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silkscream · 1 year ago

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once bitten, twice shy

megumi fushiguro x reader

ੈ✩ wc: 3.1k (i cannot write anything under 2k to save my life)

ੈ✩ tags: emotionally constipated megumi, tsundere basically, friends to lovers, a lil angst, not actually unrequited love, pining, alcohol, typical yuuji nobara antics

ੈ✩ a/n: this is not xmas themed despite the title BUT it does end up taking place on satoru's birthday for plot reasons. megumi fushiguro your intimacy issues bewitch me mind body and soul.....

megumi does not know what to do with his feelings.

he’s never been the type to be particularly in touch with them — he didn’t remember his parents enough to blame them for whatever avoidant attachment he’d accustomed himself to. or maybe, that was the exact cause of said attachment style. gojo taking him in when he was a child didn’t help either — the man also refused to be very vulnerable around him, merely acting as a benefactor and a nuisance at best.

and while he was closest to tsumiki, he’d still built up a wall around himself that she couldn’t get through, and she knew it. she couldn’t break through it in his pre-teen years, and certainly not his teenage years when he was taking out his aggression on his classmates. he would ignore her soothing words and resent her kindness. perhaps he’d taken after toji in that way. constantly fending for himself for the sake of survival. always convinced that he was doomed to be alone.

and then there was you.

he’d met you first at jujutsu tech before any of the other students could. after sparring with maki, he’d been dismissed to shoko’s office. he’d opened the door that september day and was immediately met with your wide eyes, your searing cursed energy. gojo had found another stray.

shoko had made him your first experiment and you excelled. his injuries were healed within minutes. if anything, he felt better than he had in months — after battling insomnia and panic attacks, he felt… calm. like his brain was cleansed and that he had nothing to stress about. (until the next time gojo had gotten on his nerves.)

your introduction to his class was nothing extravagant despite gojo’s theatrics. megumi couldn’t help but keep his eyes on you after that — during practice battles, lectures, or lunch. he was always hyperaware of your presence. he blamed it on your cursed energy.

he hates how enthusiastic yuuji is about you, how yuuji tells him about how he manages to get you alone even though you often keep to yourself, and how he thinks you’re so fucking pretty, and that you’d agreed to watch the human earthworm movies with him. (megumi had refused when yuuji asked.)

he stews in that anger quietly because he’d rather die than let anyone know. nobara knows better, of course. she teases him about it and brings up jealousy.

why should megumi ever be jealous of yuuji? the boy was a freak accident in human form, with no inherent technique. who fucking cares that he can make you laugh without any effort?

it doesn’t matter. it doesn’t. because you have no direct effect on megumi and you don’t distract him during school. he doesn’t cling onto the memory of your hands on his skin. he doesn’t wish for the feeling again. of course not.

he tells this to yuuji and nobara, too. there’s one day where nobara goes too far — she teases him about setting up a date, that you rave about him, that he’s definitely your type. megumi doesn’t believe a word of it, especially because you’re probably more comfortable with yuuji. he doesn’t care to date because it would hold him back. he’s too focused on his training, on being the best, because he’s determined to follow in gojo’s shadow even if he won’t admit it. he could be the second strongest. he could be the most reliable.

it comes out in all the wrong ways. he’s more irritable than usual, so he yells at nobara instead of seething in hushed tones. he rants about how he does’t need someone by his side, certainly not you, whose only benefit is to heal superficial injuries and not much else. how your combat skills are poor, how easily you get beat when you spar on the field. how compared to him, you’re weak, so you’re of no use.

unfortunately, you hear him. every thought on his mind that tumbles out of his stupid mouth, his tone spewing wrath. you know that megumi is a moody person, but you’d never think him to be mean.

you pretend you’re just passing by, but from the faces nobara and yuuji are making, megumi already senses your presence. the color drains from his face, cobalt eyes wide.

“i’m — i’m sorry, i didn’t mean —“

“it’s okay, fushiguro,” you say softly. even after that shitshow, you’re still fucking smiling. it puts a sinking feeling in megumi’s stomach.

“ah, i got an extra pack of mochi and thought you guys would like it.”

you hand over a small bag and megumi takes it wordlessly.

“that’s so sweet,” yuuji beams, attempting to deflect. “hey, i was just looking for you. do you happen to have those jujutsu history notes? kugisaki spilled a soda on mine.”

“you knocked it over!” nobara protests.

“you put it on top of my stuff!”

you take your notebook out of your bag and hand it to yuuji graciously, avoiding megumi’s gaze and making up an excuse to see all of them later.

apparently, “later” means a week after. megumi sees you in class, and while he attempts to walk you to the dining hall or invite you to hang out, you bolt out the door before catching anyone’s attention. he has to find out how you are from fucking yuuji, who somehow gets to see you around the dorms every other day.

“i think she just likes to keep to herself, s’all,” yuuji says. he can sense megumi’s anxiety just from being in the same room as him.

“but you see her all the time.”

“she’s been tutoring me a little. and we just like the same movies and stuff.”

yuuji shrugs casually. his nonchalance makes megumi’s blood boil, because of course he’s the one who gets to occupy all of your time. of course you’re probably most comfortable with him. he knows he shouldn’t be seething at the thought of you two together — it isn’t his right. but his jealousy is starting to get the best of him lately.

“are you guys together?” he blurts out.

“no?” yuuji furrows his brows. “if anything, i feel like nobara might be trying to make a move since she’s way nicer to her than she is to us. except i’m pretty sure she and maki have been going out lately.”

“maki?”

“dude, keep up!”

and when yuuji accuses of megumi having a crush again, the same way nobara did all those weeks ago before he made a fucking fool of himself, megumi shuts it down with a grimace and a blush. he’s merely concerned about your wellbeing is what it is. that’s what he’s able to muster up to yuuji, of course, who absolutely isn’t buying it based on his shit-eating grin.

it’s annoying, especially because yuuji can make you feel more comfortable, comfortable enough to hang with the whole trio, and the pink-haired bastard has to meddle like a little troll. bumping the two of you into each other like you’re in middle school. somehow, it worsens everything. not your dynamic, but megumi’s self-consciousness.

he was already so extremely aware of you, but now he’s convinced that some angel above has tied the red string between you both extra tight. megumi looks for you in every crowd, awaits your arrival every day in the classroom and at lunch, and it’s starting to feel pathetic — the lightness in his chest whenever you’re even so much as ten feet away. his heart even beats faster at the anticipation of your text in the group chat, for fuck’s sake.

and then there’s gojo’s birthday party, a surprise orchestrated by the four of you, despite megumi’s reluctance. you’re particularly more radiant than usual. maybe it’s the lighting. maybe it’s the dress you have on.

despite the amount of shots he’s been forced to take in the past hour (three), megumi is still sober enough to feel anxious around you. though, he thinks he might be drunk enough to be lost in your image, fixating on your collarbone and the way your hair falls in your face as you laugh at one of gojo’s stupid jokes. it’s when the two of you lock eyes that megumi feels out of it, because you smile at him. you fucking smile.

if the warmth of the liquor wasn’t currently raising heated blood to his head, he’d deny the sparks that came from the mere sight of your smile, but he was hopeless. you’re mesmerizing. dizzying. he doesn’t know what to do with his face, not when his cheeks are flushing red and his motor skills are slowing down. fuck, maybe he was a lightweight like gojo after all.

he’s clearly out of touch with reality, because the moment fades as soon as it comes. perhaps it wasn’t a moment at all. he watches you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, your mouth moving slowly as you mingle with other classmates. he’s fucking fixated on your mouth — your lipstick tonight is a blush red with a shiny gloss reflecting light. megumi has only dreamed of what your lips would taste like once or twice. no more than that. he swears on it.

there’s brief eye contact between the two of you again for half a second. there’s a coy smile on your face as always before you slip out the back door of the house.

there are so many bottles around the place that no one will notice megumi taking an entire bottle of champagne for himself. he scowls at the taste, of sickeningly sweet pears — courtesy of gojo, probably. his head swims and thinks of you.

his momentary peace is rudely interrupted by the sound of nobara’s voice in his ear, asking for you.

“ijichi’s setting up karaoke!”

“there is no way in hell that i’m—”

“i don’t care what you do, emo, but i need her to do a duet!”

megumi heaves a sigh, making his way to the backyard where he finds you sitting on a tree stump. even with the dim fairy lights, he probably would’ve missed you if not for the cherried end of your cigarette.

“fushiguro-kun,” you nod at him.

“megumi,” he rasps. “just… megumi is fine.”

“oh, i get special privileges now? how come?”

there’s no mirth in your tone. you’re teasing him. he doesn’t answer your question.

(the mere act of you teasing him becomes an intimacy in itself — he had never thought that you would be comfortable enough to talk to him in jest. you’d maintained your distance from him fairly well.)

“didn’t know you smoked.”

“only when i drink,” you shrug. “ieiri-san doesn’t make much of an effort to hide her cigarettes, either. don’t tell on me, though.”

“wouldn’t dream of it.”

he doesn’t know where to look. luckily, you’re not looking at him, so he can settle his gaze on your mouth nursing the cigarette. plump. glossy under the moonlight.

megumi is not used to wanting. he had never asked gojo for anything during his adolescence, and refused any gesture of kindness from anyone. he was convinced since childhood that there was no point in desire because disappointment would be on the other end of it either way.

he’d like to be a monk about it. he could control himself and focus on his studies. never spare you a glance again that isn’t platonic. and then a cool december wind blows past the two of you, and he smells your amber perfume.

and when he turns his head, you’re looking at him, eyes bright.

“so… not enjoying the party?”

“i’m not really one for parties.”

“me neither,” you shrug. “that’s why i like to do my little ritual of escaping.”

“we have that in common.”

you hum, a noncommittal noise. you take another drag of your cigarette, which disintegrates slowly.

“what a pair, the two of us.”

megumi can’t pick up any sarcasm from your voice, though he assumes it. it makes his stomach drop even though the statement is harmless. the two of you. together. it makes endless futures bloom in his mind. maybe it’s the prosecco, but it almost makes him want to vomit. to think that he was even good enough to be beside you in your future.

you curse quietly when you pull your phone out of your jacket pocket to check the time, realizing it’s dead. megumi gives you a once-over. the jacket you’re wearing is all too familiar. like him, you’re not one to wear very many colors. but this jacket is bright red, varsity style, and oversized on you.

“is that itadori’s jacket?” megumi stammers.

“oh, yeah. i didn’t realize how cold it would be tonight.”

“oh.”

“why?” you give him a curious smile.

“nothing,” he coughs. “are… you two…”

you laugh and it’s like a song to him.

“i think he might be my best friend, s’all. why? you jealous?”

he looks at you again, head-on, your eyes still bright. brighter than fluorescents. there’s something in your irises that is meant to provoke him, but he’s dispensed of his usual cautious nature after he takes another gulp from the bottle.

“more than you can imagine,” he huffs.

“sorry?”

“’m not repeating that.”

“what, you’re not saying you’re like, into me, are you?” you exasperate.

megumi remains silent, cheeks flushed. he thinks that if his head could heat up any more, he’d end up with a migraine.

you breathe the tiniest gasp. if it wasn’t for how close megumi was to you, he wouldn’t have noticed.

“i kind of thought you hated me, you know,” you admit.

“i could never hate you. i don’t think anyone could.”

“you don’t have to pretend,” you sigh. he didn’t notice until now that your cigarette was finished, discarded onto the dirt with your boot to crush it into ash. “i— beyond the politeness, i get it. that i’m not your type or whatever. you don’t even have to be friends with me, fushiguro-kun.”

“megumi,” he emphasizes.

“megumi.”

“i’m not pretending. i… i really fucking like you,” he slurs. “it kind of scares me how much.”

“you’re drunk.”

“i am. i know you heard me say all that shit to kugisaki and itadori, but it’s because they put me on the spot and i was nervous. i don’t know how to… deal with feelings. honestly, if i wasn’t even a little drunk right now, i’d probably have left the party with my tail in between my legs and avoided you for the next fucking week, and you don’t deserve that. you deserve… everything.”

“even you?”

when did you get so close to him? if he sauntered just a few inches in your direction, he could touch your noses together. he can smell your perfume so deeply.

“it’s the other way around,” megumi breathes. “i don’t deserve you. not anything close to you.”

“what if i want you regardless?” your voice is just above a whisper. a prayer, a hymn. a wish to be blown out.

megumi swallows the lump in his throat. he blinks at you, dark indigo luminescent. the world slows down. he may owe it to the liquor and the wine, but he assumes it’s just your presence. your scent, the softness of your hair in between his fingers, your soft breaths.

“what do you want, megumi-kun?”

he remembers something gojo said. that to be a jujutsu sorcerer, he has to be selfish. he’s not sure if that philosophy applies to the situation at hand, but he’d be damned if he let you crawl into bed tonight without knowing how he truly felt about you. so, uncharacteristically, he takes a leap forward.

he unwinds the tension in his body and presses his lips to yours. it’s soft, chaste, innocent. something like a pause. he’s afraid to touch you, but you’ve already reeled him in with arms thrown around his shoulders, fingertips touching the softness of his black hair.

you bump your nose with his, shyly, and he kisses you open-mouthed. tongue in your mouth, meshing the taste of tobacco and prickly pear. the vanilla chapstick that he’d put on before he followed you out to the backyard.

he has one hand caressing your jaw and the other on your shoulder, thumb brushing over your collarbone in a way that makes your entire body shiver. you’re embarrassed at the pool of desire in between your legs.

megumi has never let himself be full of wanting, but at the moment, his veins are surging with it. it’s like a drug to him — your warmth, your scent, the saccharine taste of your mouth. your flesh is so soft, so pliable, from the way you dip towards the cavern of his lanky body, pressed against him chest to chest. letting his hand dig into the fat of your hip. fingertips grazing the skin underneath your shirt.

maybe it’s the liquor, but he’s feeling experimental — he tucks your bottom lip in between his teeth. pulls your hair ever so slightly. you mewl into his mouth quietly and he thinks that he’s never felt anything better than this. you’re wrapped up in all of him. you can quite literally feel the heat on his cheeks and both of you realize how aroused he is, his bulge prodding your thigh.

“fuck,” he whispers into your mouth, and he pulls away. only a few inches are separating you as he takes a moment to breathe. his eyes are blown out wide, black stretching across dark blue. both of you are stunned, panting, and the tension is more palpable than ever.

a rustling of grass makes both of you jump. when he turns, he sees yuuji and nobara staring with wide eyes.

“you owe me 7,000 yen,” yuuji deadpans to nobara.

“seriously, fushiguro? i didn’t think you had it in you!”

“i always had faith in you, fushiguro!” yuuji chimes.

while you giggle, megumi growls under his breath at the new intrusions of dumb and dumber.

“i personally thought you were way out of his league,” nobara tells you.

“eat shit.” megumi seethes with arms crossed, and despite his wrath, he resembles more of an angry kitten to you than any potential threat.

“sheesh, don’t summon a shikigami on them, megumi,” you tease with a pleased grin.

“i—” he stumbles over his words in frustration, grimacing. “what do the two of you want, anyway?”

“gojo-sensei got ijichi to sing doja cat.”

“oh, i’ve gotta see this,” you snort, grabbing megumi by the hand as you begin to usher the crew back inside. his heart leaps at the feeling of your fingers intertwined with his.

despite his inhibitions, megumi’s decided that he could get used to this.

#megumi fushiguro #megumi x reader #megumi x you #megumi fushiguro x reader #megumi fushiguro x you #megumi fluff #megumi angst #megumi fic #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk smut #ree.writing

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bonny-kookoo · 7 months ago

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Jungkook

Green | Part 3

What were you thinking?

Tags/Warnings: Rabbit hybrid!Jungkook, Fox hybrid!Reader, Single Dad!AU, strangers to lovers, Fluff, romance, angst

Length: ~3k words

-> Masterlist

There is no taglist for this fic.

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

You’re busy thinking about what to buy for dinner later, when suddenly, you feel a small hand tug on the hem of your jacket.

One look down, and you spot the by now familiar face of Jungkook’s little daughter, ears all folded downwards, eyes glossy with fear, and you instantly seem to snap right into a protective mindset, squatting down to her level. “What’re you doing here all by yourself?” You ask kindly, a bit surprised that she freely and almost eagerly clings to you, walking closer to have as much physical contact as possible- most likely to soothe herself. “Where’s dad, hm?” You ask further, and Minji just shakes her head, moving one of her hands to pick at her bottom lip. She then decides that you’re now her best bet, as she clings to you, making you think. “you wanna go sit in the cart?” You ask her, and she looks, before she shakes her head.

Well, you’ve not worked as a daycare worker for nothing.

So you pick her up, careful to make sure she’s securely placed against your hip, before you take out your phone to dial Jungkook’s number- just for it to not go through, signal too bad within the large store. “Let’s see..” you mumble, checking your surroundings before you move to walk closer to the exit, signal returning a little as you try again. Minji has calmed down by now, which surprises you- her attention now completely caught by your ear that’s closest to her, though she decides against reaching out for it, instead inspecting your necklace.

“I’m sorry, it’s not very good timing-“ Jungkook’s voice comes out of your phone’s speaker, panic clear in his tone as his daughter’s ears instantly move up and towards the phone in interest.

“I think I’ve got what you’re looking for.” You say, adjusting her a little as she giggles, visibly having relaxed now. “I’ll be waiting near the exit. I’m next to the ice cream section.” You say, and he hurries out a response, before he hangs up.

“I lost Sam.” Minji tells you quietly, looking for your reaction, as you watch her as well. You’ve not interacted much yet, but you’re honestly excited that she’s warming up.

“Sam?” You ask, and she nods.

“He.. wears like.. pants.” She explains. “that go like this..” she motions over her shoulders- she’s probably talking about overalls. “He’s a frog.”

Oh. She’s probably talking about a stuffed toy.

“Maybe we can look for him later. Is that why you got lost?” You ask, and she nods.

“Dad dropped him.” She explains. “now he’s alone.”

“I’ll track him down, no worries. Did you lose him inside the store here?” You ask her, and she nods. “You remember where?”

“There was big pots.” She explains. Jars, maybe? You’ve got an idea where she might have lost the soft toy. But before you can think about it much more, Jungkook’s boots can be heard, as he jogs towards you with his daughter in your arms. Minji doesn’t seem to see the severity of the situation at all- happily waving towards him, as if she didn’t just give him a heart attack.

