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mbti-notes · 3 months ago

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Anon wrote: Hi, I’m a 23 year old INFP. Due to childhood trauma and growing up in an abusive household, but ultimately I suppose due to my own personal struggle to take control of my life, I feel very behind and unaccomplished at my age. I have yet to finish my degree. I managed to get through high school with flying colours, but it turned out I was completely incapable of managing my depression and focusing on school at the same time. As a result, I’ve dropped out for the time being (I’m about halfway done) and have decided to focus on managing myself, personal development, and getting my finances in order before continuing school.

I feel a lot of shame and guilt for not completing school on time, as I’ve always seen myself as “smart” and “scholarly” I suppose, and was raised to hold education in high regard. To put things into perspective a bit more, I’ve always struggled with procrastination, getting things done on time and allowing my emotions to completely captivate me to the point where I easily neglect my duties. Despite this, I managed to get through high school as an outstanding student, but like I said earlier, this did not carry on into college unfortunately.

I feel like I’m less than half of the person that I could be. I also feel held back by my typology. I recall that you don’t hold much regard for enneagram, but I will just say being an INFP 4, it feels like I was born as the type most susceptible to failure. Now, I know INFP does not equal failure, as my best friend is also one and is a relatively successful business woman. However, she has things in life that I severely lack; adequate parental guidance, self esteem, and what I’d describe as much more developed Si. This isn’t to say things were handed to her, she worked for a lot of what she has now, but I do think that she was blessed with much more assets than I was.

I guess what I feel is that INFP is the least useful brain to have in a situation like mine. I have not a logical mind, nor a desire for any sort of order like Js do, and on top of that I was not taught any life skills, and all of my emotional intelligence was developed on my own, through observation. So, I’m great at giving advice, and horrible at applying it to my own life. I’ve been said to be wise, insightful, and particularly good at dissecting interpersonal relationships, yet nothing about my situation in life would reflect this, except maybe my relationships I have with my friends, to a degree.

I know I lack emotional intelligence despite being told otherwise, and this is something I’ve only recently come to terms with. I now believe if I truly had emotional intelligence, I would be in a better position than I am now. I have a tendency to avoid things that make me feel bad. I enjoy staying up late and staying in bed all day. I feel very unequipped to deal with society. I hate strangers, I hate being yelled at, I hate being invalidated, I hate being misunderstood, and all of these hatreds and my incompatibility with society were solidified during the years I worked (fast food, sales, and call centers). I am now very hesitant to get a job, I feel like I’ll be unable to succeed at anything I’m actually qualified for, as it often requires dealing with strangers. I don’t know how I did it before, but I do remember feeling dread during every work hour. I am scared to be in that position again.

I have a tendency to do more for others than myself. I’ll spend all day or longer writing an essay for a friend, or helping them with their homework, and yet I cannot bring myself to focus on my own studies. I can give a friend mountains of advice, perhaps even a detailed life plan, but I can’t begin to truly dissect my own problems and figure something out. It is so much easier engaging with someone else’s problems instead of my own. These days, I often feel like some sort of side character, someone meant to uplift others, but cannot experience any development for themselves. The narrative isn’t focused on me, although I so desperately want it to be.

I want to be accomplished. I want to be strong. I want to face strangers with ease. I want to be able to push aside my feelings in order to work hard. I want to be comfortable with myself, to be a beacon of hope for others, not just by my words and ability to connect with others, but by who I am as a person on my own.

But I am so inconsistent in my pursuits of self improvement, and so easily defeated. I’ve tried and failed a million times. I’ve improved myself over time, but the improvement has been minuscule and inconsistent. It isn’t entirely my fault, as there are circumstances I won’t get into that quite literally force me away from my goals, but I know that I need to find a work around and learn to cope with them so that I may one day succeed and leave these circumstances.

I just don’t know what to do. How can such a sensitive, reclusive, and traumatized person such as myself break their chains? Is it even possible to live up to the greatness I desire that lives only in my head? As an INFP born into such unlucky circumstances, am I destined to always fall short of the person I need to become?

My friends tell me that I’m a great person. They would say I’m capable and that they’ve seen proof. I am cursed with the knowledge that they speak with bias, and their perceptions of me are not based off reality, but by subjective feelings of tenderness. I feel like if anything, it’s been proven that I am incapable.

The only thing I’m really “good” for is giving emotional support to others, but that means nothing to society and absolutely nothing to myself. When I say this, I don’t mean to say that I don’t value kindness or the ability to connect, but that these “strengths” of mine do not realistically benefit my life. Being empathetic is nice for others who know me, but it hasn’t made me a more accomplished or skilled individual, and it hasn’t added any pride to my image. It doesn’t mean much to me if in the end I still can’t take care of myself and I still don’t have much value as a member of society. Especially when I look around and see how much more accomplished my peers who are much more insensitive than me are.

How do I change? How can I live up to my own expectations and standards? How do I fight back?

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You've brought up a lot of different points, so I'll attempt to break them down for you:

(1) Type Clarification: How did you come to INFP and are you certain this is the correct type? I am obliged to clarify this point because function development isn't going to work for you unless you have the correct type. Generally speaking, based on my experience with type assessment, there are certain warning signs that indicate a mistype, and you display a few of them, so it's important to double check before proceeding.

(2) A Problem of Perspective: What you've written is basically a narrative of your life that explains how you got to this point. What you don't seem to understand yet is that a "narrative" isn't reality. A narrative is merely a story that is told from a very narrow and specific point-of-view.

I always like to bring up the children's story The Ugly Duckling as an example of how a personal narrative can heavily influence one's perspective and lead one into forming faulty beliefs about oneself and the world. The main character of the story wasn't able to truly understand himself until he realized that his personal narrative was all wrong. You are in a similar boat.

Whether they realize it or not, everyone has a personal narrative, a story that they tell themselves about who they are. How do we know whether the narrative is a good one? Think about what a narrator does in a novel:

- A story always makes more sense and is more easily understood when the narrator isn't the main character but rather an omniscient or godly being that tells the story from an objective vantage point (third person perspective). As such, we can trust that the narrator is providing a full and factual account.

- When the narrator is the main character (first person perspective), you will find that the story is more difficult to understand for two reasons: 1) there is a lack of information due to lack of access to other perspectives in the story, and 2) readers must suffer the same distortions in belief and flaws in memory that the character suffers.

Knowing this, I will point out two problems with your narrative...

(3) Lack of Objectivity: The first problem with your narrative is that it is stuck in the first person perspective. You very much lack a bigger picture view of things, which is not an uncommon problem for introverts who struggle with tertiary loop. This is a sign of insufficient extraverted development, i.e., trapped in subjectivity and lacking objectivity. You're unable to see yourself and your situation from any other perspective but your own, to the point where you actively dismiss every other valid perspective.

Lack of bigger picture thinking is often correlated to depression. Your mind basically operates as though having fallen into a pit, with no view of anything but yourself. Spend enough time being stuck with yourself and every little thing that flits through your mind gets amplified manyfold, such that every ache and pain feels much larger than it really is.

If you are INFP, this situation should be remedied through auxiliary Ne development that would grant you a more open-minded, optimistic, resourceful, ambitious, and forward-thinking attitude. It's not about "shoving your feelings aside" but about learning to see things in a more positive light. The cure to being too negative is to learn how to balance it by being more open to the positive.

Healthy NPs never shy away from problems because they trust in Ne, i.e., they exercise their creative problem solving skills as necessary to get over hurdles and obstacles, even transforming them into something positive. So, why aren't you exercising Ne? What have you done to develop Ne? It is troubling (and perhaps a sign of being mistyped) when the auxiliary function is completely absent from your cognition.

(4) Poor Critical Thinking: The second problem with your narrative is that it was spun out of faulty beliefs. You've basically been telling yourself a bogus story, over and over again, and now you believe that every word is true. When a narrative is fundamentally flawed like this, the remedy is to change the story and make it more objective as mentioned above in point #3, as well as more factual.

While there are facts peppered throughout your story, your interpretation of the facts is often incorrect. You want to believe you have a good grasp of the facts, but you don't.

For example, the fact is that the education system, being as big as it is and not having all the resources in the world, cannot be much more than a crude one-size-fits-all approach to learning. As such, it's not going to work equally well for everyone. There are always going to be students with special needs or unique circumstances that won't flow smoothly through the system as planned. If the system isn't working for you, is it something to take as a personal failure and feel deeply ashamed about?

I used to teach critical thinking courses and there was one problem I encountered again and again. Many people think they understand facts, but the truth is that they don't even have basic knowledge of what a fact is.

For example: Yes, it is a fact that you were deprived a healthy childhood. Yes, it is a fact that you had to drop out of your studies. These things happened and they are provable. However, how did you jump from these simple facts to make claims such as "I'm a failure"? Calling yourself a failure isn't a fact but rather a value judgment, and in this case, it is an unjustified value judgment.

An easy way to tell whether someone has poor critical thinking skills is to see whether they can tell the difference between a fact and a value. You aren't able to, and many people aren't able to. Believing that you have a good grasp of the facts when you actually don't is how you end up with faulty beliefs. When you go through life with faulty beliefs, you're much more likely to take the wrong approach, make errors, and suffer from unconscious biases and prejudices.

People aren't born with good critical thinking; it must be learned and practiced. There are lots of resources for improving, and you ought to improve because it's vital for challenging faulty beliefs. However, deeply entrenched beliefs are difficult to change on your own because your ego is invested in them, so it might be a good idea to work with a cognitive-behavioral therapist. They can be your objective party and help point out exactly where your thinking is going wrong. But this is assuming that you're willing to open your mind to other perspectives.

(5) Emotional Reasoning: Yes, you are quite right that you need to improve your emotional intelligence. Throughout your story, I see many thinking errors that lead you to draw incorrect judgments/conclusions. But what lies at the heart of those errors is that your thought process frequently gets hijacked by unresolved negative emotions. Improving your emotional intelligence would not only help improve your mood, it would also help stop emotional reasoning.

In your story, you're trying to link cause and effect, in order to provide an explanation of the factors that led you to this point in life. This seems like a reasonable and logical thing to do. However, people who are prone to emotional reasoning often get cause and effect backwards or misattribute causes. When they're feeling bad, they concoct a story to explain and justify their negative feelings. In effect, they start with a conclusion and then selectively gather evidence to support it, which is backwards from proper logical reasoning that should start with the evidence and then draw the most logical conclusion from it.

For example, you claim that the only thing you're good for is providing emotional support, which implies that you're good at it. How can we prove this statement? One way would be to examine the results of the support you've given. Did people appreciate the support? Did it help them? Did it change them? If so, you can be said to be good at it.

But apparently what they say doesn't count as evidence. Somehow only you have access to the real evidence. Don't you find it odd that so many of your thought processes come back to you having some magical ability to access a deeper truth that others can't see? You call yourself a failure who is unable to do anything right on one hand, but then insist that you couldn't possibly be wrong when it comes to assessing yourself, on the other hand. This is the kind of contradictory thinking that emotional reasoning gets you mired in.

If being able to empathize isn't a skill, valuable both to oneself and others, then all the great friends, parents, caregivers, educators, coaches, doctors, nurses, vets, counselors, therapists, social workers, artists, musicians, writers, librarians, gardeners, and zookeepers should just delete themselves for their utter uselessness to society. Heck, I should just delete my whole blog right now because I don't get anything from writing this for you, yes?

There are absolutely personal benefits to be had from being empathetic. Through supporting and helping others, you can experience:

the dignity of choosing to be an honorable/humane person

the intimacy of deep and meaningful relationships

the satisfaction of reaping the fruits of your emotional labor

the joy of making a positive difference in the world

the awe of witnessing the realization of greater potential

It seems you can't recognize these benefits because they contradict the failure narrative and the negative emotions you're struggling with. Any evidence that makes you feel good about yourself must be rejected, right? Isn't it odd that you've closed off every path to feeling good about yourself except an impossible one, i.e., living up to some imaginary standard of what you believe all people your age should be? It's almost as though you are intent on believing the worst about yourself, so you set yourself up for failure with unreasonable expectations. But this is emblematic of how emotional reasoning messes up the mind.

People aren't born with great emotional intelligence. It's yet another thing you must learn and practice throughout life, that is, if you don't want your emotions to be out of your control. It doesn't matter when you start learning; it only matters that you start.

(6) Changing the Narrative: There are distinct patterns in our personal narratives, which Jung conceptualized as archetypes. Understanding these patterns from a more objective vantage point can help us craft a narrative that serves us better. At the end of the day, you are the one narrating the story, and you could choose to tell a different story at any time.

To give you an example, if I were to analyze your narrative, I'd say that your perspective is that of an "orphan". Orphans see themselves as rejected children, so their approach to the world is one of neediness for love but also deep resentment/anger about being abandoned. Orphans are prone to feeling: unmoored, confused, ashamed, helpless, hopeless, apathetic, fatalistic.

Of course, it's appropriate to feel: unmoored when you don't have a safe and stable home base to operate from; confused when you don't have enough social support; ashamed when you struggle more than others; helpless when you don't know what to do; hopeless when every attempt fails; apathetic when you get disappointed too many times; fatalistic when the odds seem stacked against you.

Nobody is saying that your feelings are invalid. What matters most is how you interpret the feelings and what you do about them. The problem is that, through emotional reasoning, you take your negative feelings and turn them into cynical judgments and then make decisions that leave you perpetually feeling like an orphan.

A narrative becomes sinister when one starts to derive some kind of egotistical benefit from it, which then breeds resistance against changing it. Are you willing to change your narrative at this point?

For example, many orphans keep telling the orphan story because it allows them to benefit from victimhood. Being a victim has its "perks". Victims have the right to self-pity. They have the right to rage against whatever they feel victimized by. They can also expect special treatment or extra care. As such, you will find that orphans often reject love and stay orphans in the end because they don't want to give up the "perks" of victimhood.

I'm not saying this example applies to you, but have you reflected on why you have a pattern of rejecting people's attempts to console you and provide you with evidence that you are actually a good and worthy person? Have you reflected on why you insist on telling the orphan story when other narratives are readily available to you?

For example, you could choose the "misfit" narrative. There are plenty of people, often INFPs, who march to the beat of their own drum and carve out their own unique path to success in life. Or, you could choose the "creator" narrative. INFPs generally love to use their imagination to come up with new and novel ways to live life outside the box. Why is it that you believe there's only one path available to you, that life is only about living up to society's unimaginative standards?

Or, you could embrace the "caregiver" narrative. It could be quite a heroic story, and it might lead you into a very meaningful and fulfilling career. Caregivers change people's lives for the better, which drives tangible and positive societal change. Yet, you reject this story and call caregiving worthless because you believe it is a "weakness" easily exploited. People mistreating you isn't something for you to be ashamed of. It is the perpetrators of abuse that ought to be ashamed and punished for their immoral behavior. How long are you going to keep punishing yourself for someone else's problem?

With regard to dealing with people, it sounds like you haven't learned about healthy boundaries. Boundary setting is a practical problem that can be addressed with practical solutions. Yet you turn it into some kind of grand existential crisis and make sweeping statements about the world. Do you really want to spend your whole life locked away, living in fear? It might feel good right now because it's safe, but in the long run you will actually be wasting away for not challenging yourself to reach your greater potential.

I'm not saying that any of these problems are easy to resolve. But these problems shouldn't be viewed in the traditional sense of needing a "fix" or that something is "wrong" (with you). These kinds of problems I've outlined are actually spiritual calls to change and improve. How do you change? It is through confronting what we lack and what we are afraid of that allows us to grow as human beings.

How can you live up to your own expectations and standards? Maybe a better question to ask is whether you've set the right expectations and standards? If you don't want to always feel bad about yourself, then you have to get up and start doing the things that will lead you to feel better about yourself. And we each have our own path to take to developing self-esteem and self-worth. Once you understand and respect your own individuality, then maybe you can exercise more self-compassion and allow yourself to live and learn at your own pace.

How do you fight back? I don't think it's necessary to "fight". Would you yell and scream and dump a flower in the trash just because it didn't grow as fast as the other seeds you planted? No, hopefully you would give it extra care to ensure that it has everything it needs to grow well. That's how you should be treating yourself. If you didn't grow up in an environment that taught you good life skills, then it is incumbent upon you to learn them as an adult, for the sake of your own well-being.

Life has enough challenges; you don't need to be fighting yourself. Instead of wasting time dwelling in fatalistic narratives, see yourself as a human being who is capable of learning and adapting. Learn to treat yourself well and cut out the noise to focus primarily on picking up the knowledge you need to progress in life, not just academics.

#self esteem #self worth #self compassion #failure #making mistakes #critical thinking #emotional reasoning #ask

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proceduralpassion · 1 year ago

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One Uniform

Day 16 of Narcoctober- Create a fanwork that focuses on dreams, either literal or metaphorical

Character(s): Trujillo

WC: 928

A/N: Trujillo in his Ratatouille era>>>

If you change the way you look at things, the things you look at change. Trujillo comes from a line of police officers all throughout his family. His highest goal was to see one of Colombia’s most evil forces in the grave. Even afterwards, he maintains the same dedication and commitment to protecting his home and ridding it of the people who seek to exploit and cripple it. But Trujillo has always had a second love.

He’s left home alone by himself for the first time when he’s nine years old. His mother had set out of bread and butter for him to make his own breakfast, but he craved for something more and the world- kitchen- was his oyster.

He puts the plain bread up and grabs some arepas from near the fridge. He inspects his artillery of ingredients and procures an egg and some chorizo that his dad bought in bulk and stored in the freezer. There’s some leftover beans and rice from dinner last night, so the young boy decides that he’s going to make himself some calentado for breakfast. It’s a dish associated with memories of his grandparents who live in the Andean region and cooked this up for him every morning when he was on break for the holidays.

He grabs two pans and sears up the rice and beans in random spices he grabs off the shelf in one pan and uses the other to fry his egg. He laughs to himself in enjoyment as he maneuvers between the two apparatuses, feeling a comforting flutter as he cooks the food that will nourish him. He fries up the sausage last and puts everything together on one plate, adding some avocado and cilantro as garnish.

He eats his food with pride and while there’s nothing like the comfort linked with eating his mother’s cooking, he feels a different kind of spark of joy as he finishes his meal.

Trujillo takes over a lot of the cooking for the family when his dad dies. His mother had already been carrying shell shock for two years after his oldest brother was killed in the line of duty. She’s a shell of a person now and even going through the motions takes so much energy out of her. He’s eighteen and in the thick of his training, complete with a bunch of unforeseen responsibilities from an administrative role. Even still, cooking is one thing he can take off his mother’s plate and he comes to realize that cooking is also the only time in his busy life that finds peace and solitude.

He gets shot in the chest during the capture of their most recent target. The vest prevents mortal damage, but the impact left him with a severe enough injury that part of his lung had to be resected. He’s told in the process of rehab that he’ll most likely be moved to a more administrative position due to the limitations that come with less breathing capacity. It’s a blow to his ego, initially. To be told in subtle terms that he was now inadequate to be in the field, to no longer be viewed as a dependent, boots on the ground, kinda soldier.

His new position has him working normal hours which means more time on his hands. Weekends off. One of his colleagues gives him a gift certificate for a cooking class at one of the nearby culinary schools as a birthday present and he makes plans to attend one on a Friday night after he’s finished with work for the day.

The lesson is Cuban-themed and consists of a three course meal tutorial complete with tostones, ropa vieja with rice, and pastelitos de guayaba.

Perhaps, not coincidentally, Trujillo finds that he’s at peace with himself so much more now than he has in a long time. He comes from a line of police officers including his father, brothers, uncles, and both grandfathers. It’s all he’s ever wanted to pursue even with his passion and love for cooking. But he’s served his country for nearly two decades now and is proud of the accomplishments he’s made to better it. His father, brothers, and Carrillos’ death have left pin-sized holes in his heart that haven’t ever quite fully sealed up, even after all these years. He’s physically given about all that he can give to his job.

As he kneads through the dough for his pastries, wearing an apron and toque, he considers that maybe he wasn’t meant to wear only one uniform for all of his life.

He’s fought the good fight. He’s sacrificed again and again. He’s been broken down. He’s picked himself back up. He’s had losses. He’s had wins. He regrets none of it. He’s at peace with even the hardest trials he’s experienced.

He’s lived a full life and he still has so much more to live. So much more to experience. So much more pain. So much more passion.

Trujillo doesn’t think he’s at his most useful where he is right now. He can say that to himself now without feeling prideful or less of a soldier. He’s made the biggest mark he can already make and now it’s time for the old guard to part ways.

It’s a minute thought that springs up when he’s first told that his raid days are over. But he’s okay to let it grow and fester now. Because maybe he’s not running away from everything he’s ever known. Maybe he’s running towards the first day of the rest of his life.

Click here if you wanna be added to my taglist! Taglist: @drabbles-mc @asirensrage @ashlingnarcos @narcosfandomdiscord

#narcos #narcoctober #trujillo narcos

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mikashisus · 10 months ago

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OLDER : movie cast !

Y/N — 20. starring as “guizong” in “tales of the archon war: the nation of contracts volume II.” deeply infatuated with her coworker, zhongli. combats hate comments by simply blocking ppl. outsold everyone’s looks at the movie premiere. overall girlboss (only a girlfailure when it comes to rizzing up zhongli).

ZHONGLI — 43. starring as “morax.” is a bit of a grandpa when it comes to most things, but he knows how to use social media (rlly only uses it more frequently bc of y/n). has a huge crush on y/n and literally everyone knows it. has been in the acting spotlight since he was eighteen. started out starring in musicals before landing a role in a few movies. now, he is a widely known actor throughout teyvat. has two kids: hu tao and xiao.

XIAO — 20. starring as “general alatus.” very introverted and tends to stay out of the limelight as much as possible. was thrown into the acting spotlight very early on and was a theatre kid all throughout school. decided to go to college to pursue a degree in film and become a director. has connections to make that happen sooner.

HU TAO — 23. starring as “wangsheng funeral parlor’s first director.” has also been involved in acting and was in theatre all throughout school. dropped out of college to pursue an acting career, only to land a job in directing and producing. is now a newly famous director and does acting on the side. promised xiao she’d help him become a director once he finishes college.

KEQING — 24. costume design crew. recently graduated college with a degree in fashion design and a minor in finance. has her own fashion line and her own store in liyue harbor. has gained a surge of popularity after her work in the movie. is in a long term relationship with ganyu, though they both joke that they’re not online.

GANYU — 27. starring as “the qilin adeptus ganyu.” graduated college with a degree in communications and a minor in fashion. began her acting career after being cast in volume I of the nation of contracts. zhongli recommended her to the casting director, and she got a call back the day after her audition. makes cookies for everyone on set. is also a part of production.

NINGGUANG — 38. the cast’s manager. owns one of liyue’s biggest businesses, and also works under the liyuen government. one of the most wealthy people in the nation. graduated college with a degree in business and an accounting minor. became a manager through pure interest. considers kazuha her son and his boyfriend, kuni, her son-in-law. likes to spoil kuni with expensive clothing and takes him out shopping frequently just to spend time with him.

BEIDOU — 39. prop manager and a part of the special effects team. owns a restaurant on a large pirate ship she named “the alcor.” said ship also had a cameo in the movie, along with beidou herself. has been married to ningguang ever since they graduated college. graduated with a degree in music industry. has a son: kazuha. considers kazuha’s boyfriend, kuni, her son-in-law.

PING — 41. starring as “streetward rambler.” everyone’s mother figure on set. incredibly wise and kindhearted. close friends with xianyun and graduated with her. graduated with a degree in music. has been told she looks way younger than her age. long time friends with zhongli and ganyu as well. has two adopted daughters.

CHARLOTTE — 21. mandated reporter for “the steambird,” fontaine’s biggest news outlet. works closely with ningguang. her bubbly personality and optimism is infectious, leading many people to take a liking to her. never oversteps anyone’s boundaries. majoring in journalism. is very passionate about her job. might have been in musical theatre in high school??

CHIORI — 22. costume design crew and makeup artist. skipped college and opened her own business at age 19. soared in popularity once her fashion line reached fontaine. became so popular in fontaine that she opened a branch of her business there. only agrees to help work on a movie/show if her designs end up featured in it (they always are). planning to open a branch of her business in liyue harbor soon.

masterlist

SUMMARY: when your acting career booms, the stress of the spotlight and your every move being watched starts to drown you whole. the only escape from a complete all time low comes in the form of your attractive coworker, zhongli— a distinguished and slightly older man that you can’t seem to stop thinking about.

#genshin impact #genshin #genshin x reader #angst #zhongli #zhongli x reader #zhongli x you #liyue #genshin impact au #genshin impact smau #fluff #older smau #actor au #hurt/comfort #divider: benkeibear

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celestialrry · 4 years ago

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stood up

3.5k

hello everyone!!!! I've been awol for literally weeks because i had absolutely NO motivation to write but i finally finished this piece ˊᗜˋ so YAY. ALSOO thank you for following me, liking, and reblogging my pieces (it encourages me somuchsothankyouireallyappreciateit-- and remember reblogging really helps us writers :))) ) here’s a hug for all ur patience and feel free to send me asks or requests i love talking to you guys! ε(♡'-')з

summary: Harry keeps standing Y/N up. (request from @ballerinrry! thank u love)

warnings: cursing, mentions of alcohol and sex, angsty but with a happy ending cause for some reason i can never let them end on a bad note

Y/N was excited.

It had been a while since Harry had asked her to go on a date, it was always the other way around recently. She couldn’t blame him though, Y/N knew just how busy Harry always was, and it wasn’t like he was purposefully not asking her to go do things, he just had a lot on his plate.

That’s what she kept telling herself anyways.

It’s what she told herself when it had been 2 weeks since they had even eaten a meal together, and given the fact that just a few months ago Harry had come back to London for a while, that was rare. So, Y/N asked him to grab lunch on a Saturday while they were lying in bed together, and when he agreed, but failed to show up, leaving Y/N sitting at the cafe, her lips morphed into a frown and her eyes not focusing on the phone in front of her, she told herself he was simply booked up with meetings and studio time and such.

Thats what he told her when he got into bed that night to apologize for accidentally standing her up. She forgave him, of course, and suggested they could just get dinner the next week. He agreed, even walked around to his calander her to show her he was marking the date off in his calendar with a heart, her first initial, and 7:00 PM etched into the little box with red sharpie.

So, the week passed with quick kisses of good mornings and good nights, and while Harry was gone Y/N had on a black dress she had been excited to wear for a while now, with those little mini silver heels and a coat strung over her shoulders as she sat on her couch waiting for Harry to swing by to pick her up. She shot him a text that simply asked “You otw? xx”

He was not.

It took about 30 minutes of waiting on their couch to realize he was standing her up, again. And it took until the next morning for Harry to see her text (his phone had been on do not disturb while he was at the studio and he ended up spending the night at Sarah and Mitch’s after a few beers), and for the guilt to seep through his veins.

He apologized, again. And Y/N forgave him, again.

Only until it got to the point where Y/N no longer remembered the amount of times Harry had stood her up, for being at the studio, or sleeping after a meeting, or simply just not paying attention to his phone, she knew there was a problem.

