“I know, and I believe you. I do, but you also kept it from me.” You hated yourself for pointing it out, but knew you had to. “You sat on those files for a week and said nothing.”

“I didn’t want to scare you. God knows, it scared me! All those names… baby, you must have been running from something. Something bad. And if you can’t remember it, how in the hell am I supposed to protect you from it?”

“You can’t.”

It was the truth, but that didn’t make it wany easier to say. “There are a million things that could happen. To me or to you. The only way we’re going to get through any of it is together.”

“You’ve been protecting me since you pulled me out of that lake. You’re a hero. You’re my hero. But I am okay now, Jensen… I’m better. I’m healed.”

He trailed a finger down your cheek, tracing where that bruise had been, “You don’t have your memories back.”

“I don’t think I ever will,” you said with a small shrug. “It’s been seven months, I’m back in my old job and apartment. If they haven’t come back by now, they likely won’t. And you’re right, I was probably running. I wish I knew why. But my face was all over the media with that TMZ story, if something was coming… wouldn’t it have showed up by now?”

“You make good points.”

“I’ve had a long time to think about it. I don’t want to pretend none of this happened. I don’t want to build a life on a faulty foundation. I want to work through it, so we can come out stronger on the other side.”

He took both of your hands in his. Your strong, skilled doctor’s hands. The hands that had soothed his brow when he was sick and held him when he was grieving. They fit with his, just as they always had.

“You want to build a life with me? Even still?”

Your eyes softened, “When I told you to stay, I didn’t mean just for the night.”

“So, you don’t want to move back in with me now. But… someday?” he asked hopefully.

“Someday. But for now, let’s date.”

“Date?”

“Yeah, you know… like normal people!” You tilted your head to the side playfully, “Unless you’re already taken.”

Jensen gave you a thoughtful look, then tugged you over to sit on his lap, “Well, there is this girl I’ve got my eye on.”

“Oh?”

“Yup. She’s this hot shot doctor with legs for days.”

You slung your arms around his neck, “Huh.”

“She’s super smart too… and funny. Eyes like Bluebonnets, maybe you’re seen her?”

“You’re going to have to be more specific.”

“Oh? Well, she does this swirly thing with her tongue on my….”

“Shut up,” you grinned, swallowing the rest of his words with a kiss.

Three months later an unusually warm spring came to Vancouver. Snow disappeared, trees burst with fresh leaves and the grass greened up almost overnight. The night at the Green Room was a distant memory to you now as you and Jensen resumed your relationship. There was lots of work to be done, but you were both committed to the task. In the end, you only stayed at your apartment during long stints at the hospital. But it worked to help the two of you keep a balance as you rebuilt the trust that had been damaged.

Jensen still didn’t agree with you about leaving your murky past in the past, but he did agree to let it present itself in its own time. The mystery of how your private information got leaked to the press, was another matter. It took surprisingly little digging to discover the source.

“Wait… who?”

“You remember that little red head that worked the desk down in the health club?”

You furrowed your brow in concentration, “No.”

“Do you remember the time you lost your phone in the changing room? Someone turned it in at the desk a few hours later?”

“Oh,” your eyes widened, “Oh yeah! She said it was found in the elevator.”

“Her little brother interns at TMZ, I guess he got quite the promotion for that story.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?!”

“I wish. Anyway, it was a clear privacy violation, not to mention staff policy so they let her go this morning.”

“All this from losing my phone for an afternoon,” you shook your head, “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault, it’s mine. I should have believed you that night, regardless of what that article said. I knew better. It happens a lot in this industry, I should have thought of that.”

You shook your head again, this time brushing a kiss over his lips. “No more ‘I’m sorry’s’ huh? We both know where we stand now. All’s forgiven, we’re good. Right?”

“Right.”

There was power in forgiveness. Perhaps even more than love. So often love is unconscious. It exists as an outside force that we are subject to, like the wind, or gravity. It crops up out of nowhere and leaves us reeling. Forgiveness may stem from love, but it’s not a whim. It’s a choice. You and Jensen chose each other and that was a foundation you could build on.

“Doctor Baines, report to the E.R. stat. Doctor Baines, to the E.R. stat.”

You had just finished changing into your regular clothes when you heard the page over the intercom. You threw your lab coat back on over your t-shirt and ran back to the emergency room. It was a two car collision between a family of four and a drunk driver. The staff immediately shifted into triage mode as you barked orders. Emotions shut off and training took over.