“Jesus Christ, thank God you found her. Minji!” He scolds, and you want to tell him to calm down first before lecturing her- but you’re not in any position to do so, rather leaning down to set her onto her feet. But the sight of her dad all upset makes her shake her head, eagerly clinging to you, trying to climb back onto your arms by pulling on your jacket as best as she can. “you can’t run off like that!” He continues, while his daughter begins to cry into your chest, hiding away in shame. You share a look with him and he sighs, clearly getting your message as he calms down, letting his adrenaline slowly pass.

“Let’s go find Sam now, hm?” You ask her, wiping her cheeks as she nods, before she looks over her shoulder at Jungkook, who seems confused. “Her stuffed toy. She said she dropped it somewhere in the store-”

“No, dad dropped him!” She whines towards you, and you laugh, nodding.

“-YOU dropped him, and now we’re gonna go find him.” You say, getting up to put her in your shopping cart, having her sit down instantly. Jungkook follows quietly, still slowly working on relaxing again, while you look through all the different areas of the store, always on the lookout for something on the floor maybe. But there’s no sight of it- either someone has already picked it up, or it got kicked beneath the large shelves somewhere.

Jungkook is getting ready to call it quits, when you suddenly move away from pushing the cart, looking under one of the larger display shelves, something poking out there- and surely enough, while incredibly dusty, that seems to match the description the little girl had given earlier. “Hm, I think he needs a bath once you all go home though.” You laugh, dusting the poor toy off before you give it to Jungkook.

Minji reaches for it, but you carefully pull her hands back. “Sam is a little dirty right now. I’m sure you can have him back after he had a good scrub at home though.” You reassure her, and she nods, eagerly watching where Jungkook puts the toy now, visibly suspicious of her father now that he already lost her little friend once before.

Once the little runaway is back in the car and safely buckled into her seat, Jungkook sighs, door closed. “Thank you. I’m sorry I got so riled up-” He starts, but you shake your head.

“It’s understandable. I didn’t.. Want to overstep any boundaries by telling you what to do- and at the end of the day, it’s not my place to speak against how you act towards her.” You explain, and he shakes his head.

“If this is supposed to work, we’ll have to work together.” Jungkook disagrees. “I do agree that.. We should keep our steps slow and steady, but she’s going to be just as big of a part in your life as she is in mine, if we want this to work.” He offers, and you nod.

“She was.. Really touchy.” You say. “I was a bit overwhelmed.” You admit to him, and he laughs.

“It’s a good thing though?” He says. “You’re just too charming to resist. Seems like I’ll have to look out for potential competition.” The bunny hybrid laughs. “I might be able to handle my daughter falling for you, but that’s where I draw the line.” He playfully threatens, and you laugh along, giving him a kiss to say goodbye.

But as you walk back to your car, Jungkook calls out to you again, a hand waving you closer as he opens the door to where his daughter is sitting. “What’s wrong?” You ask, stepping closer-

“You need to say goodbye to me too!” Minji says, with the most adorable pout towards you, little arms crossed, before she reaches for you.

And of course, you take that chance to hug her.

You’d be a fool not to.

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

His apartment looks pretty nice, now that you’re seeing it all in daylight- and without the burdon of believing that you’re ruining a family.

According to Jungkook, Minji is currently staying with Jimin again- to give him a day off and offer him some time to spend with you, able to put his whole focus on you. However, you notice that he’s awfully.. Uneasy almost. As if there’s something on his mind still.

“Are you worried about Minji?” You ask, as he sits down on the couch next to you, phone placed on the coffee table. His face shows that he’s caught off guard- and so you elaborate. “You just seem a little distracted.” You smile, encouraging him to talk about whatever is troubling him- and he sighs, before he breaks eye contact with you.

“It’s Minji’s mother.” He admits, and at that you become a bit less relaxed as well. “She’s not-..” He sighs, turning towards you to hold your hands. “I don’t think she’s interested in me particularly, but even if she was, trust me-” He presses, “-my feelings for her have long died. Or rather yet, given to someone else who will take way better care of them.” He tells you.

“Bold claim.” You try and ease the air, with only minimal sucess however. “But, if it’s not you- what does she want then?” You ask.

“She wants to.. See Minji.” He explains. “I’m not sure why- but I’ve got no right to tell her no, you know?” He tells you, and you nod. After all, she’s still her mother, and has every right to see her daughter.

Though it does make you uneasy. What if she was to show Jungkook how she’s overcome whatever might’ve made her so upset with her own child years ago? What if he realizes that he can indeed have this happy little family he was hoping for when he got with her from the start? He might not feel it now, but surely, a connection between parents must run deep.

“I mean.. Minji deserves to know her mother.” You agree, trying hard not to let the way Jungkook’s ears droop and face falls at the second you slip your hands out of his get to you. You feel terribly selfish in this moment- you're not his daughter’s mother, nor will you ever be. Of course you had fallen into the trap of hope for just a second, but at the end of it all, Jungkook will most likely be better off with a prey hybrid, a bunny just like him who can make the little girl feel more comfortable.

What were you even thinking? The second she’d go to school, she’d be the talk of the school with her weird, scary predator-hybrid mother.

“Hey- I promise you this won’t change at all how I feel about you.” He tries to reassure you, and you can feel your heart crack a little at the softness of his tone. “We don’t even know how it’ll go. And Minji already likes you a lot.” He says.

“Jungkook..” You start, but he shakes his head, hands on your cheeks now to make you look at him. There’s a certain sense of determination in his eyes- but you can’t help but feel like this confidence in this whole situation and its future is terribly one-sided.

“No, listen to me.” He urges. “Give it time. Trust me. Let it all just.. Grow at it’s own pace. I already know that what I feel for you is genuine love, and I hope that you can develop feelings like that towards me too.” Jungkook tries to soothe your worries. “And Minji will love you too. Just be patient, okay?” He requests, and you nod, though he can see from the avoidance of eye contact and the way your ears are still turned downwards, that it’s not quite getting to you yet.

So all he can do in this moment is kiss you, and hope that at least for a little while, he can make you believe.

Even if he himself, has his own doubts, deep down.

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

Its quite funny how things can suddenly change.

One second it feels like you’re living in a dream- everything around you appearing to fall right into place, like the world has decided to grant you your happiness and biggest wishes as a reward for staying strong for such a long time. And then, all of a sudden, the floor is ripped from underneath you, leaving you with no ground to stand on, destined to drown in both uncertainty and confusion.

You shouldn’t feel this upset. Yet everytime your sketches of the little frog family stare back at you, it feels like they’re mocking you, and no longer representing wishful thinking of a younger version of you.

You feel out of place. But have you ever been a part of that space you now feel exiled out of in the first place? Most likely not, now that you really think about it. If anything, you’d been a visitor. A mere spectator, watching from the sidelines, never invited to step any closer than the boundaries set. And the worst thing about it all is, that Jungkook was wrong. You don’t have to develop any feelings for him-

You already have, knowing that it would be a waste.

When Jungkook calls, you’re sure you know the reason already. He probably wants to know what he did wrong, what he can do to fix it, and you won’t be able to give him an answer to that, because you honestly don’t know if this should be fixed at all. Maybe its for the best. Just imagine. His former partner might’ve developed a longing to her biological child now, and once she gets closer to her, she’ll get closer to him as well. Old feelings might be reignited, past memories filling up hearts until you’re long pushed out of his heart, no longer needed.

What were you thinking?

You decide to accept his call, realizing that you can’t avoid him forever- and the moment you do so, his voice can be heard over the speaker, another one in the background you recognize must be his daughter. Is her mother there already?

“I know what you’re doing, you know?” He says, and you feel oddly put on the spot. Yes, you’ve been ignoring him for days by now, and yes, that’s probably very petty behavior- but you can’t help it. You don’t want to stand in between them, and quite honestly, you also don’t want to force him to choose one or the other in the worst case scenario.

“...well, that’s good then.” You try and shrug it off- but he sighs.

“Not really, no.” He denies, before you can hear Minji say something- though its too quiet to really make out. “Yeah, dad’s talking to her right now.” He answers, and you dread whats possibly about to happen. “Sure, come here- there. Now you can talk.” He starts, before you can hear her more clearly.

“Are you angry at me?” She asks, and your heart breaks at the prospect of her thinking that you might be upset at her- because you’re not. You’re not even upset at Jungkook, or any of it. You’re upset with yourself, if anything.

“No, of course not.” You answer because of that, trying hard not to get emotional. “I’m just.. Busy.” You attempt to justify yourself, hoping that that might be enough for the little girl to let go of it. But she doesn’t.

“Are you angry at dad?” She asks now, and you sigh, before you deny that as well.

“No, I’m not angry at your dad either.” You tell her. “I’m just.. A little upset with myself. But you don’t have to worry about that.” You attempt to reassure her.

“Dad can make us pancakes!” She suddenly chirps up. “With ‘nanas. He makes them when I’m sad.” She explains her reasoning as to why he should cook you food of all things, and you cant help but feel the way her innocent actions and thoughts seem to get to you. “Can you do that?” She asks away from the phone, and you assume she’s most likely looking at her father.

“I can, but I don’t know if that would make her happy.” Jungkook answers. “Sometimes people just want to be alone, Minji.” he explains to her, and its quiet for a moment, before she speaks again.

“But in the book-” She starts, collecting her thoughts while she speaks. “-in the book, when the mama-frog was sad, the dad-frog and baby-frog made her a cake together. And then she was happy again.” She recites what she must’ve pieced together from looking at the most recent book’s pictures. It’s not quite accurate to the story written- but the message has clearly been conveyed, despite her inability to read.

It’s not about how much you can offer another person- its the act of even just trying to give what you can that counts the most, even if its just silent comfort, or a cake made with leftover ingredients you found.

“Minji-” Jungkook starts, but you cut him off, unsure where you take the bravery- or stupidity, depending on the viewpoint- from.

“Lets bake a cake then.” You say, before you can back out again. “All of us, together.” You propose, and from the sounds of it, the little girl is more than on board with the idea-

Though it’s Jungkook’s voice that catches you most, as he speaks to you in a tone thats both warm, and holds so much more than just gratitude for a moment. Probably because he realizes that this is more than just a simple step towards the two of them- it's your war of telling him that you want to try this, even if it fails.

So his voice is soft, as he speaks.

“Thank you.”

#bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts fic #jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook imagine #bts jungkook imagine #hybrid imagine #bts jungkook fanfic

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joemama-2 · 1 month ago

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the sound of you | ch. 2 just a stranger

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ pairing : gojo x fem reader

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ synopsis: what happens when a man who uses intimacy to numb his pain collides with a woman who sees vulnerability as her greatest weakness? a storm of desire, denial, and shattered hearts. you never imagined someone like him—magnetic, self-assured, and emotionally closed off—would enter your life. worse, you never expected to crave him in return. but fate has a cruel way of stitching together souls that should never meet, dragging you both into a spiral of unspoken truths, unresolved wounds, and a connection that feels more like a curse than a blessing.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ tags/warnings: slowburn, angst, fluff, sexual content, mentions of trauma, depression, unhealthy coping mechanisms, blood, miscommunication, alcohol, drugs, opposites attract, manipulation, mentions of bullying, death, smut, insecurity galore, selective mutism, mentions of anxiety and panic attacks, modern au

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ wc: 9.3k

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ status: ongoing

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ series masterlist < previous chapter < next chapter

Satoru can’t remember the last time he’s a good night’s sleep. Not the kind of sleep that makes you wake up periodically throughout the night—either in tremors or his own state of insomnia. The kind of sleep where you can feel cold even after wrapping yourself in multiple fluffy blankets, holding a warm body to your chest. The kind of sleep that makes it still feel like your body and mind are awake. In short, he doesn’t sleep. Going to bed late and waking up early, amounting to an average total of maybe three-ish to four-ish hours.

But, Satoru can’t remember the last time he went to bed thinking of a woman he’s barely spoken to. And he also can’t remember the last time he went to bed alone.

That in itself is questionable—maybe even a horrible thing. Who doesn’t remember the last time they slept without a stranger in their bed? Him, apparently. He’ll address that issue when the time comes.

Now, he’s more so getting annoyed with himself. It’s been two whole days, two whole nights of the same question bouncing around

In his brain. He quite literally only knows your name and the fact that you seem like a shy little thing. Maybe that’s what’s drawing him in? So used to women flocking him, flirting shamelessly, not afraid to get a little handsy with him. But you didn’t do any of that. You seemed like you were scared to even look in his direction. Perhaps you’re just waiting for him to make the first move.

Or you have more self respect than most women he comes across.

Either way, it’s not enough to validate his reasoning for thinking about you. Like stated before, he’s getting annoyed with himself. The fact that he can’t stop his brain from shutting off the image of you—the smell of you. But it’s also so enticing. So inviting. So tempting. How easy that was of you to intrigue him. Easier than it was for her.

Don’t, he mentally chastises himself, shutting off that brutal reminder before all else.

However at the end of the day, you’re no different than any other women he’s met and fucked. It’s just taking a little longer to get you in his grasp this time. That’s fine. Satoru has tons of patience, he knows what women like—how they work. You’re the same, practically. He can play this game, that’s completely okay.

“Not quite right,” Satoru hums, his arms crossed lazily over his chest, the sleeves of his crisp white shirt rolled up to his elbows. He’s leaning back slightly against the desk at the front of the lecture hall, a picture of casual authority. His sunglasses, as unnecessary indoors as they are iconic to him, perch on the bridge of his nose, partially hiding the faint circles under his eyes.

The student standing at the board hesitates, chalk hovering mid-air, glancing nervously back at him. The equation sprawled across the board is nearly correct, but there’s a glaring mistake in the third line—something Satoru noticed immediately.

“It’s a good effort,” he continues, his tone light yet tinged with amusement. “But you forgot to account for the boundary conditions. Physics doesn’t like to be neglected, you know. She’s picky like that.” A ripple of laughter moves through the room. Satoru smirks, enjoying the way he can command the energy of the space with just a few words. He gestures toward the error with a flick of his hand. “Go ahead, fix it.”

The student nods quickly and adjusts the equation, his face pink with concentration. Satoru lets his gaze drift across the rows of students as he waits, casually scanning for signs of engagement—or boredom.

His mind, however, refuses to stay present.

Two days. Two damn days, and the image of you hasn’t left him alone. He doesn’t even know why. You weren’t doing anything special when he saw you—just standing there, shy and quiet, holding onto your glass like it was the only thing tethering you to reality. You weren’t fawning over him like most people do, weren’t trying to catch his eye. If anything, you seemed like you wanted to disappear.

And yet, here he is, still thinking about you. In the middle of his lecture at that.

He shifts his weight, adjusting his stance against the desk. Maybe it’s the challenge that intrigues him. Okay, so maybe you’re a bit different, yes. But not so different that you’re untouchable. He’s truly convinced that all it’ll take is time. And patience, of course.

But why is he even bothering?

The student finally steps back, looking at him expectantly. Satoru blinks, snapping back into the moment. He pushes off the desk and steps toward the board, glancing over the corrected equation. “Now that’s more like it,” he says, tapping the chalk against the boundary term they added. “See? Physics isn’t so scary when you remember the rules.”

The student exhales in relief, and Satoru gives them a small nod before turning back to the class. “Alright, who’s next? Don’t be shy—I promise I won’t bite."

Another wave of laughter follows his comment, and he grins, basking in the attention. But even as he moves on with the lesson, his mind keeps circling back to you. Your face. Your voice. That sweet, addictive scent that seemed to cling to the air around you. Satoru can’t decide whether it’s infuriating or thrilling. Either way, he knows one thing for certain: this little game isn’t over yet.

“Megumi,” Satoru calls, spinning the piece of chalk between his fingers before tossing it lightly in the boy’s direction. His voice cuts through the low murmur of the lecture hall. “You’re up. Derive the time-dependent Schrödinger equation for me.”

Megumi looks up from his notebook, his dark eyes narrowing as he catches the chalk with minimal effort. He sighs deeply, the kind of sigh that suggests he’s been called on far too many times to protest anymore. “Why me?” he mutters under his breath, earning a chuckle from a few of his peers.

“Because,” Satoru says, flashing his signature grin, “you’re my favorite. And I know you secretly love being in the spotlight.”

The class murmurs, but Megumi only stands, dragging his feet to the front of the room. He eyes the equation Satoru has half-written on the board—a basic starting point for the derivation—and sets his notebook down on the desk nearby.

“You’ve got this,” Satoru says, leaning casually against the podium. “Just start from the time-independent version and use the separation of variables. Easy, right?”

“Sure,” Megumi replies dryly, stepping up to the board.

He picks up the chalk and begins writing. After a few seconds of writing and silence from the classroom as they all observe him work it out, Megumi pauses, glancing at Satoru, who nods encouragingly. With that, he continues on, satisfied with his progress,

After another while, he finally underlines the solution and steps back, dropping the chalk onto the ledge.

Satoru claps once, the sound echoing through the room. “Beautiful work, Megumi. See, everyone? Physics isn’t scary when you’ve got a brain like his.”

Megumi mutters, “It’s scary when you’re the professor.”

Satoru grins. “Aw, don’t be like that. You love me.” He turns back to the class. “Alright, who wants to explain why this solution works? Bonus points if you don’t repeat what’s in the textbook.”

Megumi makes his way back to his seat, shaking his head as he settles into the chair. He tries to block out the rest of Satoru’s antics, which are just as relentless as usual. Satoru’s eyes are always scanning the class, searching for the next victim, his grin never fading as he playfully calls on more students. “Yumi! You’re up!” Satoru sings, completely oblivious to the fact that the student has already raised her hand, having answered a question earlier in the lecture.

Yumi hesitates but stands anyway, walking to the front of the room. She starts to talk, clearly struggling with the concepts, and Satoru can’t resist teasing her. He leans over the desk in front of him, chin resting on his hand.

“No, no, Yumi, think about it like this,” Satoru says dramatically, throwing his hand up as if he’s revealing the answer to a grand mystery. “This is just like the time you—” He stops, eyeing her with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “You don’t want me to tell everyone about that time you tried to solve for a non-existent eigenvalue in your last exam, do you?”