Harry was fully aware of the problem too. He knew that this was no way to ever treat a partner, and if someone was doing this to him, he’d dump them— well, he’s never been one to end a relationship unless it was necessary, so that’s an exaggeration, but it’s the principle of the thing.

Which is why when he got home one day around 11 PM, gave her a kiss to the forehead after she sat up in their bed to give him a hug, and a soft “Can we talk?” escaped her lips, he knew he had to fix this. So he asked her if they could talk over dinner the next night, he just wanted to sleep but also wanted to fix things with his girl, asking her if she was free of course, before telling her he’s gonna make a reservation at that nice restaurant the two of them used to go to quite often, because “it’s been a while since I’ve taken my favorite girl out”.

A grin broke out on her face because he had asked her! And if Harry was planning it, there’s no way he’d cancel or stand her up.

So yeah, Y/N was excited.

She woke up that morning with a smile on her face, and something akin to a what she thinks a rainbow would feel like running through her veins. It had only been a few months since she’d last been on a date with her boyfriend of almost 2 years and a half in person, and she was going to make the most of it. Because after this date, things would change. They’d spend more time together again and it would be like this little bump (that neither had acknowledged) never happened.

Y/N did, well, everything to prepare. Took a long shower, shaved, put on that coconut lotion Harry likes— he tended to dig his face in her neck when he smelled it while holding her—, brushed her teeth more than 3 times, dug in her closet to find that one patterned soft purple dress she bought ages ago but never had a change to wear it, until now, put on those really cute heels Harry said he liked once (“Looks like something you’d wear on a runway pet, I love ‘em.”), and even styled her hair differently than normal.

He had told her he would swing by at 8 on the dot after the studio, and soon enough, it was 8, with no sign from the man who made the promise himself. Y/N thought maybe there was traffic, he was just running late, texted him a quick, “Can’t wait to see you!! xxx” and put her phone on the coffee table, waiting on their couch.

8 turned to 9, 9 turned to 10, 10 turned to 11, and soon it was midnight. Y/N doesn’t think she’d ever felt more empty than how she felt then, walking to their shared room of a year, slipping off her heels and tossing them towards the closet, as well as pulling her dress over herself and letting it fall to the floor behind her, grabbing that one t-shirt she always wears when she needs comfort (which just happened to an extra 2018 Live on Tour shirt Harry had laying around that she snatched just 3 months into them dating), and flopping into bed.

She couldn’t fall asleep, and instead spent her time curled up in their bedsheets, a steady flow of tears making their way down her blush covered cheeks.

。:°ஐ

Harry usually didn’t make mistakes.

Sure, he had his moments, grabbing the wrong coffee off the counter when his name was called at the cafe, forgetting to text Jeff that he actually couldn’t make it to a meeting that was scheduled in a few hours. Just little things, things that didn’t matter that much, and could always be fixed. He didn’t usually make mistakes that weren’t easy to fix. He just wasn’t that kind of guy.

Until, he was.

Harry loved Y/N. He loved having her around, loved spending time with her, loved loving on her, loved kissing her, loved touching her, loved the way she went about almost everything. He was so in love with her, that hurting her was out of the question. He never wanted to be the one to make her cry, make her bottom lip quiver before the tears rushed out like he’d seen many times before, due to movies, his songs (which as sadistic as it sounds was an ego builder to have someone so close to him so affected by the music he wrote), her school work, or even her friends that weren’t being so nice.

In fact, he was so in love with her, even being so afraid of commitment (it took him over a year of them dating to ask her to move in), all he wanted to do was blurt out those 4 dreaded words. “Will you marry me?” It was a bond for life, and he was terrified of that, but with Y/N all he wanted to do was spend the rest of his living days with her.

When Harry had come back from being in L.A. for so long and finally being in the same city as his girlfriend back at their home, all they did was spend time together. Every time he saw Y/N all he wanted to do was say those 4 words that he hadn’t even fully come to terms with himself. It was dangerous, and Harry’s self control when it came to Y/N was lacking, so he simply did was every normal person would do in his situation.

He stood her up.

Many more times than he could count, and of course he felt like the shittiest person in the world— shittiest boyfriend in the world—but at least now she can’t possibly be under the impression that he wanted to marry her, which is what he wanted. Or thought he wanted, until Sarah called him up one day after he had stood Y/N up for dinner the night before and told him off. Told Harry just how fucking terrible he made Y/N feel, how unwanted she thought she was, how she felt like they were loosing their relationship, and Harry didn’t know what to do with himself. (Of course Y/N had sobbed to Sarah about it over the phone while she was drunk off the wine she opened 40 minutes after Harry said he would be there, so she really didn’t even remember the conversation).

And later that day Harry had come home, heard her wavering voice asking if they could talk, and decided in his head he would tell her how he felt, how sorry he was, and how he wanted to be with her forever and love her forever if she allowed him. He had a few expectations for their dinner, that Y/N would probably tell him how he’s made her feel, and Harry would apologize, tell her why he did it, explain he thought it was no excuse, then tell her he plans on marrying her (obviously not proposing just yet, but finally bringing up the conversation they had never had even though they were in a serious committed relationship) and they’d go back home, have the most amazing sex ever, and forget about the whole thing.

What Harry didn’t expect was to get a call from Jeff around 5 asking him to come to the studio to fix few vocals, then end up nailing down 2 songs in one night, go to a bar with the band to celebrate, get drunk, then pass out at Mitch and Sarahs flat.

But that’s what happened, according to Mitch, who woke Harry up the very next morning.

“Good morning man, wakey wakey,” Mitch’s teasing tone echoed through Harry’s (what felt like full of vodka) brain as he groaned and squinted his eyes. “Why are you waking me up at this hour in the morning?” Harry asked drearily, sighing and simultaneously regretting last night as a whole because the last thing he wanted to do while hungover was be up before at least 9 AM.

“We’ve gotta go to meet with Jeff about tour in like a hour, H” Mitch stated .

At Mitch’s words Harry sat up on their couch, eyes wide in fear. “Wait mate, I thought tha’ meeting was on Wednesday.”

“It is Wednesday H, god how drunk did we let you get last night…” Mitch said, beginning to recount some of Harry’s antics the night before. Harry however, couldn’t hear a thing with the blood pumping through his ears. If today was Wednesday, that meant yesterday was Tuesday, and he went and got trashed at a bar with his friends Tuesday night when— when he was supposed to be on a date with Y/N, when he was supposed to confess his intentions, when he was supposed to apologize for standing her up over and over, yet instead he went and did it again.

Now this, this was a mistake.

“…H. H. Harry? Are you there?” Mitch’s voice came back into focus and Harry shook his head. “I- fuck, I was supposed to take Y/N out last night.” Harry said, his voice trembling.

‘I’m sure she’ll forgive you, it’s just one night.” Mitch tried to make Harry feel better. He knew Y/N was a very forgiving person, she would get over this in no time.

“No, she won’t. I-I’ve stood her up for the past month and a half, Mitch.”

At these words, Mitch stands straight up making pained eye contact with Sarah in the kitchen who was overhearing most of this conversation with her eyes wide. She had no idea it was this bad. “Month and a half? I thought it was just that one time a few weeks ago, Harry what the hell is wrong with you?” Harry simply shook his head and didn’t reply. He had absolutely no idea how to make it up to her. “I-fuck, I don’t know Mitch!” Harry raised his voice. “I need to see her and apologize, now.” Harry said, standing up and rushing over to the front door and slipping on his shoes.

“This meeting is mandatory Harry, as much as I want you to see her too, she’d probably still asleep, and I don’t think this can be solved in under an hour.” Mitch said calmly, already knowing Harry was close to walking out his door. Harry stayed silent for a moment, weighing the options. Either go apologize to his girlfriend, or prioritize himself over her again.

“We can do it another day, I’m sorry, but I have to go see her, tell Jeff I feel sick.” And he walked out without another word.

。:°ஐ

The morning after Harry stood Y/N up again was brutal.

She stayed up all night, replaying moments with Harry in her head, analyzing if he wanted to be there with her, wondering if maybe he felt like he had to stay with her out of pity. It was torture, and the pain seemed to turn into numbness as time went by, and eventually the sun came up, and she stayed in bed, her motivation lost.

A loud crash and “Fuck!” woke her up, swollen eyes fluttering open to the invasive noise. Y/N furrowed her brows, her mind connecting everything that happened yesterday and unfortunately reminding her of the unbearable pain she went through the night before. A groan escaped her lips as she sat up and flung her legs out of her bed sheets that had been flung off the bed in the middle of the night. She began grumbling to herself as she made her way downstairs, ready to tell Harry off for making so much noise.

Her mouth stopped moving, and instead remained in limbo as her eyes met Harry’s. His mouth opened to speak, but his words were caught in his throat as he saw the state she was in. It was when her mouth pressed into a line that he could begin talking. “Y/N, baby, please I know you don’t wanna see me or talk t’me right now but I’m so fuckin’ sorry, love. So so sorry, it was an accident, I went t’ the studio to fix a few things then got hung up on the songs and by the time we went to celebrate I completely lost track of time, and I was too drunk to drive home so I crashed at Mitch’s.”

Her mouth fell open at his words. Everything was happening too fast. Hearing that he stood her up to drink at a fucking bar to celebrate himself, then coming home and accidentally knocking over a glass in their kitchen (which she put together was the crash earlier after seeing the shards of broken glass on the floor) frustrated her to no end. She couldn’t bring herself to look at him any longer, and Harry had stopped talking after realizing what he just admitted to her. Without another glance, instead of looking at Y/N’s tear stained face, all he saw was her back, walking up the stairs to their room.

“Fuck,” He said to himself before following her up the pink stairs. “Y/N, love wait-please, I’m so sorry, I just need to talk to you, I need to explain myself, please.” He begged as she shut their bedroom door in his face, his voice turning into a desperate whine at the end.

。:°ஐ

It’s been 3 days since then, and she hasn’t spoken to him. He would leave in the mornings, kissing her forehead and mumbling an “I love you” and telling her exactly what time he’d be home, before leaving and coming back on time to find an empty plate in the sink and her lying in their bed, whether it be reading, scrolling on her phone, or typing on her laptop. He would apologize many times, reaching his hand out for hers and she would simply situate herself in their bed and lay down, back turned to him.

Harry just couldn’t take it anymore.

It was when she had finally let him kiss her forehead goodnight that he decided to take his chance. “Y/N.” He spoke softly, with no response or anything to indicate she heard him. “Baby, can we please talk- or I’ll talk and you listen, I just- I really need to say some things.”

She was still faced away from him when he leaned against their headboard and he decided to keep going.

“I- um. I’m sure you know how sorry I am, but I really am- sorry I mean. Not just for tonight but for every other time I’ve stood you up. I’m so sorry for not showing you how much you matter to me, and how much the things you do matter to me.”

It was then that she slowly sat up next to him and looked at him, eyes begging him to continue. He blushed at her intense eye-contact that he had barely gotten over the past few days and took a breath, opting to look at his hands fidgeting in his lap.

“We’ve been together for 2 and almost a half years, which is the longest relationship I’ve been in, and it’s no excuse to treat you this way, but I had just been thinking about how things progress even further than now,” He coughs. “Which is marriage, and when I finally came home, all I wanted to do was ask you to marry me- I don’t- m’not proposing right now, I just- I got really scared because wanting to spend the rest of your life with someone is crazy to me,

I’ve never thought that way about anyone else until you, I didn’t even really want to get married before you, and I started to distance myself before I ended up telling you this, but obviously that blew up in my face.” He chuckled a bit, locking eyes with her unreadable ones for a moment and lifting a hand to run through his hair. “What I’m trying to say, is that I love you, so so much, and I plan on marrying you— obviously if you want to too, of course— and I’m so sorry for trying to make you think that I didn’t care about you anymore or love you any less, because it’s the complete opposite of that.”

His eyes were watery now, as he started down at his interlocked fingers, and his eyes widened when her hand was gently placed over his own. “Harry,” Y/N began. “Look at me, please.”

His head lifted to see her facing him, her brows knitted and a small smile on her face. “I forgive you, okay? I could tell you were kind of scared of commitment when we first started dating, and I wish I could say your reason for standing me up is surprising but it’s not.” They both chuckled a bit at this. “I- I’m still upset at you, I need you to know that, because 2 months of thinking the love of your life is avoiding you doesn’t feel all too great, so you suck for that,” she said, planting a quick kiss to his cheek which quickly turned pink. “But Harry, even if you asked me to marry you a year ago I would have said yes. I love you, so much, and I plan on spending the rest of my life with you as well. I’m sorry for giving you the silent treatment, it was… unnecessary and immature. So, thank you for apologizing. I love you.” She confessed again.

“S’okay, I deserved it, and I love you too. Maybe even more. So um, we’re okay?” Harry asked, a hopeful smile on his face.

She nodded with a smile and pulled him into a much needed hug and pulled away only for him to bring her into an even more needed kiss. “If you ever try to pull that shit again, I’m breaking up with you.” She laughed and he tackled her into the sheets hiding his face in her neck.

“Duly noted, love. Duly noted.”

#harry styles one shot #harry styles imagine #harry styles fluff #Harry Styles #harry styles angst #im pretty proud of this one #if I do say so myself #harry styles fanfiction #its kinda short tho sorry

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krabjoons · 4 years ago

Text

omg professor... what are you doing?!?!?! [pjm]

⮕ summary: park jimin is the hottest, most popular guy at school. the only catch? he also just so happens to be your teacher.

⮕ pairing: park jimin x reader, mentions of jaebum x reader

⮕ genre: smut, university!au, pwp

⮕ word count: 12.8k

⮕ rating: 18+, nsfw

⮕ warnings: hard dom!jimin x bratty-ish sub!y/n, professor!jimin x university student! y/n (he’s 27-28 ish and she’s 21-22), fuckboy!jaebum, pussy eating, fingering, thigh riding, vaginal sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), dirty talk (carries the whole fic tbh), degradation, edging, dumbification, impact play (pussy + ass spanking), manhandling, humiliation, exhibitionism, creampie, teasing, praise, orgasm denial, begging, overstimulation, crying, kissing/making out, jimin’s a meanie but y/n likes it (aka i go ham on the degradation and edging you have been warned), aftercare (like 500 words of it :P)

⮕ a/n: this took too long to come out and has literally been sitting in my drafts since august but here it is! writing this was definitely a rollercoaster because this was my first smut and honestly i felt like it was really bad at times but other times i was like wtf this is so hot,, ANYWAYS, i’m glad that i’m posting it and getting over that fear of imperfection. i hope that you guys enjoy this piece :). i would also like to add that please don’t hook up with your teachers… if you do, that’s on you i take no responsibility for that whatsoever lol. excuse the title i literally have no idea what to change it to but i like it the way it is tbh LMFAOOO OK I’LL STOP RAMBLING NOW BYEEE ILY ALL

University has never been when you’ve expected. When you first graduated high school and came here, you expected your late teenage years to be filled with just as much studying as high school combined with only a few parties here and there. You didn’t expect to make as many friends as you did and certainly did not expect to be known as the girl with the high grades and even higher alcohol tolerance. No longer are you the shy Y/N L/N that walked through the entrance gates on the first day of school; you’ve changed a lot.

It was a surprise to you. With academics taking precedence much of your life, the freedom university provided you with was welcomed - perhaps a little too much. You quickly learned that polar bear shots were great to keep you in a good mood at parties and that eating mangoes before smoking gave you a better high. And, you also learned about sex.

Admittedly, the first time you had a hookup, it was awkward and messy (at least for you… it was a guy, what else were you expecting?) but with more practice, you were able to get the hang of it. You’ve found your tastes and now willingly talk about who catches your eye to your best friends, something you never thought you’d do last year.

Speaking of who catches your eye, as of now it’s Park Jimin. A really hot guy, according to your friends, and according to you, an even better voice. When you first walked into your Applications of Economics class, you nearly spit out your Starbucks drink after you saw the astonishingly handsome man with silky black hair in a dress shirt and tie. Surprisingly formal for a university student, you thought, but you weren’t one to talk, considering your current outfit of business casual.

Only, he wasn’t a student. He was your teacher. You should’ve put the pieces together earlier but you didn’t. Let's just say a Coconut Lime Refresher is good for hangovers, and you needed one desperately (basically, you were drunk as hell the night before and were still in the process of recovering). It certainly didn’t take long before all of campus was talking about the new economics professor who was hotter than hell. Girls (and some guys) immediately tried transferring into his class, one of them being your best friend Lisa, just to get a glimpse of how attractive he was. You remember a couple of girls offering you literal cash to transfer out, but you didn’t.

A good call, thinking about it now. You’ve gotten closer with Mr. Park, although it’s nothing too special yet, the two of you are on good terms and have even hugged before (you still get giddy thinking about it). Y/N from 2 years ago would be screaming her head off at how bold you’ve gotten, but now, you can’t bring yourself to care. Park Jimin is a hot guy, and you’re pretty hot too (if you must admit), so it would only be logical if the two of you could hook up. Unsurprisingly, you’ve lost your shame, nothing but thoughts of your teacher filling your mind in your spare time.

So here you are, another day of university, as monotonous as ever. The only highlight of your day will be the morning, where you have a class with Mr. Park. You've started changing your style a bit recently, opting for more, let’s just leave it at provocative outfits. Walking into the room, you take your usual seat in the front, closest to Mr. Park’s desk.

The class progresses like it normally does, starting with a review of the work from the last class and a discussion about the new material. "I’m going to give you guys this last half hour of class to review the material individually if you want or you can leave early, I don’t mind. I know it's a Friday so there’s gonna be some parties around campus, if you want to prepare yourselves for that then go ahead." Your professor glances around the room, smirking at you when mentioning the parties. You flush and look away, biting your lower lip.

You make the decision to stay in the classroom while the majority of the other students file out of the room. "I'll be available for any questions," Jimin calls out, returning to his desk across from you.

Sticking to your reputation, you get a head start on the assignment and easily work through the homework. Surprisingly, you forget about Jimin for the time being, focused on finishing your assignment so that you have as little work as possible to do after classes. You don’t notice your teacher looking at you, admiring the way you put so much effort into the things you’re passionate about. Hearing a student call his name, he gets up to help him.

Surprisingly, Mr. Park has assigned a disturbingly low amount of homework, probably because of the upcoming weekend and maybe a pop quiz later next week (ugh). You’ve finished your work in a mere twenty minutes and are surprised to find that Jimin is not at his desk when you look up from your laptop. You turn around, looking for him, and see that he’s helping another student. Whipping out your phone, you text your best friend Lisa (who just so conveniently, also thirsts over Jimin the same way you do).

to lisa: hey i finished classwork for mr park and have like 10 minutes of free time now lol

Instantly, she responds as if she wasn’t in class. Then again, she has never been one to pay too much attention to her professors.

from lisa: ayo talk to him

from lisa: also save me from bio i literally cannot

Smiling slightly, you respond to her.

to lisa: i WOULD but he’s helping other students

from lisa: then be like "m- mister park, i- need help please" and use puppy eyes

to lisa: LMFAOO PLEASE he’d be like whats wrong with you since when did you struggle in this class

to lisa: but i mean, anything to hear him talk i guess

from lisa: god i'm so jealous you have him early so you can hear his morning voice it must be hot asf

to lisa: it is omg

from lisa: god what if he moans like that it'd be such a turn on

to lisa: dUDE STOP NO the way this is literally true like if he has a good sip of coffee or a pastry he likes hes gonna go all "mmmm I wish you could try this" pls its so fking hot

to lisa: like SIR I WANNA TRY YOU or you to try me no complaints

from lisa: wtf he finishes his breakfast before my class so i can't even hear it tf I hate it here

to lisa: u have him right after my block bro at leAST you have him

to lisa: what ab the people who don't even have him

from lisa: idk what i'd do honestly. imagine not having a literal sex god teaching you every day i pity those who dont

You’re about to type out a response when a smooth voice sounds out from behind you, "alright guys, you’re good to go. Have a good weekend!" You jump in your seat, not realizing that your teacher was helping the student right behind you for the past five minutes.

As the rest of the class begins to pack up, you pray that he hasn’t seen you talking about your sexual fantasies less than five feet away from him. Mr. Park doesn’t say anything, so you must be in the clear, right? You’re hoping and praying that he didn’t find out, but your heart rate is already rising and you’re getting a sick feeling in your stomach. Your gut must be trying to tell you something.

Well, your gut’s telling you that the universe must not be on your side because as soon as you stand up, he says, "Ms. L/N, can you stay a bit after class? I have a few things I want to discuss with you." Cheeks flushing hot, you squeak out a "yes, sir."

When everyone has left and it’s just the two of you left in the room, Jimin pulls up a seat next to his desk. "Sit," he commands, leaning on his desk. You scramble to your feet and walk over, mind buzzing with thoughts. Oh god, what if he tells the administration department? Then you’d definitely be punished and maybe even kicked out of the school. Maybe you could make up a story? Oh, it’s ANOTHER Park Jimin, haha. Definitely NOT my teacher. Even if you did, they could go the rest of the texts between you and Lisa and you’d be screwed. And not to be petty or anything, but being kicked out would mean that you wouldn’t be able to be in Jimin’s class anymore and wouldn’t be able to see him. Oh, and the bigger problem would be that you’d also be unable to get your degree.

You start internally panicking, heart rate picking up even when your teacher rolls up his sleeves and leans down in front of you. Stop thinking about dirty things FOR ONCE, Y/N, half of you screams, while the other half of you has already started fantasizing about things which shouldn’t be thought about, especially with one of the people in the fantasies less than a couple of feet in front of you. With his hands on his thighs, the ones you’ve thought about riding far too often, he smirks.

"So, I heard you wanna try me?"

You gulp, absolutely mortified that Jimin caught you. Yes, he was attractive, and you would do practically anything to fuck him, but you didn’t expect to be humiliated into admitting it. "Um, no sir! I mean, maybe, but not in the way you think!" you ramble. Shut up, Y/N, part of you screams. You’re only digging yourself into a deeper hole.

"Yeah, sure. Because I definitely didn’t see what you were talking about with your friend. Be honest, Y/N," he says, smirking down at you. "You think about me, don't you? I'm not new to this. I see the way girls like you look at me. I know the way they talk about me when they think I can't hear. I know the way you think. Who would've thought? Little Miss L/N, all prim and proper on the outside, would be so filthy deep down?"

"Sir, I- uh. I-" you stutter out, cheeks burning furiously hot.

"You what? You're not going to try to prove your innocence now, are you? Not when you've gotten this far, hm? Getting to do what you’ve wanted after all this time?" he asks, standing up from his desk, and walking over to you, kneeling in front of you so that you were forced to hold eye contact.

"You know, nobody else has been as daring as you, my dear," he hums softly. "Sending promiscuous texts about their teacher in the very class they're in. Rubbing their thighs together every time their teacher catches their eye." You shift in your seat, Jimin's words sparking the slightest of fires in your core. "Gazing ever so obviously at said teacher’s dick, too. Y/N, you amaze me. So, so brilliant. yet so, so naughty. You thought that nobody else would catch onto you? Unfortunately, you thought wrong."

"I'm s- sorry sir," you whisper out.

"You're just sorry that you got caught, Y/N. You'll keep doing this even after today," Jimin chuckles lowly. "Possibly even more after today," he adds on, taking note of how his words have affected you. Your pupils are dilated and your cheeks are starting to get flushed. "Such a dirty girl. I'm here trying to scold you, and here you are, getting turned on by my words. Is this why you ask so many questions, doll? To hear my voice?"

You bite your lip in a mixture of embarrassment and nervousness, nodding imperceptibly. The logical, studious side of you is thinking, oh my god, is this really happening? Am I going to fuck my teacher? I really shouldn’t be doing this. The relaxed, easygoing side of you (pretty much your horny side) is thinking, finally, it’s happening. I’m going to FINALLY be fucking Park Jimin.

"What else have you imagined about my voice, hm? How I'd whisper into your ear while pounding into you? Hear me moan as your tight cunt clenches around my dick? Tell you how good you're making me feel? Reminding you how much of a slut you are to fuck your teacher in the middle of his classroom, where anyone could walk in?" he continues, seeing you shift in your seat more. "Would you like that?" he asks.

"Y- yes Mr. Park. I- I would," you whisper. You have to consciously clench your thighs together to keep them from spreading at his words.

"Hm, I don't believe you. Try again another time, darling," he sighs, leaning back on his knees, getting ready to stand up. You don't want this, whatever it is, to be over that quickly so you make up your mind. Swallowing your pride and succumbing to the dull throb in your panties, you pout.

"But professor, I really do want you. I want you to make me feel good and I wanna make you feel good. Please," you whine out. "I wanna be thinking about you all the time because you fucked me so well in class. And when my friends talk about wanting to get in your pants, I want to be the only one who already has. Please, Mr. Park. I need you." you breathe out. At this point, the pressure in your core is rising steadily, and only intensifies when you see the way your teacher's eyes are glazed over in lust and eyebrows are furrowed. Your eyes travel down the expanse of his face to his lips, plump and pink. Oh, the number of times you've wished to kiss them, imagined them suckling on your clit. And now that Jimin knows, perhaps it's finally coming true.

"You'd like that, hm? God, you're so dirty," Jimin mutters, inching closer to you, cautiously placing a hand on your knee. Your legs instantly part to make room for him in between and he inches forward. "Does dirty talk really turn you on that much, Y/N? I can smell you through your panties," he remarks.

"Mr. Park, please do something," you whimper. And with that, Jimin pulls you over to his desk and sits you on the edge. You spread your legs and he stands in between them. He leans his head closer to you until he's next to your ear.

"Want me to get you off with my words? You seem to like that already and I haven't even tried, doll. Or perhaps," he pauses, bunching up your skirt so that it pools at your waist. "You want me to touch you?"

You nod eagerly, chest heaving in anticipation. "I want both Mr. Park. I want you," you purr salaciously. And with that, your teacher lets out a low growl and presses his lips onto yours harshly. It’s already bruising, but you just can’t get enough of the way he tastes of caramel and coffee and how ridiculously soft his lips are, so you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him in even closer. He seems a little put off by how eager you are, but once he hears you sigh in enjoyment, he melts into your eager grasp.

His hands start sliding down your waist so that they are resting on your upper thighs, and he rubs comforting circles into them, trailing them closer and closer to your panties. He breaks off from the kiss to look down and smirks back at you before joining his lips to yours with even more fervor and you praise yourself for deciding to wear your lace thong today. You feel his tongue slide against your lips, asking for permission to enter and your mouth immediately complies.

The feeling of his hot breath on your lips and thumbs rubbing against the juncture of your thighs has you feeling needy for more. Jimin swirls the tip of his tongue against yours, the filthy action turning you on even more. You moan into his mouth and thread your fingers through his hair, causing him to let out a low groan.

Finally, after what seems like an eternity, the two of you break apart. Chest heaving up and down, you take note of your teacher's face. His lips are redder and plumper than ever before. His cheeks have the faintest blush on them. His eyes, the ones that crinkle into a happy smile whenever you answer a question correctly in class, are now clouded over with deep lust.

"Get onto all fours. On the desk," Jimin commands, and you immediately comply. Now your ass is facing Jimin and you're very nearly completely exposed to him, save the thong you're wearing.