It was a God awful, bloody mess.

An hour later, it was over. Ending just as you knew it would the minute you saw them. Only one survivor, the girl. Everyone else succumbed to their injuries, including the fucking drunk driver. Your staff performed like the heroes they were, you couldn’t have been more proud. You took on the task of telling the families. It was your job and if you could spare your co-workers any additional trauma, you were damn well going to.

God! The look on the grandfather’s face would haunt you forever! And he still thanked you. He fucking thanked you for saving the girl, even though his family was utterly shattered!

You managed to hold yourself with professional poise and condolences until you were down the hall. Then your stomach constricted, and you bolted into the ladies’ room just in time to lose your lunch in the first stall. You didn’t know how long you sat there, your heart thundering in your ears and your head throbbing with every beat. After a time, you heard the bathroom door open.

“You okay, kid?”

McMillan. “Aces.”

Tony leaned his hip on the counter as he looked down at you still on the tiled floor. “You did everything right.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“That girl is going to make it because of you.”

“Yeah, and when she finds out the rest of her family didn’t, I’m sure she’ll send me a fucking fruit basket.”

Tony watched you angrily launch yourself up and over to the sink to splash water on your face. “We can’t save everyone Gabs, you know that. It comes with the territory.”

“Well, the territory sucks.”

“Some days, yeah. Other days, we save lives, and those days outweigh the bad ones. Even when we fail a million times, it’s worth it for the one time we don’t.”

You scoffed, drying your face with a paper towel, “Where’d you come up with that? Pre-Med or the inside of a Snapple cap?”

He tilted his head, “From you. The day I interviewed you, hired you on the spot.”

“I wish I remembered,” you said, tossing the paper in the bin.

“I do too. I’m giving you three days leave.”

“Tony…”

“This isn’t a disciplinary action, nor a request.” He gave your shoulder a fatherly squeeze. “This is preventative mental care. I’m not going to let you spiral down again. Take a few days and take care of yourself so you can come back and kick ass.”

“Are you sure they don’t mind us dropping in on them? Maybe they want to spend some family time together.” You said, quietly looking out the window at the passing landscape.

“Gen practically begged me, Jared too. Three kids are a lot even for the two of them, and at least with you and me there we’ll outnumber the little rug rats.” Jensen reached over the adjusted the air-conditioned controls. “Besides, you and I didn’t get a chance to swim the last time we were up here.”

“That’s because it was snowing.”

“Still,” he took your hand in his and squeezed. “Still.”

You both fell silent for the rest of the car ride. You knew he was worried about you. Again. He came home to find you still up after that horrible shift. Sitting in the dark, your knees drawn up to your chest. You told him everything. How you felt like a failure for not being able to pull yourself together. You were supposed to be a professional. You’d lost patients before, but this hit you hard. And you couldn’t keep your mind from thinking about the dreams you used to have of those girls. You hadn’t had one in a very long time. Maybe you’d failed them too. Maybe that was why they were back, haunting you.

Jensen was quick to suggest a trip to the cabin. He might not be able to give you answers, but he could help with the stress. The Padaleckis were in town to spend a few days at their cabin, take advantage of the warm weather and down time before the final filming push. He wasn’t kidding about Gen; she loved the idea of having another woman around. And he loved those kids as if they were his own niece and nephews. Plus, kids are great at pulling you into the present, they certainly did when he was going through his divorce.

Gen greeted you both as you pulled up, “Hey! It’s the cavalry!”

You climbed out of the car and into a tight hug. Gen was surprisingly strong for a woman of her stature. “I don’t know about that, but we did bring graham crackers.”

“Thank God! Smores at the cabin is a Padalecki family tradition, if we don’t have all the ingredients, things get ugly.”

“The little one gets vicious,” Jensen said as he pulled your suitcases out of the trunk. “Last time I saw her, she held my gummy bears hostage until I put Harry Potter on.”

Gen wrapped an arm around you, leading you into the house, “Dot’s a master negotiator, we’re thinking future lawyer, or defense against the dark arts teacher.”