The class laughs, Yumi’s face flushes red. “I wasn’t—”

“Don’t worry, I’ll spare you. But just remember, eigenvalues and eigenvectors don’t have to be that hard. Right, guys?”

The room erupts into snickers, and Satoru turns back to the board, clearly satisfied with his little jab. Megumi rolls his eyes, sinking lower in his seat. This is just another day in the life of Satoru Gojo. As the lecture drones on, Satoru finally gets around to the more challenging topics—perturbation theory and quantum tunneling—but even then, he’s effortlessly weaving in jokes, keeping the atmosphere light. To anyone else, it might seem like a circus, but to some, it’s just Satoru being Satoru: charming, unfiltered, and somehow always entertaining. Satoru finishes the lesson, clapping his hands together to signal the end of class.

“All right, that’s all for today. Don’t forget to read up on the next chapter—expect a quiz next week!” Satoru’s voice is loud and enthusiastic, as always. “And Yumi, remember what I said. Eigenvalues, my dear. Eigenvalues.”

The class starts to pack up, and soon Satoru is left alone in the lecture hall. Walking over to take a seat at his desk, mindlessly swiveling in his chair. Head tilted up as he focuses on the high ceiling, blowing a small raspberry of boredom.

Quantum mechanics. Abstract algebra. God, how boring. Lecturing everyday about those two really makes his days feel short and fast at the same time. Sometimes, he wonders how it would’ve been if he took up a more artistic degree instead of something STEM related. Maybe he would be a music professor or a film professor. He almost laughs at the thought, yeah right.

As much as he hates boring things, Satoru is a big time nerd.

After some more swiveling around, legs kicking out in a childish manner, the sound of a text message brings him back to life. Grabbing his device from his desk, he sees the name Asahi. When he clicks on the message, he’s met with a question.

Asahi:

Hey, you busy tomorrow?

With a small tilt of his head, he types back a response.

Satoru:

What time?

Asahi:

2pm

Satoru:

Should be, why?

Asahi:

Can you pick up Haruto from school for me? I have an interview

Satoru sighs, pausing for a moment. Haruto, his nephew who’s only five years old. He loves the little boy as if he were his own, and he looks like a complete replica of him. Of his mother.

Satoru leans back in his chair, his fingers drumming lightly on the desk as he thinks for a moment. He can already picture Haruto’s wide, curious eyes, the way he lights up when she sees him. It’s impossible to say no to him, even when he’s deep in his own thoughts or wrapped up in his usual chaos.

Satoru:

Sure, I can do that.

He sets his phone down, a small smile forming on his lips as he thinks about the little boy. It’s strange how easy it is for him to care about him, to feel something genuine amidst his often careless demeanor. He never thought he’d get attached to someone so young, but Haruto somehow made it happen, just by existing. Maybe it’s because he’s his nephew. Or maybe it’s because he sees his mother whenever he looks at him.

“Ugh,” Satoru shakes his head, willing away the bitter, burning sensation he feels slowly crawl up his esophagus. He stretches his arms over his head, glancing at the clock on the wall. Tomorrow at 2pm, he’ll be out the door, picking up the child who shares his mischievous smile and contagious energy. The Gojo genes run strong, and not just by physical appearances.

But then, the weight of his earlier thoughts presses in on him again. It’s like an annoying friend constantly trying to hang out with you even after you’ve made it clear you don’t want to. For a second, he wonders how it is you’ve invaded his subconscious without even trying. He rubs his temples, trying to push the thought away. Nope, she’s not special.

But he’s got time, right? Time for what? To figure out why you’re still on his mind? To somehow make sense of why he’s so intrigued by someone he barely knows?

With a final sigh, Satoru grabs his coat and heads out of the lecture hall to grab some lunch in between his next class. The faintest sense of anticipation buzzing in his chest. Tomorrow might be a distraction—a break from the usual. He’ll see his nephew, the only family he has, and he’ll have a good day. However, with everything else going on in his mind, it feels like anything but.

“Why don’t you get on any dating apps, hm?”

Your lips thin into a grimace, brows knitting together. You shove your hands into the pockets of your cardigan, head shaking. “That’s not real at all,” you mutter.

Shoko sighs through her nostrils, leaning back in the booth. “I mean, it could be. People meet their husbands and wives on there sometimes. You just never know.”

“Exactly.”

Her eyebrow raises at you, bringing up what must be her fourth coffee of the day to her lips. You two have decided to spend some small time together at a nearby cafe before you have to go back to your respective jobs. She seems more adamant about dating than you do yourself. “Look, I just think it would be nice, you know? You’re a hopeless romantic.”

You frown.

“In a good way,” she quickly adds. “Any guy would like that. And I want to see you get treated nice and cute. You’re just not into dating right now or something?”

You exhale, fingers tapping along the cup of your iced coffee. The condensation begins to dampen the tips of your fingers. In a way, you’re not just not into it, but you feel like you’re also not ready. Sure, you’re a hopeless romantic. You love cheesy movies and novels, you enjoy the thought of being in love with someone and having that beautiful form of intimacy, but you also can’t help that nagging feeling in your soul that it’ll end the same way it did last time.

Your own hesitation and fear is what keeps you at bay.

Shoko watches you with a quiet intensity, her coffee cup still hovering near her lips after some sips. She doesn’t push further right away, letting the lull in the conversation settle as you trace absent patterns on the side of your cup. The clinking of mugs and soft hum of chatter from the surrounding tables fills the space between you. “I don’t know,” you finally admit, voice low but steady. “It’s not just about not being into dating. It’s more... I don’t think I’m ready to open myself up like that again.”

Her brows furrow slightly, and she sets her coffee down with a soft clink. “You mean because of your ex?”

You wince. She doesn’t have to say the name for the memories to start creeping in. The late nights spent crying, the way you questioned everything about yourself, the hollow ache that came after it all fell apart. You didn’t think you were still carrying that weight, but maybe you were. Obviously you were.

“Partly,” you admit. “But it’s not just him. It’s the whole thing—the vulnerability, the risk. Letting someone in and having them... leave. Or worse, break me again. And I’m already so used to doing things alone, just being alone. I don’t need someone to come in and ruin what I’ve built.”

Shoko’s expression softens, and for once, she doesn’t try to mask her concern with sarcasm or a flat, teasing comment. “Not every guy is like that, Y/N. You know that, right? There are good ones out there.”

“Maybe,” you murmur, your gaze dropping to your drink. “But how do you tell the good ones apart from the bad ones? Before it’s too late? I don’t want to take any risks…”

Her lips press into a thin line as she considers your question. “You can’t always,” she admits after a moment. “But that’s the point of trying, isn’t it? You take a chance because the reward could be worth the risk. And honestly? You deserve someone who sees you for the amazing person you are. You’ve got to give yourself that chance, too. Don’t let some douchebag from your past hold you back from finding someone in your present. You don’t deserve that. ”

You sigh, the words hitting a little too close to the part of you that still dares to hope. You know you shouldn’t let things mull over and predict how your future will look, but it’s so hard when every time a man even attempts to flirt with you, you’re hit with bursts of horrible nostalgia. You didn’t even think nostalgia could be horrible. Saturday proved it could. You feel bad for comparing strangers to a man you regret meeting, but it’s just the way your mind works. It’s almost like a defense mechanism. “I don’t know, Shoko. Maybe someday. But right now, it just feels easier to be on my own. I’m not too unhappy.”

She nods slowly, sipping her coffee again. Setting the cup down before speaking. “Fair enough. But just know... you can’t hide behind those walls forever. Love doesn’t work like that. I know you’re not unhappy, but even the littlest amount, I don’t like. I want you to have that extra support, besides your family, besides me.”

Her words linger long after your coffee is gone and you’ve both parted ways. You tell yourself she’s wrong—that you’re fine as you are. But deep down, there’s a tiny flicker of doubt. A part of you that wonders if maybe, just maybe, she’s right. Is it wishful thinking? Probably. Shoko’s heart is in the right place—you know that. She’s the kind of friend who wants you to have the kind of love story people dream about, the kind that could make your life feel like one of those movies where everything falls perfectly into place.

It seems like Shoko just wants the best for you, she wants you to live out your own cheesy romance novel. You’re grateful for her optimism, for the way she believes in you even when you can’t quite believe in yourself. You thank her for that, but at the end of the day, you don’t think you could handle heartbreak anytime soon.

While you may seem put together on a surface level, your emotions still feel incredibly weak. She, or anyone for that matter, doesn’t know how fragile you really are. Sure, you come off as put together—calm, composed, of course, very reserved—but beneath that, you’re still piecing yourself back together. Every crack, every bruise left behind from past heartaches feels like it could split wide open again if you’re not careful. You’re sensitive—that much is true. And you don’t try to be, but it’s just you.

So, the truth is, you’re not sure if you could handle that. Not again. Not anytime soon.

You sigh, absently brushing away a piece of hair from your face. Thinking back to it—Sensitive. It’s a word you’ve heard all your life, always said with a tinge of judgment, as if being soft-hearted is a weakness instead of simply you. You don’t try to be this way—it’s not like you wake up every day deciding to let the world’s weight sink into your chest. It just happens.

You wish you were stronger, had more thick skin to take what the world and people have to offer you with a straight face—moving on. You’re envious of people that can do that. Even envious of people who have other ways of coping than work and your cats. But again, that’s what Shoko doesn’t quite understand. Love might be worth the risk, but risks don’t come without consequences. For someone like you, even the smallest breach feels like it could shatter your whole infrastructure. So maybe—hopefully you’ll take that leap someday. But for now, it’s safer to stay where you are, no matter how wistful Shoko’s dreams for you might be.

You remind yourself you’ve made it this far on your own. Still cleaning up past wounds, but that’s okay. Of course, you would prefer if the process was a little faster than this—if you could snap your fingers and be ready to dive headfirst into something new without the hesitation or fear. But forcing yourself to be content with something again is not on your agenda. Healing takes time.

You’ve moved to Tokyo for that sole reason. The bustling city, with its endless noise and neon lights, offered you a chance to hit reset. A complete contrast from your life in the small, quiet countryside. Tokyo’s a fresh start for you—mentally, physically, environmentally, in every way possible. It was your way of shedding the weight of the past, of stepping into a world so big and overwhelming that maybe, just maybe, you could lose the parts of yourself still tethered to old hurts.

Tokyo feels like a city of possibility, a place where no one knows your name or your story unless you tell them. Here, you can decide who you want to be. And even if you haven’t figured that out yet, there’s comfort in knowing you’re no longer stuck in the same place, walking the same streets haunted by the same memories. You’re here to start over. And as of now, that’s enough.

Sometimes, the thought of a fresh start is comforting. Other times, it’s terrifying. Starting over doesn’t erase the person you used to be or the things that happened to you—it just gives you a chance to approach it all from a different angle. And while Tokyo might seem like the perfect backdrop for reinvention, it also magnifies how small and unmoored you feel in a city so alive with movement.

You’ve noticed that your routines are slowly forming, though. The visits with Shoko, the quiet walks through the nearby park, the little bookstore you stumbled across last week that now feels like your personal haven—these things ground you in a city that never sleeps. You like the way the city hums, its energy pressing against your skin and making you feel part of something bigger, even on the days when you’re not sure where you fit in it all.

Sometimes, there’s a part of you that wonders if moving was just an escape. Did you come here to heal or to run away? Did you believe a change of scenery would make you forget everything you’ve been trying not to dwell on? Some nights, when the silence in your apartment grows too loud, those questions creep in, but you try to push them away. You remind yourself that running is sometimes necessary. It’s not weakness—it’s survival. Entering the grounds of the kindergarten again, you erase your inner turmoil and ready yourself for the job again.

Practice, not perfection.

“I thought I invited Suguru.”

“Suguru invited me.”

“It’s called boy’s night for a reason, Ieiri.”

“What, and miss you two fondling each other all night? Can’t do that.”

Satoru huffs childishly as Shoko enters his place. A straight faced Suguru beside her who only offers his friend a shrug when he sends a glare his way. He locks the door behind the two, following them as they make their way into his kitchen. “Please, make yourselves at home,” he says, sarcasm in his voice.

“Already planning on it,” Suguru and Shoko say in unison.

Leaning against the kitchen island, Shoko is already reaching for a glass of wine, Suguru some snacks. “Anywho,” Satoru begins, arms crossing. “Don’t you have work, Shoko?”

Shoko shakes her head, looking over at her white-haired friend. “Early night tonight. Plus, I’ve been having a major headache since Saturday.”

“That was two days ago,” Suguru flatly responds.

"Exactly," Shoko replies, deadpan, as she pours herself a generous glass of wine. "Two days too long." She leans against the counter, taking a sip, while Satoru narrows his eyes at her.

"You’re unbelievable," he mutters, before glancing at Suguru. "And you—what happened to our night? You were supposed to bring beer, not her."

Suguru shrugs, completely unbothered. "You know how this works, Satoru. She invites herself, I don’t argue. Besides, she’s more entertaining than you."

Shoko smirks into her glass. "See? I’m the life of the party."

Satoru groans, rubbing the back of his neck as he looks between his two friends. "I swear, you guys are impossible. I had plans, you know. Important plans."

"Yeah?" Shoko raises a brow. "What, binge-watching rom-coms and crying into your popcorn?"

Suguru chuckles under his breath, popping open a bag of chips and tossing one into his mouth. "Sounds accurate."

"First of all," Satoru says, pointing at them both, "I don’t cry during rom-coms. Second, I had a new board game I wanted to try, but I guess some people don’t appreciate culture."

"Board game?" Shoko asks, blinking. "Who plays board games anymore?"

"Me!" Satoru retorts. "And if you two weren’t heathens, you’d understand the strategic brilliance of Life."

Shoko and Suguru exchange a look before bursting into laughter, leaving Satoru to pout dramatically. "You’re lucky I tolerate you guys," he grumbles, stalking off toward the living room. "But you’re playing, whether you like it or not."

“That game is old and long.” Shoko walks over, plopping herself onto Satoru’s couch.

“You’re old and long.” Satoru swiftly remarks, getting met with a pillow straight to the face. He grumpily peers over at Shoko, hitting her back with the pillow on her arm.

Suguru, the pacifist in this situation, settled between his two companions. Leaned back with the ankle of his right foot over his left lap. His elbow atop the back of the couch in a lazy manner. "Satoru, stop instigating," Suguru says, his tone exasperated but laced with amusement. "You’re going to end up with wine spilled all over your couch if you keep this up."

Shoko scoffs, lifting her glass in mock threat. "Maybe I should spill it. Wouldn’t that teach him some manners?"

Satoru gasps, clutching his chest as if wounded. "You wouldn’t dare! This couch is imported Italian leather. Do you know how much it costs?"

"Knowing you," Suguru interjects, "probably too much for something you’re going to ruin within a year anyway."

"Rude," Satoru huffs, flopping his back onto the couch, snatching a chip from Suguru’s bowl. He pops it into his mouth, chewing dramatically. "You two come into my home, drink my wine, eat my snacks, insult my lifestyle—"

"And yet," Shoko cuts him off, "you’d be bored to death without us."

Satoru pouts but doesn’t deny it. Instead, he sighs and grabs the board game box from the coffee table and tosses it onto Suguru’s lap. "Set it up, then, oh wise peacemaker. If we’re doing this, we’re doing it right."

Suguru sighs, opening the box with practiced ease. "Fine. But if this drags on for hours and you start crying when Shoko beats you, I’m leaving early."

Shoko chuckles, raising her glass. "Cheers to that."

Satoru narrows his eyes at them both. "Just for that, I’m going to crush you guys. Prepare to witness strategic genius."

"Uh-huh," Shoko says, kicking her feet up on the coffee table. "Sure you are."

Suguru shakes his head, suppressing a laugh as he begins to sort the game pieces. It’s just another typical night with the trio—bickering, banter, and an overinflated sense of competition.

The night drowns on, with a couple glasses of wine being consumed, chips, and of course a small breakdown of distress after Satoru is forced to give Shoko some money from his earnings. Eventually, the three have winded down. Some comfortable silence here and there with a few mingling conversations. Suguru stands up from the couch, dusting his clothes off as he makes his way over to the bathroom. Presumably to splash some cold water over his face to sober himself up before he heads back home.

Leaving Shoko and Satoru alone, she’s busy doing who knows what on her phone. Bored, Satoru is mindlessly eating some of the popcorn they made about an hour ago, lips pursing in thought. He’s debating something. Maybe now that Shoko’s a little tipsy, she’ll be more loose-lipped. “So…” he starts calmly, obnoxiously chewing loudly.

“Hm?” Shoko hums back in obvious disinterest, scrolling her timeline.

For a second, Satoru weighs out the options of what kind of reaction this question will cause. Can’t be too bad, right? Shoko’s his friend, and friends are there for each other. “What’s up with your friend?” Real smooth, Satoru.

Shoko’s thumb halts mid-scroll, her eyes narrowing slightly at the screen as if it holds the answer to his question. She doesn’t look up immediately, making Satoru shift uncomfortably on the couch. “My friend, huh?” She repeats slowly, her voice carrying a skeptical edge but her expression giving nothing away. “Which one are you talking about, Satoru? I’ve got lots of friends.”

Satoru scoffs, leaning back dramatically against the couch and tossing a kernel of popcorn into his mouth. “You know who I’m talking about,” he says through his chewing. “Y/N. The cute, shy one.”

At this, Shoko finally looks up from her phone, her brow arching high. “No.”

Now Satoru looks over at her, lip quirking upwards. “What? No what?”

Shoko locks her phone and sets it on the coffee table, crossing her arms as she gives Satoru a pointed look. “No, you’re not going there,” she says plainly.

“Going where?” he asks innocently, though the smirk tugging at his lips betrays him.

“With Y/N,” Shoko says, her voice firm. “She’s not your type, and you’re definitely not hers.”

“Not my type?” Satoru repeats, placing a hand dramatically over his chest like she’d just wounded him. “Shoko, I don’t have a type. I’m an equal opportunity kind of guy.”

“Right,” Shoko snorts, rolling her eyes. “Your ‘opportunity’ usually starts and ends at a one-night stand.”

“Ouch,” he says, feigning offense. “You make me sound like some kind of—”

“Player?” she interrupts, raising an eyebrow. “That’s because you are one. And I’m not letting you mess with Y/N. She’s fragile.”