"God, you're such a slut," Jimin moans out at the sight. "Do you get dressed up like this just so you can get fucked in class? Such a short fucking skirt that I can see whatever you're wearing underneath whenever you bend over, hm? You wanted me to give in to you, doll?" When you nod weakly, he chuckles, "I don't think so."

Arching your back so your ass sticks out even more, you whine, "professor, please fuck me. I'm so fucking horny, please." Jimin cups your pussy from outside your panties and leans over you, "I don't think so, kitten. I'm the one calling the shots here." Your pussy flutters in response and Jimin slaps it lightly, chuckling. The brief stimulation has your cunt clenching around nothing.

He spreads your knees slightly and begins trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses up your thighs to the arch of your back. Feeling his breath so close to your core has you getting wetter by the minute in anticipation. He finally hovers over your back, placing a soft kiss on your shoulder, muttering, "I'm going to wreck you, Y/N", and you feel yourself clench in excitement.

"Then do it," you whisper, and Jimin hooks his fingers around the waistband of your thong and pulls it down, so slow that it's almost painful, exposing your heat to the cool air of the classroom and causing you to shiver in response.

You don't see it, but his eyes widen seeing the strings of your slick connecting your pussy to your panties. He takes a look at your core and his mouth starts watering. You're soaking and clenching around nothing, thighs shaking ever so slightly in anticipation.

He flattens his tongue and licks a flat stripe up your pussy, from your clit to your entrance. He pauses to suck some of your juices from it, but your cunt just keeps leaking them out. He runs his tongues through your folds over and over again until you let out a wanton moan.

Encouraged by your reaction, he hooks his arms around the side of your hips, nuzzling closer into your pussy. He laps at your cunt and purposely avoids your clit, only heightening the pressure in your core.

"Mr. Park," you whine out, pushing your hips back. "Please. More," you pant out. Suddenly, Jimin spanks your right ass cheek, rubbing his hand over the fleshy globe soothingly afterward. You let out a little yelp and turn around to catch his eyes.

"More what?" he spits out, smiling at you evilly. "My little slut's gotta tell me what she wants. How else would I give it to her?" your mind is foggy, pleasure causing you to lose track of everything other than the man behind you. "W- want you," you garble out, "t- to play with my clit too."

"What's the magic word, doll?" Jimin teases, breath fanning over your slit, causing your walls to clench erratically. "Please, Mr. Park," you whine, pushing your cunt closer to his face. He smirks at you, avoiding your advances.

"Good girl," he praises before finally positioning himself just barely in front of your clit. You feel him blow cool air onto your slit, but the temperature of it is magnified even more due to how wet you are. You whine out, expressing your displeasure, and Jimin finally indulges you by taking your throbbing button between his plush lips.

"F- fuck, sir, yes! Right there, please," you squeal, back arching even more. Jimin hums, the vibrations sending waves of pleasure through your body. You can feel yourself growing wetter, your entrance squeezing out more and more of your arousal down to where Jimin's lips are sucking. He momentarily pauses to flatten his tongue out, letting your juices drip onto them and slurping them up eagerly. The obscene noises behind you combined with the low thrum of student life just outside the classroom door mesh together to have you realize where exactly the two of you are doing this.

You glance at the clock, and your eyes widen. "Prof- oh my god, Pr- Professor Park," you moan out, trying to keep your focus. Jimin again hums, making you jolt in pleasure. "I- uh, there’s only ten minutes until the next block of classes start. I need t- to leave in around five." When Jimin releases from you with a pop, you can feel your slick running down your thighs and some dripping onto his desk. You feel a rush of excitement at the thought of everyone walking in during class to see the mess Jimin made of you on his desk and again squeeze around nothing.

"Well then," Jimin hums lazily, "guess you better cum within five minutes if you want to cum at all." He dives back into your heat, tongue skillfully running through your folds. He cycles between kitten licking and delivering harsh sucks to your clit and dipping his tongue into your entrance. You grind against his face in desperation to reach your release, and just when you finally feel it hurtling towards you at an alarming rate, suddenly, Jimin gets up.

He leans over you, trailing a hand up your slick-ridden thigh to cup your bare heat and mutters lowly in your ear, "time’s up." Your heart drops in frustration, and you whine out. Grinding into his palm, you beg for him to touch you once again, knowing nothing but how good he was making you feel just seconds ago. "Mr. P- Park, please. Make me cum," you cry out.

Jimin spanks your pussy, a wet echo sounding through the room. You jolt forward and your cunt leaks out even more of your arousal in response to the combination of pain and pleasure. "I said no," he hisses, "you couldn't cum in time, you don't deserve to cum."

"God, look at you, you're a mess. Bent over and spread out so desperately for me. You taste so sweet, doll. So responsive, too," Jimin murmurs, lazily rubbing your slit. He's, once again, avoiding your clit and driving you insane. Your sensitive nub is now swollen and throbbing with need, slick with your arousal.

"Has anyone touched you as well as I do, Y/N?" he asks. When you shake your head, he slaps your cunt again, another wet sound echoing through the room. "Words, baby girl," he goads, fingers dancing through your folds.

"N- no, sir. they can’t make me feel half as good as you did. I’ve al- I’ve always been thinking about having you touch m- my cunt and making me cum really hard. and I- shit I’m so needy sir, I wanna cum," you garble out, tears pricking the corner of your eyes. You feel Jimin’s hand leave your pussy, exposing your soaked heat to the cool air of the room. Slowly, he pulls your thong up your thighs and the light touches make you clench in desperation and whine out.

He marvels at the sight of you so fucked out in front of him. The way his top student was falling apart at the slightest touches he gave you. And the words you said. God, to have you say such filthy things in comparison to your gentle demeanor, all because of him, it really did something to him.

Jimin finishes clothing you and presses a kiss to the top of your ass and walks across the room to get some tissues to clean up the mess you made. Still perched on the desk, you watch him needily, thighs rubbing together to relieve some of the pressure from being denied your orgasm. "So I really don’t get to cum?" You ask meekly, holding back a sob. "I need to cum, Mr. Park."

He chuckles, "there’s a difference between need and want, doll. You want to cum, you don't need to cum. But what you do need," he returns to you, leaning down so that his face is right in front of yours, "is to get to your next class." Your face, once eagerly lit up in anticipation, has now fallen in disappointment.

Rolling your eyes, you huff out a "fine" and get off his desk, feeling your arousal make your thighs stick together. Your panties are uncomfortably damp and you’re so wet you can even smell yourself. "Can you make me cum later?" you question Jimin, sliding closer to him and playing with his tie, praying that he’ll be the one to make you release instead of having to do it yourself when you get home.

"If you play nice I might. If not, then… we’ll see," he hums, handing you a tissue to clean yourself up while heading to wipe down his desk. "I have a lunch meeting in the second half of the lunch block, so if you really need me, I’ll be here before then."

You grin and nod in excitement. "Cool! so I’ll-" you begin before the first students from the next class start filing in, making you jump. "The door wasn’t locked?" you whisper frantically to him. "We could have been caught, Jimin! Are you crazy?!"

He smirks at you, "didn’t you say you wanted it that way? Where anyone could walk in? I only did what you asked, doll." You’re left speechless as he continues. "Anyways, you should be in your next class pretty soon. I’ll write a note to your professor just in case you’re late. But get going, yeah? I’ll see you in time for our meeting." He hands you a slip of paper and straightens up, tossing the dirty tissues into the trash can in the corner of the room.

"Okay class, we’re going to get started soon. I presume you all did the reading, so just prepare for the discussion we’re going to be having about it when the bell rings," he calls out to the class. Turning to face you, he questions quietly with genuine concern, "you okay? Did I push you too much for our first time?"

Your mind swirls with thoughts. Our first time. The words fill you with giddy excitement. It’s just the two of you that know about this, the dirty things you were doing just minutes ago, very nearly getting caught. Knowing that this won’t be the only moment you guys are doing this, fills you with excitement.

"On the contrary, actually," you tease your teacher with a smile. "It was really nice honestly, but perhaps, you didn’t do enough." You bite your lip at the way Jimin's eyes darken and he looks away. "Get to class, Ms. L/N. The bell will ring any minute," he says lowly, jaw slightly clenched. Your core throbs at the sight and you head towards the door.

"Goodbye, Mr. Park. Thank you!" you call out, catching sight of Lisa, who raises her eyebrows at you teasingly and mouths text me. Blushing, you nod at her before leaving the room to go to your next class.

Being "one of the smartest students on campus" comes with its perks. Like right now, for example. You always (somehow) come to class overprepared, so when your next teacher gives you a day to work on your project (which you've already finished), you head to the back of the room to text Lisa in private.

from lisa: dude wtf was that you were literally talking to Mr. Park outside of ur class time with him

from lisa: omg wait don't tell me you fucked him

from lisa: did you

to lisa: NO I DID NOT OMG I wish tho lmao

to lisa: I was asking him for help on the paper he's assigning us and to proofread it and stuff before I submit it

from lisa: omg I forgot he assigned us that shit

to lisa: dude lmao its due in a week or so you have plenty of time

from lisa: ugh literally he's such a hottie why does he have to be so into teaching

to lisa: sis commitment to something is hot

from lisa: omg ur right wait a sec tho

from lisa: dude

from lisa: omg

from lisa: he definitely has a boner

Knowing that you were likely the cause of it, you shift in your seat cockily, smiling slyly to yourself while looking down.

to lisa: whAT

to lisa: wait how big is it

from lisa: ok I dont think he’s fully hard yet he's like semi hard but barely

from lisa: LMFAO Y/N don't worry I think he’s packing seems kinda thick too

Taking in a deep breath, you look up at the ceiling. You imagine him slowly sinking into you and making you whimper at his size. Him seeing your face and growling, "if you’re really a good girl, you should be able to take it." You cross your legs tightly and rock up and down in a lame attempt to diminish the rising pressure between your thighs and look back down at your phone.

to lisa: pls thats so hot

from lisa: IKR I want him to r a i l me

to lisa: or eat me out… have you sEEN those lips of his wtf

from lisa: on god do not get me started

to lisa: pls i bet he’d be the type to tease you

Oh Lisa, if only you knew the truth behind those words.

from lisa: YES hes lowkey cocky bc he knows like the entire fucking population simps for him

from lisa: he’s def gonna make you beg to cum

to lisa: pls thats hot do not get me riled up in class istg

from lisa: too late i've already started babe ;)

You continue texting Lisa throughout the entirety of your class. Finally, you look at the clock and seeing that there are only a few more minutes till the class ends, you wrap up your conversation with her.

to lisa: hey btw i’m gonna be coming to lunch late… save me a seat at our regular spot?

from lisa: when ur best friend is a teachers pet :(( fiNE I guess I will

to lisa: love u!! xx

from lisa: love you too nerd xoxo

The bell finally rings, signaling the start of the lunch break and you immediately stand up and walk out the door, bidding your teacher goodbye and thanks.

Running into the bathroom, you do a quick check of your appearance. You tug up your skirt a bit higher and tuck in your shirt so that your outfit accentuates your curves. You glance at your face and notice how abnormally large your pupils are in comparison to most days. Jimin has completely ruined you today, just like he said he would. I'm going to wreck you, Y/N. His words echo in your ears as you make your way out to his classroom. Trying to ignore how uncomfortably wet your panties are, you knock on the door to his room.

You hear a smooth voice answer with a, "come in," and take a deep breath before opening the door to see Jimin sitting behind his desk, leaning back in his chair with his arms behind his head. He scans you up and down, eyes taking in every inch of your figure. "Nice outfit alterations," he notes, patting his laps as a hint for you to sit on it. You quickly lock the door and make your way to him, placing one leg on each side of him so that you’re now straddling his thighs. "Is this all for me?" he asks and you tuck your head down, suddenly shy now that all his attention is on you again.

"Mhm, depends on whether you like it or not" you smile timidly, hands reaching out to play with his tie again. He laughs. "Princess, I’m conflicted. You do look very nice, all dolled up for me like this. It’d be a shame if I were to ruin your efforts. But on the other hand," he remarks, "you’ve very nearly crossed the line for indecent exposure. What if another teacher caught you like this? you would get in trouble, hm? And what if it were a student to see you like this? What would they think of you then?" He questions, causing your cheeks to burn at his words.

"They would think I- that I’m a whore. I- and that I dress up like this just so I can pass my classes," you whisper out, biting your lips in a combination of excitement and humiliation. You can feel yourself start to throb again and you start to rut against Jimin’s thighs. He shifts you over so that you are sitting on only one and slightly bounces his leg. The stimulation to your neglected cunt sends a shock running through your body and you squeeze your thighs around his.

"Look at you, so fucking desperate to cum. You think that you aren’t a little whore already, so needy for me this quickly, hm? Do you really think you deserve to cum?" He hums, admiring the way you’re worked up. He pushes up your skirt and slaps your thigh just underneath your ass. You shift away as a reaction, causing your clit to get the stimulation it finally deserved. The way your underwear rubs against your neglected bundle of nerves causes you to let out a groan and drop your head to Jimin's shoulder. He spanks you this time, making you yelp. "I asked you a question, doll."

"Mmhm, yeah," you whine out, "I deserve t- to cum, sir." At this point, your hips are moving on their own accord, shifting back and forth desperately against Jimin's thigh. He grabs your waist tightly, holding you still. "Look at me," he commands, bouncing his thigh. You mewl into his shoulder, the change in motion making you lose focus. He spanks you again, the sound echoing around the room. "Listen to directions, sweetheart. Or else you’ll get punished," he warns.

You lift your head to look at Jimin, faces just inches apart. His eyes scan over your face, lingering on your lips. Slowly, you lean towards him, closing the distance between you two. He gives into your eager kiss and you glide your hands up his firm chest to run your fingers through his hair. He starts bouncing you on his thigh and you groan into his mouth. Breaking apart panting, you place your forehead against Jimin’s, moving your hips back and forth harder to increase the pressure going to your clit.

"God, Y/N, you’re so wet," Jimin pants while looking down at the way your clothed pussy drags over his thigh. "I can feel you soaking through my slacks," he says, shifting you over. just like he said, there is now a wet spot on his thigh from where you just were. Thankfully, it’s barely noticeable, but if you focus enough, you can see it.

"What are you going to do about it, hm? I have classes to teach, meetings to attend. Do you want people to see the mess you made all over me?" He hisses, spanking you to elicit an answer. "N- no, sir. I’m s- sorry," you whisper out, eyes clenched, still rutting against him. You feel your orgasm bubbling up as every second passes.

"I don't think you're sorry, doll. Look at you making a mess all over me through your panties. You're absolutely soaked, so fucking desperate to cum," he tuts, clenching his thigh muscles purposely. You gasp and shove your head into the crook of Jimin's neck, letting out a low groan.

"Mr. Park, I'm so wet because of you. I- god, I wanna cum. please. I'm so close," you mewl into him, legs starting to tighten around his thigh.

You shut your eyes, feeling your impending orgasm build up. Right when you're about to let go, Jimin holds your hips in place tightly, preventing you from moving. Squeaking out, you make an attempt to shift your pussy over his thighs. It's no use because you can feel it start to drift away slowly and you look at him in need. Tears stinging the corners of your eyes, you plead, "S- sir I need you to touch me again. Please."

"Well, since you asked so nicely," Jimin smiles cockily, lifting you onto his desk and spreading your legs after stripping you of your panties. You lean back so that you face the ceiling. Your eyes roll back once you feel him take your clit into his mouth. You moan and arch your back off of the desk, thighs involuntarily clenching around his head.

"God, Mr. Park, yes! O- oh, fuck, please," you blabber out incoherently, your mind hazy and overwhelmed with pleasure. "More," you whimper out without thinking.

Jimin disconnects from your heat to look up at you, murmuring, "Greedy little slut wants it all, huh? Won't even ask nicely for it. Tell me what you want, Y/N. Beg for it, and I might just give it to you."

"God, I- I want it all, professor," you call out, wiggling your hips in search of stimulation that never comes. "Want you to stuff me with your f- fingers and lick my p- pussy and make me cum. Want you to fuck me r- raw with your fat cock from behind and sp- and spank me. Want you to ma- make me cry from cumming so hard just as much as you have from not letting me cum. A- and I want you to leave hi- hickies on my thighs so that if I bend over, p- people are gonna know how much of a cockslut I am, just for you."

"Yeah? Well, I can tell you this," Jimin says, fingers dancing up your thigh closer to your sick-ridden core. "You are a cockslut. So fucking dirty. Most people come to class to learn but it seems that you come here to get off." He inserts a finger into you and your walls immediately clamp down on it. He moves the digit in and out of you smoothly, your arousal allowing the smoothest of motions. "You like that, baby? Finally having something in that tight cunt of yours?" You nod at his question, adding on "want more, sir."

"Not enough? Greedy little bitch. look at you, so needy. What are you gonna do when I have my cock out, hm?" He shoves a second finger into you and starts curling them into your heat. You arch your back to the ceiling and he hovers over you. For a moment, there’s nothing but the squelch of his fingers in your wet pussy and your panting as he stares into your eyes. Jimin's eyebrows are furrowed and he’s biting his lip - he’s focusing on something.

That "something" becomes apparent when, all of a sudden, you nearly sit upright and let out a loud moan of pleasure, "Fuck, Mr. Park! right there." His fingers continue rubbing that special spot inside you repeatedly and your legs start shaking ever so slightly. You look back at him to see a smug smile on his face. "I found it," he chuckles as you writhe underneath him. He leans down to kiss you, lips melding together.

He keeps fingering you, bringing his thumb up to ghost over your clit ever so slightly to provide enough pleasure to bring you close to your orgasm but just not enough to make you cum. You whine against his lips and he breaks the kiss, asking "you want to cum, doll?" to which you weakly nod. "Then fuck yourself on my fingers. Show me how much of a little slut you are for me. How you’re a cocksleeve for me, so wet and needy as soon as I touch you, so ready for me to fuck you." He stills his digits inside of you and you buck your hips on them, rolling your pelvis repeatedly in an attempt to get to your orgasm. You reach down to provide some stimulation to your clit, but he smacks it away.

"Jim- professor, it’s not enough. I- I need more, please." Tears start welling up in your eyes at the thought of not cumming for the third time. Jimin kisses your temple, the gentle action reminding you that he’s not going to do something you can’t handle. "Please, Mr. Park. I wanna cum," you whine out, hips jerking back and forth in a pathetic attempt to chase after your high.

"Show me then, Y/N. how much you want it. A good girl can show me that she wants it bad enough and will make herself come on my fingers alone. She’s not greedy. She doesn’t need to touch herself too. She just needs my fingers to cum. I know you can be a good girl, Y/N," he goads. "Can you show me what the pretty little face of yours looks like when you cum? I bet you’ll look so beautiful, even more than you are right now, all fucked out for me."

"Hhngh, sir I- I’m trying," you pant out. "It’s just not enough. I promise I'm a good girl, I swear. Please let me cum. Oh god, I wanna cum." At this point, you’re nearly crying. You haven't ever been edged like this and are desperate for release.

Jimin sees this and purposefully retracts his hand from your cunt covered in your honeyed juices, glistening in the lights of his classroom. "Professor Park, please," you choke out weakly, chest constricting in disappointment. With a soft smile, he brings his fingers up to his mouth and cleans them off, savoring the flavor of you.

"Be a good girl for the rest of the day and then I’ll let you cum, baby," he hums. "You promise?" you plead, holding onto his arm desperately.

"I promise, Y/N," he kisses you gently and you taste the remnants of yourself on his tongue, the filthy action causing your clit to throb even more. Combined with the way your cunt is still clenched tight in preparation for an orgasm that won’t come soon, you can definitely say that you can't wait for the school day to come to an end.

"Go to lunch, doll. I have a meeting soon. Don’t think of me too much, hm? Gotta keep those straight A’s the way they are," Jimin teases, pulling down your skirt slowly, fingers just grazing your thighs. He grabs your panties. "Oh, and I think I'll keep these for now," he says cheekily, putting them in his pocket. "They didn’t seem to be doing their job when you were riding my thigh."

You watch him in shock, cheeks flushing red hot. "I- okay. uh, I’m going to lunch now, Jimin. Have a good lunch and meeting, I guess?" you say awkwardly, shuffling to the door with him, tugging your skirt down.

"Jimin? We’re on a first-name basis already, Y/N? Don’t let anybody hear you call me that in class, baby," he winks, holding the door open and you nod, preoccupied with the little "situation" your skirt just barely hides. You can feel yourself still leaking down your inner thighs, and pray that nobody’s going to notice when you walk into the dining hall.

"Ugh! Bitch, what took you so long?" Lisa exclaims when you sit down next to her with your lunch. You pout. "I wasn't even gone for that long."

"Ha! That long, my ass. You were gone for more than half of the break! I had to tell Jaebum and his cronies to fuck off on my own! I’m not as intimidating when you’re not around, though, so I don’t think it worked. They’ll probably come over again soon." Lisa rolls her eyes. You snort, "One of them probably likes you, that’s why they keep bothering you."

"They just like any female and will take what they can get," Lisa mutters, "but anyway! How was your meeting with Mr. Park? Did you solve his boner problem?" she wiggles her eyebrows.

You clear your throat. "No, Lisa I did not. I'm obviously above that," you say in a sarcastic tone. "I simply offered to," you tease. Lisa squeals and slaps your arm in response. "But for real though," she says. "Anyone that gets to hook up with mister Park Jimin automatically wins at life," and you hum in agreement.

You scan at the dining hall around you and catch the eye of Jaebum sitting with his friend group. He winks at you and you roll your eyes and stand up, "come on Lisa, let’s go. Those assholes are going to come over any second if we stay here any longer." You drag her to your guys’ next class.

The bell rings and the two of you burst out of the classroom. Thank god that’s over. Only one more class left, you think to yourself, gripping your books tighter to your chest in excitement.

"Jesus fuck, since when were you this eager to get to the last class of the day, Y/N? I thought you loved staying in school for as long as possible," Lisa huffs out. You steer her into the direction of your locker, right across from Jimin’s classroom.

"I'm picking up my books, you dummy. Be grateful I paid for this locker because otherwise, you wouldn’t be able to put your books here." You put in the code and exchange your books while Lisa checks herself in the magnetic mirror attached to the door. you have to be careful when bending over because otherwise you’ll flash the entire school, so you do a weird sit-squat thing. "Geeking out over lockers? You act as if you’re still in high school, Y/N," Lisa teases. "Only during the school day," you wink up at her.

Lisa spots someone through the reflection of the mirror and groans out. "Incoming," she warns, rolling her eyes and turning around. "Wha-" you begin when you get cut off by a smooth voice behind you.

"Damn, L/N. didn’t know you wore skirts this short on campus. Looks good on you," the guy winks. "But it would look even better on my bedroom floor." You hold back a gag and turn to Lisa, raising your eyebrows in exasperation.

"Wow, I see the originality," Lisa says in the most sickeningly sweet voice. "What do you want, Jaebum?" He chuckles and places an arm over your head, leaning over you. "Well, I’m having a party tonight, and it would be amazing if you two little ladies could attend. Be mine and Jackson’s plus one?" he says. You’re about to say no when he leans in closer to you, inches away from your face, "plus you can get the high-quality drinks for free, not the cheap booze we leave out for the randos who show up."

"You’re probably gonna drug them or something. No thanks, dickwad." you huff out after a second’s hesitation, pushing him away, ready to go to your next class. "Nah, baby. I may be a fuckboy but at least I've got morals. Whaddya say? You get me off, I get you off? Maybe make you cum so many times it starts hurting? You look like you haven’t been able to get an orgasm in a while, you’re so uptight, L/N," Jaebum smirks.

"You fuckin-" you start to hiss out but you’re shut off again. This time it’s by someone different. Jimin. "Mr. Lim, I don’t think it’s necessarily appropriate to discuss your sexual endeavors while in an academic setting. I’ll be letting you off with a warning for now." He turns to you, eyes flitting across your DIY skimpy outfit. You feel your cunt leak more of your honeyed juices under his piercing gaze and clamp your thighs together to keep them from dripping down your thighs. "And Ms. L/N, I expected better from you. You’re not typically one to do these things in a school environment. Get to class, the two of you," he says, turning back to his classroom.

"Oh," he adds, "and Y/N. fix your outfit. I would hate to see you get dress coded by a teacher who isn’t as lenient." You, Lisa, and Jaebum stare at his back in shock as he heads inside his classroom.

"Well, uh, that just happened," Lisa states, turning to you. "Ready to go?" you nod numbly, mind swirling with embarrassment and excitement as you tug down your skirt. The two of you walk to the last class of the day while Jaebum calls out, "my place after 11, L/N! I’ll be waiting!", making you wince. Great, now a bunch of people are gonna think you’re hooking up with him.

The last bell of the day finally rings, and you head to your locker after bidding Lisa goodbye. You put your books in your locker and head to the bathroom to fix your clothes. You decide to tease Jimin even more by adjusting your skirt so that it ends just at the bottom of your ass. It’s a terribly risky decision; if you walk too fast, you risk flashing everyone. You’ve tried to wipe the slick off the juncture of your thighs, but it keeps getting replaced with more of your arousal.

You speed walk down the halls and fling open the door to see that Jimin isn’t in his classroom - or so you think. Once you take a few steps into the room, you hear the door shut behind you and lock. Jimin looks at you up and down. "You didn’t fix your outfit, Ms. L/N. Looks like I’ll have to dress code you for indecent exposure then," he hums, heading to his desk to take out a slip of paper.

"Wait Jimin, what? I thought we were- um. You know, going to-" you splutter out, realizing he was actually serious. You can’t have this on your academic record! What would your parents think?

"Going to what? Fuck? Seems like you already have someone else for that, Y/N," he shakes his head, grabbing a pen. You reach forward quickly to stop him, hand, gripping his forearm in desperation.

"No Mr. Park, I- I never told Jaebum yes. I just-" you try to explain, but Jimin cuts you off. "You what?" he asks bitingly, taking you by surprise. "Did you think that you could just come back and hop on my dick after nearly making out with another guy? God, you really are a slut, aren’t you?"

You rub your thighs together, trying to relieve some of the steadily mounting pressure in your core at Jimin’s words. "Look at you, I told you to fix your outfit and you fucking pulled up your skirt. You pulled it up. You don’t listen to me, talk to your friends about how much you want me to rail you, and yet let other guys make plans to hook up with you. And you expect me to let you cum after all of that?" he continues, noticing the effect he has on you. "You really think I should let you cum, Y/N? I'll tell you what I think. I think I should leave you like this, dripping and needy for me. So ready to get fucked by me but not being able to."

Your eyes widen, "no, please professor, no!"

"Should I jack off in front of you and not let you touch me? Maybe then would you learn your lesson? Or maybe I should spank your ass till it’s blue you’re unable to sit. Would that work, hm? What if I just send you back to the dorms? You could ask Jaebum to touch you, even if he can’t make you half the mess I can," he continues, pushing you onto his desk. He grabs your jaw and tilts your head up, forcing you to look at him, humiliated, with tears in your eyes.

"Aw," he pouts sarcastically, "is the baby crying? Because I didn’t let her cum? Well, princess, you knew what you were getting yourself into. Little cocksluts like you don’t deserve to cum so easily."