You felt off. You couldn’t really explain it, but ever since your last shift at the hospital things felt disjointed. Your perception was off, and it made you unusually clumsy. You bumped into tables, stubbed your toe, smacked your elbow on the dresser. And your head was killing you. It made you wonder if this was what you’d been experiencing the day you had your panic attack. The day that prompted McMillan to put you on leave the first time. You did your best to put it out of your mind. So, you changed into your swimsuit, took a couple of aspirin, and headed out to meet everyone by the pool.

Jensen was already in the water, playing Marco Polo with the kids while Jared was climbing out of the deep end to towel off. Gen was walking towards the grill with a plater of burgers and kabobs. It was a classic summer scene. Bright sunlight, blue skies reflected in the shimmering pool water. Peals of children’s laughter mixed with splashes of water and music coming from the sound system. It was fun, joyful, and familiar.

You didn’t realize Jared had come up beside you until his hand was on your shoulder, “Y/N? You, okay?”

You blinked dumbly up at him. His long hair slicked back with pool water; brows raised with concern.

“You wore those trunks that day on the lake.”

His eyes widened. He’d never seen you when one of your memories surfaced. You went a bit pale, and he panicked, ushering you to a lounge chair. “Here, sit… sit. Jensen!”

“I’m alright,” you insisted, shutting your eyes as you sat down. With a bit of focus, you got the full image to click in your mind.

When you opened your eyes, you found both men kneeling in front of you. Gen was wrangling the kids by the poolside. Your head felt light for a moment and then cleared.

Jensen was rubbing his thumb gently at your temple, “Hey, there she is.”

“That boat was too big for you.” You voice sounded far away and detached to your ears.

“Boat?” asked Jared.

“The sailboat,” you clarified, your voice getting stronger. “The one you had that day on the lake. A rig that size is too big for two people to handle.”

“You remember the day at the lake?” Jensen smiled; it was always so exciting when you got a piece of the forgotten back.

“A little.” You looked up at Jared with a shrug, “You wore those same swim trunks on the boat.”

Jensen smirked, “Yeah, he thinks they’re lucky. What else do you remember?”

“You. Blue trunks and sunglasses.” You brough a hand to your forehead. “It was a really nice day.”

“Headache?” He guessed. When you nodded, he patted your knee. “Maybe no swimming today, huh?”

You resigned yourself to Jensen’s sound judgement. Gen joined for you for a while with a stack of fashion magazines and a pitcher of lemonade. You soaked up the sun while the boys occupied the kids and took turns pretending to be sea monsters and mermaids respectively. It was a lovely afternoon, and you did your best to relax. Despite your best efforts, tension coiled in the pit of your stomach. Nothing you did seemed to shake it.

“Is it usually like this when she gets a memory back?” Jared asked as pulled a beer out of the fridge.

“Yeah, for the most part,” Jensen glanced out the window at you stretching in the lounger. “The headaches are a bitch, though. Sleep usually helps.”

“Its gotta be frustrating, trying so hard to remember something and getting nothing, then it hits you when you aren’t expecting it.”

“And then she only gets a picture of you in your ugly ass lucky shorts.”

“These shorts are lucky; I was wearing them that time I found your missing car keys?” Jared handed Jensen a beer, “And your girlfriend.”

Jensen clinked his bottle against Jared’s, “Those shorts aren’t just lucky, they’re divine.”

Gen had asked you to watch the kids while she went inside to change and grab some fresh towels. They had abandoned the water for a snack break in the cabana. Shep and Odette chattered and bickered away while Tom flipped on the television. They really were adorable kids. Each of them perfect little versions of their parents.

Odette called you over, her little voice insistent, “Y/N! Come look at the pretty lady!”

You tied your sarong around your hips and crossed the patio to the swatch of grass where the striped awning was set up. “Pretty lady?”

Tom pointed excitedly at the t.v. “Dottie’s right! She looks just like you!”

Your eyes locked onto the screen, and you felt the air leave your lungs. Your own face stared back at you, and something unlocked deep within your mind. Everything flooded back to you in an instant, but you had no time to ponder it. The force of it left you reeling, your vison swam, and you had the vague sensation of falling just before everything went dark.

Jared frowned when he heard yelling from outside. His eyes went wide as he glanced out the kitchen window, “Oh shit!”

Jensen was right behind him, sprinting across the deck towards the screaming children. You were collapsed in the grass, and he had a sick feeling just like the day he pulled you from the water. He dropped to his knees beside you, gingerly turning you over.

“No, no, no, no… Y/N?! Baby?!”