Satoru scoffs. “Fragile? She doesn’t seem fragile to me. Shy, yeah. But fragile? Come on, Shoko, give me some credit. I’m not gonna break her.”

“No, but you might hurt her,” Shoko shoots back. “And trust me, she doesn’t need that. Y/N’s been through enough already. She doesn’t need someone like you swooping in, flashing your pretty-boy smile, and leaving her worse off than before.”

Satoru frowns, sitting up straighter. “You act like I’m some kind of villain. I’m not that bad, you know.”

Shoko exhales deeply, shaking her head. “First of all, Satoru, I already told you—don’t mess with my friends. Especially her. She’s off-limits, remember?”

“Off-limits?” he repeats, brows furrowing together with annoyance. “Come on, Shoko. I’m not trying to ‘mess’ with her. I’m just… curious.”

“Uh-huh,” she deadpans, tilting her head. “Look, Y/N’s been through a lot. She’s not like the women you’re used to. She doesn’t need someone waltzing into her life and turning it upside down just because you’re ‘curious.’” She leans forward, narrowing her eyes at him. “Satoru, you’re my friend, so I’m saying this with love: don’t even think about it. Y/N is off-limits. Got it?”

Her tone leaves no room for argument. Satoru opens his mouth to protest, but Shoko raises a hand to stop him. “And before you say something dumb like ‘I’m different,’ save it. I know you, Satoru. You’re my friend, and I care about you, but you’re not exactly… boyfriend material for someone like her. No offense.”

“None taken,” he lies, his ego slightly bruised. “But, hypothetically, if I were serious—”

“You’re not,” Shoko cuts in firmly, sighing with exasperation. “I know you’re not, you know you’re not.”

Satoru blinks at her, caught off guard by her unyielding tone.

“Let it go,” she says, picking up her phone again. “Y/N deserves someone who’s going to treat her right. Someone stable, patient, and not…you. And that’s okay.”

For once, Satoru doesn’t have a quick retort. Instead, he sits quietly, tossing another piece of popcorn into his mouth as he mulls over her words. Silently brewing with frustration at his friend for thinking so little of him, annoyance for her assumptions, and confusion at why she’s acting like she’s the gatekeeper of you or something. Who even are you to Shoko? If you two were as close as she’s making it seem, why hasn’t he met you sooner?

Unless, she’s been trying to keep him from coming across you.

Shoko’s low expectations of him are almost laughable. Almost. That thought really makes him want to scoff outwardly. He feels oddly defensive, like he should clear his name with Shoko who obviously has little standards in him. It’s a strange, unfamiliar defensiveness bubbling up—a rare urge to protect his honor, his character, his intentions. But is that so wrong of him to be curious about a girl who’s cute? That’s normal. Shoko is really taking this out of hand, acting as if he’ll stomp on your heart and dignity.

And while he’s not entirely sure how he would treat you, he’s not a horrible man. Sure, he’s flirted, dated, and yes, he’s left a string of fleeting romances in his wake. But does that mean he’s incapable of something more? Of curiosity that isn’t purely self-serving? Of wanting to get to know someone because they’re different? Because they seem… real?

The more Shoko’s words replay in his mind, the more absurd they feel. But the more he’s feeling the need to prove her wrong. Was it so wrong of him to be intrigued by a girl who’s cute? Who’s shy in a way that feels endearing, but not performative? That’s normal. He’s human, after all.

Shoko, though—she’s blowing this way out of proportion. Acting like he’s some sort of emotional wrecking ball set to demolish your strength and your own well-being in one fell swoop. He rolls his eyes. Still, as much as her words prick at his pride, they also plant something else: doubt. It lingers at the edges of his mind, gnawing at his confidence. He’s never been particularly introspective about his relationships—at least, not the short-lived ones. But now he’s wondering: What would I do? How would I treat her if I got close to her?

He doesn’t have a concrete answer, and that’s… unsettling.

Maybe like a fuck-buddy. Casual, simple, no strings attached—that’s how Satoru’s relationships usually go. It’s easier that way. No expectations, no messy emotions, no one clinging to him for something he’s not willing to give. It works for him.

Because while he’s confident he’s not the villain Shoko paints him to be, he’s also not entirely sure if he’s the hero in this narrative either. And that, more than anything, stirs something foreign in his chest. Something that feels uncomfortably like self-awareness. And Satoru does not need that right now. So, he does what he always does. Forget. Forget the curiosity gnawing at him. Forget the way your quiet demeanor intrigued him more than the loud, shameless advances of countless others. It wouldn’t be hard to forget you, he only has your name. No sort of connection to you besides Shoko. No number, no anything beyond Shoko, who’s already made it abundantly clear that you’re off-limits. He doesn’t know where you live, your hobbies, or even your favorite coffee order. You’re practically a stranger. Forgetting you should be effortless.

He doesn’t know anything about you other than the fact that you smell like sweet honey drizzled on the prettiest flower, a scent that lingered in his mind longer than he’d care to admit because he doesn’t think he’s ever met someone who’s own smell pulled him in like that.

It’s probably for the best. Shoko’s making it seem like you’re the type of woman who’d want something more and meaningful. Something he can’t—won’t—give. In a sense, Shoko’s saving him from the dread of dealing with a girl who will complain to him all the time. Saving him from the inevitable headache of a girl who’d demand too much. The complaints, the misunderstandings, the emotions. He can picture it already, and it feels stifling.

Yeah, it’s better this way. Satoru Gojo can be very good at forgetting.

Shoko heads home that night before Suguru. When Satoru is walking him to his car, Suguru is dead sober. Shivering from the cold night wind outside, unlocking his car. “Are we still going to the movies this weekend?” Satoru asks.

Suguru shakes his head. “Nah, I have a lot of errands to run and Shoko said she’s busy helping her friend with some community event.”

Satoru huffs, a white puff of air forming. “Since when do her friends do community events?”

Suguru chuckles lightly, opening the car door but pausing to lean against the frame. “Since her friend’s actually a decent person, unlike the two of us.”

Satoru rolls his eyes, shoving his hands deep into the pockets of his hoodie as the cold bites at his fingertips. “I didn’t ask for a lecture on morality. Who even is this friend anyway?”

“I think she said her name was Y/N…or something like that.”

“She’s been mentioning her a lot lately.”

Suguru glances up at him, a knowing smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Oh, yeah? Really? You’ve been hearing of her?”

Satoru doesn’t immediately respond, his expression remaining neutral despite the flicker of recognition in his eyes. “Maybe,” he says nonchalantly. “What’s the deal with her? Shoko’s been acting all protective and weird about it.”

“If it’s because you’re trying to get at her, Satoru, it’s also because Shoko knows you, Satoru.”

“Knows me?” Satoru scoffs, frowning in offense. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Suguru raises a brow, his head shaking in disapproval. “It means Shoko doesn’t want you pulling your usual crap and scaring off her nice, sweet friend. And honestly? I don’t blame her.”

“I am nice and sweet,” Satoru shoots back indignantly. “When have I ever—”

“Do you really want me to start listing examples?” Suguru cuts him off, seriousness now dancing in his eyes.

Satoru clicks his tongue, looking away as a faint blush creeps up his neck. “Whatever,” he mutters, kicking at a stray pebble on the driveway.

Suguru sigh this time. “Look, her friend’s not like the girls you’re used to. She’s been through a lot, from what Shoko’s vaguely told me. So maybe—”

“Don’t,” Satoru interrupts sharply, turning back to face him. “Don’t start with the ‘be careful’ bullshit speech. I’m not planning anything, alright?”

Suguru studies him for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then he shrugs, stepping into his car. “Good. Keep it that way. Don’t start shit with her friends anymore.”

Satoru watches as Suguru starts the engine, his friend’s words lingering in the chilly night air long after the car disappears down the street. He huffs, shoving his hands deeper into his pockets as he heads back inside.

Nice and sweet, huh? Maybe he should be offended. Or maybe—just maybe—he should prove them wrong. He entertains that idea before sliding into his warm shower.

Nope, just forget.

As if to further set his mantra into place, he reaches for his phone from behind the shower curtain. Clicking on a random woman’s name, and typing out a small phrase.

Satoru:

Come over

“Clean up! Clean up! Everybody clean up!” Mrs. Inoue’s voice sounds throughout the classroom, followed by her and your claps to emphasize the beats of the small song. The classroom is alive with the chatter and movement of little hands tidying up toys and art supplies. Mrs. Inoue’s cheerful voice leads the way, her clapping rhythmically keeping the children in sync. “Clean up! Clean up! Everybody clean up!” she sings again, glancing over at you with a warm smile that you return instinctively.

Clapping along to the beat as you walk between the miniature tables and chairs, gently guiding the kids who seem more interested in playing than cleaning. “That’s right, Kenta, put the blocks back in the bin. Good job, Aiko! You’re such a great helper,” you encourage, your tone soft but enthusiastic.

The kids respond eagerly to your praise, their small faces lighting up as they scramble to finish their tasks. You crouch beside one of the younger ones, helping her gather stray crayons from the floor. “You’re doing so well, Mika,” you say, giving her a little nod of approval.

Mrs. Inoue claps her hands together once more, signaling the end of the song. “Great job, everyone! Look how clean our classroom is now,” she exclaims, her eyes sparkling with pride as the children beam at the acknowledgment.

You straighten up, smoothing down your cardigan as you share a quick glance with Mrs. Inoue. There’s a quiet satisfaction in seeing the children thrive in this structured chaos, and for a moment, you let yourself bask in the warmth of the lively little classroom. There’s a small tug at your clothing, looking down to see a little boy holding a broken car to you. “Oh no, what happened here?” You ask, crouching down to better face the toy.

“I…I was playing and I broke it….’m sorry, Teacher Y/N.” Haruto, an honest but lovingly obedient young boy, admits shamefully. Looking into your eyes with his own pair of clear sapphire ones. A small pout to his lips that shows just how apologetic he is.

So adorable.

Your heart melts at the sight of Haruto’s pout, his little hands clutching the broken toy as though it’s the most important thing in the world. You reach out and gently place a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay, Haruto,” you say softly, your voice kind and soothing. “Toys sometimes break when we play with them. It’s not your fault.”

He looks up at you with wide, watery eyes, still unsure. “Really?” he asks timidly, his voice small.

“Really,” you confirm with a warm smile. “And you know what? We can try to fix it together.” You take the car from his hands, inspecting the damage. The wheel has popped off, and the axle looks a little bent, but it’s nothing that can’t be mended. “This looks like an easy fix. I think we just need some glue and maybe a little bit of patience. Do you remember what patience means?

Haruto’s face brightens, his pout quickly replaced with a hopeful smile and a frantic nod. “Really? You can fix it, Teacher Y/N?”

“Of course,” you say, giving him a playful wink. “I’m a toy doctor.”

He giggles at that, the shame from moments before entirely forgotten. You stand up, holding the car carefully. “Why don’t you go wash your hands for snack time while I take this to the repair shop?” you suggest, gesturing toward the sink where a small line of children is already forming.

“Okay!” Haruto chirps. “Can I help after I wash my hands?” You nod and he runs off with newfound energy.

Glancing at the broken car in your hands, your smile lingering as you head toward the supply closet. Moments like this remind you why you love working with children—their honesty, their resilience, and the way their little smiles can brighten even the cloudiest days.

When Haruto is done with washing and drying his hands, he skips back over to you. Watching meticulously as you describe what needs to be fixed and hot to fix it. He stands beside you, peering over your arm as you carefully lay the broken car on the table. His small hands rest on the edge of the table, and his eyes are wide with interest.

“Okay, Haruto,” you say, kneeling to his level so he can see better. “Here’s what we need to do. First, we have to figure out where this wheel was attached. See this little piece here?” You point to the broken axle, which has a slight bend. “That’s where the wheel used to be. We’ll need to straighten this out first.”

Haruto nods, his lips pressed together in concentration. “And then we glue it?”

“Exactly,” You smile, appreciating how seriously he’s taking the repair. “We’ll need to use just a tiny bit of glue so it doesn’t get messy. But we also have to hold it in place for a few seconds so it sticks really well.”

Haruto watches closely as you demonstrate, gently pressing the wheel back into place after straightening the axle with a small tool from the supply closet. “Can I try?” he asks eagerly, bouncing on his toes.

“Of course.” You pass the toy to him, guiding his small hands as he carefully applies the glue. Together, you hold the wheel in place, counting aloud to ten to let the adhesive set.

When you release it, the wheel stays attached, and Haruto gasps in delight. “It’s fixed!”

“It sure is,” you confirm, giving him a proud smile. “And you helped fix it, Haruto. You’re officially a toy repair expert now.”

Haruto beams, clutching the car to his chest like it’s brand new. “Thank you, Teacher Y/N!” he chirps, his excitement contagious.

You chuckle, giving his hair a gentle tousle. “You’re welcome. Just be gentle with it next time, okay?”

“I will!” he promises, running off to show his friends the newly repaired car.

As you watch him join his classmates with a wide grin, a sense of fulfillment washes over you. “Okay, friends!” Mrs. Inoue exclaims, standing in front of the room. “There are five more minutes until pick up time. Why don’t we go around in a circle and share one thing we learned today?”

The children quickly begin gathering on the colorful carpet, their giggles and chatter settling into a low murmur as they find their spots. You help guide a few stragglers into the circle, gently nudging them forward with an encouraging smile. Mrs. Inoue sits cross-legged at the front, hands folded in her lap. “Alright, who wants to start?” she asks, her gaze scanning the eager little faces.

“I will!” Haruto raises his hand, his repaired car clutched tightly in the other. He looks at you briefly before speaking, his voice loud and proud. “I learned how to fix my car! Teacher Y/N showed me how to glue it back together.”

A few kids gasp, their attention drawn to the toy in his hands. “Cool!” one of his classmates says, their eyes wide with admiration. You feel a small warmth in your chest as Haruto beams, his pride contagious.

“Great job, Haruto!” Mrs. Inoue says with a smile. “That’s an excellent thing to learn.”

Another hand shoots up. “I learned how to count to fifty!” Akiko says, puffing up her chest with pride. “I didn’t even need help!”

The circle continues, each child eagerly sharing their new knowledge. Some learned to write their names, others discovered how to share during playtime, and a few even shared lessons about kindness or patience. When the last child finishes, Mrs. Inoue claps her hands together. “What a wonderful day of learning, everyone! You should all feel very proud of yourselves.” She looks up toward you, nodding slightly, a silent acknowledgment of how much effort you’ve put into the day.

You smile softly, giving her a small nod in return. The atmosphere is filled with innocence and growth, it reminds you of why you’re here. As the children begin scampering up and walking over to their cubbies to grab their belongings and prepare for their parents, you and Mrs. Inoue are helping a few.

Soon, the parents start trickling in to receive their children. Some even run up to their parent’s legs with excitement, calling out either “Mommy!” or “Daddy!”

Mrs. Inoue and you wave goodbye to the children, offering exchanged brief interactions with the parents in politeness. As the classroom slowly starts to empty, you notice one child hovering in the back.

“Haruto?” You ask, coming over. “What’s wrong? Is Daddy coming to pick you up?”

Haruto shakes his head. “No, Daddy’s not coming. Uncle is coming!”

“Oh,” you respond, head tilting. You give Mrs. Inoue a look that tells her you’re a little concerned about the safety of Haruto going home with a man you’ve never met.

Instead, she shakes you off with a smile. “No worries, his uncle’s a listed emergency contact. He’s come a few times before you started working here.”

Relieved but still cautious, you nod, squatting down to Haruto’s level. “That’s exciting. Do you like when your uncle picks you up?”

Haruto’s face lights up with a wide grin, his sapphire eyes sparkling. “Yes! Uncle is so funny, and he always gives me candy!”

“Candy, huh? That sounds fun, but don’t eat too much, okay?” you tease, tapping the tip of his nose lightly.

Haruto giggles, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “Okay, Teacher Y/N. I won’t, I’m a healthy boy.”

You chuckle, head tilting in tenderness. But it’s suddenly ruined when a god awful familiar voice reaches your ears, causing you to momentarily falter. You freeze for a second, the warmth of the interaction with Haruto quickly evaporating as the voice cuts through the air, unmistakably familiar.

“Haruto! Come on, kid, we’re gonna be late,” the voice calls out. You don’t have to turn around to know who it is. You recognize the drawl almost instantly, the smoothness of his tone, the way it rolls off his tongue.

Him.

You shift, standing up and turning slowly. There he is, standing in the doorway of the classroom, leaning casually against the frame with his hands stuffed into the pockets of his jacket. He’s looking directly at Haruto, but you can see his eyes flicker to you for just a split second. Surprise takes over as his eyebrows lift, lips parting for a fraction of a second but it's laced with a hint of something you can’t quite place. “Oh, Y/N, right?”

“Teacher Y/N!” Haruto corrects his uncle, to which the latter just playful shushes him, picking him up in his arms.

Your lips purse awkwardly, hands held behind your back in a rigid fashion. Just how small is this world? You never thought you’d see the same guy from this weekend in a place you now consider one of your safe havens. It feels wrong and he looks out of place. But the child clinging to his neck says otherwise.

In order to not make this situation any more unpleasant as it is, you should probably say something instead of staring at him like an idiot still. “Y—” you clear your throat, feeling the unsavory, but familiar scratchiness come back. You can only hum back in response, peering away.

He subtly scans you head to toe, appearing as if he is about to say something back until Mrs. Inoue thankful interrupts. “Oh, Satoru. How have you been? I haven’t seen you in a while.”

Her voice is filled with curiosity but also a warmth that teeters the line of worry. And from the flashing look in Satoru’s eyes that only lasts a second, you’re immediately alert. Brows furrowing slightly in wonder as to why Mrs. Inoue is talking with him in a way a concerned friend would. “Oh well, please take care of yourself. And Haruto did a great job today.” Mrs. Inoue smiles, waving at Haruto.

Satoru, still holding Haruto in his arms, smiles warmly at Mrs. Inoue, though there's a subtle tightness in his expression, as if her concern hits a little too close to home. He shifts the boy slightly, setting him down to stand beside him, before giving a half-hearted chuckle. "I’m good, Mrs. Inoue. Don’t worry about me," he says, though his eyes shift for a brief moment, betraying a hint of discomfort. "And thanks. Haruto's always good at keeping busy, right, buddy?" he says, ruffling the boy’s hair, though Haruto just beams up at him, oblivious to the undercurrent of tension.