"P- professor, please. You can punish me. Teach me a lesson. B- but just please let me cum." You whimper out, attempting to cross your legs together to assuage your aching clit, but Jimin stops you by holding your knee with his other hand.

He slowly trails his hands up your bare thigh, admiring the way your soft skin seems to get chills at his touch. He pushes you back onto the desk and you prop yourself up your elbows to look at him. "Are you a cockslut, Y/N?" he asks, unbuckling his belt and unzipping his trousers.

"Y- yes Mr. Park. I- I’m nothing but a hole for you to fuck," you whimper meekly as he pushes up your skirt. He pushes apart your thighs and tugs you to the edge of the desk. "Damn right you are. Nothing but a little whore that I can use to get off. I’m going to fuck you here in school like you’ve never been fucked before. And this dick you’ve been thinking about all this time, it’s going to finally be in you, and I better not hear any complaints," Jimin growls, pumping his length in his hand. "No sir," you whimper out.

"You on the pill?" he asks, to which you reply with a yes. He teases your slit with the pink head of his cock and your entrance flutters at the touch. "But on another note, tell me if you want to stop. I don’t want to push you too much."

You smile, "Jimin, you’re being too kind. I promise I'll tell you. But I did say before perhaps you weren’t doing enough. Mr. Park, I want you to ruin me," you bite your lips, mimicking his words from earlier in the day. He cocks his head in amusement.

"Don’t worry princess, that’s exactly what I’ll be doing." Without warning, he thrusts forward into your heart, barely giving you time to adjust to his size. The girth of his cock stretches open your cunt with painful pleasure. Once he’s sheathed inside you, you can feel him very near your cervix.

You let out a shaky breath but it’s cut off as he continues thrusting in and out of you, wet slaps echoing through the room. "M- Mr. Park-" you moan incoherently.

"Fucking take it, Y/N. You wanted me to ruin you? Well here I am doing it; be fucking grateful." he rolls his hips into yours, hands gripping your sides harshly.

"Th- thank you Mr. Park, s- so much," you nearly sob out, almost crying at the relief of being fucked. You’re so turned on that your walls are clenching around Jimin’s dick so hard that he grips your jaw harshly. Gritting his teeth, he spits, "loosen up, babe. You’re so fuckin’ tight." You whine and try to relax but the stimulation Jimin’s providing has your eyes rolling back instead.

He snakes a hand down to your stomach and under your skirt, circling your throbbing clit. Your pussy flutters at the stimulation and you bite your lip harshly. He changes his angle slightly, causing your thighs to start shaking. His precum and your honeyed juices drip out your sopping cunt, the sound of wet slaps echoing around the room.

"Mmmmh," you moan out softly, back arching slightly. You can feel Jimin hitting your g-spot with impeccable accuracy each time. Doubled with the way his thumb is rubbing circles on your sensitive clit, you feel yourself reaching your orgasm. You try to suppress the giveaway signs of your impending release, knowing that Jimin, in order to "teach you a lesson" of sorts, is likely to take it away from you, so you attempt to just breathe out, "Jimin, fuck, it feels so good."

"Yeah, you like that, baby?" he thrusts into you deeper and harder and you bite your upper lip to stop your moans from slipping out. "Come on Y/N, let me hear those pretty little moans. Let everyone else know how well I'm fucking you, how good I make you feel," Jimin urges.

As soon as he utters those words, you give in, letting high pitched whimpers spill from your lips. Your pussy lets out filthy squelching noises at each of his thrusts, your wetness dripping down your ass and onto the desk. You feel your walls tightening around his cock and try to fight it off, but Jimin can already tell of your impending orgasm. He pulls out of you, leaving your warm and soaked cunt open to the air.

"Fuck," you exclaim in frustration, bringing your hands up to cover your face so Jimin doesn’t see your face, tears starting to spill down your face. It’s frustrating you so much that he won’t let you cum. That he enjoys seeing you whimpering and teary-eyed for him. Your thighs haven’t stopped shaking and Jimin parts them after you close them. He pulls down your arms and smiles evilly.

"Well, what do we have here," he exclaims, "looks like the baby finally did start crying. Come on, Y/N, I thought you had it in you. But look at how you’re spread out on this desk for me, such a fucking mess. I bet you like it, huh? Dirtying up my desk with that cunt of yours."

"I need to cum, Mr. Park," you choke out, trying to gather your thoughts. "I need to cum now." your teacher’s eyes narrow and he grips your thighs harshly. "What did you say to me?" he asks, a tone laced with dangerous amusement.

"You heard me. I-," you hesitate for a moment, but decide you’ve already put yourself through enough teasing today. You muster up your courage before saying, "I want you to make me cum now."

There’s a moment’s silence before you add on shamelessly, "o- or if it’s too much to ask of you, I- I’ll just find someone else to help me do it. Maybe Jaebum? He promised a good time a- and said he would let me cum as many times as I want."

Jimin grabs you by the chin and pulls you up. "You’re such a fucking brat, Y/N." Shifting his hand so it’s gripping your throat, he mutters, "you don’t fucking learn, do you? I thought you were smart, hm? But has the need for sex made you lose your sense? Made you turn into a dumb little bitch, ready to bend over for anyone because you’re so horny? And here I was thinking you were better than that. That you had standards. Perhaps I was wrong, hm? Would you like to tell me?"

You try to look down, away from his piercing glare, but he turns your chin to look back at him. Humiliation courses through your veins as Jimin’s gaze wanders down your body scathingly. "Look at you," he coos sarcastically. "Y/N, baby, you’re such a fucking mess. Pathetic." Suddenly, he lifts you off the desk and bends you over it, cheek pressing the top and ass exposed over the edge to him. You whimper at the feeling of your shirt being stickied from your arousal left on the table from just a few minutes ago. You try moving away from it, but Jimin holds you in place.

"Are you afraid that everyone else is going to see the mess on your shirt, Y/N? Is that why you’re trying to move?" he hovers over you from behind. "Or perhaps," he continues, hot breath tickling over the shell of your ear, "you want to continue being a brat. Make me punish you until you’re begging for me to make it stop."

He spanks you, the sound echoing across the room before you register the sting of his action. You clench involuntarily and let out the slightest of whimpers. "Fucking hell, are you this turned on? Making noises even if I don’t touch your filthy little pussy?" he asks, smacking your behind again. You bite down on your lip to avoid giving him the answer he already knows.

"Count for me. Be good and maybe I’ll finally let you cum." he commands, spanking your right ass cheek again. "O- one!" you groan. He spanks your left side, the stinging sensation causing you to leak more arousal. "Louder, Y/N. Let me hear you," he hisses, hand in your hair, and pulls you up slightly. "T- two," you stammer. another slap echoes across the room. "Three! God Mr. Park, please." At this point, you’re not even sure what you’re begging for; your mind is numb with lust.

"T- twenty! Agh, fuck, please," you squirm under Jimins grasp. The throbbing of your clit has increased tenfold, and you can practically feel the shaking of your thighs through the desk.

Jimin slips his hand between your legs, feeling the soft flesh of your inner thighs slicked with your juices. "You’re fucking dripping, Y/N. Look at you. Did getting punished turn you on this much, doll?" He swipes up your slit, teasing your fluttering hole. You scrunch your eyes in displeasure and try to back up into him, only to be stopped by a harsh smack onto your already throbbing cunt. You yelp and flop back on the desk, cheek pressing the surface.

You feel him rubbing his dick against your folds and sigh in relief. Suddenly, Jimin slams into you from behind with no warning causing you to let out a harsh groan. "Ah, professor!" you exclaim, balling your fists in pleasure at finally being stimulated. His cock seems even bigger from this angle, and your entrance stings delectably at the way he splits you open.

"You feel how tight your pussy is, princess? How tight it is for me? Nobody else makes you feel this needy. Nobody," Jimin mutters in your ear after pulling you up. He pulls your head back by your hair, exposing your neck, which he plants wet kisses on. He reaches down in front of you, tracing an achingly slow path from your stomach to your slit with his fingers. You’re reaching your orgasm at an embarrassingly fast rate due to all of the edging you’re been through, so when Jimin finally brushes over your clit, it’s no surprise that your walls tighten even more instantaneously.

"Ji- ‘m gonna cum," you moan wantonly. "Yeah? Is my little slut finally going to cum?" He hisses out at the way you tighten around him. You nod desperately, gripping his arm rubbing figure eights over your sensitive bud.

"Oh god, Jimin, I feel it coming. Please please please let me cum. I'm being good for you, Mr. Park, please let me cum," you sob out incoherently as Jimin continues railing you from behind. You feel the ridges of his cock brushing your walls and shudder at his ministrations.

"Let go, princess, I got you. Cum for me. Tell me how good I’m making you feel," Jimin snarls, snapping his hips into yours, eager to get you to finally melt in his arms. You feel your orgasm crashing over you and you clamp down on his dick, legs shaking in relief. Jimin's grip on your hair tightens as he feels you pulsing around him, getting impossibly tight. Nevertheless, he continues thrusting into you.

You mewl, trying to shift away from Jimin's hold as his fingers return to your clit, rubbing figure eights into them, "J- too m- much," you whimper out, straining against his arms.

"Yeah?" his smooth voice asks, "but I thought you wanted to cum, princess? Didn't you? I need to cum, Mr. Park. I need to cum now." He mocks you. “Well, that's what I'm doing doll. I'm. Making. You. Cum," he emphasizes each word with a harsh thrust, jolting you forward.

You're being reduced to a mess, tears streaming down your face and slick dripping down your thighs. You can feel your gummy walls tightening more and more on their own accord, without even trying. Without even realizing it, you've changed from trying to move away from Jimin's fingers to grinding down on his dick.

Jimin, however, notices this. "God, you're such a slut, Y/N. Weren't you just asking me to stop?" He raises your left leg onto the desk, allowing him to have more access to your folds. He slaps your clit when you don’t give a response and you yelp, clenching down on his dick. He slaps you a couple more times, and your cunt drips even more, making your thighs sticky with your honeyed juices. You can feel yourself nearing your orgasm once again from his motions.

Suddenly, Jimin pushes you back on his desk and begins hammering into you from behind. "You're going to cum again, aren't you? Filthy little girl, didn't you just cum? Are you really that needy for some dick?" You try to hold back a whimper from his words but it slips from your lips. "You're really a whore, aren't you, baby?"

In response, Jimin spanks you, and you yelp. "Keep doing that," he hisses when you clench down on his dick. "You like being punished, don't you?" You nod meekly in response. He smacks your already reddened ass again and you hiss at the stinging sensation. Paired with the pleasure his cock is giving you, thrusting so deep into you, you can feel yourself practically getting high off the feeling.

Jimin feels you cumming before you realize it yourself. His hips nearly stutter at the way your walls have clenched around his dick. He opts to rut his hips into yours, no longer being able to thrust in and out due to how tight you are. He reaches under your body to rub tight circles on your throbbing clit and you start cumming again, clenching erratically around his dick. "You cumming, Y/N? Be a good girl and let go for me. Get this fat cock all wet," he commands. You ball up your fists and dig your nails into your palms, pleasure coursing through your veins. Riding the course of your high, you wish for nothing more but to be in the moment.

When you come down from your orgasm, Jimin finally pulls his hard dick out of you. You feel his precum and your cum drip down your thighs. Whining, you rub them together to get rid of the feeling but it only serves to make you stickier. Jimin parts your thighs and runs a hand up them to cup your pussy, pausing to feel your cunt still clenching from the aftershocks of your orgasm. He smacks your abused heat, jolting you forwards and causing you to grit your teeth in overstimulation.

He flips you over, spreading your legs open. He leans over you, rubbing the tip of his dick over your swollen and throbbing clit, making you shiver. "Prof- professor, I can’t-" you begin but are interrupted my Jimin quickly shoving into you. Gasping, you clench down onto his dick, eyes rolling back into your head.

"You can, Y/N, and you fucking will," he grunts harshly, snapping his hips into yours. You grasp at his arm after feeling him in you deeper than before. The head of his cock nearly kisses your cervix and his impossibly hard dick stretches your tight cunt open even more, making you wince at the pleasurable pain.

"I- oh god, I really can’t. It feels-" you choke out through your tears. "It feels too- oh!" your head rolls back as Jimin hooks your legs over his shoulders, creating a new angle of penetration. He rubs your clit ever so slightly, the abused bundle of nerves pulsing under his touch. "It feels too what?" he hisses, rolling his hips upward so that his tip just barely grazes your g-spot. Too good, you want to say, but pleasure is clouding your mind and you can’t get the words out.

"That’s it, baby," he hums, "taking my fat cock so well even though you’re so- shit, you’re so fucking tight. Are you gonna cum again, hm? Cream all over my dick and make another mess?" you’re being reduced to a blathering mess, Jimin’s name rolling off the tip of your tongue. "Yeah? Can’t even hold it back a little? Even though I let you cum so many times, you still want more? Greedy little bitch," he spits at you.

When you clench down at his words, he starts pistoning his hips into yours, the sound of his balls slapping against your ass echoing around the room. His cock seems to be splitting you open even more, and you can feel every pulse of his dick on your walls. "Fuck, Y/N. I’m going to cum," he groans.

"I- I’m close too, Mr. Park. It- fuck, it feels really good," you breathe out as Jimin leans down over you. He slows his hips down, opting to roll his hips smoothly and brushing over your g-spot with painful accuracy. Hovering over you, his stare bores into yours, eyes flitting down to your lips, reddened and swollen from you biting them. You whimper and tilt your chin up towards him and he leans his head down to yours.

He lets his lips ghost over yours, warm breath brushing over your lips as his hips grind into yours. "P- please," you beg, and Jimin finally relents and melds his lips to yours, bringing the two of you into a searing kiss, groaning as you near each of your highs. You break the kiss to gasp out, "I’m c- cumming again Mr. Park."

"Yeah?" he breathes surprisedly, "your little pussy’s that sensitive that you’re gonna- fuck, you’re cumming already? So quickly?" he leans down as your orgasm washes over you, this one hitting you slowly and harshly. You arch your back into Jimin’s chest, hands gripping at the collar of his shirt. His thumb continues to gently rub over your clit, causing you to roll your eyes back into your head at the overstimulation. You start shaking underneath him, squirming to get away from the overload of senses, but he holds you in place as you ride your high for what seems to be like an eternity.

"That's a good girl," he soothes as you continue to writhe underneath him. "Look at you, stuffed so full of my cock it’s making you cry. Does that feel good, darling?" you nod, sobbing. When your orgasm starts to fade away, spots of white dotting your vision, he still doesn’t stop thrusting into you.

You bite your lip, and seeing that he’s close, you whisper, "M- Mr. Park, I want you t- to cum too. I- in me." His hips stutter at your words. "Shit, yeah? You’d let me do that?"

You nod, "want you to fill me up w- with your cum and s- stuff me so full of it that it’s gonna be in me for days. And I wanna fe- fuck, I wanna feel you in me even when I’m alone, professor." At your words, Jimin lets out a slightly animalistic growl and leans in. "You’d like that, huh?" he asks. "Me fucking you so well till you can’t think straight? Putting my cum in you so that when you walk out of here, it’s dripping down your pretty little thighs, making you look like the filthy little slut you really are? You think you deserve that?"

"Please, sir, I really want it," you beg, "please." With that, Jimin attaches his lips onto yours again, grinding his hips into yours even deeper as he finally orgasms. He doesn’t stutter his hips as he continues his ministrations, even though he can feel your walls desperately squeezing around him, milking his cock of its seed. You feel the thick ropes of his warm cum painting your inner walls every second. Each time he pulls out slightly, a bit of it leaks out of your cunt, dripping down your ass onto his desk. He continues fucking his cum into you until he’s satisfied with the way you’re shivering under him.

For a moment, all is still, nothing but the sound of the two of your breathing filling the air as you stare into each other’s eyes. "Um-," you begin, and Jimin quickly looks away, brushing his thumb over his plump lips. So that just happened. I fucked my teacher. I fucked Park Jimin.

"Wait here," he mutters, making your heart drop in disappointment. You nod, offering him a weak smile. Seeing this, Jimin reassures you, "don’t worry, I’m not leaving you. I’ll be right back," and cautiously steps out of the room after clothing himself.

You take this moment to recollect what exactly happened. Okay, so you just fucked your teacher. It still hasn’t sunk in yet, and probably won’t till you leave to clean yourself and look at the marks he’s made on your thighs and ass. You can’t help the giddiness you feel, like a kid who got the best candy bar in the world. After all, you got to hook up with your crush - in fact, the entire campus’s crush. The door creaks open and Jimin returns with some paper towels and wipes.

"H- hey," he smiles nervously. For the first time, he’s the one that’s stuttering. "Let me clean you up. It’s the least I could do after putting you through so much today." He spreads your legs gently, cheeks flushed, and begins wiping off the slick and cum between your thighs.

"Jimin, you didn’t do anything bad, calm down. Well, I mean you fucked your student? But other than that you’re fine. I really liked it," you try to explain, stumbling over your words. He looks at you incredulously, but shakes his head, smiling. "I don't want to tell anyone about this," you continue, "and I highly doubt you will, so this can stay as our little secret."

"Well looks like someone got fucked a little too happy. How come you never smile this much when I’m teaching, hm?" Jimin jokes after he finishes cleaning you up, kissing your knee gently. He hands you your thong that he’s kept for half the day and tells you to put it on.

"You’re still going to the party, right? Jaebum’s?" he asks and you shrug. "You should go. Have a fun time there, drinking and all that stuff." He leans into you, whispering into your ear, "and if that rascal wants to get into your pants, he’s going to see your soaked panties covering up that precious little cunt of yours stuffed with all that cum of mine. Maybe then he’ll finally back off," he smirks.

You blush, "maybe, Mr. Park. You know, you’re pettier than I thought you’d be." Standing up, to face him, he pulls you in by the waist till your chests are touching. You wrap your arms around his neck and he leans in, whispering, "well, Y/N, I don’t think you knew too much about me in the first place." Closing the gap between the two of you, you give him a peck on the lips, which quickly turns into a more heated kiss, lips melding together and tongues colliding. When you break apart, a faint blush on the two of your cheeks, Jimin smiles fondly at you and you look away.

"Well," you hum contentedly, "if I don’t know much about you now, I’d at least like to get to know you better in the future."

"One day," he breathes out. "One day."

Your grin, disentangling yourself from his arms. "One day soon, I hope. I’ve got to go now, but I’ll see you next class. Goodbye prof- Jimin. Have a great weekend."

He smiles softly, walking you to the door. "You too, Y/N. If you do end up going to that party, have fun. Stay safe."

558 notes · View notes

salsdemise · 3 years ago

Note

Can I request a Sally face x reader fic? Possibly a confession and first kiss an da party or something like that, thank you!

Hey anon, sorry if this is bad, I'm assuming you meant sal, and if not just lmk and I'll re-write this for another character if you want.

Warnings: Underage drinking, underaged smoking, parties, y/n used in place of your name, really awkward with the confession part? idk how to write those

word count: 1479

other: gender neutral terms used, sal's speech is in blue bc sometimes its unclear whos talking bc i didn't know what to put between the words spoken lol playlist listened to while writing: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5SMv6Go27KIcbfL07wkQ4m

This party wasn’t where you wanted to be right now. Hell, you’d rather be at school, getting pushed around by the kids in the hall right now. Anywhere was better than this loud, flashy,party filled with the smell of cigs, weed, alcohol and sex wafting off of every teen you passed.

Why you had come to this party in the first place had slipped your mind, as now you were more focused on not getting backed into a corner with a potted plant by a group of your peers. Maybe it was because your friend Larry wouldn’t shut up about how fun it was going to be, maybe it was because you would have felt bad saying no, or maybe it was because you certainly weren’t going to pass up on an opportunity to potentially hang out with Sal Fisher, your long time crush and close friend.

Holding your now empty red cup, you navigated your way through the crowd of drunken and dancing teens, most who were nice and giggly as you passed, slurring apologies at you if they bumped you.

While you weren’t all sober yourself, you had enough remaining cognitive ability to form full thoughts, and the only one on your mind was finding one of two people; Sal or Larry. You had no doubt Larry was off smoking with gods know who, so that left one option, and if your brain wasn’t mistaking you, you had seen the electric-bluenette near the door to the backyard in the kitchen not too long ago. So that’s where you set your sights.

When you arrived at the kitchen, you were happy to know that you were indeed correct on where you had last seen Sal, just outside on the patio, sitting hunched over a cup, the bottom straps of his prosthetic undone and dangling. Murmuring a few ‘excuse me’s at the teens you passed on the way, you made your way out to the back, opening and exiting the door and catching the bluenette’s attention. Seating yourself next to him, you said nothing, not sure of what to say.

“Didn’t think you’d actually show. Lar said you were coming, but I thought he was bluffing again,” Sal spoke, sipping on his drink.

You laughed at this, “yea, no, he actually convinced me to come. Not sure how, but he did. Honestly, I didn’t think I’d see you here either. You always talk about how much you hate parties, especially ones that have inebriating drinks,” you set your cup down next to you, and a small breeze knocked it over as soon as your hand left it.

“I don’t, hate em. Managed to get someone to get me something non-alcoholic, though. What have you had to drink?” He motioned to your, now rolling, red cup to emphasize.

“Oh, nothing too strong. They had a punch bowl in there so I took some of that,” thinking back to it as you spoke, it was odd the hosts of this party put a punch bowl out at a party with no need for it. However, you and Sal both seemingly shrugged it off and continued talking.

Conversation between the two of you had always come so naturally, switching between topics and tones, talking about people, your home state, his home state, and the likes.

“Man, I cannot believe he did that! It was like, super awkward between us for a week,“ you laughed, finishing a story about how Larry had tried to ask you out when high. Luckily the guy wasn’t too upset and took no for an answer.

“Hey, y/n, about asking people out...have you ever done it?” Sal questioned, messing with his sweater sleeves now that his drink was gone and his cup had also flown off.

“Oh, uh, not like, here at Nockfell, but in the past I asked a guy in my grade to go to a valentine’s day dance with me. Why?” you responded, tilting your head at him.

“I want to ask this person out, but I’m not sure how.”

“Oh. Well, what do they like? How long have you known them? And how close are you two? You can’t just ask out a random person you barely know, it won’t go well.”

“Well, they like a lot so it’s...kinda hard to put into words. I’ve known them for years now, and I’d like to say we’re pretty close.”

Thinking, you went quiet. As much as it hurt you to know your crush liked someone else, you were going to help him as best you could.

“Well, I’d give them a note, personally. I’d probably piss myself if I tried to tell them upfront. But it depends on how you wanna do it.”

Sal quietly thinks for a few seconds before standing up and fixing his mask, “Thanks for your help dude. We should get going, I’ll go find Larry and we can get out of here.”

You nod, standing and following Sal back into the house, heading for the front door while Sal went off to find Larry. With your mutual friend acquired, you all left for home, depositing Larry at his place and heading to your own beds, tired now that the social buzz had worn off.

Over the next week, you and Sal talked less and less, notes popped up in your locker, and small things like patches, stickers, pins and snacks appeared with them. You were confused to say the least. You loved everything this admirer gave you, and the notes were adorable, even if they were typed and printed rather than hand written, but you wondered why Sal had stopped talking to you as often as he did.

As the weeks progressed, you had started to like the secret admirer that was leaving you small gifts and notes reminding you how much they liked you. But the most recent note, which you had gotten on a sunny and warm Wednesday, really caught your attention. This time, it was handwritten in blue pen ink, the handwriting surprisingly neat, completely eliminating who you thought it was.

The note read: “y/n, meet me in the courtyard during lunch/break time. -<3”, and not wanting to disappoint, you waited with an uneasy shake until lunch came around where you went straight to the courtyard. Seeing no one, you sat on the ground by a tree to wait until your secret admirer got there.

10 minutes later, the heavy doors opened and closed with a thud, catching your attention and causing you to look up where you saw Sal, mask in hands, and looking down.

“Sal? Are you the one that wanted to meet me here?” You were..puzzled to say the least. Sal had hardly talked to you in weeks, and you thought he liked someone else like Ash, but it seems you were mistaken.

“Uh, yea, I am. I know you’re..probably upset at me for not talking to you in the past few weeks, but I didn’t want to say something stupid too soon. I hope you’re not too mad..”

“Sal, I’m not mad. I thought you were busy trying to get your mystery person to like you..and I guess I was right, but I didn’t think it’d be me..”

“Who else would it have been? You and I are as close as Larry and I are, we like the same things and I’ve known you since you got here. Hell, I’ve been pining over you for years now, but last year when Lar told me he was gonna try and shoot his shot, I tried to get myself to like Ash so I wouldn’t feel like shit if you said yes.”

“Oh, Sal. I thought it was Ash, you talk so much about her sometimes, I thought you actually liked her.”

“Oh, no, I don’t. She helped me with this, actually. Which reminds me, if its not obvious already, I really fucking like you. Like, you make me feel happy and just thinking about you makes me feel like I’m on cloud nine.”

Smiling at his words you stood to go over to him, putting your hands on his shoulders so he would look up at you, “I like you too, Sal. Like, a lot. I have for a while, and when you asked how to ask someone out,I..it hurt a little bit.”

Saying nothing at your words, Sal moved forward and wrapped you in a hug, his mask landing in the grass behind you two. Before you could return the hug, Sal backed up and his hands grabbed your face pulling you in for a kiss. Giving you time to react this time, you kissed back, your hands placing themselves over his.

Now, sitting at a college party with your boyfriend, you think to yourself, ‘Maybe parties aren’t so bad after all.’

#sally face #sal fisher #sally face x reader #sally face game #sal fisher x y/n #gn!reader

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impala1967dwinchester · 4 years ago

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Dean Winchester: Hurting inside and out

*Credit to the gif owner*

Pairing: AU!History Teacher!Dean x Student!Reader

Pov: Dean (Reader to aged to be 16 and in high school)

Warnings: tw: Abuse tw: Only child tw: Mental health tw: Panic Attacks tw: Anxiety Attacks tw: Anxiety tw: Abuse of a child tw: Chacater Death mentioned tw: Drunk parent tw: Drinking, Protective! Dean, crying, consoling the reader, Mad! Dean, CPS Involved, Adoption of the reader, Talking a little about the past, Mature Content.

Summary: Mr. Winchester is starting to notice and worry about the changes he is seeing in his brightest, and most social student after all of a sudden she becomes quiet and wants to be left alone.

Word Count: 2.6k

A/N- This is for @band--psycho Comfort list.

Main Masterlist

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Taglist- @akshi8278 @deanswaywardgirl @hit-meup69 @doctorlilo @wonderfulworldofwinchester

“Alright class, do you have any questions before we have independent work?” I asked the large class of students. I saw the girl in the front of the class raised her hand. She always has her hand up in the air. Always wanting to learn more about history.

“Yes, Y/n what’s your question?” I asked Y/n, she lowered her arm and said proudly. “What can we do if we have already completed our assignment?” I was used to that from her. She’d finish her assignments early and then have thirty minutes to sit there. She’d sit and read her book, or complete other assignments for classes.