You were deathly pale and your features scrunched up with a groan. You didn’t open your eyes, but it was still the sweetest sound Jensen had ever heard. “Sweetheart?”

Jared had a wailing Odette in his arms while his boys were both talking at once, trying to explain what had happened.

Jensen tapped your cheeks gently with the back of his fingers, “Come on Y/N, open those baby blues for me.”

“No,” you managed to moan, the world felt like it was spinning on an unsteady axis. Your stomach lurched and your head pounded like you’d been on a three-day bender.

“Sure, you can, come on.”

Gen was there just over Jensen’s shoulder, “What happened? Do we need to call an ambulance?”

“Dizzy,” you groaned, turning your head away. “Dizzy.”

Jensen frowned as he ran a hand over your forehead and found it clammy. “Okay, okay. Let’s go inside. Get out of the sun, huh?”

He scooped up your limp body, shushing you when you whimpered softly, “Shh, I’ve got you, I’m right here.”

Your head lolled aimlessly against his shoulder as he hurried into the house with you, while Gen rushed ahead to help with the door.

Jared knelt down to talk to his sons. Odette still clung to him; her little arms and legs wrapped tight around him. The boys had mostly calmed down, at least enough to get some answers.

“Okay guys, what happened? Were you rough housing, huh? Throwing the ball around?”

“No Dad! We were just watching t.v.” Shep said, his face still red from crying.

“Its okay if you were, no one’s in trouble. We just need to know so we can help Y/N.” He looked to his oldest, “Tom?”

Tom lifted his head to shake his shaggy hair out of his eyes, “I don’t know what happened. We were watching t.v., like Shep said. But then this lady came on and looked like Y/N. And when we showed her, she got real quiet and just fell. I don’t know why! Is she going to be okay?”

“Look, Daddy!” Odette pointed at the television. “Look! It’s the pretty lady!”

Jared turned to the t.v. and his mouth hung open. “What the hell?”

Jensen quietly closed the door to the guest room. He stayed with you until you settled into an uneasy sleep. You never opened your eyes again, but you mumbled plenty. Mostly nonsense, but he did catch one key phrase.

“Remember… I remember…”

He shoved down his own instinct to press for answers and instructed you to rest, knowing it was for the best. He was still lost in his own thoughts when he found Jared in the kitchen. He was in front of his laptop while Gen was ushering the kids down the hall to wash the chlorine out of their hair.

Jared’s head popped up, “Hey, how she doing?”

“She’s okay, sleeping it off.” Jensen blew out a breath as he plopped down on a barstool at the counter. “I should have brough her in earlier. Being dizzy before with the heat made a bad combination.”

“I don’t think it was just the heat.” Jared turned the laptop around, so the screen was visible. “Take a look at this.”

Y/N West came from humble beginnings. In the small farming community of Monroe, Iowa, she was a straight-A student. Captain of the swim team, and even tutored SAT prep courses during the summer. So, how did this All-American girl get drawn into the murky world of drug trafficking?

“This is unreal…” Jensen murmured, shaking his head in disbelief.

Jared gave him a sympathetic look, “I know, but it does explain the aliases and job changes. And then there’s this…”

He clicked on another link and opened a video clip. A young woman who could be your double was being interviewed. The clip was recent, maybe a month old. Her name appeared in the description, Francesca West-Robinson.

“Mrs. Robinson, what is your response to the recent photos of the woman dating the actor Jensen Ackles?”

“I think she’s my sister.”

“Your sister who was killed in a car crash seven years ago?” The reporter pressed.

Francesca raised her chin a notch, a movement that mimicked you. “It was her car in that crash, but the remains were difficult to identify.”

“Are you saying she faked her own death? To escape being persecuted for her crimes?”

“I’m saying my sister is alive. I’ve never doubted it, and now these pictures prove it. As for her alleged crimes, she would never, never deal drugs. Nor would she ever be a willing party to that sort of activity. Not ever.”

The blue eyes that mirrored yours went glassy with emotion. “My sister has a family who loves her and misses her. If you know her, if you’ve seen her… if you know anything, please. Just send her home.”

You didn’t sleep long and when you woke, you were whole again. Clear headed. Every missing piece was now back in place. You had your memory back in vivid detail. Now, would come the reckoning.