Mrs. Inoue doesn't seem convinced, her gaze lingering a moment longer before she nods in understanding. “Alright then, Satoru. Take care of yourself and Haruto. You know where to find me if you need anything.” Her tone softens, and the unspoken message seems to settle between them for a moment. She turns around to head deeper into the room, picking up a few stray toys that missed the children. Satoru watches her leave with a small nod, the atmosphere between the two of you is thick with something unspoken, but as Haruto tugs at his uncle’s sleeve, the moment is broken.

"Uncle Satoru, I want to show you my toy!" Haruto says eagerly, pulling at his uncle's jacket.

Satoru’s smile shifts into something a bit warmer, his earlier discomfort melting away as he focuses on the child in front of him. "Alright, alright, let’s see this toy," he chuckles, his hand resting gently on Haruto’s head.

You take a small step back, still feeling the weight of the strange coincidence. Trying to keep things neutral, but words feel awkward on your tongue. “Bye, Teacher Y/N!” Haruto grins brightly, waving with one hand as he’s already walking out the door while the other hand is held firmly in his uncle’s grip. You give the boy a wave, lip peeking up halfway.

Satoru glances back at you over his shoulder as he adjusts Haruto, a faint glint of amusement in his eyes, smiling in a way that shows off his pearly whites, giving you a small nod. "Take care, see you around."

And with that, the two of them leave, the door clicking softly behind them. You stand there for a moment longer than you should, trying to shake the unease creeping in, but all you can think about is how unexpectedly small the world has become. The feelings from Saturday rise up in your bones, the stiffness and uncertainty.

It’s uncomfortable seeing the guy who tried to hit on you that past weekend in a place so wholesome, picking up his nephew nonetheless. But you’re just glad he didn’t make things worse. Not that he should have with a kid in his arms. And you’re also proud of yourself for keeping things cordial enough, despite the fact that you just wanted to hide in embarrassment the moment you made eye contact with him. It’s almost like when you were in high school and you’d see one of your classmates at a random time in the grocery store.

It’s fine, you tell yourself, going over to wash your hands. Despite the fact that this man knows where you work, nothing will happen. If the time comes where you need to state your disinterest, you’ll do so. It’ll be hard, of course. But you can do it.

If only you could get the words out.

a/n: hi! i'm not entirely happy with my work in this chapter, but I'm still going to try and show it as much love as vl

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lefteagleblizzard · 3 months ago

Text

𝔗𝔴𝔬 𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔯𝔱𝔰 𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔩𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔱𝔬𝔤𝔢𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯

Mike munroe x male reader

Summary: Two broken souls find solace in each other's arms. Two strangers in a support group, both scarred by their own demons. What started as shared vulnerability ignited into an electric connection, a fierce bond where Mike's protective instincts soon led to a heated desire neither of them could deny.

Requested from a really nice person here on tumblr. Hope you like it and sorry if i went overboard with your request <3

Tags: post event of Until Dawn. Everyone survived or Mike solo survivor, whichever one you prefer. Male reader. He/him pronouns are used towards the reader. Mike and Jess are not together in this. Strangers to lovers. Scene of panic attack. Smut. Gay smut. Top Mike munroe. Bottom male reader. Riding. Anal sex.

Words count: 5000

Can also be found on wattpad and ao3

𝔉𝔯𝔬𝔰𝔱𝔟𝔦𝔱𝔱𝔢𝔫 𝔱𝔯𝔲𝔱𝔥

𝔅𝔯𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔩𝔶 𝔰𝔲𝔭𝔭𝔬𝔯𝔱

𝔉𝔦𝔯𝔰𝔱 𝔱𝔦𝔪𝔢'𝔰 𝔞 𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔯𝔪

𝔍𝔢𝔞𝔩𝔬𝔲𝔰𝔶 𝔞𝔱 𝔅𝔩𝔞𝔠𝔨𝔴𝔬𝔬𝔡 𝔐𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱𝔞𝔦𝔫

𝔄 𝔱𝔬𝔲𝔠𝔥 𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔪𝔢𝔯 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔫 𝔣𝔦𝔯𝔢

ℌ𝔬𝔩𝔡𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔬𝔫 𝔱𝔬 𝔶𝔬𝔲

𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔰𝔢𝔩𝔣𝔦𝔰𝔥 𝔭𝔞𝔱𝔥 Part 2 of it

The room was quiet, the chairs were arranged neatly, giving an artificial sense of order to a room filled with emotional chaos and instability. The support group had just begun and already the air felt thick with vulnerability.

Mike Munroe sat toward the back, slouched slightly in his chair as if he didn't want to be noticed. His fingers tapped lightly on his knee, a nervous habit. He'd been to a few of these meetings now, always trying to blend in, hoping no one would ask too much of him. Sitting in this room surrounded by strangers, he was supposed to feel like he belonged, but he felt anything. He shifted in his seat, glancing around the circle, trying to avoid eye contact with anyone who looked too open, too eager to share.

Then his eyes landed on you.

Sitting a few seats away, you were quiet, withdrawn. You didn't seem to be paying attention to the group as much as you were lost in your own thoughts. Mike watched you for a second longer than he should have, curiosity tugging at the edges of his mind.

You looked familiar. Mike squinted subtly, trying to place where he'd seen you before. Classes? Maybe you shared a course or passed each other in the hallways. It was hard to say, but Mike couldn't deny the instant spark of recognition.

He had definitely seen you around.

The more he looked, the more he noticed how cute you looked. Your quite demeanor only made him more curious, especially since you hadn't spoken yet.

There was a vulnerability that mirrored Mike's own in some ways. You were trying to hide in plain sight, much like Mike had been doing. He couldn't shake the feeling that whatever had brought you here had left deep, unhealed wounds.

He didn't want to be another tragic figure, another story that people pitied. And yet, when he looked your way, there was something in your expression, a quiet strength that made him think you'd understand without judgment. His restlessness would ease just slightly when his eyes met yours, almost like it grounded him, bringing him out of his own thoughts

His thoughts drifted as he continued to sneak glances. He recalled seeing you once in the hallway between classes, maybe in a shared lecture hall, and he remembered thinking even then that there was something captivating about you.

Mike looked away quickly when you shifted in your seat, almost catching him staring. He wasn't here to be checking people out or getting distracted, but he couldn't help it. The way you sat quietly, as if trying to make yourself small, avoiding attention... it tugged at his protective instincts, the same ones that had kicked in back on Blackwood Mountain when everything had gone to hell.

The meeting was now over and chairs scraped against the floor as people stood up one by one, eager to escape back into their own lives.

You started gathering your things and as you glanced toward the door, you noticed Mike Munroe lingering by the exit. Your heart thudded lightly in your chest when he made eye contact with you, this time more intentional than the fleeting glances from earlier you noticed

There was something deliberate about the way he stood, hands shoved into his pockets.

He found himself hesitating for once. He usually bolted out of these things as quickly as possible. He watched you gather your things, preparing to leave, and Mike felt a strange pull to go talk to you.

His gaze flickers between you and the exit, caught in a moment of indecision.

Leave. Walk out now and avoid the vulnerability that talking to you would require. It's safe; it keeps him protected, doesn't risk exposing himself to someone he's only just met.

Take the chance. Go over and talk to you, risk the walls he's built around himself, and maybe find a connection that makes him feel whole again.

He takes a breath, steadying himself. And in a single, decisive moment, he makes his choice.

Take the chance.

A subtle shimmer appears, almost like a fleeting trick of light. A faint ripple in the air, the delicate flap of a butterfly's wings echoing outward.

ℬ𝓊𝓉𝓉ℯ𝓇𝒻𝓁𝓎 ℯ𝒻𝒻ℯ𝒸𝓉 𝓊𝓅𝒹𝒶𝓉ℯ𝒹

His heart pounded as he walked towards you, mentally rehearsing what to say. 'Hey, I've seen you around before' No, that sounded too stalker-ish. 'Mind if I walk with you?' Too forward.

He's close enough that you catch the faintest hint of cologne, something warm and subtly daring, like cedar and smoke. He clears his throat lightly, a soft smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

"Well, that was intense," he says with a hint of playful sarcasm. "Almost feels like we deserve a medal or something, just for sitting through it."

You stifle a chuckle, feeling the tension melt a bit. "Yeah, definitely not how I'd choose to spend a Thursday night."

"Oh?" His brows lift, clearly intrigued. "And what would be your first choice for a Thursday night, then?"

"I don't know," you say, tilting your head. "Maybe something quieter... or a little less emotionally heavy."

"Quieter, huh? So no candlelit dinners or late-night rooftop stargazing?" he quips, his voice smooth and teasing. "Guess I'll have to cross those off my list."

The flirtation in his tone catches you off guard, and you glance away, feeling your cheeks warm. Mike seems to notice because he chuckles, leaning in just a fraction, his voice dropping lower

"I noticed you," You said, your voice tentative, testing the waters. "I've seen you around at Westgate. You're kind of well-known."

Mike's smirk grew a little wider, and he tilted his head slightly, his eyes narrowing playfully. "So you've been checking me out, huh?"

You blinked, caught off guard by the directness of Mike's question, but before you could respond, Mike laughed lightly, clearly enjoying his own teasing. "I'm kidding," Mike said, though the playful glint in his eyes remained. "But now I'm curious... What've you heard?"

"I've heard some things," you said vaguely, trying to stay neutral. "People talk."

Mike raised an eyebrow, his smirk softening into something more thoughtful. "Yeah, people do love to talk," he said, a hint of bitterness creeping into his tone. "But most of it's bullshit. People don't know what happened. They just make up their own stories."

Your expression softened, sensing the change in Mike's tone. "Yeah, I get that," you said quietly. "People don't know the full story."

Mike glanced at you then, his eyes lingering for a moment longer than necessary. "Exactly," he said softly, his voice dropping slightly. "Not the kind of reputation I ever wanted, though."

There was a beat of silence between you two. You understood the need to avoid delving too deep into things that hurt, offering Mike an understanding look.

Mike caught the expression and quickly shifted the tone again, this time with a playful glint in his eyes. "But hey, I guess I'm kind of a big deal now, huh? Maybe I'll start signing autographs."

You couldn't help but laugh softly, shaking your head. "I'm sure people would line up for that."

Mike took a small step closer, his voice dropping just a little. "Would you?"

Mike's gaze lingered on your face for a bit too long, and for a moment, neither of you moved.

Your heart skipped a beat, unsure whether it was the intensity of Mike's stare or the fact that you felt seen in a way you hadn't expected.

Mike broke the moment with a soft chuckle, glancing down at his feet as if trying to shake off whatever had just passed between them. "Look," he said, rubbing the back of his neck, "I'm not great at talking about this stuff, but it'd be good to have someone who gets it, you know? Like having each other's back or something."

There was a vulnerability there, hidden beneath the casual and confident tone, and you found yourself nodding before you even realized it.

"Yeah," You agreed. "That sounds good."

Mike pulled out his phone, his fingers tapping quickly before he handed it over. "Here, give me your number. That way, you can hit me up if you ever need."

You hesitated for just a second before taking the phone, feeling the warmth of Mike's hand as your fingers brushed. You quickly entered your number and handed the phone back.

"Cool," Mike said, slipping his phone back into his pocket. "I'll text you later. You know, just to make sure you didn't give me a fake number or something."

You laughed again, the tension easing. "Yeah, I wouldn't want you thinking I was trying to ditch you."

Mike's grin widened, and for a moment, it felt like something was going to happen, something more than just words. But then Mike took a step back, his eyes still lingering on your face as he turned to leave.

The moment you stepped into your dorm, your phone buzzed eagerly in your pocket. Pulling it out, you saw Mike's name flashing on the screen. A grin spread across your face as you swiped to open the message.

Just making sure you didn't give me a fake number ;)

Day 1

Mike [9:35 PM]: Hey. Just making sure you didn't disappear on me after last night. Survived the rest of the day?

You [9:37 PM]: Barely but I’m still here. Didn’t think you’d notice.

Mike [9:40 PM]: Hard not to when you're the most interesting person in the room.

You [9:42 PM]: Pretty sure there were more interesting people there.

Mike [9:45 PM]: Nah, they were all talking about their problems. You? You're like a mystery I wanna figure out.

You [9:46 PM]: That's one way to get someone's number. Smooth, Munroe.

Day 5

Mike [11:22 PM): Do you ever feel like people are waiting for you to act a certain way? Like, they've already decided who you are?

You [11:25 PM]: Sometimes. People can be ruthless. You wanna talk about it?

Mike (11:30 PM]: It's weird. After Blackwood, everyone wants to know what happened but they don't really care, you know? They just want the story. I'm just someone who survived. It's not something I like thinking about.

You [11:35 PM): Yeah, I get that. People don't see what's underneath. They just want to know the stuff to discuss with others. It's tough. But you don't have to share that with everyone. You don't owe anyone anything. I'm sorry you feel this way, Mike.

Mike [11:37 PM]: Nah, don't be. I don't talk about it much, you know? But it helps. With you.

You [11:40 PM]: I'm glad I can help

Mike [11:41 PM]: You're the only one who doesn't see me as that guy from Blackwood Mountain.

You [11:41 PM]: You're just Mike to me.

Mike [11:42 PM]: that's why I like talking to you.

Day 7

Mike [6:05 PM): What're you up to?

You [6:10 PM]: Studying. You?

Mike [6:12 PM]: Thinking about how I hate that you're busy with something boring like that. We should hang out instead.

You [6:10 PM]: I've got an exam. Hanging out might have to wait

Mike [6:13 PM]: Exams are overrated I'm more fun anyway.

You [6:15 PM]: Flattery's not gonna work this time.

Mike [6:17 PM]: Who said I was flattering you? I'm just saying facts. I could help you study if you want. I'm great at, uh... distractions.

You [6:20 PM]: Right, because I need more distractions.

Mike [6:22 PM]: I'm an expert in distractions. Top of my class in Avoidance 101.

You [6:22 PM]: what does the final exam for that class look like?

Mike [6:25 PM]: It's an intense, highly advanced skill. Mostly it involves terrible movies and maybe some pizza. You're up for it?

You [6:27 PM]: Maybe later.

Mike [6:28 PM]: I'll hold you to that.

Day 13

Mike (3:15 PM): You free tonight?

You [3:18 PM]: Depends on what you're offering.

Mike [3:20 PM]: A walk, a drink, maybe we'll figure the rest out later.

You [3:22 PM): Sounds like you're trying to get me in trouble.

Mike [3:25 PM]: I'm just trying to get you to spend more time with me. Trouble's optional. You'll just have to put up with my charm for the moment ;)

You [3:27 PM]: Alright. Where are we going?

Mike [3:30 PM]: You trust me to surprise you?

You [3:32 PM]: Why not?

Mike [3:32 PM]: You won't regret it.

Day 24

Mike [11:50 PM): You looked good today, btw. Saw you in the library. Hard to miss when you're looking that sharp.

You [11:55 PM]: You saw me and didn't say hi? I'm offended.

Mike [00:01 AM]: Didn't wanna distract you. But next time, I'll make sure you can't escape me.

You [00:02 AM]: having trouble sleeping?

Mike [00:03 AM]: yeah. Another nightmare.

You [00:03 AM]: Want me to come over? We can hang out. No pressure to talk.

Mike [00:04 AM]: Yeah? That'd be great, actually. I could use the company. But only if you're cool with it. I don't want to drag you into my mess.

You [00:05 AM]: I'm already in it. Don't worry, Mike. I'll be there in 15.

It had been a few weeks at this point since your first meeting and the texts between Mike and you had become part of your daily routine. They didn't always talk about serious things. Most of the time they were just quick jokes, a random comment about a class or something funny one of you had seen on campus.

There had been that one night where everything seemed to shift between you and Mike. It had started like so many other nights, with the two of you sprawled out on the bed of your dorm room watching terrible horror films from sketchy free movie sites that Mike insisted on finding. The glow of your laptop screen illuminating your faces as you both leaned against the headboard.

It had become so normal to find him here, lounging on your bed or flipping through his phone while you studied or worked on assignments. In many ways it felt like you and Mike had been sharing this room for ages.

He strode in, tossing his jacket carelessly onto the back of your chair and remaining in a simple tank top, beads of sweat still lingering on his skin from the gym as he collapsed beside you on the bed. He immediately grabbed the laptop, pulling up the website you'd found for horror movie marathons.

"You really need to cool off," you muttered, half-joking as you hugged your hoodie tighter around you, trying to find some relief from the icy draft in the room.

"if you worked out with me, you wouldn't be freezing your ass off right now."

"I told you already that this week I couldn't" your voice was muffled by your hoodie as you reminded him of the upcoming exam you had, the warmth he was giving off made it hard not to scoot just a little closer.

"You're being dramatic. It's not that cold" The muscles in his biceps shifted slightly, not in an obvious display, but more like he was just getting comfortable, adjusting his position.

"You say that because you're like a human furnace," you shot back, trying not to let your gaze linger too much on the way his muscles flexed.

The screen of your laptop brightened up as the movie began.

The two of you had started a tradition of finding the worst horror movies you could dig up online. Free ones from obscure sites that had horrendous special effects and plotlines so laughable they were almost entertaining. It was like a competition on who could find the most hilariously bad movie.

At one point, Mike had shifted closer, closing the small distance between you. His arm had slid around your waist, pulling you gently against his chest as you both lay back on the bed, the soft glow of the laptop screen casting faint shadows across the room.

The last thing you remembered was waking up the next morning. It had taken you a moment to realize where you were, your body warm and heavy with sleep, but there was a steady pressure against your back

Mike's arm had been wrapped tightly around your waist, his sturdy chest pressed firmly against your back. He's breathing deeply, a low snore rumbling now and then, the sound soft against your ear, making the tiny hairs on the back of your neck prickle.

Mike stirred when he felt you shift, his arm tightening slightly around you before he let out a sleepy mumble. "Morning... Or, uh, afternoon?"

His morning voice was deep, husky, and the warmth of it against your ear made your heart skip a beat.

You turned your head slightly to look at him. "Afternoon. You comfortable there?"