“Well, if you’re already done. Then you, Miss, L/n can read your book, or help other students.” I said walking over to my desk to sit down. Y/n was a teacher's pet, but I tried to lean away from making her think that she was that way in class. I know what it’s like to be a teacher pet

I hadn’t even got to take a breath yet before Y/n was standing in front of my desk with her paper assignment in hand. “Here you go, Mr. Wincheste,r” Y/n said handing me her paper. “Thank you Miss L/n.” I said taking it and then she walked back over to her desk.

Later on that day I called the main office, telling the very nice desk lady that I needed Y/n L/n to come back to my classroom to talk with you about being a student cadet. The front desk lady said okay, and at the end of the day, Y/n was coming walking into my classroom for the second time.

Her backpack is steady on her shoulders. “Yes, Mr. Winchester.” She said sitting down in her normal seat in class. “How was the rest of your day, Miss L/n?” I asked. Giving her a confused look. “Mr. Winchester I thought I was here for detention or something like that?” She said. Starting to mess with her fingers.

"God no, I wanted to talk to you about becoming a teacher's cadet for next semester’s class. It would nice if you'd be able to help me grade papers, make up lesson plans y'know the normal things." I said fidgeting with the pen in between my fingers.

After this semester ends Y/n will not be coming back. So, the only way to get Y/n to come back would be to my class if she became my student cadet.

I waited silently in my office chair. Softly tapping, the nose of my shoe on the floor to the beat of some rock song. "Yeah, I will become a teacher's cadet. I'll become your teacher's cadet." She said a slow smile starting to grow on her face.

This…This teaching, and that wide was the one reason I keep coming to work. Knowing that my little ol' history class is making them so overjoyed. That's what makes me know that I'm doing the best I can at my job.

“All right, so next semester I’ll see you. Remember you’re here to help me. So don’t worry about things okay.” I said getting up from my desk chair and moving around. Y/n stayed in her same position. “You can go Y/n.” I stated.

It looked almost as if she had zoned out, but it’s whatever. “Yes, I do have to get going. Thank you, Mr. Winchester.” That’s all she said before she walked out of my classroom. Christmas break came fast and then it was over, I had ended up going to my parent’s house to see my sister and brother-in-law.

With Christmas and New Year over I was very much ready to see the new kids that I was going to have, and I was more than happy to have Y/n as my teacher cadet. The whole idea of her taking some stress off my shoulders was nice, it was wonderful actually.

For the first few weeks of the new semester Y/n was great she’d get all the regulatory things printed, some tested graded, she’d come to my class during her lunchtime and help me with more grading.

Yeah, I’m one of those teachers who make a shit ton of their students work into grades. The only thing I had to do was print the syllabus out. She’d walk in with her backpack slung over her shoulders, but a bright and wide smile on her face. I’d talk to the class and get the students in order before bringing my attention back to Y/n.

But that slowly started to change as our class progressed into the new year. Y/n wouldn't come in with a smile on anymore, she’d have her earbuds in and to be honest, the music was always blaring. “She’d slump into her seat at the front of the class.

Students would try to say hi or even just try to start a conversation. She’d ignore them, and pull out the tests she had scored the previous day. It started to concern me when she came to school with a large black hoodie, and in a rather bad mood. It was starting to look as if she was losing that bright star inside her.

That bright star that had made her shine in my class just last semester. That bright smile made all the students this year enjoy this class just a little bit more. I let it continue until she wasn’t showing up for class anymore, wasn’t returning graded tests, or coming to the lunch to help me anymore.

I called the front desk and asked the lady to have Y/n come down to my class that I needed her for a teacher and teacher cadet conversation. The front desk lady was able to call down to whatever class Y/n was in and have her jot that note down.

I waited for after school to end to start to worry when Y/n didn’t show up in my classroom. But the worry was forgotten when I heard the soft knocks on my door. “Y/n, can you please come to sit?” I asked her.

Her backpack sat low on her shoulder, her hair in a messy bun, smeared make-up, a dark sweater on, with sagging sweats on. She looked like a wreck, a tragic wreck. Or maybe she sort of looked like that popular game Jenga, if somebody pulled the wrong block who knows what will happen.

She sat down carefully to keep her bag still in her possession. “Y/n, is there anything you want to talk about?” I asked, prying a little too far into the very normal high situation. This just seemed different. How she had changed so quickly, or far off the deep end she had fallen.

I felt like I had to save her. I felt like I was her only saving grace. She hummed, but didn’t dare look up at me. “You can take all the time you need, Y/n. We’re in no rush.” I said trying my best to console her. Make her feel comfortable.

“I can tell you anything right? Mr.Winchester?” She asked, her voice shy and timid. Barely even looking up at me. “Of course,” I said trying not to sound over-excited that I had seen something and now she was communicating with me. All students should feel comfortable with their teachers, or at least one of their teachers to tell them how they're feeling at any given point in time.

She took what looked like a deep breath in and started; “So, lately life at home has been rough, things between my dad and I are kinda on bad terms. I know that as a teacher’s cadet I can’t let things like that bother me, but it’s hard to. And yeah I know I’m different, but Mr. Winchester I promise I’m still the same girl I was before. I promise you I’ll get better.” I went to go raise my hand.

She flinched and ducked under her crossed arms. A slight string of rage ran through me. I myself took a deep breath trying my hardest to find a consoling and nurturing voice. “Y/n please slow down, and take a breath if you don’t you’ll end up having a panic or anxiety attack,” I said to be careful to not scare her off.

“That's what it’s called?” She said. “How many other times have you felt like this?” I asked, now worried about whether or not this was being taken care of at home. She was trying her hardest to regain some sort of rhyme to her breath.

“In the past week?” She asked, her hands starting to shake. “Yeah sure let’s go with that. Also, can I touch your hand, so I can try and help you?” I asked. She hummed, “I’d say maybe like 5 in the past week.” She said.

“Y/n, Have you told anyone else? Maybe your father?” I asked, pushing further into Y/n personal business. There was a split second of a stutter, a pregnant pause laid between the two of us. “Y/n?” I asked again.

“No… I… I didn’t kno… I can’t tell my father.” She finally said. The pauses and stutters between her words gave me goosebumps. I wouldn’t know what to do with myself if as a teenager I couldn’t talk to my parents, or even to just one parent.

Come to think of it, I wouldn’t want any of that. Not as a parent or as a child. “Y/n will you tell me why you can’t tell your father?” I asked pushing the subject even further. Wanting and needing to understand the situation the further we got into it.

“I… it’s really my fault you see.” I couldn’t help myself, my mouth opening against my own accord. “Nothing is ever your fault. Whoever told you it’s your fault is wronger than a bat outta hell.” I said my voice steadily rising.

She flinched and lowering her head. Shit, okay different approach. “It’s not your fault, Do you want to continue?” I asked She took a deep breath bringing her head back up and looking me in my eyes. “My mom died recently while coming to pick me up from a friend’s house during the winter break and now my father… he um he blames me for her death. So the animosity between my father and I in the house it’s hard to be that bright child I was.” She said taking another large deep breath of air.

Oh my god, that’s not something you blame on a child. Regardless, you never let a child feel like they have animosity with their parent. What has this world come to that this sort of action is socially acceptable.

“Can I ask why you feel that there’s animosity in your home, Y/n?” I asked making my voice softer and trying to be more welcoming. “Well, it’s a usual nightly thing. Where when I come back from school he’s drunk asleep hopefully. The longer I’m home though the worse it gets for me. He starts to yells and scream, putting me down in every which way.” She said.

Her breathing becoming rapid and raged, tears starting to roll down her already red cheeks. “Y/n, I’m going to ask a serious question tap me one for yes, and twice for no. “ I said she tapped me once so I continued. “Do you... Do you feel safe at home with your father?” I asked I was starting to feel like I was overstepping a boundary an imagery one.

Well if I was overstepping a boundary then Y/n would have said something right? Hopefully, I’m not. “No, I don’t feel safe at home. Please help me,” she said desperation flowing through her words as she spoke. “Do you want me to help?” I asked worrying that she might back out of her own idea.

We sat in silence for minutes besides hearing her little snuffles. “Yes, I want your help. I want to leave that hateful, dreadful, and emotionless house. Please, anywhere but there.” She said grabbing my hand tight, and tighter as she chocked out her words.

I slightly shook my head, I was able to release one hand before grabbing for my personal phone and dialing up the child’s protective services. If this is ending, then it’s ending now and in the right way.

I was able to get an agent and was able to explain the drastic situation. The young lady that happened to pick up the phone could hear Y/n in the background asking if she was okay. “No ma’am she isn’t going to be okay, not if she knows that she has to go back to the abusive home. Please is there anything that I can do about this situation to help?” I asked, my own voice failing me and my desperation coming out.

A week later, CPS was at her father’s house, and he was told that his daughter was being taken. Taken to another home as they did their investigation. He yelled and screamed, which in turn only caused their investigation to start off on a bad hand for her father, but a better hand for Y/n.

The past week she’d been staying with me. She had no other family and when the CPS agent asked if she did y/b only started to cry and, and ended up just hugging me through the entire conversation. The agent asked me if I would be comfortable, and if I had enough space for Y/n to stay for just a little bit.

I was more than comfortable with her coming to stay. I think through the whole situation and learning more about Y/n. I had started to grow a portion of my heart that was held just for her. With Y/n being a junior and that her next year being her last in high school it was honestly more of Y/n’s choice.

“Dean.. can I stay with you? Even after this all ends.” She asked, in the past week she’d been excused from school and was staying with me. We had to get past the normal uncomfortable routines, but besides that, she was absolutely amazing to have around. To think that some person could make a kind soul like her come to tears every night was horrible and made my blood boil.

We did have to get past the “Mr. Winchester” I told her to just call me Dean since that would make us both very comfortable. Being comfortable was all I really wanted her to be. Weeks turned into months that Y/n had now become living with me. The first night she called me dad we were sitting down getting ready to watch a movie.

“Do you want popcorn? Or something else?” I had asked her. As I got up to go to the kitchen. “Popcorn is fine Dad.” She said. I just stood there for a moment a wide smiled starting to spread against my face. “What?” She finally said after she noticed I hadn’t moved. “Did you just?” I said.

“Yeah I did, now popcorn and movie please dad.”She said. She was starting to become more and more like me, these recent months. “Sure thing kiddo. Pick the movie and we’ll eat popcorn.” I said.

This wasn’t something I thought I needed. But I’m glad I have it. I’m glad that Y/n’s in my life now. To be honest I think she’d just as happy as I am.

Completed on:04/23/2021

#tw depressing stuff #tw anxiety #tw: Abuse #tw drinking #tw panic disorder #tw mental health #tw mental breakdown #tw mental disorders #only child #dean winchester #dean x reader #dean x female!reader #dean x you #dean winchster x y/n #supernatural #supernatural x reader #fanfic #band--psychos comfort

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enthusiasticharry · 4 years ago

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𝐅𝐈𝐂 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐓 | 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 6.7k

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 : i feel like i've been waiting years for this to happen when it has only been a few months or so but here it is! feels like home is finally here and i couldn't be more excited. this fic is literally like my child, just like checkmate was, but it does hit closer to home because there are some subjects and topics discusses that are things that happened to me or close to me, so i feel as though i have to protect it with my entire life. but please, do enjoy this not so brief introduction to feels like home, christian and luisa and their little world.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 : explicit language, mentions of anxiety, depression and heavy injury. mentions of a car crash.

𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐎𝐍𝐄 here

“Christian!” The sound of her name rings through the entire Bed and Breakfast with how loud her sister screams it.

“What?”

“Have you seen my phone?” Christian sighs, leaning over the table that she was sat at to grab Luisa’s phone that was on the other side, holding it out for her sister. Luisa manoeuvres her wheelchair to the side of the table, “Thank you!”

“Welcome.” Christian mutters, leaning her chin back onto the palm of her hand as she scrolls through the Lodge’s booking system.

The booking system, apart from a few weekend bookings from the odd elderly couple, was completely empty. September was always quite a slow time of the year for the Lodge, and the sisters had found that out the hard way last year, during their first year of being open, when nobody booked anything for the entire month. From what Christian remembers, there were only two walk-in customer’s during the month and they only stayed for a night or so. The fact that they only had two bookings didn’t cause her to worry as much as she did the year prior though, because they had just had the biggest summer that they could ever imagine, and it was only their second year of fully being in business.

It had always been Luisa Flores’ dream to own her own Bed and Breakfast, but Christian had never, ever thought that she would be right beside her when she did it, but, she wouldn’t change it for the world now — she really wouldn’t.

Four years ago the sisters were coming home in the back of a taxi after going out for the night with their friends. They were drunk, but they weren’t driving and they never would whilst intoxicated, but they soon found out halfway through their journey that not everyone is the same. The driver hit the taxi that the Flores sisters were in on the right side as they drove through a junction, and completely destroyed Luisa and the driver’s side of the car. Christian doesn’t remember much from the accident apart from seeing a flashing light from the right side of her and then waking up in a hospital bed with her neck in a neck brace.

All she could think about was whether or not her sister was alive, and when none of the doctors would answer her Christian felt her entire world crumble around her. Even when her parents came, all they had been told was that Luisa had been rushed into emergency surgery and a doctor would be with them after to explain what was going on. Whilst they were waiting, Christian’s doctor came in and explained that she was going to have a scan and some x-rays to check that everything was alright with her. The results came back that Christian had three broken ribs and that her right arm had been fractured in three different places, but apart from that it was all cuts and bruises and she would make a full recovery.

Luisa, on the other hand, hadn’t been so lucky. Due to the car hitting them on her side, it had done unimaginable damage that Christian could only wish to take away from her sister. Luisa had lost one of her legs in the accident and lost all movement in the other, causing her to be wheelchair bound for the rest of her life. It changed their lives forever, and all Christian could ever think was that she should’ve sat on that side, not her sister.

If the accident did anything to their family, it brought them closer together. They had been talking one night whilst watching Gossip Girl for the thousandth time and Christian had brought up that when they were younger, all Luisa would ever talk about was owning her own Bed and Breakfast in the Lake District. At first, Luisa had dismissed the idea and said that it wouldn’t ever work because of her wheelchair and not being able to walk but if anything, it actually meant that Christian had more of a fire up her arse to make it happen for her sister. A lot of the things that Luisa wanted to do with her life she couldn’t anymore, but this thing, with Christian’s help, she could do.

They found the building that Little Lodge is now in a few months after deciding that they were going to start up their Bed and Breakfast and with help from their parents, they managed to get a deposit down and also managed to get themselves a mortgage. Before they knew it, they were opening their own little Bed and Breakfast.

It was a stressful experience at first, and Christian can’t lie and say that it isn’t stressful a lot nowadays as well, but it was certainly worse at the beginning. The majority of the time, Luisa did the front of house and Christian did everything else because it was just easier for the two of them and the dynamic of the Lodge. There was the odd time that the two of them would change their roles just to fit the situation but that was usually it. Christian loved the dynamic that they had created in Little Lodge more than anything else in her life. It was her new home, and she would never give it up, never.

“Have you heard anything from mamá about abuela?” Luisa asks after a few minutes or so, closing her phone and dropping it down onto her lap.

“No.” Christian shakes her head, swirling in the desk-chair that she was sat in so that she was facing her older-sister, “Mamá said that she’d message if there were any updates but I haven’t heard anything. Papá said that they’re still waiting for the scan results.”

“That’s shit.” Luisa adds and Christian nods her head, tucking a piece of her hair behind her ear, “She had the scan hours ago, didn’t she?”

“Papá said that abuela went in for the scan at around six this morning, and they’ve been waiting and waiting but nothing yet.”

Christian sighs and shrugs her shoulders whilst Luisa shakes her head. Christian and Luisa’s abuela still lived in Seville, where their mother is originally from and she had recently started to get quite sick so their parents decided that it was probably best that the two of them go and visit her for an extended amount of time whilst she had tests done and they figured out what was wrong with her. It was nerve-wracking for the girls, that they weren’t able to be with her family and check that their abuela was okay but they couldn’t leave the Lodge, and they just hoped that their abuela understood that.

“Ay Dios mio.” Luisa shakes her head again, “Mamá must be going out of her mind.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if that was the case.” Christian shrugs, “We’ve all seen how bad she’s gotten over the past few years. As much as I hate to admit it, I have a suspicion that it isn’t going to be the best news.”

“Christian!” Luisa raises one of her eyebrows as she looks at her younger sister, “Don’t think like that. We have to stay positive.”

Christian raises one of her eyebrows at her sister, “Positive? I’m just telling the truth, Lu.”

“I know you are.” Her sister pushes again, “But don’t you go saying that to mamá, that might be the end for her.”

“Like I would.” Christian leans forward and thumps her sister on the shoulder, but composes herself when she notices the last couple that they have staying in the Lodge for the summer make their way to the desk to check out. Luisa raises one of her eyebrows at Christian, who just responds to her sister with a roll of her eyes.

As the couple walk towards the front of the desk, Christian swivels around in her chair so that she’s facing the front again and offers them a large smile, “Morning, how are you both? Did you sleep well?”

“We did, thank you.” The man responds walking over and placing the keys to their room down on the counter, “Sad to be leaving, that’s for sure.”

“We’re sad to see you go, too.” Christian offers them a sad smile whilst she tries to find their booking on the system, “But I’m sure we’ll see you again, yeah?”

“Yeah, you certainly will.” The man laughs and Christian nods her head.

Christian sends their receipt to print and holds her hand out, waiting for the sheets to come out. Once they have, she staples their version together, and the Lodge’s versions together and opens them to the page they need to sign and passes them a pen.

“Can you sign on the dotted line and date, please?” She asks and the man nods, “It’s just a confirmation of payment and then you’ll get another one when we’ve cleaned the room and sent your deposit back.”

The man nods and signs the two pages before passing them back to Christian. She finishes the process and then gives them their receipt and wishes them a good day and safe travel. That was the last couple to leave the Lodge, and that meant that Summer was officially over and that they wouldn’t see as many customers as they had in a long time, probably not until October Half-Term when all of the schools in England broke up for a week. Once the door had closed behind them, Christian turned back to her sister who was looking at her with a silly smile on her face.

“What?”

“You’ve gotten better at that, you know?” Luisa says, moving forward so that she can slip underneath the desk with Christian, “You stuttered so much when we first opened.”

“That’s just ‘cos I was nervous.” Christian shrugs, “I didn’t want to fuck it up. Now, I don’t care. I don’t think I can fuck anything up.”

“Uh, let's agree to disagree with that one. There’s still things that you’d be able to fuck up. You get too nervous and word-vomit.”

“Thanks for reminding me of that, Lu. I really appreciate it.”

“Hey.” Luisa knocks Christian’s shoulder with hers, “What are sisters for?”

As far as a sibling relationship went, Christian and Luisa were as close as sisters could be. This had been both before and after the accident. There were only two years between them, and Christian sometimes wondered whether or not it was how close the two of them were in age that meant they were so close. They would do everything together when they were younger, and of course they had arguments and fought at little things that didn’t matter but at the end of the day they were still sisters. That was certainly one of the reasons why they made it through sorting out the Lodge without killing each other, because Christian doesn’t believe they’ve ever argued as much as they did when they were trying to sort the Lodge out, but they made it through without actually hitting one another which is better than they could say for before the accident.

They were minding their business when the computer pinged. It was loud, and it caused the two of them to sit up and stare at the screen with their eyebrows furrowed.

“Is that—?” Luisa asks.

“— I don’t know.” Christian leans forward and places her hand on the mouse, moving so that she could close the tab that she had opened and move to the booking-system app, which had been the one to make the noise.

“Has someone booked?” Luisa looked just as confused as Christian was and when she looked at the system, she saw that someone had actually booked.

As Christian flickered her eyes over the booking her mouth parted open in shock, “Holy shit.”

“What? What is it?” Luisa moves closer to Christian and focuses her eyes on the screen, “Ay Dios mio.”

Not only had someone booked in September of all months, but they had booked for the entire month. At first Christian thought that her eyes had been deceiving her and that this wasn’t the case at all. The more that she looked at the booking, the more that she realised that it was real and someone actually had booked to stay at their Lodge in the month of September.

“Holy Fuck.” Christian couldn’t help the profanities as they slipped from her lips, then parting in shock when she finally read the full confirmation.

Christian had expected to see that the booking would be for a few days, probably three at most, but when she saw that it was for the entire month. The entire fucking month, she felt her heart stop. Whoever this person was, H.Styles as the booking says, wanted to come and stay at their Lodge for the entire month. The most they’ve ever had was a week before, and that was during the height of summer when the kids were off school. To say that the two sisters were in shock would certainly be an understatement.

“Is this a joke?” Luisa asks, obviously just as dumbfounded as Christian at what she was looking at, “This can’t be real.”

“It looks like it.” Christian starts to scroll through the information that had been given, “The email, card. Everything.”

“You search him on Insta, I’ll do Facebook.”

Christian immediately takes her phone out and opens Instagram, typing in H.Styles to see if anything comes up, but it doesn’t. No matter how much Christian scrolls through all of the profiles that come up from the search as well. At the same time, one of these profiles could be of the person coming to stay at their Lodge in the next few days, Christian just didn’t know. After she closed her phone and placed it face down on the table, she looked up at Luisa who had her face too close to the screen of her own phone as she looked at something.

“Think you’ve found him?” Christian asks, leaning over her sister's shoulder to look at the profile that she was on.

“I don’t know.” Luisa mumbles, passing her phone to her sister, “Maybe this could be him.”

The profile that Luisa showed her sister was one of the profiles that look as if they aren’t used at all, but it’s actually just because they have a private account. The profile picture looked to be of a man, maybe around Christian’s age, or maybe Luisa’s but they couldn’t tell because the photo only showed the side of his face. From what Christian could also tell, the photo seemed to have been taken in a museum of some sort, and it looked almost serene.

“Could be.” Christian shrugs her shoulders, “I suppose we’ll know in two days.”

Luisa sighs and drops her head back, “I don’t think I’ll be able to wait that long.”

“Shut it.” Christian shakes her head, thwacking her sister on the shoulder, “Have a little patience. Why do you care anyway?”

“Well excuse me for being curious on who the person is who’s going to feed us in September and October.” Luisa shakes her head before moving herself backwards, “I’m going to check some things with Yani, are you going to be okay?”

“I’ll be fine.” Christian shrugs her shoulders, giving her a small smile, “Have fun. Let me know if you hear anything about abuela.”

“Same to you.”

Christian gives her sister one last smile as she ventures back inside and towards the kitchen, before she places her attention back onto the booking in front of her. This was certainly going to be one for the record books, whether Christian and Luisa knew that yet or not.

As Christian sat drinking the coffee that she had made herself a few minutes prior, she quickly realised that it probably wasn’t the best idea to drink coffee at a time like this.

Christian’s social anxiety certainly wasn’t as bad as it had been, but it still wasn’t the best. Christian’s mother has said from her being a young child that she can talk for England if it’s to someone who she knows and trusts, but the second that it’s to someone who she doesn’t know and doesn’t feel comfortable with, she’s nervous and awkward and will only speak if she’s spoken to. The accident certainly didn’t help, and for a while Christian only spoke to her family and doctors but she bounced back from that quicker than anyone could have imagined, and she guessed that was because of Little Lodge and how it brought Christian out of her comfort zone.

Just because Christian was better than she had been, it certainly didn’t mean that she was completely cured because that wasn’t the case, not even a little bit. She would still fumble on her words, albeit not as much as she used to, but it would still happen. More often than not Christian wouldn’t speak unless she was spoken to and she tries her hardest to stay away from social situations that she knew would stress her out, because that wasn’t good for anyone.

One of the little worries that she had picked up since opening the Lodge, though, was whenever they had somebody book online and Christian wasn’t distracted enough to not think about it, that would be all that she would think about. Sometimes she would get herself into some quite horrible states worrying about the types of people that were going to walk through their doors, but Christian had to remind herself that speculation isn’t the right thing to do and that she can’t let herself worry like that unless that is actually something to worry about — obviously that doesn’t mean she completely stops doing it.

That was one of the reasons why Christian hadn’t slept at all last night, and why when she woke up this morning she felt the need to make herself a large cup of coffee. The only thing was that the more caffeine that the girl drank, the more that her heart started to beat faster within her chest. At this moment in time, Christian didn’t know if it was more nerves or excitement that H.Styles was arriving today.

“You look like death.” Luisa says, as she stops her chair in front of the reception desk.

“Good morning to you too, Luisa.” Christian says sarcastically, lifting her eyes up from the screen to look directly at her sister, “Did you sleep well? Are you excited for today? How are you?”

“Yeah, yeah I get it.” She shakes her head and places her hands on the desk, “Did you sleep at all last night?”

“As you lovingly pointed out, I look like death, so no, I didn’t.” Christian explains, unable to stop herself from letting out a large yawn.

“You need to sleep, Chris.” Luisa shakes her head, “I get that you worry but it certainly isn’t worth losing sleep over.”

“I know.” Christian offers her sister a small smile, “I’m not gonna be able to ever stop doing it, I hope you know that.”

“I know.” Luisa nods her head, “And I’m sure you know that I’m going to keep telling you that you look like death.”

Christian grins, “I wouldn’t expect anything else.”

Luisa’s phone pings before she can say anything else, and Christian knows that it’s probably time for her to leave. Luisa and her girlfriend, Elsa, have had this day planned as their date day for a long time, and Christian wasn’t going to let anything get in the way of their day.

Luisa and Elsa have been together for three years now. They met when Luisa went away to Sweden for a few weeks with her friends from school. Elsa had been visiting her family and they met through a confusing line of mutual friends that Christian had very little interest in learning about. All Christian cared about was that her sister was happy, and if Elsa was the person to do that then that was all Christian wanted in life. When the accident happened, Luisa had been worried that Elsa wouldn’t want to be with her anymore, and no matter how many times Christian reassured her sister that Elsa wouldn’t do that and that she loved her, Luisa just believed that wasn’t the case. As Christian had reassured her sister, Elsa didn’t leave. In fact, Elsa did everything that she could to help Luisa.

For Christian, Luisa and Elsa were the epitome of what she wanted in life. She wanted someone to look at her the way they look at each other, and love her like they love each other.

“El’s here.” Luisa grinned as she looked at her sister again, “Are you sure you’re going to be okay? We can stay if you want, go out later.”

“No!” Christian exclaimed, shaking her head, “You’re not cancelling because of this. I’ll be fine. You two enjoy yourself.”

Luisa looks at her sister and raises one of her eyebrows, “Are you sure?”

“I’m positive.”

“Completely positive?”

“Luisa!” Christian exclaims, shaking her head, “Go to your girlfriend, everything will be fine.”

“Okay.” Christian stood up and made her way towards her sister, pressing a kiss to her cheek and then making her way over to the door and opening it for her. Christian can see Elsa’s car parked at the end of the street and she smiles at the sight, “I’ll see you later. Message me if you need me.”

“Will do. Have fun.”

Christian watches for a little while longer, just checking that Luisa actually makes it to Elsa. Once she sees the car door open and Elsa steps out, Christian takes it as her cue to go back inside. There aren’t any guests staying at the Lodge at this exact time, so it feels a little odd to Christian that someone will be coming tonight and that they’re going to be staying for the entire month, and be the only guest that they have for a while.

Yesterday, seeing as though it was the only day that Christian had been given to prepare, she made a start on deciding which room she was going to give H.Styles and started to get it ready. Luisa had spent the day at reception so that Christian could do that, only face-timing her every once in a while so that she could see what Christian was doing to the rooms.