You changed into fresh clothes and paused to check your reflection in the mirror over the dresser. You could see yourself fully now. The hints of your childhood in the tiny, almost translucent scar in your hairline, in the remarkable eyes that came to you from your mother’s side. The shape of your cheekbones resembled your paternal grandmother, the one you were named for. You recalled the day you chopped off your long hair and headed to college in the big city, desperate to live up to the scholarship you worked so hard for.

All of it melded with the woman you’d become in recent months. In many ways, you weren’t so very different from who you’d always been. Certainly, the same protective instincts that motivated you then guided you still.

With a sigh, you opened the bedroom door and walked down the hallway, you paused just short of the kitchen. Your sister’s voice echoed from the small speakers, and you put a hand to your stomach to still the nerves fluttering there. It had been so long since you’d heard it and you were immediately aching for home.

Jensen and Jared were at the breakfast bar, huddled together, watching the laptop.

Your friends.

These were your friends. They were such good men! They took care of you and stood by you through so much. They opened their homes and their lives to you; they deserved an explanation at the very least.

“You must have questions.”

Their heads whipped up at your soft statement and Jensen came to your side. Ever the hero, his chief concern was for you.

“Hey, Sweetheart… are you alright?”

There was a subtle shift in your gaze, the underlying uncertainty had lifted. You looked confident in a way you never had before. It felt as if he were meeting you for the first time. A part of him felt oddly intimidated.

“I’m better.”

“You’ve got your memory back?”

“The good, the bad, and the ugly.” The corner of your mouth quirked. “Ask me anything.”

When Jensen hesitated, Jared jumped in. “Are you actually a doctor?”

“According to Harvard Medical, I am.”

“So, your name, your real name, is Doctor Y/N West?” Jared asked.

“Yeah.” Your smile was bittersweet, “God, that’s nice to hear. I haven’t been her in a very long time.”

“Because you faked your own death?” Jensen choked out. He ran a hand through his hair as he turned away, “Christ, I can’t believe I just said that.”

“Try living it.” You paused and titled your head thoughtfully, “Is that the right terminology, given the subject?”

Jensen spun around, warning flashing in his eyes.

“Sorry. Gallows humor.” You snapped your fingers, “Ha! Now see, that’s the right terminology!”

“You think this is funny?”

“I think its utterly absurd, but here we are. And I am sorry. I’m so sorry, this whole mess is my fault and now its spilled over into your life.”

“A mess,” Jensen echoed. “That’s one way to describe dealing drugs.”

You were incredulous but only for a moment before righteous indignation took over. “Doctor Y/N West, the drug dealer. Un-fucking-believable. You know, this is what happens when you don’t properly tend to your reputation. I thought that when I died, I would just die. Rest in peace, but no! I live on in misinformed episodes of Dateline.”

When you realized that both men were staring at you in confusion, you took a deep breath and started again.

“I am not a drug dealer, I’m an informant. I’m in witness protection.” The article was still pulled up on the laptop and a picture of your sister stared back at you. A ghost of your past come to hold you to the mark. You reached over and gently closed the screen.

“His name was Colin Garrett. He was the doctor in charge of the residency program at New York Presbyterian Hospital. It’s a super competitive program, when I got in it was like winning the lottery! I couldn’t believe it… and Colin was fantastic. I adored him.”

“You had a relationship with him?” Jensen asked.

“For nearly a year,” It still turned your stomach to think of what your poor judgement had cost you. “I thought he was everything I ever wanted. He was such a talent. Charming and funny, and he just seemed to know everything. He was so worldly. Older than me by quite a bit, but it didn’t seem to matter. Everything went so smoothly when he was around. First time I didn’t have to worry about everything. Hell, even Frankie liked him.”

“Frankie?” Jared repeated.

“Frankie is my sister, Francesca. Our parents were killed in a car accident when we were kids. We were in the back seat… she almost didn’t make it. It’s why I became a doctor. I wanted to do something to pay it forward. Make a difference like they did.”

“I think you succeeded there,” Jensen said, the soft light of admiration in his eyes.

“On good days, I get close. Anyway, I was with Colin for little over a year and everything was great. We didn’t really see each other much, but that was nothing new. I was up to my eyeballs finishing up my final year of med school and Colin traveled a lot for work.”

Jensen was confused, “Why would a doctor travel for work?”