Mike grinned, his face half-buried in your pillow. "You're the best pillow I've had in a while"

"Don't get too used to it. You hog the bed"

"I can't help it if I'm big and take up space," Mike teased, finally pulling away and sitting up. He stretched, his tank top riding up slightly, revealing a sliver of toned skin.

Something soon shifted between Mike and you after that moment.

It began subtly, with Mike showing up in the hallways just before your classes, waiting for you. He'd lean casually against the wall, his cocky grin in place as soon as he spotted you walking toward him.

"There he is," Mike would say, teasingly, every single time. "I was starting to think you'd forgotten about me."

You'd roll your eyes, smiling despite yourself. "You've got your own classes, you know. You don't have to wait for me."

"I know," he'd reply with a shrug, falling into step beside you, "but I have my priorities straight."

And that was the start of it. Before long, it wasn't just random meet-ups between classes. Mike was always there, hovering in the hallways, waiting for you after each period.

He also loved seeing you flustered, loved the way you'd get shy whenever he said something that was just a little too bold.

His once constant texts had dwindled, but only because he was with you in person almost every day. He'd walk with you, talking nonstop about everything and nothing, making you laugh with his over-the-top stories or complaining about how much he hated certain professors. He'd check in on you between classes, finding excuses to walk you to and from the dorms or to meet up for lunch.

He was everywhere.

It became so normal this routine of walking together that you started arriving late to class more often than not. Neither of you seemed to care much about the time, too wrapped up in your conversations.

There was also a different side to Mike, one that became obvious whenever anyone else tried to get too close to you. He'd start glaring at anyone who so much as looked at you the wrong way, standing just a little too close, his expression hardening.

Sometimes it was in the quiet way he'd linger just a bit closer when people passed by or in the way his eyes scanned the crowd, arm almost always resting comfortably on your shoulder. He was always aware, always attentive

A late afternoon, the two of you were back in your dorm, this time working on Mike's classwork. He was propped up against the wall on your bed, legs stretched out casually in front of him as he flipped through his notes while you sat beside him, trying to help him with some difficult subjects from his class while you sat cross-legged near the foot of the bed, focusing on explaining a concept that clearly wasn't sticking.

You glanced over at him to see if he was even paying attention as you began your speech.

Mike gave you a lazy grin, his brown eyes half-focused on the notes and half on you, not even bothering to deny it. "I think I'm getting more distracted than enlightened right now."

You raised an eyebrow, trying not to smile. "Distracted? How hard can it be to pay attention for 5 minutes?"

"Oh, I'm paying attention," he replied smoothly, his eyes shamelessly roaming your body. "Just... maybe not to the notes"

Your cheeks flushed, and you swatted his shoulder, a half-laugh escaping you. "Keep talking like that, and I might actually make you study."

Mike leaned in even closer, his shoulder now brushing against yours. "There are other ways you could help me... without the textbooks.”

You glanced up at him, narrowing your eyes in mock suspicion. "What exactly did you have in mind?”

Mike smirked, his gaze dropping briefly to your lips before flicking back up to meet your eyes. "I'm sure I could think of a few things."

"You're hopeless," you said, though his voice was soft, not unkind.

"Hopelessly charming," Mike corrected, leaning in just enough so that your shoulders brushed again, his proximity impossible to ignore.

A sudden gust of wind rattled the windowpane, drawing both of your attention to the world outside. Snow had started to fall, tiny flakes drifting down in a serene, delicate pattern.

Mike's smile faded

His body grew still, his expression unreadable. Mike's playful energy had disappeared, replaced by something colder, more distant. His jaw tightened, the muscles in his shoulders tensed, his posture rigid as if bracing himself for something unseen.

You glanced up, your brow furrowing as you followed Mike's gaze to the window.

"Mike?" You asked softly, your voice gentle, concerned.

His gaze was still locked on the snow, his breath coming in shallow, uneven intervals.

He was back on that mountain, back in the freezing cold, back in the nightmare that had nearly destroyed him.

His hand jerks toward his left hand, gripping it tightly, pressing into the spot where two of his fingers are gone, severed by that brutal bear trap. The memory is vivid, visceral, a searing pain that haunts him, sending shockwaves through his hand as he clutches it, trying to stave off the ghostly ache. His whole body begins to shake, and you can see his chest rising and falling erratically, his breaths turning into strained gasps.

The screeching echoes of the wendigos in his head are getting louder and louder, and he can smell the stale scent of blood in the biting wind.

His hand drops to his lap, trembling violently, and he grabs the edge of the bed, his fingers digging in, his knuckles white as he grips it like it's his lifeline. "No, no, not again," he chokes out, his voice a raw whisper, barely audible

You reach out and place your hand on his shoulder, your touch firm, grounding, and his eyes flicker, focusing on you for a split second before glazing over again. His breaths are erratic, shallow and quick, and his face twists with panic as he fights to stay present, his whole body trembling. "Mike, look at me," you say, your voice steady, trying to reach through the fog of fear. "You're here. You're safe. It's just snow, nothing else."

Slowly, he seems to register your words, his gaze flickering back to you, his breathing still labored but slowing slightly as he focuses on the warmth of your hand on his arm.

"I thought I was past it," Mike admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "But it keeps coming back. Like I'm right there again."

He trailed off, his voice breaking slightly as the weight of it all pressed down on him.

"You're not there anymore," you said softly, your voice full of quiet reassurance. "You're here. With me."

His eyes were drawn to your lips. The way they were slightly parted, the soft flush of color there. He hadn't realized just how close you were sitting until now.

Mike's breath hitched slightly as he swallowed hard, his gaze fixated on your lips. He felt an overwhelming pull, like gravity itself was drawing him closer, and suddenly, all the fear and tension that had gripped him earlier faded into the background. His thoughts narrowed to a single focus.

Pull back. The fear of what this could mean loomed large. He could stop now, retreat to safety, and keep his heart protected.

Go for it. Take that leap into the unknown, embrace the connection forming between you, and let the moment unfold.

Mike's breath quickened as he hovered just inches from you, the world outside forgotten. In that heartbeat, he made his choice.

ℬ𝓊𝓉𝓉ℯ𝓇𝒻𝓁𝓎 ℯ𝒻𝒻ℯ𝒸𝓉 𝓊𝓅𝒹𝒶𝓉ℯ𝒹

Slowly, almost imperceptibly at first, Mike began to lean in, his body moving of its own accord, his instincts guiding him now. He paused for a split second, his eyes flicking up to meet yours, searching for any sign of hesitation, any signal that he should stop.

But your gaze remained steady, your eyes soft, open, and Mike took that as all the permission he needed

His lips brushed against yours, hesitant at first, testing. Then something inside Mike broke free. The kiss deepened, becoming more insistent, more demanding, as if he couldn't get close enough. His hand moved to cup the back of your neck, pulling you in, and the kiss grew rougher, needier.

Mike's other hand found its way to your waist, gripping you with a quiet desperation, his fingers digging into the fabric of your shirt. His chest pressed against yours as he angled his head, deepening the kiss even further, his lips moving with a hunger he hadn't realized he was holding back.

You leaned into Mike's touch, matching his intensity. Mike's breath hitched as his tongue slowly flicked out, teasing your bottom lip. When your lips parted slightly, giving him the invitation he was waiting for, Mike couldn't hold back the groan that escaped him.

It was a low, deep sound that rumbled in his chest, full of need and relief. His tongue slipped past your lips, moving with a slow, deliberate exploration, tasting, savoring.

His tongue moved deeper, seeking out the warmth of your mouth, exploring with a kind of roughness, a hunger that Mike couldn't quite control. He groaned again, the sound muffled by the kiss, his fingers tightening their grip on your waist as he pulled you closer.

His body was warm, solid, and you instinctively crawled into his lap, seeking the closeness that both of you seemed to need in that moment. You straddled him, your knees pressing into the mattress on either side of his thighs, your hands cradling his face. The light scruff of his beard scratched against your palms as you kept kissing him deeply.

Mike's mouth found your neck, his lips trailing soft, open-mouthed kisses along your skin. His breath was hot against your throat and you tilted your head back, giving him more access. His tongue brushes lightly against your skin as his hands tightened on your hips, pulling you down harder against him.

You shifted in his lap, your movements slow and deliberate as you began to grind against him, the tension between you building with every passing second. Mike let out a low, guttural sound, his hands gripping you tighter as he moved with you, his hips rising to meet yours in a rhythm that grew more urgent by the minute.

"God," he muttered against your neck, his voice thick with need. "You feel so good.."

His hands gently rested on your ass, groping the delicate and soft flesh gently while he took off all the pieces of clothing protecting it.

He circled your hole gently before pressing his finger inside up to the second knuckle, leaning down to kiss you firmly

Working the two fingers in deeper, Mike watched for any reaction, kissing your lips over and over when you squeezed his shoulders.

Suddenly you let out a strangled cry of pleasure, hips bucking upward to press the two fingers in deeper. That was the spot you wanted. He massaged that little area over and over, biting little marks along your shoulders and upper chest.

After the third finger you were begging for more, digging your nails into Mike's shoulders and moaning against his lips.

With trembling hands, you reached down, feeling the heat of his arousal through the fabric that still separated you. The anticipation was a slow burn, an exquisite torture as you took your time, savoring the way his breath hitched, the way his muscles tensed beneath your touch.

And then, with deliberate slowness, you freed him, your hands sure and steady as you positioned yourself over him.

His gaze never left yours as you slowly sank down onto him, the feeling so overwhelming that it stole the breath from your lungs. The sensation of him filling you, stretching you, was almost too much.

A low groan rumbled from deep within his chest as he watched you. His hands moved up your back, tugging at your shirt as he pulled it over your head, discarding it onto the floor without a second thought.

You responded in kind, your hands sliding under his shirt, your fingertips brushing against the hard planes of his chest.

Mike's hands found your hips again, and this time his grip was firmer, more urgent, as he guided you to rock against him with more intensity. The friction between you was almost overwhelming, and you could feel the tension coiling tighter and tighter with every movement, every touch.

His breathing was heavy, ragged, and with each thrust, a low, guttural grunt escaped his lips. He tried to lose himself in the moment, to forget the memories that haunted him.

As the intensity between you built, Mike's movements became rougher, more demanding. His hands gripped your hips tightly, guiding your movements as you rocked against him harder, faster. You could feel the heat building between you, the tension coiling tighter and tighter until it was almost unbearable

Without warning, Mike grunted softly, his arms wrapping tightly around your frame as he lifted you off his lap in one smooth, fluid motion. You gasped at the sudden shift, your legs instinctively wrapping around Mike's waist as you were lifted off the bed. Mike was still fully inside you, enveloping you in a warm, secure cage formed by his strong, protective arms.

His hands gripped your thighs tightly, keeping you secure as he lowered you onto the mattress with a quiet grunt, his body hovering over yours, never once breaking their connection.

His eyes locked with yours, filled with a mixture of desire and vulnerability, and he leaned down to kiss you again, his lips soft but insistent.

The moment you two were settled, Mike began to move again, his thrusts deep and powerful as he pressed your body into the mattress. His hands gripped your things firmly. He was doing everything in his power to please you, to show how much you were appreciated.

His eyes locked on yours as he leaned down to capture your lips in a searing kiss. It was rough, desperate, filled with the same urgency that was driving Mike's movements. His tongue slid into your mouth.

Mike groaned low in his throat, the sound vibrating through his chest as he continued to move, his pace quickening, his hips snapping forward with a roughness that sent waves of pleasure through your body.

His body pressed against yours, warm and solid, grounding you in the present moment.

With a final, powerful thrust, Mike let out a deep, guttural grunt, his body trembling as his release washed over him, sending shudders through his entire frame. You cried out, your own climax hitting you at the same time, the intensity of it all making your body tremble beneath Mike's.

Mike collapsed beside you, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. His arm draped across your waist, pulling you close and giving you the chance to bury your face in the crook of his neck. You could feel the tension in his body slowly start to fade, his breathing evening out as he relaxed into you.

"Thank you," he whispered, his voice rough but filled with gratitude. His lips pressed a soft kiss to your shoulder, his arms still wrapped tightly around you as if he couldn't bear to let go.

He shifted slightly, adjusting his position so that he could hold you more comfortably, his arms still wrapped around you protectively. His breathing slowed further, the deep, steady rhythm of someone who was finally allowing himself to drift off, to surrender to the quiet peace.

And for the first time in what felt like forever, Mike allowed himself to relax completely. There was no tension in his body now, no lingering fear or panic. He might not have been fully healed, but in this moment, he felt whole. And that was enough.

Mike let out one final, soft breath before sleep claimed him-peaceful, quiet, and free. For tonight, at least, the nightmares would stay away.

Note: If you liked this story please leave a comment, I love reading them <3.

190 notes · View notes

shesoutofhere · 30 days ago

Text

With Perfection Comes Obsession

Hockey James Potter x Figure Skater Reader

Summary- You're back in the rink, training for a medal you lost out on the year before. Nothing is going to get in your way this year. Or so you think.

Warnings- Description of a panic attack, Unhealthy habits

Wordcount- 10k

Translation: Lapin - Rabbit

Ignore all typos <3

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Spin

“Again”

Spin

“Again

Spin

“Again”

You hit the ice just as aggressively as you did the time before that. You're finding it hard to breathe and everything aches.

“Again Lapin!”

You pump your legs, moving them fast and hard. You're mid-jump when you hear the shrieking of the arena buzzer. Thrown off, your footing is off and you fall to your knees.

You hear your coach scoff, moving to get off the ice. You get up, wincing at the sting in your knees, that’ll be a nasty bruise.

When you walk off the ice, Coach hands you your blade covers. You mentally prepare yourself for the lecture you’ll receive when you return to the locker room.

You feel a tight grip on your arm. Okay, looks like you’ll get your lecture right here.

“Lapin, If you get distracted by a buzzer, what makes you think you’ll be fine in an arena full of people? Have you learned nothing from your last performance?”

She asks you questions but doesn’t give you time to respond, she immediately cuts in. “And your jumps, how is it that you haven’t managed to master your jumps? You are well past the age to be scared of falling. Your hesitation will cost you this title.”

Silence falls over the both of you, Coach has her hands on her sides and just stares. You know what she's doing. She’s thinking of how you’ll be punished for this oh-so-horrible performance today.

“Tomorrow you will march yourself to the management office and ask for an extended time.”

Your eyes go wide, “Coach, they’ll never give me more time. And what about my professors? They’re already at their wits end with me being gone all the time.”

Coach’s eyes sharpen, “I’m sorry, have your priorities changed? Am I wasting your time Lapin? Cause if that’s the case then say so, and may we be free of this doomed partnership.”

You cower under her stare, “No, no of course not Coach, I’ll talk to management tomorrow and see what deal I can work up with my professors.”

Pleased with the conversation going her way, Coach smiles. “Good, I’ll see you soon.”

With that, she saunters off, reaching for her phone to call god knows who.

When you’re sure she’s out of eyesight you slump down onto the bench next to you. You close your eyes and take a minute to finally catch your breath. You bring your hand to your chest, hoping to alleviate some of the tightness and discomfort.

The bench shakes and you hear something hit the ground with a thud. You open one eye and close it again when you see who it is who’s disturbed your peace.

“How oh how will you ever convince management to give you any more practice time?”

You sigh, hoping that if you ignore the nuisance next to you, he’ll get the hint and leave you alone.

“They won’t even give the team extra time, let alone one person.”

You open your eyes and turn to look at the boy sitting next to you. “I can be very persuasive.”

James, who’s lacing up his skates, mumbles a quiet “Don’t I know it.”

You stand up and gather your things. “Who Knows James, win some games and maybe you’ll get the extra time you need.”

James pauses his movement, looking up at you with a deadly glare.

It’s a sore subject and you know it. After Peter Pettigrew, one of the university's star players decided to transfer, James and the rest of the team have been dethroned. They’ve known no peace since then and are grappling with everything to win this season.

James turns back to his laces. “Hey and maybe if you learn to stop being so skittish on the ice, you’ll land that jump for once Lapin.”

This is why you’ll never feel bad for being so hostile toward James. He’s a wolf in sheep's clothing and you lose your mind every day knowing that everybody has fallen for his golden boy act.

You throw your bag over your shoulder, swatting at the back of James' head on your way out of the arena.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You’re pacing back and forth in front of the management office. You’ve gone over every possible excuse that could convince them to give you more time. You will convince them, or Coach will have your head on a platter. You’ll butter up the sweet old lady who works the front desk, you’ll dazzle her, and she’ll sign whatever she needs to.

With one final pep talk, you walk into the office and freeze at the door.

Shit.

It’s not the sweet old lady.

Sitting at the front desk is Remus Lupin. ‘This is fine’ you try to convince yourself.

You saunter up to the desk “Good morning Remus, you look fantastic today, do anything different with your hair?”

Remus puts his book down, looking up with a sweet smile, “No, did the same thing I always do. How can I help you?”

You lean onto the counter and start messing with the pen jar. “You, my love, can sign off on my extra ice time.” you choose not to make eye contact, continuing to swivel the pens around the jar.

Remus sighs, dragging your name out, “You know I can’t approve any more time for you, the school won’t allow it.”

You stomp your foot out of habit, “ But Remus, I got all my professors to give me as many extensions as I need, really all I need is for you to say yes.”

Remus, always bursting your bubble, “It’s not about class love, It’s about your health. You know how the system works.”

You groan and bring your head down onto the counter. You knew this would be your biggest obstacle. All athletes have to adhere to certain rules. The university claims that it’s to protect the athlete's health but everyone knows it's so they don’t get backlash for overworking their student-athletes. You're allotted a certain amount of hours but anything over that has to be flagged and reported.

“Listen,” Your head shoots up, “I can maybe convince them to a lot you a bit more time, but you’ve got to go to your physical therapy sessions. Doc has to report when you don’t show you know.”

“Okay yes, fine, I pinky promise that I will see Doc, and stretch and stay off the ice for 30 minutes after eating, and-”

Remus cuts you off with a laugh, “Okay, okay I get it. I’ll talk to the board and see what I can do.”

You squeal, reaching over the counter to smack a kiss on Remus’s forehead. “You are a lifesaver Remus Lupin.”

Remus just shakes his head, “Yeah yeah, whatever, get out of here.”

You happily skip out of the office, so happy, that not even running into James Potter in his gear could upset you.