A part of Christian often felt guilty when it came to the two rooms that were on the upper floor of the Lodge. They were the largest and fanciest rooms in Christian’s opinion, but due to the narrow staircase Luisa had never been able to go up and see them in real life so she had to settle for Christian’s shaky camera work on facetime.

Christian had to choose between rooms Seda and Luz which were both nice for different reasons. She supposes that she is biased because she designed these rooms and helped decorate them more as her own than the rooms downstairs. Due to Luisa not being able to go up to decorate the rooms, Christian had basically been given free reign of the rooms to do whatever she wanted with them. When it came to the names of the rooms, Seda and Luz, which mean silk and light in Spanish, Christian knew that she wanted to incorporate some form of each of the words into the decoration of the room.

When it came to Seda, Christian made the main colour combination in the room a dark grey and peach colour and incorporated the silk in with the curtains and the cushions that were used as decoration. Everything matches and isn’t too cluttered in the rooms, which is one of the things that Christian loves about being able to decorate her own rooms. The second room, Luz, she decided to make the accents in the room navy blue, including an accent wall which was a pain in Christian’s arse to paint, but once it was finished it really did bring the room together. The vocal point of the room, though, had to be the different exposed light bulbs that light up the room: there were three on the ceiling, and other lamps assorted throughout the room.

Christian had ended up cleaning and making sure that both rooms were adequate. She changed the sheets, hoovered, placed down fresh towels, dusted and did basically everything else that she could to not only distract herself but make the rooms ready for when H.Styles arrived.

Luisa always used to say, whenever they spoke about the Bed and Breakfast that she were going to own before the accident happened, that she reckoned that the cleaning and the upkeep portion would be the worst and for a while Christian thought the same, but she quickly came to realise that truly wasn’t the case. Christian loved to clean and make sure that everything was tidy for whenever the guests arrived and after having a little more thought about it, Christian believed that the reason she enjoyed cleaning was because it gave her time to relax and not think about everything else in her life. She often had her headphones on with music playing, or maybe even a podcast every now and then. Christian couldn’t exactly pinpoint the exact moment in her life where she became an old woman, but she couldn’t say that she minded.

She decided that the best thing that she could do is wait until H.Styles arrived for her to make any decisions about which room she thought would be the best. Of course, Christian wouldn’t know anything about him by just checking him in she would at least be given a slight indication of which room he may enjoy more.

Christian had no idea what time H.Styles would be arriving, and that was one of the things that was creating a bit of suspense. She was checking their books and making sure everything was in line and at any given second he could arrive and she would meet the person who had booked to stay there for the entire month. Christian believed that maybe that was why she spent a lot of her time wondering about who was coming to stay with them, because who would need to stay in their little corner of the Lake District for that amount of time, who would need to do that?

If there was one thing that Christian certainly wasn’t doing it was complaining. This man, whoever he was and for whatever reasons he was doing this, would be paying their bills and giving them enough money to keep themselves going for a little while longer, or at least until October Half-Term.

Christian quickly learnt that there wasn’t going to be much for her to do but sit and wait, and due to her being on her own in the Lodge, she saw no issues with connecting her phone to her speakers and blasting out music into the room. Luisa always said that Christian had a weird taste in music, but Christian just said that it was eclectic.

The thing about Christian, especially when it came to her music, was that she listened to everything. If someone recommended a song, she’d listen to it, and if she liked that song then she’d listen to it again and again. She would never say that she wouldn’t listen to a song just because it’s country, or that she doesn’t like this artist very much so she won’t listen to it either. If a song is a good song, and she likes it, then she’d listen to it. That did mean that Christian’s playlists were a little all over the place, and no matter how hard she tried to organise them, it just wasn’t possible.

Don’t Go Breaking My Heart by Elton John was the song blasting through the speakers at this time, a classic if Christian said so herself. She had done everything work wise that she needed to do, so she spent her time reading one of the books that she had picked up from the bookstore in the village: one about love, death and everything in between. It was good, but it wasn’t one of her favourites, but she’d definitely finish reading it just to see how it ended.

She was completely submerged in the words on the page, and the words floating around her ears when the door opened. In fact, she hadn’t noticed the man walking closer to the desk until she saw movement from over the pages of her book which caused her lips to part open in shock slightly. Her eyes flickered to the time on the computer, and it read that it was just past one in the afternoon, and she was shocked to say the least that he was already there.

Christian abandoned her book and threw it down, hoping that she’d at least get to remember where she was in the book because the pages had closed, and clicked her phone on so she could pause the music. Her eyes then flickered up to the man who was standing above her, and she couldn’t help her lips parting as she then looked him up and down. She was trying not to stare, she really was, but she wasn’t doing a very good job of it to say the least.

From what Christian could see, he was wearing a denim flat-cap on his head with brown curls peeking out of the bottom. He was also wearing sunglasses over his eyes, but she watched him take them off and they were now placed on the top of the reception desk. She could only see just under his chest, but he was wearing a red and blue striped shirt and a blue jacket. Christian couldn’t help but wonder whether or not he liked the colour blue, since he was wearing quite a lot of it.

“Hi.” Christian couldn’t help the sheepish smile that crossed her lips as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, “Sorry about that, how can I help you?”

“M’Harry.” The man says, shrugging his shoulders slightly as he does so. Harry, “I made a booking a few days ago, I’m here to check in.”

Christian nods her head, “I’ll just get that up for you."

She wiggles the mouse to wake the computer up and quickly types in the password so that their systems come back up. Christian’s a little embarrassed to say the least that their systems weren’t already up but she wasn’t expecting him to arrive yet, so she hadn’t prepared for it. Once the system is loaded up and she has his booking, she offers him another smile.

One of the things that Christian had prepared though was the bill that he has to sign beforehand with the deposit on it that states that he’ll get the deposit money back if the room is left unharmed.

“Can you sign and date on the dotted line, please?” She asks, giving him the sheet of paper and a pan. She watches as he signs H.Styles, in a beautiful penmanship if she does say so herself, and then passes back to her.

She clicks a few more buttons on the computer before opening the drawer and starting to flicker through the keys, “One room, for thirty nights.”

Christian tries to hide the shock in her voice when she says how long he’s staying but she certainly doesn’t do a good job of it. As Christian flickered through the keys, she finally landed on the one that she had been waiting for, the one for Luz. It seemed like an obvious choice in Christian’s mind when she saw what he was wearing to pick Luz, so that’s the one she decided upon.

“That’s right.” Harry nods his head.

“Great.” Christian sighs with a smile on her face, trying her hardest not to make the situation more awkward than it was, “I’ll, uh, show you to your room.”

He nods his head and she watches as he picks up the suitcases that she hadn’t even noticed he had with him and followed her towards the staircase. She was starting to feel a little uncomfortable at the fact that he was walking behind her, watching her and she couldn’t see what his face looked like. That was certainly why, and not because she had noticed that he had quite the handsome face.

Once she made it up to Luz, and she had turned the light switch on so that they wouldn’t be fumbling around in the dark trying to find where they were going, she used the key in her hand to open the door. Christian walked in first, just because there wasn’t enough room on the narrow landing for them both to stand and manoeuvre around each other — Christian had learnt that the hard way.

She placed the key on the cabinet in the room, and then turned to look at Harry who had just placed his suitcases down on the ground. He looked around the room for a little while and then moved to the window, looking out before turning to Christian.

“It’s lovely.”

Christian nodded her head in thanks, “Breakfast is from seven to nine everyday in the conservatory. I’ll, uh, leave you to get settled in and I hope you enjoy your stay.”

“Thank you.”

The second Christian walks out of the room and closes the door behind her, she lets out a sigh of relief that she hadn’t even known she had been holding.

Christian messaged Luisa that he had arrived but she received no reply. She didn’t think too much of it, because she knew that whenever Elsa and Luisa were together they were so completely obsessed with each other that nothing can distract them. Luisa knows though that if she doesn’t give Christian an update of their whereabouts by five then Christian would start to worry — they had four hours before Christian would start to worry.

For a little while Christian didn’t put her music back on, and she listened to the creeks of the ceiling as Harry moved around above her.

He didn’t give anything away of who he was, or why he was there but at the same time Christian made no indication of wanting to know anything. If Luisa would have been here when he arrived, that would probably be a completely different story. Luisa would’ve gotten some information out of him, Christian knew it for certain. She wondered who he was, and what he was doing here, but she wouldn’t ask him.

When the creeks of the ceilings stopped and there wasn’t anything else for Christian to listen to, she turned her music back on and picked up her book. It took her a while to locate where she was, having just thrown it on the side earlier when she noticed that he was there but she soon found the page she was up to. The words, as much as Christian tried to digest them, just weren’t going into her head in the way that they had been.

Christian wasn’t playing the music as loud as she had been earlier, mainly because she wanted to hear and listen when he started moving again, and when he eventually came downstairs. He had to come down at some point, seeing as though he had to eat and even though they serve breakfast at the Lodge, they don't serve lunch or dinner just yet. It was something that Christian and Luisa had been looking into, but it takes more work than they could have ever imagined to make something like that work.

Around two hours after Harry first arrived, she heard movement upstairs and towards the landing that caused her heart to skip a beat. Christian quickly turned her music off, and managed to place her bookmark in her book before he walked into the reception. She tried not to make it obvious and she placed her hand on the mouse of her computer as though she had been doing something, but she wasn’t the best actress and she was sure that it was completely obvious what she had been doing.

He gave her a smile as he walked into the room and towards the desk, and she tried not to seem awkward when she gave him one back but she was sure that she’d failed at that too.

“Is everything okay?” She asks, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear.

He nods his head, “Yeah, everything’s fine. I was just. . . I was just wondering whether you had any recommendations of places to eat.”

“Oh, uh, I do know of some good places.” She nods her head, “What food do you like? Then I know what to recommend.”

“I’ll eat anything, to be honest.” He chuckles, a smile crossing his lips. He had dimples.

“Uh, well, there’s a good Italian restaurant about a mile from here.” Christian shrugs, “I can call you a taxi, if you would like.”

“No, it’s fine.” He shrugs, “Have you got the postcode? Or some directions.”

“Yeah, it’s just down the road.” She points to the left, “If you go over the bridge and just follow the road for a mile or so, you can’t miss it. It’s called Galileo’s.”

“Thank you.” He smiles and turns to walk towards the door.

He opens the door and then moves to the side, stopping his actions. Christian furrows her eyebrows as she watches everything unfold. Luisa and Elsa walk through the opened door, smiling at Harry as they do so before turning to look at Christian with wide eyes. The two of them look over their shoulder and watch as the door shuts behind Harry as he leaves, and their eyes immediately fall to Christian again who’s looking at them with her teeth clamped firmly on her bottom lip.

“Oh. My. God.” Luisa slowly makes her way towards Christian, stopping when she’s finished saying the last word, “You failed to mention in your message that the man was basically a Greek God, Christ Christian.”

“Do you really think that me of all people would say that?” Christian sighs and shakes her head.

Elsa shakes her head, “Chris wouldn’t say that, Lu. You know that.”

Luisa accepts her girlfriend’s hand on her shoulder with a kiss, “Doesn’t mean it’s any less true though. Did he tell you anything?”

“His name is Harry.”

Luisa doesn’t blink as she looks at her sister, “That’s it? That’s all he said?”

“That’s all he said.” Christian nods her head, “He just came down to ask for a recommendation of places to eat and I told him to go to Galileo’s.”

“Jeez.” Elsa sucks a breath through her teeth and shakes her head, “Galileo’s? On the first night? Are you sure?”

“Galileo is harmless.” Christian shakes her head.

“He’s a nutcase.” Luisa sighs, shaking her head.

“He’s not.” Christian pouts, “He’s not around me, anyway.”

Elsa laughs and sits down on one of the couches that rest against the wall of the reception, “If he survive’s Galileo’s then he’ll survive staying here for an entire month, that’s for sure.”

“Hey!” Luisa whines, “We’re not that bad.”

“I’m not bad.” Christian’s quick to say after her sister, “You are though.”

“I’d watch your tone if I were you, missy.” Luisa says, lifting her hand up and pointing one of her fingers at her sister, “I’m still the older one in this situation.”

Elsa furrows her eyebrows and looks at her sister, “Are you sure about that?”

“Shut it, you.” Luisa shakes her head, turning her attention back to her sister, “If I were you, I’d just keep an eye on him. See if you can figure out anything about him.”

“I’m not going to stalk him, Luisa!”

“I wasn’t telling you to stalk him!” She exclaims back, “I was just telling you to observe, like a good host would.”

Elsa furrows her eyebrows from behind her girlfriend, “It sounds a lot like stalking to me.”

Luisa shakes her head, “I hate you both.”

Christian grins and tilts her head to the side, “You love us really.”

Although Christian would never admit it, watching and listening seemed like quite a good way of figuring out who this man was and why he was here. She wasn’t going to be stalking him though, just observing.

#first part of feels like home!! eek!!#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles writing #harry styles x ofc #harry styles x oc #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles series #series

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do-y0u-have-to-let-it-linger · 4 years ago

Text

EXT. The Roof (Winter) - Sunset

Not Just Attracted to Women!Peter Maximoff x Fem and Not Just Attracted to Men!Reader

Based off of a dream I recently had: Peter and Y/N have a conversation on the roof of Xavier's in mid-December. Peter accidentally lets it slip that he might not be straight, and he is afraid that Y/N will think less of him because of it because this is the 80s. Y/N reveals that she is also not straight, and is saddened by the fact that Peter could think that she could ever hate him- especially for that. She calls him wonderful. Feelings ensue. Also, a touch of Cherik at the end because I give the people what they want.

Warnings: Swearing, Peter cries, internalized homophobia (this is the 80s-ish and Peter uses the word 'queer' in a kind of incorrect and kind of offensive manner, but it was internalized homophobia and not actually intended to be mean to anyone but himself so I forgive him), a touch of angst but mostly fluff, Charles called you two "children" even though you are obviously not, Erik is happy that his son has someone that cares about him the way you do, Peter is insecure but not super blunt about it, Peter has been deprived of being adored his entire life, bad writing, I mention a serial killer twice, historical inaccuracy because the word queer was still a slur so yeah.

A/N: This is literally the first thing I have ever written so please be nice to me, I wrote this instead of an essay. I would love a comment of any kind, even if it's just a heart emoji or something, and constructive criticism would be highly appreciated. Also 'N/N' stands for nick-name.

(Ok, so, full discloser: the format is odd. The bullet points represent dialogue, and the only dialogue is between you two love birds. The first bullet point is Peter, the second is Y/N, the third is Peter, and so on.)

“I dunno, the whole ‘liking people’ thing has always been weird for me.”

“How do you mean?"

“Pppffftt- 'how do you mean,' what are you, Shakespeare or somethin’?”

“Yeah, because that’s the era when ‘how do you mean' would have been a popular term. Ok, what do you mean?”

“Just- when other people were liking people I never really was?”

He was gesturing wildly and avoiding eye contact, as always. He wasn't uncomfortable with eye contact, he just got bored easily in conversations, he needed to keep himself occupied. In this situation that meant staring at the red and green lights covering the rest of the roof, the snowy trees all over the yard, and a holly garland around the gate. Peter wasn't Christian, but man, did he love their Christmas decorations.

“Like… now? In school?”

“Well- yeah… but also when I was younger. And I never liked the right people? Or... liked them in the right way?”

“So you’ve never liked anyone.”

“No, no… I definitely have. It was just… weird! I don't-”

His hands dropped to his side in defeat.

“I don’t think it’s that out of the ordinary. I would tell you if it was. Also, if it was... 'weird', like you said, that wouldn’t mean it was necessarily bad.”

He hadn’t really heard what she said, he was too busy pondering what his next sentence would be. When she wasn't speaking, he was rambling.

"I had some of the normal crap… like in movies when they talk about the fluttery stomach junk. I've had that around a few girls I've been friends with, also that phase with the boy stuff, a-"

“Wait, what phase with the boy stuff?”

“Like- when you’re in middle school or whatever and you're gay for a second.”

His phrasing was a joke, but the statement as a whole was not.

“…‘Gay for a second’?”

“…Yeah?”

“Hmmm..."

"Is that- not-"

"I don't think that is... 'normal'... per-say..."

“Oh… Really?”

His heart sunk.

“…Yeah.”

“Huh.”

“…Mhm.”

“…Shit.”

He suddenly looked almost embarrassed. He shifted his posture, seemingly trying to shrink into himself.

“Do you... wanna chat about it?”

Panic started to slowly rise in him.

“Um- forget I said anything.”

“Why?”

Something in him said to go on the "defense". He did not appear as calm as he was intending to.

“I’m not- gay! or anything. I like girls! I do!”

She put her hand on his arm.

“Hey- look at me for a second. We are not in court, and I never 'accused' you of being gay. That would be a very funny reality TV show, but not what is happening right now. Listen, theoretically if you were gay that wouldn’t be bad! And I wouldn’t be… whatever you.. think that I would be? I mean- however you are afraid I would act in a negative reaction to it? I would try to be here for you, and be as supportive as possible.”

He didn’t believe her.

“Ok, sure.”

“Peter.”

“What? You’re going to tell me that you would honestly be friends with a queer person- be friends with me if I was... not... normal?”

She was taken aback by his tone, the word he had used, and the way he said it, felt like a weight dropping on her shoulders.

“Oh. would you… not?”

It was her turn to seem nervous.

“What?”

“Would you- stop being friends with someone for liking someone that they… I don’t know… shouldn’t... would be the word I guess?”

Why, in this situation, was she nervous? Oh. His fear was replaced with guilt.

“No.”

“Ok.”

“So… are you… do you… why were you scared?”

“... Why were you?”

She expected a joke from him, something along the lines of “touché".

“Are you… gay?”

“No.”

Yeah, he didn’t believe her.

“Uh-huh”

“Really, I’m not. I’ve liked boys, but also... I've had feelings for girls. I’m not… straight. So I just want to let you know that it’s okay if you aren’t too.”

“I never s-“

She smiled at him with a bit of pity, she had been there. The self-loathing, the feeling of walking on minefields with so many people in your life.

“You are…”

She paused.

“I am… what?”

“Give me a second I’m trying to find the perfect word.”

“… Okay?”

“Wonderful.”

That was not exactly the word he was expecting. Like, at all.

“Huh?”

“That’s the word. Wait- let me start over. You gotta look me in my eyes as I say it, because it’s gonna be really poetic.”

“Uh… should I be scared?”

“No. Maybe a little. No.”

“… Okay.”

He looked at her.

“You are… wonderful.”

“Oh... Thanks?“

He looked away again, to be honest, he was a bit uncomfortable. He rarely received compliments, especially ones that seem so... genuine.

“I’m not finished, look back at me, just for a second. You are so wonderful- and I will support you as whatever you are! I want you to know that I can- I can barely even think of something you could do that would make me genuinely hate you- like… maybe if you Dahmer-ed people or like chopped up a-“

He found this was amusing, yet disturbing.

“Y/N?”

“Sorry- I just- the fact that you thought, even for a second, that I could hate you… is just-“

“I’m sorry”

“No! Stop it. Don’t be sorry.”

She stared at him expectantly.

“What do you want me to-“

“Take it back! The sorry!”

“How?”

“Say you aren’t sorry”

“N/N-“

“Peter.”

“Ok. I’m, ya know, not sorry.”

“Good. You shouldn’t be”

“You’re weird.”

“Yuh-huh. Says the most likely, from the little information I've gathered, bisexual in denial who also happens to be the fastest boy on earth who had to slow down exponentially to interact with other people who also, also, happens sitting on a roof in the dead of winter with me.”

“What’s by smexual?”

Something about the way he attempted to repeat her words must have been hilarious, he thought, because here she was, sitting in front of him, in a fit of childish giggles. He would smile if he weren't so confused.

“No- that’s not- what I said- it’s… wait!”

“What?”

“You’re tryna get me off topic!”

“Am not!”

“Are too!”

“Am not!”

“Are t- shit.”

“HAHA! Victory is a sweet dessert... wait is that even the saying? Still, I win you lose, nerd.”

“Ok, okay! go on.”

She was attempting to gather herself to give off a less jokey aura. It was half working, the "am not! are too!" argument a few moments ago made it hard for him to take her seriously, but he could tell it was important to her that he did, so he tried his best.

“You have to look at me again. just for a second.”

“I sw-”

“Just do it? Please?”

His attempt to put up a fight was thwarted by her small "please". He was pathetic.

“Okay.”

He looked at her.

“You…”

“Me… or- wait- I…”

“Are w-“

“Wonderful, yeah yeah. just get to the n-”

“No.”

“… No?”

“When you say it it doesn’t encapsulate it. It sounds silly.”

“Ok little miss ‘you art thou wonderful’, how would you have me say it?”

“I am you wonderful?”

“What?”

“You called me ‘little miss you are you wonderful’ what does that-“

“Ok! Would you just- shut up and call me wonderful one more time, please?”

She looked at him and blinked. That sentence surely came off as less ironic than intended.

“You are wonderful.”

She grabbed his face, in a half-joking manner. Her grab smushed his cheeks and she couldn't help but laugh a bit when she did it. Even though it was clearly a bit, he was still flustered.

“W-“

She shook him a bit.

"Shut up 'cause I'm about to say some beautiful and true shit. You are wonderful. You are wonderful. You are wonderful. You are absolutely, unchangingly, and irrevocably wonderful and there is absolutely nothing you can do about it, Maximoff.”

After saying what she would (in 40 years or so) recall as a painfully John Green-ish statement in her blunt and matter-of-fact manner, she let go of her semi-ironic hold on his pink cheeks. Were his cheeks pink because it was absolutely freezing, or because his heart was beating faster than he had ever (and would ever, mind you) run, you ask? No comment.

“Wow.”

“Wow what.”

“You do say it better than I do.”

“Did you like how I stressed different parts of the sentence each time? I thought that was a nice detail.”

“Wow.”

“So I’ve heard.”

“Wow.”

Did his voice just... break a little?

“Peter?”

“Uh- yeah?”

Was he a little... sniffle-y? She was now very concerned.

“Are you okay?!”

“Oh- um... yeah!”

No! No he was clearly not! He was sniffling!

“Really? 'Cause, you don't seem it.”

“It’s just- I just- wow.”

“Wow, what!?”

“That was just- uh-"

“Just what? It really wasn't that fancy, you seem much too impressed with me. Oh my God, was it terrible?”

“I mean it was really corny but w-“

“I swear to God if you say 'wow' one more time I may have to add ‘use of the word wow too much’ to the list of things that could make me hate you. Right next to the Dahmer stuff. That was a joke. Your use of the word wow is only mildly perturbing. Sorry."

She was panicking "just a bit".

“I’m sorry, I mean I’m not sorry. Sorry. Shit! sorry! I mean I’m not!”

And he was absolutely... full-on crying at this point.

“Peter.”

“Yeah?”

He was looking down at his mittens. Not that this is important, but they were very pretty mittens.

“Look at me, you klepto.”

He didn’t.

“You know- I’ve been hearing a lot of that 'look at me' stuff from you today. I mean- the klepto part is new-“

“Peter.”

“What?!”

He peaked up at her.

“Talk to me. Please, you're kinda scaring me, let me help.”

“I’m not sad!”

“You’re crying!”

“Yeah but not from the sads!”

“… The ‘sads’?”

“You know- when you get sad! It just means being sad! I don't- that’s what Wanda calls it, not me!"

He wiped his nose, tears still running down from his puffy eyes to his reddened cheeks.

“What are you crying from?”

“No one’s ever called me wonderful before.”

“I'm sorry! I did a few minutes ago and you didn’t cry!”

“No! You can't 'sorry' me if I can't 'sorry' you! And- yeah but that doesn’t count!”

“Why?”

“Because it only felt big when you said it the certain way!”

“What way!?”

“You look at me, you grab my cheeks-“

“I'm sorry about that by the way I was j-“

“No! It’s really ok! Do it whenever! I mean don’t do it whene- shut up!”

“I’m not even talking! You're the one talking!”

“You look at me, you grab my cheeks, and you go: you are wonderful.”

“Yeah???”

“No one ever called me that before!”

"Peter, I- well- they- they should! They should! More often! Then the amount that it happens now! I think. In my opinion."

"Or really looked at me like that!”

“Looked at you like what, Peter?”

“Like I was somethin’!”

“Well, you are… ‘somethin'! Whatever that means! And- I think you deserve to be looked at as such!”

“See?”

“What!?”

“You just-“

A strangled sob escaped from his throat. He didn't know how to explain.

“Pete.”

“Ew. I hate that nickname.”

He crossed his arms over his chest like a toddler, trying to completely ignore the fact that he was an emotional wreck.

“Peter.”

“Yeah?”

She opened her arms and gestured for him to come closer. He was hesitant at first- but gave up all the reasons he shouldn't move to be closer to her in exchange for the promise of comfort she was offering him. He crawled over to her and curled up in her arms. The way she held him made him want to cry more. Who does she think she is- holding him like he was worth holding? With her chin sitting on top of his hair? Letting him do that gross cry sob with the spit and the snot into her only winter coat? Rocking him, and shushing him, and petting his stupid, silver hair? She was warm, too! The audacity of this woman.

When Erik brought Charles into his office to grab a chess set, they saw the two in the window. For a moment Charles considered telling Peter and Y/N to get off of the high platform, seeing as the two were the reasons the "no sitting on the roof" rule was enacted in the first place (neither of them were coordinated whatsoever). Charles quickly dropped this notion when he saw the look on Erik's face, Charles could tell it made him so happy to see Peter be held like that, cared for like that. Erik's expression made Charles want to both tell Erik that he is the most precious thing in the world, and make fun of him (look at Mr. Metal, gone completely soft). Possibly he could do both at the same time. But for now, he is just going to pretend he didn't see the two outside of the window, and have Erik grab them their game, go to the living room, and pretend not to have read Erik's mind when he inevitably asks him how he always manages to pick the white chess piece at "random".

#is this even good #i wrote this instead of an essay #peter maximoff #peter maximoff fluff #peter maximoff x reader #me 🤝 commas #me 🤝 ... okay #the quality of this fic 📈📉📈📉📈

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harrysbbby · 5 years ago

Text

The Rule of Benefit - Part 1

My new series is here! It follows JJ and his friends-with-benefits co-worker Bridget “Jett” Moore. One simple rule: no feelings allowed.

Words: 3k+

Warning: smut. this is also my first time writing it. so it's probably terrible. so apologies in advance. but otherwise enjoy.

gif by @rudypankows

It wasn’t uncommon to see Jett’s nose buried in a book, even at work. Sat behind the large wooden desk, her head only lifted when the phone rang, or someone approached the desk. Working at the Kook Club was easy: good hours, great pay and the opportunity to do whatever she liked during the down times. With all the guests checked in for the night, and everyone seated in the dining room, Jett knew this was the perfect time to finish her extra credit essay.

JJ was stood in the doorway to the dining room, watching the girl read, captured by her ability to unfalteringly concentrate.

“Quit slacking, Maybank!” the duty manager called from near the kitchen. JJ quickly collected himself, rushing back through the kitchen doors to get his orders.