“He was promoted to the board of directors.” You rolled your eyes at how naïve you’d been. “Don’t ask me how he managed it. It was classic Colin, he always seemed to magically have the right connections, it was just effortless. When he was promoted, he ended up doing mostly fundraising work. So, the hospital would send him everywhere to charm money out of millionaires. I didn’t figure it out until much later, but that was how he was able to run things for so long.”

“The drug ring was his,” Jared said quietly, “And you were testifying against him.”

“He was a middleman,” you explained. “Cog in a machine. Opioids is big business and Colin was the guy who tip off the mob on when and where shipments were being delivered. Since he was in contact with so many other hospitals with his new position, it was next to impossible to track him. Their operation was nationwide.”

“The mob,” Jensen repeated. “Where the hell is the FBI in all of this? If you are in witness protection, why haven’t they been looking for you? Where the hell have they been for the past nine months?”

“Its not like it is in the movies. The FBI is interested in mob activities only up to a point.” You shook your head as the image of the last time you saw Colin came to mind.

“Colin was out of town when the FBI raided our apartment. They arrested me on the spot, said they had enough to charge me as an accomplice. It was all part of their intimidation tactics which they didn’t need because once they told me what he’d been up to, I was happy to cooperate. I was working with them on setting up a sting when Colin turned up dead in the Hudson. Twenty-four hours later I was in Canada with a new identity.”

You hadn’t thought of that day in a long time. The day you died. It was as surreal now as it was then. You knew your little sister would never accept your death. The two of you had been close, you only had each other after your parents died. It killed you to think of her mourning you, but you still held out hope that one day you’d make it back to her. Make it up to her.

“Without Colin, the drug ring seemed to dry up. Everything just got quiet. They moved me around less and less, then just stopped all together. Its like every other type of job, I guess. The FBI agents want to do work that gets them noticed and gives them a leg up.”

“So, this case isn’t flashy enough for them?” Jared shook his head.

“If everything is back to normal, why not go back to your old life?” asked Jensen.

“I couldn’t risk it. That car crash Frankie was talking about… That was her. Not me. We look a lot alike; her car was in the shop, so she borrowed mine. Someone cut the brake line. She got pretty banged up but survived. The FBI saw it as an opportunity, said they couldn’t have planned it better.”

Your phone suddenly buzzed in your pocket. Pulling it out, you read the brief message. “My contact. They’ll be here in an hour.”

“You’re leaving.” Jensen breathed.

You couldn’t stop the tears from filling your eyes. You felt like you were leaving your little sister all over again. The second family you’d built around yourself was about to be blown apart and there was nothing you could do to stop it.

“Where will they send you?” asked Jared.

“Who knows… Timbuktu? Given the spectacular job I did blowing my own cover, I doubt it will even have running water let alone internet.”

“No.”

“Jensen…”

“No,” he repeated, his voice gruff. “I’m not losing you. Not again.”

“You say that as if you have a choice. I’m sorry,” you said as tears spilled over your lashes. “But you don’t. And neither do I.”

“There is always a choice! You’re not alone in this, Y/N…. stay.” Jensen didn’t care that he was begging. He would get down on his damn knees if he had to, be it in front of the FBI or God himself. He wasn’t going to let you go without a fight.

“Sweetheart, stay. I can protect you; I’ll hire the best damned security money can buy! I’ll keep you safe.”

You tilted you head sadly, if only it were that easy. God, how you wanted it to be!

“What about your family?” You asked softly. “Your sister’s pregnant again, right? How about your parents? Jared and Gen? Their kids? Your co-workers. Maddy and the twins. Its everyone, Jensen. Everyone who knows me or is connected to me in any way is a target!”

Hearing you list off the names of people he loved was meant to sway him, instead it steeled his resolve. He grasped your shoulders, “The only way you’re walking out that door, is with me by your side.”

You let out a broken sigh as he swiped the tears away and crooked a finger under your chin. “Jay, these people are killers.”

“I know. But living the rest of my life without you would kill me all the same, just slower. So you and I are going to mee the FBI together to see what the options are. Because a decision this big should at least be an informed one.”

You finally nodded in agreement, and he pulled you into his arms, holding you tight. Jared’s worried gaze met his for a moment before he turned and went down the hall to his wife and children. Jensen wasn’t the only one with people to protect.

#dean x reader #dean winchester fanfiction #dean x y/n #dean x you #dean winchester #jensen ackles #jensen x reader #jensen x y/n #spn fic #supernatural #Nightingale

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