You offer a simple “James” and go to walk past him.

“Woah, what's got you all happy?”

You give him a sly smile, “Oh nothing, I’m just having a lovely morning.”

James furrows his brows at you, “Okayyy. Was Rem in the office?”

You nod at him, “Yes, my sweet, beautiful, lovely Remus is in there. How he’s friends with the lot of you, I’ll never understand.”

James is insulted but is weirded out more than anything.

Not caring to interact any further you wave goodbye.

James, still confused, continues into the office.

You don’t get far down the before James is yelling your name down the hallway. You roll your eyes, continuing on your way. You hear thumping and there’s a yank on your wrist.

You yelp out of surprise. James without a word is dragging you back towards the office. You both enter and Remus is shaking his head.

You rip your wrist out of James' grip, “I’d like that back thank you.”

You smile at Remus, “Hi love, so good to see you again.”

“Likewise.”

James snaps his fingers, “Quit it you two, Remus just told me you’re getting more time on the ice.”

“Why yes I am. I told you James, do better at your sport and good things come your way.”

“Guys please don’t start. I don’t want to have to kick you out again,” Remus says.

James disregards your insult, “You can’t get more time, you’re already maxed out on hours, they’ll never approve it.”

You shake your head in faux symphony “Oh James, I told you I was very persuasive.”

This seems to bring his attention back to his friend. “You” he points a finger aggressively toward Remus’s direction, “How could you say yes? You're the iron wall, no one shakes you down.”

Remus gives a weak shrug, “Okay, I wasn’t shaken down, we made a deal”

James rolls his eyes, “Oh yeah, and what was that?”

“She’ll see Doc, every appointment, she has to go.”

James looks confused. “How is that a deal? It's protocol.”

“Wellll” Remus drags.

The look on James’ face darkens. His attention is on you now. “You don’t see the Doc?”

You try not to be intimidated by his glare. “I just don’t see the point of seeing him after every practice. I mean come on, my body is my instrument, of course, I know how to take care of it.”

Whatever lightness was in the air, is gone now. James is genuinely upset and you can’t wrap your head around why.

“Are you kidding me, so what, you’ve just been skipping out on all your appointments?”

All you can do is shrug. Remus, who can sense the shift in the atmosphere, tries to intervene. “Look, I don’t even know if it’s a guarantee, I still have to ask the board.”

Your heart drops. “No. I need the time. You said you’d get me the time.”

Remus, who has unfortunately been caught in both James and your fury, doesn't know how to turn this conversation around.

“And what about your work, do you even go to class anymore?”

“I’m doing great in all my classes.”

“That doesn't answer whether you're going.”

“What does it matter? Virtual or not, It’s only until after the competition.”

James takes his glasses off and rubs at his forehead like he’s trying to ward off an oncoming headache. “So, just like that, you get the time, extensions on school work, and a pass from all the appointments you missed with Doc.”

You sigh, “I don’t get it James, are you jealous, is that what it is?”

This strikes a nerve in James. “You think that's what this is about?”

“Well” you throw your hands up, “what else could be?”

James puts his glasses back on and steps up to you, “You know what, if you want to overwork yourself and fuck up any chance you get at the actual competition, go ahead, seems like everyone is right behind you.” with that, James storms out the office.

Remus walks out from behind the desk and gives a light squeeze to your shoulder, “I don’t understand why you two work each other up so much.”

“He’s wrong,” you say quietly. Remus listens. “I’m better than I’ve ever been. I need this Remus, I need to win this. I need to show everyone that I can do it.”

Remus, with a sad look in his eyes, pulls you in for a hug. “Everyone knows you can, you’re amazing.”

You sigh and pull away. “It doesn’t matter how good I am, all everyone sees now is the girl who messed up last year. All my hard work was reduced to one stupid mistake. I have to get it right this time.”

Remus just sighs, he’s seen this version of you before, and he doesn’t like where it’s going.

He grabs you by the shoulders, “Promise that you’ll go to Doc.”

“Promise that you’ll get me my time.”

He sticks out his pinky, encouraging you to lock yours with his. You do.

“Thank Rem”

“Don’t make me regret love.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

To everyone's surprise, the board does accept your request for additional time. You're ecstatic. Coach won’t show it but you know she’s semi-impressed.

With the new time, the ending of your practice marked the beginning of the kid's ice class. Every time you did any sort of jump or spin you could hear a dozen little aws and wows.

You felt fantastic, Coach was in a decent mood, and practice was long but the scary women had minimal feedback. For the first time in a long time, you felt on top of the world.

“Okay, that’s enough for today.”

You walk off the ice, putting your guards on. Coach gives you final pointers and is out of the building before you can say bye.

You sat on the bench, undoing the laces of your skates when a group of the girls from before comes up to you. They flutter around you, asking all sorts of questions and giving endless praises. You’d be lying if you said that you didn’t feel your heart swell with pride and joy.

You're talking about costumes when you hear your name being called. Standing towards the entryway are Doc and James.

You knew this day was going to well, you had forgotten that today was your scheduled appointment with Doc. As for James, every time you see him your day is ruined. The two of you hadn’t spoken since the whole incident in the office. Remus had tried to get the both of you to make amends but neither of you had the intention of doing so.

You put your slipper on and make your way over to pair.

“Hey remember me? Long time no see.” You know Doc is trying to be silly but your heart beating faster at the mere thought of having to get checked up.

The bespectacled figure clears his throat. “Haven't you heard Doc, our ice princess got more ice time so she's been pretty busy.”

You cross your arms. Reaching a hand to rest on your sternum, feeling a slight tug at every breath you take.

Doc disregards James petty comment, immediately picking up on your discomfort. “You okay?”

James looks puzzled, glancing back and forth between the two of you, looking for whatever he missed.

You shrug. “Yeah, it's just, well..you know.” Doc just nods.

“Know what?” James blurts out. From the look on his face, you can tell that he didn't mean to say that out loud.

You frown, “It’s nothing.”

“It’s clearly something.”

“Okay, well it’s none of your business is it.”

“OKAY,” Doc yells, cutting both of you off. “James I’ll do what we talk about, now move along.”

James lingers for a bit before he finally walks off.

“Now you” Doc starts, “Shall come with me.”

You know that there isn’t any way to avoid this and follow right behind him.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Doc makes small talk throughout your checkup. You give replies, trying your best not to come off like you don’t want to be there.

You’re in the middle of doing a stretch when Doc says “So, are we going to talk about the elephant in the room?”

You lay on your back and bring a knee up to your chest, staring up at the ceiling. “Do we have to?”

Doc hums, “I think we should.”

You bring your leg down and lift the other to your chest “Okay, well then I guess.”

Doc stands at your side and offers a hand to bring you up from the ground. You sit on the ground and Doc sits in front of you. “I need you to know that what I did, was not only part of my job as your doctor but as someone who cares deeply for you lot.”

You fidget with your fingers as Doc continues. “And I had to report the appointments that you were missing. I know you guys like to joke around with me but I am a healthcare provider before anything else and you can loathe me all you want but know my actions are never meant to harm you.”

Ugh, you feel like such an asshole now. “I don’t hate you Doc, I know you're just doing your job. I think-” you pause, trying to gather your thoughts, “I think in my head If I didn’t do my checkups, there wouldn’t be anyone to tell me that something could potentially be wrong.”

Doc nods, and you continue “I should’ve listened to you back then, with or without the jump I would've lost anyway.” You say with a sad smile. “This time has to be different, I have to land that jump, I have to win this one.”

Doc gives you an odd look. “I’ll be watching you like a hawk, you need to take care of yourself. I won’t watch you hurt yourself for this again, will you hate me then?”

You feel your body stiffen, you need this, so you think you might.

“I mean it when I say this one is mine this year.” you have never been more serious in your life.

“Oh trust me, I believe you.”

It doesn’t have to be said, but you think that you and Doc might be a bit further apart than before.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You’re counting down the weeks. The competition is getting closer with each day that passes. You’ve spent more time at the arena over the past couple of weeks than you have in your dorm.

Practice isn’t until later today, but you ambushed Remus when he was walking into the rink this morning.

Now here you are, skating freely in the dimly lit rink. Remus gets horrible migraines and chooses to leave the lights off for as long as he can.

You glide across the rink, twisting and turning whenever you please. Some time has passed when you come to a stop. All you can hear is the sound of your labored breath. You do your breathing techniques, trying your best to regulate your heartbeat.

Your nerves spike back up when you see James skating towards you and feel speed.

He halts right in front of you. “Are you okay?”

All you can do is nod, not being able to form words quite yet. James doesn’t say anything else for a while. He watches and waits as you catch your breath.

When you seem to have calmed down he jumps to question you. “What on earth was that?”

You shrug, “I just got a bit winded I guess.” He blinks at you, “That's not the first time it happened though.”

James, always so annoyingly inquisitive.

“I’m fine James, where the hell did you come from anyway? The rink isn’t open yet.”

You both kick into a slow skate around the rink. “That's rich, considering you’re here too. Also, you forget that Remus is one of my best friends.”

“How could I forget, you remind me every time I interact with him.”

“Well, that's because I can’t seem to understand what hold you’ve got over him. He folds instantly when it comes to you. You know I had to beg him for 20 minutes to let me in.”

You give a triumphant smile, “Remus and I have a bond that exceeds any and all relationship types, I wouldn’t expect you to understand.”

James scowls, ‘Stop talking about your special bond with Remus.”

“Jealous?”

“No!” James responded a bit too quickly. “More like deeply disturbed.”

“Not as disturbing as you and Sirius,” you say, skating a bit faster to get ahead of him.

“Hey! Don’t bring Sirius into this.”

You tsk, “So quick to defend his honor. Tell him I’m still waiting on our date by the way.”

“Oh please, Sirius goes on dates with anything that moves so don’t hold your breath.” Whatever honor and respect James had for his best friend earlier is out the window.

You hum, not offering him a real response. James, changing the subject, “Was that a routine earlier?”

“A routine with no music?” you ask sarcastically.

James rolls his eyes, “I'm just asking because it looked familiar.”

Familiar? Why would it look familiar?

“Spend your days off watching figure skating routines?” you say as you skate backward in front of him.

He shakes his head, “No, just yours.” he doubles down quickly, “Well cause, we skate at the same rink and all that.”

It’s too late, what he’s said has already gone to your head. You bring a hand to your heart mockingly, “The James Potter, Hockey legend, watches my routines. What an honor.”

James makes a face at you, “Oh whatever, forget I said anything.”

You continue “I can’t believe I am skating with James Potter.” you say as you skate around him.

James can’t help but laugh. “Okay quit it you’re gonna make me dizzy. God knows how you spin the way you do without throwing up.”

You continue at his side. “Years and years of practice.”

“So, the routine, what's it from?”

You let out a long sigh, “It was bits and pieces from my finals routine last year.”

James says a quiet ‘oh’

“Mhm” is all you can offer back.

“I was there, you know?” James fidgets with his glasses. “Well, I mean, me and the whole team—half of the university, really.”

This shocks you. You knew a lot of peers and locals from your university town showed overwhelming support, but for some reason, knowing James was there makes you…happy?

“Well, you picked the worst one to turn up to.” You try to make a light-hearted joke, but it doesn’t work.

James comes to a stop on the ice. You stop with him. “You really scared everyone.”

You scoff, “More like disappointed everyone.”

“No” James replies sharply, “I can assure you that no one in that arena was disappointed and you’ve got to stop thinking that.”

You feel an argument brewing. “And what about you James? What did you feel? Please share with the gallery.”

“I-” he pauses for a second. “I was scared too, and then I was angry.”

“Angry?”

He nods, “Angry. I was angry at you. I was angry that you’d attempt to do something so-”

He cuts himself off, trying to restrain himself.

“Something so what James? Go on say it” You egg him on.

He yanks his glasses off his face, a habit he has when he’s frustrated. “Fine! Something so stupid. I couldn’t, for the life of me wrap my head around why you would purposely do something so stupid.” James doesn’t stop there. “I couldn’t understand why you would disregard Doc's orders. I was angry that you had such little regard for yourself and your body.” James throws his hands up,” and all for what?”

You clench your fist tight at your side. You feel the anger flare up inside you. “All for what?” you laugh bitterly. “Is that how you see what I do?”

James doesn’t respond. His silence only angers you more. “I did what I thought was necessary okay? I worked too hard all last year to just give it up. I made a mistake, I understand that, and I have spent every moment since then trying to make it up.”

You inch closer towards James, “Do you know how humiliating it is to have all my hard work be reduced down to one single mistake? I am perfect my whole career but the second I have one slip-up I'm stripped of all my wins, all my medals. Everything I’ve worked for, completely disregarded.”

James stares at you with wide eyes. “Is this what this is about? About ruining your perfect reign? Do you know how insane that sounds?”

You groan, “I could hold my tongue hearing this from anyone else, but you of all people James, Seriously? You are such a hypocrite.”

James glares at you. “And what exactly are you alluding to?”

“You,” you say, shoving a finger in his chest, “are a hypocrite. You think I don’t see what you’ve been doing. Ever since Pete left you have been overcompensating, trying to fill a role all by yourself. The late night and early morning practices. Taking on extra responsibility on the ice. Spreading yourself thin to make it to nationals.

“That’s different.”

You laugh “How on earth is different James?” you can't believe this guy.

“It’s different because It’s temporary until we find someone else. It’s different because I take care of myself. It’s different because it’s a whole team of us that care about each other. Yeah, I'm stepping up right now but I can always step back and rely on the guys if I need to. You, however, have..well you just don’t..” he sighs, “you’re alone.”

You back up from him, “You’re unbelievable.” you start skating to exit the rink. You hear James call after you. “Wait, I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Whatever James, just leave me alone.”

“Would you just let me explain?” he desperately calls out. You swivel around the ice quickly, turning to face him. You have a snarky remark to give but it's out the window when James fully runs into you. Before both of you can catch yourselves, you both fall onto the ice.

You yelp out in pain when James falls right onto your foot. He’s off of you quickly. “Holy shit are you okay?”

You don’t answer, attempting to stand up. When you put pressure on your right foot, a sharp pain shoots through your ankle. James must see the pain in your face, “I'm so sorry I didn’t think you were going to stop. Let me help you back.”

You shake him off, “No it’s fine, I’m fine.” you go to kick off the ice and the pain brings you to your knees. James reaches for you but you push his hands away.

No no no, this can’t be happening. You feel your heart start to pick up. You can barely hear James over the ringing in your ear. You stand up one more time, pushing off with your left leg this time. You make it somewhere but when you push off your right leg out of habit you double over in pain.

You hear James grimace from behind you. “Alright, that's enough.” James wraps your arm over his shoulder and takes most of your weight. You can’t deny him, having no other way to get off the ice. He glides the both of you to the exit. The second your feet reach the matted floors you push away from him and limp to the nearest bench. You're pulling and tugging at your laces aggressively. When your skate is loose enough you yank your foot out, crying out in pain. You roll your sock down both you and James gasp. You throw the skate that’s in your hand.

You bring your hands to your eyes, feeling that annoying sting. “Fuck!” This is not happening. You did not just ruin your chances for this year because of one little accident.

“I have to get Remus.” you grip James' wrist stopping him in his tracks. “Absolutely not!”

James tries to pull his wrist from you but you bring your other hand to grab at it. “Don’t say anything, please. I promise I’m fine.” James looks at you bewildered, “Are you insane? Your ankle is purple.”

“I bruise easily. I promise it's fine.”

“Walk on it.”

What. “What?”

James shrugs, “Walk on it. Walk from here to those bleachers.”

You go stand up, his eyes never leaving you. You take your first step and feel the same sharp pain you flinch but take your next step. You take step after step, pushing through the blinding pain. You make it to the bleachers and turn to face James. “See, it’s fine.”

James stares at you in disbelief. He walks up to you “You are unbelievable.” He grits out.

James leaves without saying anything else. Leaving you in the dark arena.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It’s been three days. You managed to convince Coach to give you time off, telling her that you had some projects to catch up on. Pleased with your recent performance, she reluctantly granted you some free time. No practice meant no Doc visits. Three days and radio silence from James. You were so sure that he would've said something to someone by now but you aren't called in for any meeting or evaluations.

Three days later and your ankle is still purple and throbbing. You’ve taken way too many painkillers for it to be safe but it’s your first day back and you have to act like you feel fine.

You walk into the building. You put on a smile and are prepared to give the best performance of your lifetime. Coach is already standing by the ice. You go towards the locker rooms but you stop when she yells your name.

She looks annoyed when you walk up to her. “Hey Coach”

She puts her phone down. “Look, they are cutting into your time today because they have to get the ice ready for the game tonight. I’m going to need you to do a quick warm-up and get right into running the routine. Jumps and all.”

You nod, “Yes ma’am.”

You put your bag down on the bench and start getting ready. You’re lacing up your skates when you hear a chorus of laughter. You lift your head to see James, Remus, and Sirius all chit-chatting while exiting the office hallway. Sirius catches your eye and you’re too slow to look away. He’s caught you.

“Lapin!”

Oh god.

You hear them make their way over.

“Where have you been? We haven’t seen you in ages.”

You yank tightly at your laces and wrap them around your ankle. “Oh don’t exaggerate. It was only three days.”

Sirius scoffs, slouching down onto the bench next to you. “Yeah, that’s forever for you. I feel like lately you’ve been here every day.” you roll your eyes at him.

“I had schoolwork to catch up on.”

Remus hums, “Look at you. Working hard.”

You lean back on the bench. “What can I say? Anyway, I’m back. Try not to stare too hard Sirius.”

Sirius' shoulder bumps you. “Hey, what about Remus?”

You stand up, “You my darling.” pointing a finger at Remus. “Can stare as long and hard as you’d like to.”

There is a slight tinge of pink on Remus’s face but he laughs it off. “Quit you two.”

Your attention turns to James clearing his throat. This whole time he hadn’t said anything, just staring at you, analyzing your every move.

The two of you stare at each other, tension thick in the air. He drags his eyes slowly down your body. Any other person would think he has no shame but you know it’s nothing like that. You know exactly what he’s looking for. James' eyes linger on your ankle, mostly hidden by your skates.

James tilts his head, “Hmm”

Sirius and Remus, having no idea what's going on, simply stand there.

“Hmm? That’s all you're gonna say?”