It was a few hours later when JJ finally approached your desk.

“Hey pretty girl, soup’s up.”

Jett’s head lifted out of her book to meet his blue eyes. She smiled. Working with JJ made the Kook Club bearable. He was funny, charming and not to mention hot. He would make her laugh by making silly faces through the dining room doors as he walked past or would make her smile by bringing her left over deserts from the kitchen.

“Oh, hey there pretty boy,” the terms of endearment had resulted from a regular. The small, sweet but very rich middle-aged lady visited the club twice weekly at a minimum. She always called Jett ‘pretty girl’ and JJ ‘pretty boy’. Jett was convinced she was hitting on him, the way she would grip his bicep when ordering at the bar. JJ, on the other hand swore that she was into girls, supported by his observations of how she would linger at the desk when she would check in for a long weekend stay. So, they became a bit of a joke, but then the nicknames stuck. Jett didn’t mind. She quite liked them. “Did you say something about food?”

“Yep,” he smiled, leaning on the top of the desk, “Soup’s up. Literally. Chef made us soup with the leftovers. Want me to grab you some?”

As if on cue the girl’s stomach growled. She hadn’t even noticed the time passing by as engrossed in her book. It had been hours since she’d last eaten.

“Yes please,” she pouted at him, raising her hands in a begging motion. He laughed at her ruffling her brown straight hair. She scoffed, frantically trying to put it back into place so as to not look disheveled at the front desk.

“Coming right up, milady,” JJ curtsied as he walked away. Jett laughed at his actions just as the phone rang. JJ looked back to her over his shoulder. She was speaking animatedly on the phone. JJ always admired her work ethic. He would never admit it to anyone, but he saw Jett as almost an inspiration- to get out of their lives, out of The Cut. She smiled at him and shooed him towards the kitchen. JJ saluted and disappeared behind the doors.

He retuned moments later, two bowls of soup and a plate of bread perfect balanced on his experienced hands. Jett was typing away on the computer, when she saw him approach. She quickly moved her textbooks out of the way, allowing JJ to place the food in front of her.

“We busy?” he motioned towards the screen where she had just been typing furiously.

“Yep, major group booking. We’re employed for the foreseeable future,” she grabbed the spoon he had collected for her, diving immediately into the soup. She hummed in delight, “It may be scraps but damn Chef really knows how to make them taste good.”

JJ hummed in agreement, a soup doused piece of bread filling his mouth. After swallowing most of it he started to speak.

“What’s for?” he grumbled out over his mouthful of food, pointing to the book that had been thrown aside for their lower-class feast. Jett laughed at the way JJ had asked her, covering his mouth as if it made him anymore polite.

“AP History,” she responded, “extra credit work.”

“Wow must be nice to be smart,” JJ joked, mouth now clear of food. Jett smiled softly.

“Quite boring, actually,” her voice was a lot less excitable as it usually was. JJ had noticed her change in demeanor of the past few weeks, “even worse when you’re poor and need it to get into a good school.”

“Amen,” JJ chimed, shoving another unnecessarily large piece of bread into his mouth. Jett grabbed an acceptably sized piece, dipping it into her soup. JJ rid his mouth of food completely this time before asking her, “are you okay? You’ve seemed a little off lately.”

So, he had noticed, Jett thought. She sighed placing her spoon against the side of her bowl.

“My, uh... my boyfriend broke up with me two weeks ago,” she said sadly. She noticed JJ’s concerned expression, “it was kind of mutual, I guess. He moved to the mainland. I guess I’m just kind of lonely.”

JJ nodded at her explanation, surveying the melancholy look on her face. He had always found her hot but had never made a move because of said boyfriend. An idea sprung to mind.

“My friends and I are having a party on Saturday. You should come, escape your studying for one night.”

Jett peered up at the boy’s pleading expression. Her internal war was overpowered by his puppy-dog eyes and pouty lips.

“Fine,” she relented, causing JJ to throw his arms up in the air, “it better be a good party, pretty boy.”

“They always are.”

***

JJ was right. Pogue boneyard parties were fun. Jett used to come with her ex-boyfriend every now and then. They would scrounge up some free booze, get a couple hits from some random’s blunt and blindly walk back to her house and have the most amazing, hazy sex.

Jett adjusted her shoulders, shaking the thought from her mind. She couldn’t be hanging onto the nothing he had left her with. She would have to move on and forwards, no matter how hard it was.

“Jett!”

She turned to see JJ by the keg, arms waving enthusiastically in the air. She headed over to him allowing him to pass her a cup filled with cheap beer.

“Hey, how was your shift today?” Jett asked him, bringing the cup all the way to her lips, taking a long sip, peering over the rim at the boy. He licked his lips, watching as her chocolate brown eyes stared at him. He cleared his throat quickly.

“You know, the usual. People being dicks, dicks being people.”

She threw head back emitting melodical laughter from her lips. JJ’s mouth turned upward into a smile. She brought the cup up to her lips once again, still giggling.

“That’s very accurate of our clientele,” she said eyeing his smile, taking another large sip from her cup. Her drink was nearly gone already, the liquid heating her insides.

She didn’t know if it was the alcohol or the fact she was a horny and recently single, but JJ looked different. She had never noticed how blue his eyes were, or how deep the dimple in his right cheek ran or how the curve of his bicep was so prominent. She quickly took another sip, finishing up her cup.

“Refill?”

Since she didn’t know anyone, JJ took the liberty of introducing her to his friends as they sat around one of the small bonfires, some of “JJ’s cousin’s good shit” being passed between them. At least that’s what Kiara had said. Jett knew of Kiara but had never properly met her before. She was of course familiar with her family’s business. Kiara spoke passionately about the harms of single use plastic as she passed the blunt to Pope. He was someone she already knew. He was in most of her classes, also vying for a scholarship like her’s. He bypassed the blunt, passing it to Jett. She took a long hit, before passing it to JJ, who was explaining to Kiara and Pope how he and Jett worked together at the country club. He passed the blunt to Sarah. Sarah was someone Jett knew. Her family’s presence at the club was a hyperbole. It usually meant a decent tip to be shared among the staff, and the few conversations she had had with Sarah were pleasant, but her brother was a different story.

“Oh, yeah I thought you looked familiar!” Sarah exclaimed, coughing slightly as she passed the blunt to her boyfriend, who’s lap she sat on.

John B took a hit before passing it back to Kiara, who was still chatting to JJ. Jett watched as John B grabbed Sarah’s head turning it towards him. She smiled seductively as he pulled his lips forward to meet his, smoke transpiring between the two of them. Jett cleared her throat abruptly.

“I need another drink,” she announced, leaving the group of friends to make her way back to the keg. As the liquid pour into her cup, she saw and arm lean against the keg, essentially trapping her between whoever it was and the metal. She knew exactly who it was.

“Rafe,” Jett said dryly, bringing her cup up to her lips and taking a swig as she turned to face up at the boy.

“Bridget, right?” he asked, leaning down to be at eye level with her. This brought their chests closer together, causing Jett to lean back, placing her hand which held her cup up against the boy. “I heard you’re back on the market.”

He winked. It caused a frown to spread over her face, rolling her eyes as she pushed past him.

“I’m not for sale,” she heard one of the other Kook boys (Kelce maybe? She had seen him in the club a few times) whistle boyishly before bursting into hysterical laughter in Rafe’s face. Ignoring their antics, she made her way to a log further away, facing out at the ocean.

She stared out at the water, watching the waves tumble over and over. She reminded herself she needed to move on. She needed to be like the waves, take on the tumble, pick herself back up and get ready for the next. Jett was brought out of her thoughts when the sounds of skin flying across skin. She turned to see a tall, tanned skinny girl stomping away from JJ who cupped his hand over his cheek. Jett couldn’t help the laugh that escaped her lips, which caught the boy’s attention. He walked over to her, taking the spot next to her, rubbing his redden cheek gently.

“What was that?” Jett asked amused. JJ huffed,

“Tourons. Apparently, I got with the wrong one and now I’m out of bounds with just about all of them.” Jett let out a puff of laughter at his dejectedness, before they lulled into a relatively comfortable silence. But JJ sensed something was up.

“Why’d you run off before?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” dismissed Jett, keeping her eyes trained on the ocean, eager to avoid JJ’s gaze.

“Yes, you do,” he countered, shift his body to face her. “Back there with John B and Sarah. Are you jealous?”

“Maybe,” Jett spoke quickly, now staring down at her cup. Was she really about to pour her heart out to JJ Maybank, her coworker? It was almost as if the alcohol itself whispered ‘yes’ to her as her mouth projectiled words without her control, “I don’t know. I miss having that; someone to turn to constantly. To touch you. Do things with. I guess I’ve just got an itch I can’t scratch.”

JJ remained silent, eyes scraping her body. They mainly focused between her hands and her lips, detailing every move she made as she spoke.

“That was too much information wasn’t it?” She threw her head back in frustration.

“That’s exactly what the right amount I needed to hear.”

Her brows pulled together in confusion, turning to face the boy for the first time. His eyes held a deep hunger and she could practically feel the heat radiating off him. She swallowed the lump of nervousness in her throat as he continued.

“You clearly have a problem no one else can fix. And I clearly have been exiled from Touron one-night stands. So, I propose a solution,” JJ stood up, hands gesturing enthusiastically as he spoke. “You and me. Sex. No strings attached.”

“What?” Jett asked incredulously.

“It’s perfect! We both get what we want.”

She mulled over his words silently. She had to admit it would be convenient. She would finally solve her loneliness and would avoid the feelings that hurt her before.

“So, we’d be friends with benefits?” she asked, standing up, placing her hands delicately on his forearms, tracing back and forth. JJ smirked.

“Yeah, reckon you could handle it?” he asked queitly, leaning closer to her. Jett, flicked her hait back over her shoulder, looking up at the boy, hands still flowing softly across his skin.

“We need to lay some ground rules.”

“Absolutely,” JJ agreed. “This is not exclusive.”

“Done,” Jett settled. “No sex at work,” JJ went to object but, she brought a finger to his lips. “I need that job, pretty boy.”

He finger remained on his lips, causing his eyes to grow darker. He nodded in agreement.

“And finally, the most important rule of benefit: no feelings allowed.”

“Deal,” JJ whispered, pulling her hand away from his lips and pulling her in for a kiss. Jett dropped her cup half-filled with alcohol to the ground, wrapping her arms around his neck. She moaned into his mouth.

“Do you wanna--” JJ motioned over his shoulder.

“Yep,” Jett answered quickly allowing him to lead her away from the party.

They stumbled into the Chateau, leaving sloppy kisses along each other’s necks. JJ lead her into the spare room, shutting the door and pressing her up against in. Jett threw her head back against the wood, allowing JJ to explore her neck, sucking on the soft skin. She tugged on his hair, letting out a throaty moan. Keeping her hand his hair, she used it to spin them around, pinning JJ to the door. His eyes widen in surprised, then anticipation as she slipped to the floor in front of him. She grabbed his belt undoing his pants quickly. Above her she could hear JJ’s breathing quicken as she pulled down his pants and underwear.

“Calm down pretty boy, gonna take good care of you.”

And with that she took his dick into her hand, pumping a few times before licking form the base to the tip. The moan that left JJ’s mouth was animalistic. His hands immediately flew to Jett’s hair, entangling themselves into it, pulling her closer towards him. Her head bobbed quickly, causing more grunts to escape from his lips. Jett could feel spit running down her chin as JJ pushed himself further into her mouth.

“Fuck, Jett. When did you get so good at this?” he asked, the sound of his head lightly thudding against the door as he screwed his eyes shut. She smiled sultrily, releasing him from her mouth, pumping his length as she looked up at him.

“Always have been. You’ve just been missing out.”

With a growl he picked her up by the sides, carrying her to the bed, flinging her across the sheets. He made quick work of ridding her of her shirt and bra. His mouth attached to one boob, his hands massaging the other. Jett’s breathing quickened as she held his head to her, hips bucking up desperately. She whimpered needingly, craving his touch. He detached his lips, kissing slowly up her neck.

“Patience pretty girl,” he whispered quietly. The hand that had been flicking at her nipple slid down her body and into the waistline of her shorts. He began to rub small circles over her clit. Jett let out a loud moan, hands instinctively coming over her mouth. With his free hand JJ grabbed her hands, placing them above her head. “Wanna be able to hear you.”

This caused an even louder moan to escape her lips, as JJ moved her panties to the side, easily slipping one finger in. Jett felt euphoric. JJ was already pleasing her better than her ex-boyfriend, and he had barely begun. She thought she could get used to their arrangement. He added another finger and began to pump faster. In contrast, he placed sweet kisses along her jaw, liking the feeling of her moans vibrating along his lips.

“JJ, if you don’t stop, I’m gonna... ugh!” her eyes were screwed shut as her mouth was opened in a silent cry. JJ smiled against her skin, before retracting his hand. Jett’s body relaxed as he placed a kiss on her lips. He stood up ridding himself of his shirt and other items of clothing and she did the same.

She scooted back on the bed as a now naked JJ crawled on top of her, ripping open the condom wrapper with his teeth. He placed it over himself, lining himself up. He leant down next to Jett’s face.

“Ready to do this?” he asked her. She placed her hands on his shoulders and nodded.

“As I'll ever be.”

JJ pushed himself inside of her, their moans mixing in the hot, sticky air. He waited a moment before picking up his pace. Jett’s legs wrapped around his waist as she let out breathy groans. Her nails scrapped down his back, causing him to moan into her neck.

“Shit,” he cursed, his motions keeping a steady pace. He snuck a hand in between them to rub her clit.

“Oh my God, JJ,” she cried. She pulled one leg from around his body, slowly bringing it up to place it over his shoulder. JJ hesitated for a moment but seeing the look of sheer pleasure on Jett’s face, continued. The new angle elicited even more cried from her lips, her nails raking along his chest. JJ grunted, highly turned on by the girl beneath him. He wasn’t going to last much longer, and neither was she. His fingers worked quickly on her clit as his hips continued to meet hers. They yelled each other’s name in unison as they met their highs, JJ completing with a few final strokes.

He pulled out, disposing of the condom before collapsing next to her. They were both sweaty messes, puffing heavily. Jett let out a breathy laugh, wiping the hair which was stuck to her forehead with the back of her hand. JJ pulled the covers out from underneath him, allowing Jett to crawl under with him. They laid next to each other, staring up at the ceiling still catching their breath.

“That was--” Jett started breathlessly.

“Yeah” JJ agreed.

She could get used to this.

Tags:

@downbytheouterbanks @thesailbells @sexualparkour @maybankxcameron @mileven-reddie @nikki082489 @treestarrrrrrrr @mynamessusan @kristinaxilliano @love-bean @lauraxwndrlnd @jjsthumbring @obxmxybxnk @lovelymaybankk @http-cherries @belledutchess @wicked-laugh @jjswhore @sspidermanss @fandomobsessedlife @dolanfivsosxox @whenyouregrungeaff @poguestyleskye @iknowrocknroll567 @kingdomheartsfan109@dangerouswhispersblog @hopelesswritingxd @marveloucnco @riverdaleserpent04 @yeetingcelery @babyhoneystvles@ravngers @k3nz-doodl3 @famousstarsandkelly @readysteadygo23 @finelinetrack @sha-nah @silverstarsandsuns@awkwardnesshabitat @annedub @a-wade @ineedmorestyles @averagxfangirl @shreyaodedra06 @silverstarsandsuns@jjmaybangme @kisssmefree @shawnssongs @p0gues4l @hannahufflepuff @lovelymaybankk@tomfreakinghollandneedsaoscar @softstarkey @kiarasflowr @drewstarkey @tcmhollnd @myrandom-fandomlife @jjtheangel @jjmaebank @masintahin @o-b-x @stilinskiandsuch @jellyfishbeansontoast @tessisawriter @cutiecolbsss@my-soul-is-the-moon @sunshinemadds @kisssmefree @certainstatesmantoadartisan @lefthandwritings @poguecollins@disagreeable-pink @tytheguyudontno @helplessquotess @taaniesha @obx-beach @thegeekyblondegirlwholovesstars@lcil123 @teenwaywardasgardian @sortagaysortahigh@jeyramarie @ellystone @classygirlything @marauderskeeper@rudyypankow @ssjiara @bluebirdsbluebells @lavenderpope @rretrophilee @kitluvs1 @outerpogues @maaybanks@maebanks @thelocalpogue @heyhey-heyward @popcsheyward @maybe-maybanks @pixelated-pogues @thatsme-johnbookerroutledge @maybankdreams @maybankiara @pogue-writings @honeymendesx @faded-blue @smiithys@justpeachykeeeen @justcallmesams @danicarosaline @free-pool-trash @saturnspack @velyssaraptor @no-shxt-sherl@saphira1412 @raekenliar @pancakefancake @imuniqueperson123 @marveling-avengers @lus-shh@hmspxgue @winterdameron @lolitstiana

#jj outer banks #jj x reader #jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank fanfiction #jj smut #outer banks #outer banks fanfiction #outerbanks #obx #obx fanfiction #obx fandom #rudy pankow #rudy pankow fanfiction #Rudy Pankow x reader #jj maybank x oc #the rule of benefit #the rule of benefit oc

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wrienne · 3 years ago

Text

My Cheating, Amnesic Fiancé

Chapter 10: His Ring

Namjoon and Seokjin’s eyes widened, though you got no reaction from Yoongi. He was like an ominous presence, sitting at an angle you could only watch him through your peripheral view as you stared down at your hands.

“How?” asked Namjoon. “And how do you know that?”

“Yes, isn’t amnesia both incurable and irreversible?” wondered Hoseok. "That's what the doctor told us."

“Starting with that...”

While explaining what you and Kim Sejin had spoken about that morning and the battle plan you had organized all day during school, all six of them were quiet. You finished with, “...I figured I could grab some of his clothes as well as hear your ideas about my plan.”

“It sounds like some kind of movie plot,” said Seokjin dubiously.

“Exactly what I told your manager,” you said and smiled half-heartedly. “But this is the only option we have. I, for one, refuse to let Jungkook lose all that he’s fought for. What all of you have fought for.”

“Even if it’s a slight chance, there’s still a possibility,” said Namjoon in agreement.

“What would you have us do, then?” asked Jimin.

“If you could write down a list, just as I have,” you said as you showed them your scribbles, “I’d have something more recent to go on from. I have never been very close to him, especially since his debut, so your input would help tremendously.”

“Why help him then?” Taehyung regarded you warily. His hard expression had gradually morphed into one of focus and attentiveness, but now you saw it teetering. Would he flare up again? “What do you have to gain?”

“Would you stop it?” Hoseok gave Taehyung a harsh glare, which made Namjoon and Seokjin look curiously at him. Hoseok pointed at Taehyung. “This one almost lost it downstairs, blaming Jungkook’s accident on (Y/N). Taehyung, you coming at her doesn’t exactly help the situation.”

“Hyung,” said Taehyung coolly. “Everyone with half a brain understands that she and Jungkook parted on unfriendly terms. Have you ever heard him curse like that - especially to a girl who is supposed to be a ‘family friend’? And he wouldn’t speak to anyone at all until Sejin-manager had taken us to the bar. She made him drink and run out on the street.”

“He’s halfway right,” said Seokjin as he scrutinized you. “I’ve never seen our Jungkook that mad.”

“Exactly,” said Taehyung triumphantly. “So you better tell us the truth: what do you have to gain from Jungkook?”

“Nothing,” you said earnestly, then fumbled as you tried to structure the rest of your reply. Technically, you had absolutely nothing to gain from Jeon Jungkook’s potential recovery and reascent to the music industry’s top. Meanwhile, it would take you more than three months of hard work and utter, genuine dedication to even have a shot at getting him to Japan. It could all just prove to be a waste of time. Minutes, hours, days, weeks better spent on you and yourself. Not to mention, that bastard had been unfaithful to you for who knows how long, in addition to having treated you sometimes like air, sometimes like dirt and sometimes like you were his worst enemy in the world.

But still. Still. You couldn’t abandon Jeon Jungkook in his time of need.

“It doesn’t make sense,” said Taehyung and crossed his arms over his chest. “Jungkook told me you disliked each other, and that you couldn’t stand him. So why?”

“I just…”

You grasped after the right words. Your mind was muddled, however, so you had no choice but to simply follow the second voice-in-command: your heart.

“If you were me,” you began carefully, “would you have allowed the son of your parents’ best friend to forget his childhood dream? I’ve known Jungkook all of my life - we’ve grown up together, spent every holiday with one another and celebrated everything from birth, life and death side by side. He was horrible most of the time, I’ll say that, but he was there for me when others weren’t. You might believe my family fortunes and good name generated friends wherever I went, but no. It didn’t. I’ve been on my own pretty much all my life.”

You hadn’t meant for the conversation to suddenly turn so personal, but there you sat, pouring your heart out to six strangers. Perhaps that’s what made therapy so popular. People listening to other people’s problems.

You took a deep breath. “When my grandparents died, Jungkook was the first one to each of their funerals. When I was about ten or so and fell down a cliff during a hike with our parents and broke my collarbone, Jungkook was the one who found me and dragged me back to camp. He practically saved my life. Now, I don’t know about you, but I wouldn’t have been able to look myself in the mirror if I just left him the way he is now, especially when I have a chance to help.”

No matter his betrayal.

“I have no clue what Jungkook told you about me, but I would never premeditate hurting or upsetting or exploiting him in any way.” You cleared your throat, grimacing as your windpipe had tightened with every word you said. “Now yesterday was the first time I saw you guys on stage. And though I possess no particular experience in show business or even an ounce of musical talent, I saw--no, felt that he belonged up there. Still - and I haven't told you all - would you have left him if you were me? Abandoned him for old grudges?”

You hadn’t noticed how hard you were clutching your hands together. Not until you felt the odd, ticklish sensation signifying a lack of blood and circulation did you realize that your knuckles and fingers had whitened. You loosened up and caught Taehyung’s eyes.

“No,” he said, immediately casting down his focus. “I guess not.”

“What we spoke of is private,” you said quietly, feeling your chest constrict in pain at the memory. “It is something I can never disclose. But the conversation wasn’t of a threatening or hostile nature, and if I knew he would run out drunkenly on a street because of my decision, I would have never made it. I would never, ever wish Jungkook harmed.”

No one spoke. Taehyung didn’t raise his gaze.

You sniffled. Hoseok quickly came back from the hallway with some tissues and handed you them. You wiped your eyes and were relieved to find the tissue only slightly damp. You weren’t bawling, at least, though the mere presence of tears made you frown - you didn’t exactly have something to cry for. You weren’t somber or filled with grief at the memory of your grandparents' funerals. However, you were extremely tired and weary after last night’s escapade to the hospital. And your conversation with your parents hadn’t exactly done much to brighten up your mood.

You almost chuckled. You were used to calling Jungkook stupid, but who was the bigger fool, really?

Considering how the next three months would progress, it was ironic, it truly was.

“What should we do?” asked Hoseok finally, breaking the silence.

“Let’s split up into groups,” said Namjoon after said someone’s stomach grumbled. “Jin-hyung and I will get to cooking since it’s our turn anyway. The rest of you can start with a list each.”

“What are we even supposed to write?” Jimin scratched the back of his head.

“It might be a bit personal,” you told him, “but it probably has to be in order for it to be memorable. Just write down anything you might have done with Jungkook that you feel affected your relationship in any major way.”

“Write down anything that you imagine Jungkook might have remembered up until the accident,” added Namjoon and slowly stood. “Like the time we went bungee jumping or traveled to Northern Europe.”

“Yeah, that’s a good idea,” you said.

“And you’re going to do what with this information?” wondered Seokjin, standing also. “Isn’t it better if we just meet up with him and tell him all of this? Try to remind him while face-to-face?”

You shook your head. “I wouldn’t say he’s scared of you. But he doesn’t trust anyone and might straight-up refuse to listen to any of you. And even if some of you manage to convince him to hear you out, what if it turns out he doesn’t remember? That might make you frustrated at him or just left feeling needlessly hurt. Furthermore, I don’t want to stress him out any more than he already is. Imagine, it must be like waking up from a five or so year long dreamless sleep for him and suddenly he’s overwhelmed with the eager input from six or so people telling him he knows them the way he did.”

“Okay,” said Jimin with a nod. “Who has some pen and paper?”

“I do,” said Hoseok, then disappeared into one of the rooms. He came out with a notebook and tore out a page for everyone except you, Seokjin and Namjoon, then returned with an equal number of pens.

Namjoon and Seokjin headed into the kitchen while Taehyung, Jimin and Hoseok eventually started discussing what would count as a “memorable memory”. Yoongi quietly pondered his sheet of paper, his dark gaze fixed upon the clean slate while he tapped his pen against the table surface.

He briefly found your eyes but said nothing.

Swallowing hard, you carefully unzipped your jacket and hung it over your chair as well as placed your duffel bag underneath your chair. Feeling uncomfortable just sitting there, you rose while putting up your hair with a hair tie and poked your head into the kitchen.

“Is there something I can do to help?” you asked.

Seokjin was instructing Namjoon when he stopped and looked at you over the latter’s shoulder. “No, we’ll be alright. You can just sit with the others.”

You wouldn’t have minded just sitting and watching them if not for Yoongi’s watchful eyes. But since you couldn’t exactly say that, you smiled sheepishly. “I’m sort of not used being around so many guys.”

“No male cousins or siblings?”

“None.” Your smile fell a bit. “It’s a small family.”

“How long are you staying?” asked Namjoon. He had begun washing vegetables in the sink.

“Oh, not very long,” you said quickly. “I wouldn’t want to intrude for any longer than dinner. And I told Jungkook I’d be back at six.”

Seokjin and Namjoon looked at each other hesitantly. The latter shrugged, and Seokjin found your gaze again.

“Would you mind setting the table, then?” he asked.

About half an hour later, all seven of you were busy eating homemade tteokbokki and bought gimbap. They asked you about you and Jungkook, how long you had known each other, what school you went to, and so on. The lists had been compiled into one master list, courtesy of Namjoon, who had wanted to organize all of their ideas into relevant categories, like years, members and places. You hadn’t even been aware of how hungry you had been until then and ate quicker than everyone else. Or well, almost.

“It’s almost six o’clock,” said Min Yoongi as he stood. “Come, (Y/N). Someone’s got to show her to Jungkook’s things and Namjoon is still eating,” he explained at everyone’s confused frown.

“Oh, I had almost forgotten.”

You rose and began carrying your dishes to the kitchen when Jimin stopped you. “Let it be,” he said. “I’ll take care of it. You better get back to Jungkook.”

“Thank you,” you said, then looked at everyone seated at the table. For once, Taehyung didn’t look at you with poorly disguised fury. “Thank you for the food, and for your help. I really appreciate it, and I know Jungkook would as well.”

“We’ll finish the last of the master list meanwhile,” said Hoseok as you bent to pick up your duffel bag. “Try to steal some of Namjoon’s stuff. He has way too many clothes that fall underneath the ‘hobo’ category.”

“It’s ‘boho’ I tell you,” mumbled Namjoon as he covered his mouth with his hand. “It’s a popular fashion style overseas.”

“That might be, but you make it ‘hobo’.”

Namjoon sighed as the others laughed.

You smiled at Hoseok, who returned the gesture, then turned anxiously toward Yoongi. He gestured for you to come and you followed him into the same room Namjoon and Seokjin had exited from. The bedroom was small, with only barely enough space for two single beds, a wardrobe, a tall mirror and a desk with a lamp, but surprisingly clean compared to the rest of the apartment.

Yoongi closed the door shut after you, then led you to the swelling wardrobe, which almost reached from the floor to the ceiling. He opened the wardrobe doors and pointed in a general area of blacks, jeans and whites. There was a surplus of beanies, mouth masks and brand underwear as well.

“That half is Jungkook’s,” said Yoongi as he opened the wardrobe doors and pointed in a general area. “Though some of his clothes might be in the washing machine or drying.”

“I think he can manage with this,” you said as you began placing one item after another into your duffel bag.

You didn’t know exactly how much you needed to grab, but when you considered the bleak possibility that Jungkook might not ever return to the apartment again, you decided to take everything of his at least in the wardrobe. While initially conscientious - you knew how prim Jungkook could be with his things - you took it slow, placing clothes like Tetris. Then, realizing it would take hours, you just shoveled as much as you could into the bag.

You tried to ignore the pair of slim dark eyes silently watching your every move.

“Is there anything else of his in here?” you asked Yoongi when you were finished. The duffel bag actually looked like a body bag now, but would still have some room left over for a phone charger or a headset or so.

“He has a laptop and some gadgets he carries in a small bag.”

It didn’t take you long to find the computer and you carefully placed it inside a computer bag marked “JK”. You found chargers, a mouse and a headset inside the bag first, though, which you poured into the duffel bag instead. When you were finished, however, and started toward the door, Yoongi stopped you.

You frowned and tried not to sound frightened, but felt your heartbeats surge into a gallop. “Hey, what--”

And you stopped so abruptly you almost choked on your words. You had wondered where Jungkook’s engagement band was, ever since you saw its obviously vacant place on his finger the evening before. But now you knew.

Held between his index finger and thumb, Min Yoongi raised the promise ring your parents had given Jungkook, its circular, golden shape familiar to you. His expression didn't change, nor did his voice.

“At which point of the dinner were you going to tell us about your and Jungkook’s engagement?”

#MCAF #wrienne #ao3 #bts fanfiction #bts x reader

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taichoh · 4 years ago

Text

old friend

pairing: hitsukarin word count: 5298 (oopsies) warnings: none note: this is my self-indulgent fix-it fic because i can. technically post-canon, there's a hint of ichiruki but this is about my babies, who aren't babies anymore. :') ao3 link

Upon entering her adult years, Karin was coming to terms with her growing list of responsibilities, wishing she was just a kid again when the list was much smaller. Everyone can relate to missing things from their childhood, kicking a soccer ball around on a summer day, only having to stress about a simple book assignment instead of the plethora of things you’d worry about now, coming home to a full house even if it was chaos sometimes.. Most of the time. The house wasn’t quiet now, but it wasn’t as chaotic either. Karin missed it.

Ever since Ichigo decided to live the rest of his life in the Soul Society, things calmed down a bit. She was happy for him, he’d gotten a semblance of his life back after the Winter War, but it only took a couple years for him to crave a different life. She saw how morose her brother had gotten going day by day without a certain short black haired, newly appointed captain, and it only took him this long to realize some things everyone else could plainly see.

The Human World was boring anyway. She wouldn’t tell anyone yet, but she planned to follow in her brother’s footsteps. Karin wanted to wait much longer of course, for a multitude of reasons, one being she was stubborn and wanted to do what she set out to, fully prepared to hurdle any obstacles, and there were plenty.

But now she’s here, having finished school and now fully runs the family clinic with her sister. For a while their dad was with them, but after a very heartfelt conversation and a boatload of tissues, they all agreed that his time in this world was up as well. It was funny, how instead of his daughters, he was leaving the nest and going back home where he was welcomed, especially after the war. They missed him but Karin and Yuzu didn’t miss how much easier it was for their dad to smile whenever he visited. Still, with their brother and dad in a different world, reaching out wasn’t as easy as a phone call away, though Karin figured it wouldn’t be long before Urahara remedied that with yet another invention.

She still hangs out with old and new friends, but feigning disregard to Yuzu’s nagging about finding someone to settle down with was getting old. And so was she. Well not really, but she felt old. She was only in her 20s but she considered herself old when she found a gray hair in her hairbrush. It was most likely stress but regardless, the next thing would be wrinkles or joint pains and the stress from that is just gonna cause more grays to show up so really there’s no upside. She missed the days before puberty, and how much she didn’t care about her appearance. She doesn’t much these days either, but even Karin, with her confidence, had a list of insecurities that piled up over the years. It was part of being human she supposed. She missed when all she worried about was beating the stupid juniors at soccer, getting a scrape on her knee, grass stains, etc.. But she was skirting around the elephant in her room. She couldn’t ignore it any longer. She missed him. A lot. A huff escaped her as she stood at the sink in the bathroom connected to the clinic. She was watching the last of the suds from the soap disappear down the drain when she thought of him for what felt like the first time in ages. But it hadn’t been ages, she thought of him just a couple of days ago, when Yuzu mentioned yet again that she noticed how lonely Karin seemed. It was a bit harsh but Yuzu was right, and Karin knew she was just worried for her sister. “Have you talked to Hitsugaya recently?” The question caught her off guard and made her stop halfway from spooning more soup into her mouth. The answer was no. They hadn’t talked in quite a long time. She half expected to see him amidst the aftermath of the war, but she assumed he had a lot on his plate, so the idea was dismissed. “We barely talk to Ichigo or dad Yuzu, they’re all busy over there.” She knew it was bullshit the second it left her mouth. Acting nonchalant was getting harder and harder around Yuzu, because even though Karin is skilled at it, her sister was one of a handful of people that could break down those walls with a single push. The others are her brother and a boy with snow white hair and eyes you want to swim in, as much as she hates to admit it.

“But I remember you guys being pretty close, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind you reaching out... I know you miss him.” It was so embarrassing being read so easily, and it was making her lose her appetite. “Yuzu he’s a captain, he’s got plenty on his plate as it is.” I’m sure I’m the last thing on his mind. “So is Rukia and she along with the rest of the gang visits us ! And from what we’ve heard from Ichigo and Dad, things have been going pretty smoothly.” Yuzu had a point. The last time they saw their family including Rukia was maybe a month ago. Karin was just getting in her head. She knew Toshiro probably wasn’t that busy but she also knew that he wasn’t the type to sit and do nothing. He was a busybody. When he wasn’t eating, sleeping, or visiting her, he was working. And when the time between his last visit continued to stretch, she figured he must have been as busy as can be. Or, maybe he forgot about me. “Toshiro would never forget you!” Yuzu shouted across from the table, making Karin jump and her cheeks flush. Did she say that last part out loud? “I can’t believe you would even entertain the idea! No one could forget you !” Even in an accusatory insulting tone, Karin knew Yuzu was being pragmatic. She always was. Karin groaned and hung her head over her dinner, not wanting to look at Yuzu’s disappointed glare. “I know,” she said dejectedly. “It’s just... A lot has changed. There was a war, we’ve graduated, Ichigo and Dad moved out. It’s been a while.” Karin couldn’t even remember the last time she saw him. It’s been years. Karin was a full fledged adult in her 20s. She wondered if he’d grown an inch or two by now. She missed whenever he’d roll his eyes at her height jokes. “Well I think it’s been long enough.” It seemed Yuzu was going to take matters into her own hands. Getting up from her seat, Yuzu started gathering their empty plates and explained her plan,“Ichigo, Rukia, and Dad are coming to dinner soon, so when they go back you are going with them.” This made Karin open her mouth to object but was immediately cut off, “And don’t use that excuse about leaving me alone. I can take care of myself, and I can call Jinta if I need to.” Karin sunk into her seat as she watched her sister clean up their dinner. Yuzu’s mind was made up, and Karin knew better than to argue with her. Every Kurosaki had the potential to be increasingly scary when they wanted to and that included Yuzu. Karin shivered at being at the mercy of her sister’s wrath hidden under that bubbly exterior.

So, it was happening. She was going to the Soul Society. To see Toshiro. After years of no contact. That’s fine. The more she thought about it the more her thoughts turned intrusive, and it was taking everything in her to not punch her reflection. That would end up with bloody knuckles and a broken mirror, so all Karin could do was take another breath, and leave the bathroom. Yuzu’s plan was panning out, as days from their conversation, their little family reconvened over dinner and it was time for them to go back home. Karin excused herself to go to the bathroom and grab her bag of necessities that Yuzu forced her to pack because apparently her trip was extended to a couple of days and not hours as Karin presumed. When it was announced, Yuzu simply explained she had some extra work to do so she would join next time, which everyone accepted much too easily. “You ready?” Ichigo asked as Karin rejoined them all on the main floor. Karin nodded and gave Yuzu a small smile which she mirrored and nodded as if to say ‘good luck’. The four of them filed onto the empty street and before she knew it they were walking through the Senkaimon. Isshin and Ichigo walked a couple steps behind Karin and Rukia as they walked the dark path that was the Dangai. Karin had only done this a handful of times, to visit her family but it still gave her chills everytime she made the trip. “So, you got anything planned?” Rukia’s voice broke her out of her reverie. She glanced over to see Rukia smirking, looking a little too proud for Karin’s liking. What she could be insinuating?

“Uh, not really.” Karin tried her best to seem nonchalant, but Rukia was getting better at reading Kurosaki’s much to Karin’s chagrin. Her only plan was to see Toshiro, but she’d probably visit some others. A simple little reunion. Part of her wanted to confide in Rukia, but she had a feeling Rukia would absolutely make sure this reunion happened. She gulped willing her anxieties to shut the hell up. “Ooh, I see, so Captain Hitsugaya has no idea you’re coming.” “How did you-” “Oh please, I’m not as dense as your brother,” Karin suddenly appreciated the distance between them and the two idiots behind them, who looked to be having their own conversation after she took a glance over her shoulder. “Plus Yuzu might have filled me in.” Her smug grin made Karin’s blush deepen but there was no hiding it.

“You can’t say anything!” Karin kept her voice low but still full of urgency, which Rukia took in earnest. “Of course Karin! I would never! Unless you wanted me to, and I won’t say anything if you feel the need to deck the Captain in the face, though I have a feeling you won’t want to-” “Why would I want to punch Toshiro?” Has he done something? What did he do? Does he have a girlfriend? What happened? Her mind was racing at Rukia’s admission and the urge to turn around and go back home popped into her head.

Rukia only sighed at Karin’s confusion, “Well according to Yuzu, it’s been a long time for you two. And he never reached out. When me and Ichigo parted ways when he lost his powers, I couldn’t reach out to him as much as I wanted to. And I wanted to. So badly,” Rukia’s voice turned solemn and Karin relaxed, suddenly thinking about how much she envied their relationship. They were so good together, and they’ve been through so much, yet they managed to traverse all those obstacles and found each other again.

Karin vaguely wondered if she’d ever have that kind of connection with someone. Suddenly Toshiro’s name was written all over her mind, but she was getting ahead of herself. Just because she’s had a crush on him for years and years doesn’t mean he feels the same. He could already be with someone for all she knew. Rukia was right, Karin might want to punch Toshiro after all.

“Anyway, he’s had all this time and he hasn’t visited! I’ll have you know things have been just fine in the Seireitei, so really there’s no excuse.” Rukia sounded like Yuzu, and they both had a point, but- “That could go both ways though.” Karin admitted, frowning and going to scratch the back of her neck. “Well I suppose, but I still think the Captain should’ve done something. He always visited you didn’t he?” “Yeah, but I’ve been to the Soul Society before, and I chose not to go see him or anything.” “Why not? That doesn’t seem like you.” Rukia was so right. It was not like Karin at all. If she was her younger self she’d kick down his door and demand him to abandon all paperwork for a game of soccer. But that was younger Karin, who barely considered her crush on the Captain of the Tenth. This was older Karin, now an adult who had to deal with her feelings. Ugh. “I know. I guess I didn’t want to bother him. He is a Captain and all. And now that I’m older I kind of understand that it’s a lot of responsibility.” Once again, she was spouting absolute bullshit and Rukia was prone to picking up on it after dealing with this family for so long. “I’m disappointed in you Karin,” She said with a hint of mockery, not meaning it wholeheartedly, but still being genuine, “It might not be my place to say, but I know I’m not the only one that noticed how much happier Captain Hitsugaya was in your company. Don’t forget I’m a Captain myself, does that mean you think my relationship with your brother hinders me in being one?” “Of course not! I never meant to-” Karin exclaimed, immediately sorry for her backwards thinking, but instead Rukia chuckled. “I know, I’m just saying. You’re right in that we have a lot of responsibilities as Captains, but you know Hitsugaya, he’ll take on more than he needs to, and you were always good at reminding him there was more to life than paperwork.” A couple moments passed as Rukia’s words sunk in. Karin considered herself an adult but she still had so much to learn. She was so grateful she had someone like Rukia to show a different perspective. Karin had to admit, she had definitely mastered the art of handling a Kurosaki. They’re family was so crazy and complicated and Rukia had no problem at all. In the back of her mind Karin reminded herself to kick her brother’s teeth in if he didn’t propose soon. There was a difference though. Ichigo and Rukia lived in the same world. Karin and Toshiro did not have that luxury. But that thought was for another time. Just focus on one thing at a time. Soon Karin was squinting when a bright light washed over the group as they entered the Soul Society. The sky above them was blue with only a couple of clouds hanging, a gentle breeze wrapped itself around Karin, and she felt oddly relaxed. She regrets not visiting more often, this could easily become her second home.

“Well it’s about time!” Karin noticed the voice immediately and watched the beautiful woman with strawberry blonde hair walk up to them. “Lieutenant Matsumoto! What brings you here? We weren’t expecting a welcome party.” Rukia chimed in for Karin, who smiled at Rangiku. Just like it had been a while since she’d seen Toshiro, it had been a while for everyone else too. Rangiku and Karin managed to strike up a friendship when Karin was confronted by Toshiro’s second during one of their visits to the human world. Karin got that ‘don’t hurt him, or I

I’ll hurt you’ talk, which Karin quickly concurred and vowed to be a good friend to him. It shocked Karin to see her jaunty personality freeze over to solemnity, and immediately melt again after the serious words were said. She knew Rangiku wasn’t an idiot, she wasn’t a Lieutenant for nothing. Above all she was glad Toshiro had her. “I heard Karin was coming to visit so I wanted to come say hi!” And when she meant ‘hi’, that meant suffocating Karin in her bosom, and not for the first time. Though after learning first hand about Rangiku’s affectionate nature, she could understand how someone like Toshiro found it a tad aggravating. Karin smiled up at her as she pulled back from the hug, “It’s nice to see you again Rangiku.” “Likewise,” Rangiku smiled gently and stepped back, “So what does Karin Kurosaki have planned for this visit?” She seemed much too hopeful for some reason, and Karin had a feeling she knew what it entailed. Again, Rangiku wasn’t an idiot. But lying wasn’t Karin’s forte so she might as well be honest. “I was gonna visit Toshiro, if he isn’t busy.” She gulped. Rangiku’s eyes lit up like it was Christmas morning, squealing and giving Karin another hug that once again suffocated her. Seems like that was exactly what she wanted to hear. “Oh wonderful! He’s not busy at all, and he’ll be overjoyed to see you! You really grew up didn’t you?” Rangiku’s narrowed gaze and lilted voice made Karin blush. Her tone was definitely suggestive but she wasn’t wrong. Karin had a small growth spurt amidst puberty, her hair got longer, still in a ponytail. “Who knew you’d grow up into such a beautiful woman?” She didn’t know how but her cheeks flushed even more. “Wait until the Captain sees you-” “Rangiku!” Karin exclaimed, throwing her hands up to cover her face, suddenly feeling self conscious. Not only at Rangiku’s boldness but the fact that Rangiku, who was one of the most beautiful women she’d met, just complimented her like that. Rangiku only laughed, brushing a lock of hair behind her shoulder. “Come on let’s go!” Suddenly Karin was being dragged away to the 10th barracks no doubt, left to look over her shoulder to watch Rukia smirk and give a wave before turning to leave the gate as well. Rangiku let Karin catch her breath, and they walked in silence, until Karin had a thought, “I can’t help but wonder if Toshiro’s grown at all, like an inch maybe? He told me you guys aged differently here.” “Oh yes, we do! I haven’t done much aging in a looong time. Kind of a perk dontcha think? I’ve looked like this for ages,” Rangiku smiled brightly while flaunting and she had every right to, she knew she was beautiful. Karin would be lying to herself if she said she wasn’t envious. As a human you have so little time compared to the time you have as a shinigami. Though the profession is dangerous, so there’s that to consider. Karin remembers when Toshiro explained the way of reincarnation and the way things worked for souls. A weight she didn’t realize she had was lifted from her shoulders that day. “And Toshiro?” Rangiku’s smile turned mischievous again but Karin was too busy looking ahead at the continuing street. “The Captain’s grown a tad, nothing too drastic.” “Oh.” Karin chuckled, that meant she’s probably still taller than him. “So I can still make height jokes.” She smiled smugly, looking forward to his disgruntled face, it was so cute when he got embarrassed. “Oh I’m sure,” was the last thing Rangiku said before they rounded the corner and they arrived at their destination. Karin’s stomach started doing somersaults, and while it had to do with the fact that she was incredibly nervous, she was also very excited. But the reality of their time apart is hitting her once again and she didn’t know how to feel about it. “Don’t be nervous.” Rangiku’s voice was suddenly softer, warmer, almost motherly. And once again, Karin was being read like a book by another shinigami. Damn, she needed to work on her poker face. All Karin could do was give her a small smile before she realized they were right outside of his office. All that stood between them was a sliding door, and suddenly her hands were clammy.

One last gulp, “Okay,” was all Karin could say.

And Rangiku being Rangiku, gave Karin no time to think before she promptly shouted, “Oh Captaaain!” and slid the door open with gusto causing Karin to jump and for the captain seated at the desk to snap his head up in alarm. But it was not Toshiro. No, Toshiro was cute and albeit attractive according to Karin, and this man was not cute. He was downright gorgeous. He was devastatingly handsome. Nope, not Toshiro. This was an imposter.

But, amidst her gaping, Karin noticed his hair was white, like Toshiro’s, and his eyes were that cerulean color that made her weak in the knees, like Toshiro’s. He was sitting in Toshiro’s seat, wearing a white haori like Toshiro did, and they were definitely in the Squad 10 offices. So, it has be- “Toshiro?” Karin croaked. Her eyes blown wide, her feet still planted at the doorway, while Rangiku buzzed next to her watching the whole exchange.

“Karin?” Oh god, even his voice was an octave lower. His eyes mirrored hers in that they were wide with shock. He couldn’t believe she was here, in the Seireitei, in his office. He also couldn’t believe that was Karin. But the more he looked at her the more he saw the familiar features he made sure to memorize, along with some noticeable new ones.. She was beautiful, and he thought he had the term defined already with a picture of her. It was still her, but he needed to update his memory it seemed. Her hair was still jet black and in a ponytail, only it was longer and a lock laid over her shoulder, her eyes were still as captivating as always, a grey abyss he’d gladly succumb to if asked. And her body, she was definitely an adult. She definitely grew up, but, so did he. What must she think of his new look? He was too starstruck to notice her eyes darken and her brows drop down in anger. “I can’t believe you!” Her fury replaced her nerves and she was suddenly marching across the threshold, fists tight at her sides, “You are such,” She grabbed the nearest object to her which was a pillow from the couch in the middle of the room and lobbed it at his head which Toshiro barely dodged, “an asshole!” Another pillow, only this time he caught it with both hands, using it as a shield for the third pillow. Toshiro wasn’t unfamiliar with Karin’s wrath, however, that didn’t mean he was happy with being at the end of it. Speaking of, her aim has dramatically improved. Anyway- “Karin-” “It’s been years Toshiro-” “I’m sorry-” “You could’ve visited-” “I know I-” “And you went and grew up! Looking like a fucking model all of a sudden and not even telling me!” A model? “Let me explain-” “No you are going to listen to me!” Karin was panting, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she stood in the middle of the room staring him down. Toshiro fought against his instinct to shout back and promptly shut his mouth, his brows creased in regret. She was shaking with rage and she was on the precipice of breaking something, preferably his face, but- shit Rukia was right. Again. “You don’t get to sit there on your ass when you never bothered to visit after years Toshiro. Years! When Ichigo got back from the war I had to hear that you were okay from him because of course I worried. I thought we were friends, I thought we-” “We are friends!” Toshiro couldn’t take that disappointed look anymore, but she was wrong. They were friends. Friends. “I thought we were closer than that.” Karin finished her thought, her energy depleting, shoulders starting to sag. He didn’t know which was worse. Karin angry, or sad. He just didn’t like it when she was upset. And he was the cause of it. Seeing her hang her head made his heart ache, and not in the way it usually did when he looked at her.

Toshiro had all the words he wanted to say on the tip of his tongue, but he was speechless. Part of him knew this day was bound to come around, he just wished he could’ve been prepared. But then again, expect the unexpected, especially with Karin. He couldn’t hate himself more than he did at this moment.

“I’m so sorry Karin,” His voice lifted her head and they locked eyes, his full of regret and hers, disappointment. “I-” This was harder than he thought, his chest hurt, his hands were stiff, and all he wanted was to see Karin happy, but he didn’t know how to make it happen, but she deserved an explanation. “I should’ve visited you. I wanted to. So badly. Even after things settled, I was so caught up in everything, I didn’t realize how long it’d been. I lost track of time. I’m sorry Karin. I was- I am an idiot. The last thing I wanted was to make you feel neglected and I went and did it anyway.”

Taking a hasty breath, he pushed himself to stand, rounding his desk and standing in front of her , only the usual roles were reversed and he was now looking down on her. No, it didn’t feel right. He towered over her and yet he felt as small as can be. Karin was still silent, ignoring his height for the moment, though she wasn’t entirely surprised given his changes. Changes she wished she could’ve witnessed sooner. Her eyes were glassy, tears on the brink of falling down her cheeks, but she willed them to stay. Until she watched Toshiro drop to his knees and bow before her, resting his head at her feet. She almost didn’t hear the tiny gasp that came from behind her, she’d completely forgot Rangiku was here, witnessing this all. “I don’t deserve your forgiveness Karin, but still, I’m so so sorry.” Karin was.. astonished to say the least. She expected an apology, but she didn’t expect this. Toshiro did many things, overwork himself, scowl, eat unhealthy amounts of amanatto, but he never did anything half-assed. Here was Toshiro Hitsugaya, a Captain of the 13 Court Guard Squads, bowing with his head at the feet of a simple human. Maybe not simple, but human nonetheless. Any bystander would argue that this was completely preposterous, but they wouldn’t know that Toshiro viewed Karin in the highest regard. He knew how much he royally fucked up, and he’ll spend the rest of his life trying to make up for it. “Look at me.” The closeness of her words startled Toshiro and he slowly lifted his head to see her knelt in front of him. Now it was his turn to be astonished. It wasn’t unlike Karin to be gentle when she wanted but Toshiro couldn’t understand why she would want to, he neglected their friendship for years and now she was smiling at him. Expect the unexpected. Toshiro held his breath. Karin huffed and her smile widened, “Don’t be so dramatic,” she didn’t stop herself from using her finger to brush his hair from his face. The gentlest touch, from hands that could do plenty of damage. She should’ve socked him, he knew he deserved it, he would’ve taken it. But instead, she was caressing his face. Not that he was complaining, it was just oddly uncharacteristic of her. She really had changed after all this time. They both did. Toshiro kicked himself for not witnessing it. “I forgive you, but don’t do it again.” She smacked his head, not enough to actually hurt, but enough to get the point across. He spoke too soon. This was definitely Karin though. Rubbing his head, he slowly sat up and back on his haunches, even while hunching, he was still looking down at her. It was so odd to him. But he’d have to get used to it it seems. At least there wouldn’t be any more height jokes. “Thank you, I don’t deserve it.” He said, watching Karin get to her feet and offer her hand to help him up. “Yes you do. You said sorry. That’s all I wanted. We’re adults now.” “You threw pillows at me.” “You deserved that. ” “...Yeah.” Toshiro sighed. A moment of silence passed until Karin spoke again. “I mean it, don’t do this again. I won’t be so forgiving.” “It won’t happen again. I promise.” Toshiro gave a gentle squeeze to her hand which he never let go. The simple action made her blush, looking down to their entwined hands and up his arm, which were much longer, and then to his broad shoulders, and finally back up to his face, much higher than she was used to. “And don’t grow anymore. You’re like a giant now. It’s gonna be annoying having to look up at you.” And as easy as that they were back to bickering, the tension filtered out of the room as easily as a simple breeze, and they were both thankful. “For what it’s worth, I’m not a fan either.” Toshiro noted, scowling at his new height and features which he still hasn’t gotten used to. All these years he complained about his height and now he realizes he should’ve been more careful with what he wished for. And on top of that, he was getting an increasing amount of attention which Rangiku pointed out was thanks to his sharpened features. Not his cup of tea. “I never said I wasn’t a fan.”

Karin’s words made blood rush to Toshiro’s face, did she just- Maybe it’s his cup of tea after all, if it’s Karin’s attention. That being said, he’d never wanted anyone’s attention more than hers, and now that he has it, he’s just a little alarmed. But in a good way, he thinks. And it made it easier to smile at her, even with a face redder than ever. But it was quickly replaced with a frown when he realized his Lieutenant just witnessed this entire scene with Karin, where she yelled, he bowed, she smiled, and he blushed. Her squeal made both Karin and him wince, looking over to see her jumping up and down with glee, then running over to pull them down into an uncomfortable hug. “I’m so happy for you too!” Rangiku was sniffling, squeezing the life out of them, and when she let them go they gave each other a confused glance before Toshiro spoke. “Why are you crying Matsumoto?” He asked, slightly worried and as well as confused. Karin looked softly at Rangiku, but still confused by her tears. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me. You guys are just too cute together!”

Karin almost interjected to say that they weren’t together but what stopped her was another squeeze of her hand from Toshiro. A slow shake of his head told her to just let it go, and with further thought she realized convincing Matsumoto of anything was a difficult feat.

Later, after Toshiro escorted her to her family for dinner, dropping her off with the promise of seeing each other the next day, Karin thought about how even when walking through the Seireitei, they continued to hold hands. Toshiro paid it no mind it seemed, and while Karin wasn’t complaining, it still puzzled her.

Correcting his Lieutenant from time to time was normal for him, especially when it came to bold claims like this, but this time he refused. Did Toshiro reciprocate Karin’s feelings? Something about his behavior made her feel elated as well as nervous, they’d have to talk about it eventually. It would take some time for her to completely forgive him, but if what happened today was any consolation, everything would be okay.

They both can definitely sleep better tonight, and there was always tomorrow.

#hitsukarin #toshiro hitsugaya #karin kurosaki #toshiro x karin #hitsugaya x karin #bleach #hitsugaya #kurosaki #toshiro #karin #THIS IS SO LONG OOPS #i COULD make a second chapter if ppl were interested but this could be a standalone tbh

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