Jamea shrugs. “What else is there to say? Everythings fine.”

For the past three days you’ve done nothing but worry about James snitching on you. It’s brought you nothing but stress and anxiety. Why hasn’t he said anything?

You open your mouth to say something. “Yeah sure everythi-”

“Lapin! On the ice. Now!”

James continues staring at you. If he thinks you’re going to crack, he’s going to be waiting for the rest of the day.

You walk away with as much ease and poise as you can.

The pain in your foot isn’t gone. You’ve got a purple bump to prove it but you’ve taken enough pain meds to hold off some of the pain for now. You skate around the ice, warming up. Every time you kick off you feel the twinging pain but do your best to ignore it. Coach doesn’t let you warm up for long.

“Lapin, run the routine.”

You’re heart drops, you didn’t think she’d get straight into it but she must want to take advantage of the time you had on the ice.

You take a deep breath, already feeling the normal burning sensation in your lungs. You get into position. You steady yourself into your starting pose. You lock eyes with James. They’re all leaning onto barriers. Neither of you breaks eye contact. Finally, you hear the starting notes of your music and begin. You kick off beautifully, moving across the rink in a matter of seconds. You glide elegantly across the ice. The music begins to swell, the first jump is coming up. You breathe in, brace yourself, and jump. You spin, almost landing perfectly. There is a bit of wobble but nothing you can't make up in the next couple of jumps. You continue your program. You jump again. Spinning and landing. This one is perfect, no wobble. You keep moving, swelling with pride. You can’t see anyone but the lack of yelling lets you know that Coach is somewhat satisfied with the jumps. You push on, beginning to feel the pain in your foot. You ignore it as best you can. It’s when you're landing your third jump that the pain shoots up through your ankle. It leaves you breathless for a second but you compose yourself. You skate, you skate and skate and skate until you hear yelling over the music.

“Get her off the ice right now!”

You bring yourself to a stop. You look over to the commotion and see the coach with Doc. Standing right next to both of them is James.

You stay on the ice, trying to catch your breath.

It’s Coach's turn to yell at you. “Lapin, come here right this instance.”

Your heart continues beating quickly. You make your way over and when you're at the exit, Coach is pulling you by the arm, heading straight for the benches.

“Sit.”

You look between her and Doc, you can’t even bear to look at James.

“What on Earth is going on?!”

“Take your skates off!”

“Excuse me?”

“Skates. Off. Now.”

You reach to slowly start untying your skates. It doesn’t matter how slow you move. They all sit and wait.

Once they’re both off Doc kneels and reaches for your ankles immediately.

“Woah what the hell are you doing?”

“Which one James?”

Your head snaps towards James. You’re caught, you know it, but if James says something now you’ll hate him for the rest of your life.

James must see it in your face. He’s silent for a second.

“Which one is James? I'm not going to ask again.”

James looks away and answers. “The right one.”

Without another second wasted, Doc is yanking your sock down, revealing a swollen purple ankle. Both Doc and Coach gasp.

“Lapin, what the hell were you thinking?”

You scramble to save this. “It’s not as bad as it looks! I promise!”

You look between Coach and Doc and all you see is pure disappointment. Coach runs a hand through her hair.

“Why? Why are you so adamant about hurting yourself? Do you not realize that you could mess this up beyond repair. What will you do then?”

Your eyes start to sting and you feel them watering up. “I didn’t mean to. It was a stupid accident.”

“Well, that’s exactly my point. You are a star athlete. What are you doing having stupid accidents? You are meant to be taking care of yourself.”

You feel the tears begin to fall. “Oh, now you care? Where was this lecture when you let me skate last year? Or how about all the times I skipped my appointments? How many appointments did you let go unattended? How many times did you look the other way?”

You stare at your coach in anger and she looks right back at you with a look you can’t place.

Doc cuts in. “We need to get it checked out.” You go to stand up and Doc tries to help you immediately. “You really shouldn’t be walking on it.”

“I’ve been doing it just fine.”

Doc shakes his head and reaches to help again. “I mean it. I don’t want you walking on it. James can you come hel-”

You cut him off immediately. “Absolutely not. I said I’m fine. I can walk by myself.”

Realizing that he can’t stop you, Doc lets you start making your way to his office. James follows behind immediately, calling you names. You ignore him but he won’t stop. He grabs your arm. You hear him quietly beg “Please, can you just listen.”

You yank your arm out of his grasp. “I never want to hear from you again, James Potter. I hate you.” you spit out venomously. James displays a clear look of hurt. You leave him there, making your way down the hall alone.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

After a thorough investigation, Doc diagnoses you with a bad sprain. It would have been fine if you had sought medical help immediately, or so he says. You don’t speak if you don’t have to, only offering quiet yes’s and no’s.

Doc is finishing up when you do finally speak a full sentence. “When am I cleared to skate again?”

Doc sighs, like who knew the question was coming. “Well, that’ll be up to you.”

He moves around the room, gathering things for your kit while speaking. “You wanna get better fast, you’re gonna have to take care of that ankle.” he walks over, handing you the kit and paperwork. “That means no agitating it, no skating, and definitely no competition.”

You knew this was coming but hearing it breaks your heart. You feel your eyes start to water again.

“Look,” Doc starts. “I'm really sorry. I knew how much this meant to you.” His words go in one ear and out the other. You silently stand up and grab all your things. You can’t bear to be in this rink anymore. You reach for the newly prescribed crutches and adjust yourself. Doc watches silently. You whisper a quiet thank you and goodbye. You make your way out of the building, trying your best to ignore all the stares. The rink, now busy with people waiting for the upcoming game.

Everyone pushes to get in when you want nothing more than to get out. Every look you receive is filled with pity that you don’t want. You finally make it out, trekking through the parking lot to get to your car. Once you're in you turn it on and drive in silence. When you're in your dorm you head straight to bed. Holding onto one last hope that all of this is just a dream.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You know you shouldn’t be here. Well, technically nothing is stopping you from being here. But with Coach currently giving you the cold shoulder, Doc banning you from skating, and James on your hate list, Coming to the rink might not be the smartest of ideas.

That is why you are here right now, at night. You’ve been out for over a week and feel like you’ve been going stir-crazy in your room. Technically the rink is closed. It has been for the past three hours. However, you know Burnie, the maintenance man, doesn’t leave until a while after.

You’re shaking in the cold when you see him walk out the front, going to lock it. He smiles when he sees you. You can't help but smile back. “Hey Burnie.”

“Hey sweetheart” He greets you with just as much enthusiasm as always. “Whatcha doing here?”

“I forgot a couple of things in the locker room. Thought it might be time I come and get it.”

He eyes you suspiciously. You can’t help but laugh. “Burnie I promise I’m just here for some things. Look, no bag, no skates,” you say as you spin in a circle for him.

He reaches to steady you. “Woah okay now. Be careful on that foot.” he sighs. “Alright sweetheart, I'm gonna trust you on this, run in and grab your things and I’ll wait for you right here.”

“What, Burnie no. I'm not gonna make you wait out here in the cold. Plus you shouldn’t have to stay a second later. I already feel bad keeping you right now.”

Burnie’s still wavering. You sigh. “Look Burnie, I’m in a boot and I don’t know if you know this but these are a pain to take off. Both literally and physically. I just need to grab my things but I don’t want you waiting out here on me when you could be halfway home.”

“Fine. You’ve convinced me. Don’t let me find out that you were skating or we're gonna have some problems, sweetheart.”

You giggle pointing at your boot. “Burnie, I already told you I can’t.”

He waves a hand, walking away. “Knowing you? You’d find a way. There are keys in Remus's desk. Lock the front door when you're done.”

“Sir yes Sir.”

You make your way into the lockers, finding your bag of things that you always leave here. You grab it and walk out to the rink. You slump down onto the bench. You start rummaging through your bag. You smile as you find all sorts of knick-knacks.

You pull out what you were looking for, your old skates. You smile fondly as you remember the skating you did in them. Your happiness morphed into sadness when remembering the people who bought you the skates. You hadn’t seen your parents since you moved out to college. Your skating was too mediocre for them to fly out and watch. You remember every single time they turned down your invitations, telling you it would be “A waste of time”.

How could that be? You had everyone telling you you’re the best skater they’ve seen in ages. You have a world champion for a coach. You have so many people coming out to watch you. How can you have all of that and it still not be enough to make your parents see you?

This is why you had to be fantastic. You were supposed to be perfect this year and the last and you ruined it. You still hadn’t told your parents about your injury. You could still hear your mother on the phone from last year. The disappointment, the lack of worry for her child, and worst of all, her deadpan voice muttering into the phone, “What did we expect, knowing you.”

You’re squeezing the skates tightly, you feel your breath pick up. You pinch your eyes shut. Nonono this cannot be happening. You know this feeling all too well. You put your hands over your ears and bring your head down. You feel the familiar tightness in your chest. You try to breathe in and out but your airways feel constricted. You sit up and start rummaging through your bag looking for an inhaler. You find one and pull it out, panicking more when you realize that it’s out of pumps. You can feel your heartbeat in your ears. Hearing the heavy thump over and over again. You get up. You know you have one in your car, you just have to make it out there.

You start walking, trying your best to slow down your breathing. You can start to see the light coming from the front when you hear someone unlocking the door. You walk around the corner, fully expecting to see Burnie who’s come back to kick you out. You freeze when the person turns around.

You and James both stop in your places both gasping in shock.

“Jesus Christ you scared the shit out of me,” he says with a hand over his heart.

You don’t have time for James, so you walk right past him. James takes your silence as an insult.

“Are you still ignoring me?” you don’t answer, you fumble to get the keys out of your pocket. Reaching to unlock the door. When you do, you book it out to the parking lot. You can hear James following you.

“Seriously, you don’t show up for a week and then I find you here in the middle of the night. What were you doing anyways?” he continues behind you. James' tone changes, seeming to land on the only possible explanation. “You were skating weren’t you?” you get your car keys out of your pocket and start clicking on the unlock button over and over again.

“God” he scoffs, “You’re insane. That has to be the only explanation.” whatever else James says you can’t hear. The pain in your chest is unbearable and you start to cough at the lack of air in your lungs. The cold makes every sharp inhale burn. You finally make it to your car and swing the back door open. You jump in, yanking your bag out from under the seat. You dig through it and pull your inhaler out. You bring it to your mouth and inhale instantly.

You sit up, breathing in. Your eyes are closed but you can hear James' shoes scuff to a stop right outside your open door. You stay like this for a while. You finally feel your heart start to slow and the burning in your chest is subsiding. You open your eyes and see James staring back at you with wide eyes.

“Holy shit you have asthma?”

His complete 180 in emotions gives you whiplash.

“Yes you dickhead, I have asthma.”

James completely disregards the insult. “You had asthma this whole time. That's what Doc was asking about right? Or that time on the ice? When you get winded?”

You just nod.

“Yeah, you’re definitely insane.” you lean forward to smack his arm. “Quit calling me crazy!”

James rests a hand on the top of the car, leaning in, getting a better look at you in the back seat.

“I’m not calling you crazy. I’m calling you insane.”

You cross your arms. “So what, I have asthma. Plenty of athletes have asthma,” you say, looking up at him.

James runs a hand through his hair. “That isn’t the point. I just wish- If you could just-” Without another word he’s getting into the backseat, pushing you over to make room for him.

James clears his throat. “Listen, I’m going to say something and I need you to listen.”

Whatever you're about to say, James doesn’t let you. “Promise. Promise you won’t say anything until I’m finished talking.” You stare down at James' hand, pinky extended, waiting for yours.

You wrap your pinky around his. He drops his hand but keeps his finger interlocked with yours. You don’t pull away.

“I think you should take a break from skating.”

You roll your eyes. You push away from James but his pinky tightens around yours.

“Wait! You promised you’d listen.”

He’s got a desperate look on his face. “I watch you.”

“James what?”

“Okay no, but yes.” He clarifies. “God I’m really bad at this. What I want to say is that I notice you okay? The second you started skating here I noticed you.”

“You are frustratingly good on the ice. You’ve gotten title after title and it's got everything to do with you” James looks down, fidgeting with your joint pinkies. Ears red. “But ever since your incident last year you’ve gotten so…” he trails off looking for the right word. “Aggressive”

“You’ve gotten so aggressive with your technique, on the ice, and with yourself. There’s something different about you. Everyone thinks it's a newfound determination but I can see it in your eyes, it’s something else. You skate with no regard for your body. What happens when you push it too far? What happens when you force yourself so hard that your body gives up on you? What will you do then?”

The silence is heavy over you both. You look at James and he looks back at you with so much emotion, searching for an answer.

You let out a shaky breath. “What am I if I can’t skate? Can you tell me, James?”

He stumbles over his words, clearly thrown off by your question. He comes up blank.

“Exactly. Skating is all I have, it’s all I am.”

James shakes his head. “No, that isn’t true.”

You let out an exasperated laugh. “Do you think I’d be here right now if it weren’t for my skating? I’m here because it’s what I'm good at. I have so many people betting on me, so many expectations to uphold, so many people to prove that I’m worth it.”

James leans in closer and speaks gently. “Why do you think that you aren’t already the best? Why is it so hard to believe that you are amazing at what you do?”

His gentle tone does little to comfort you. He doesn’t get it. “If I’m so great how come my parents won’t come to see me?” you yell, your tone coming off harsher than you had intended.

You recognize the emotion behind James' stare, it’s pity and you hate it.

You can’t bear to look at him, embarrassed by your outburst.

“Hey,” you keep your gaze towards your lap.

“Hey, look at me.” you feel his hand come under your chin as he lifts your face to meet his eyes.

He unlatches his pinky from yours and brings his hand up to hold your face.

“Is that what it is, you feel like you’ve got a crowd to appeal to? Well, guess what? You don’t owe anyone anything. You skate because you love it not because you feel the need to meet intangible expectations. If your parents can’t see how good you are then that's on them, you don’t need them.”

You groan and reach for his wrist, pulling his hand away from your face. “That's easy for you to say.”

James furrows his brows at that, “What’s that supposed to mean.”

“You have your parents here offering you endless support. No offense, but you could sit out an entire game and they’d still whoop and holler about how proud they are of you. You have a team that worships the ground you walk on. You have Remus and Sirius. What do I have? Who do I have? Coach?” You raise a hand to wipe away your tears but it’s no use. “I’m a thousand miles away from everything and everyone that I love. Being good, no, being fucking fantastic is the only way to get their attention. So if that’s what I need to be then so be it.”

You let out one shaky breath and it all breaks loose. You bury your head in your hands, trying to muffle whatever mess you look like from James. After a short moment of sobbing into your hands, you feel hands pull at your arms. Before you know it, James is pulling you into a warm embrace.

The angle is a bit awkward, considering the size of your backseat but he still manages to get his arms wrapped around you. Your head lands on his chest, ear pressed against it. You stiffen at first but slowly wrap your arms around him. You both sit in silence. He gently runs a hand up and down your back, while the other rests on the back of your head, holding it. You listen to the beat of his heart, which moves rapidly. You can’t help but smile slightly. Despite being the one to make a bold gesture, he’s the nervous one.

“You aren’t as alone as you think.”

“What?” You go to lift your head but James pushes it back onto his chest. Heart beating quicker.

“You're Not alone. You have Sirius and Remus, just as much as I do if not more. They adore you a little too much. And whether you believe it or not you have Doc and just about everyone else who you cross paths with in the rink.”

He clears his throat for the next one. “And you have me.”

It’s said so quickly you almost miss it. You’re sure you would’ve if you weren’t so close to him.

You go to lift your head again but he pushes it back down. You groan. “James.”

He doesn’t respond. You go to move but he holds you in place again. “James Potter, let me look at you.”

He doesn’t budge, “I’d rather you didn’t”

“James, if you don’t let me move, so help me god.”

Your tone seems to do it. His hand slips from where it rested on your head. Once you get a good look at him, you almost laugh at the sight in front of you. James Potter, Red in the face, with a look of embarrassment so bad, he could die. He looks everywhere but at you. Eyes darting around the car.

“James”

“Yes?”

“Look at me.”

He does for a second and then looks away.

“James,” you say sternly.

“Yes?” He says picking at the seats.

Without putting much thought into it you smack both hands on his face, forcing him to look at you. You seemed to surprise him more than yourself. James stares at you with wide eyes. You’d done it without thinking and how you have no course of action.

You both blink at each other.

“What was it that you said just now?”

He doesn’t turn away this time. That's progress. “What were we talking about?” he says with a dazy voice. You look at him expectantly. James, who realizes he has nowhere to go, blurts it out.

“I said that you have me. There. Happy?” he doesn't stop there. “I said you have me because you do. All the time, every day I'm thinking about you, which is crazy considering how much you berate me. But that must be it. I must be crazy because I love it all the same. I care about you, even though half the time you make me want to slam my head into a locker, I care. So, yes, you have me.”

Through your hands, you feel the heat of his face. Despite the strong blush and red ears, James looks at you so earnestly that you can’t help what comes next.

Hands still on his face you pull him forward into a kiss. He freezes and you pull away. Just for a split moment, you worry that you made a mistake. But before you know it James surges forward, reconnecting your lips. Whatever hesitation there was before, is gone now.

His lips move against yours slowly, tentatively, exploring. You feel a finger trace the line of your jaw. Then the hand slips behind your head, bringing you closer. The sweet kiss now deepened with the hunger shared between you both. You raise your arms to wrap around his neck. You feel like you can’t breathe but you don’t stop.

With his newfound confidence, James moves forward. Your back hits the seat and James hovers over you now. He moves to lay himself over you. You feel his hand running up and down your side. You gasp into the kiss when a cold hand slips under your shirt, resting on your bare waist. James groans at the feeling of your bare skin, squeezing your side. You can feel your heartbeat in your ears. You don’t want to stop, ever. But the more James runs his hands over you and kisses you with an insatiable passion, the less you can breathe.

You ignore it at first, but the aching in your chest only gets stronger. You feel like you’re drowning, and you decide that hyperventilating while making out isn’t the way to go so in one swift motion you sit up, pushing James off of you.

You breathe in harshly. James now sits up straight, staring at you wide-eyed, glasses askew. You laugh but it sends you right into a coughing fit. You start to panic a bit and search for your inhaler. James snaps out of his daze and seems to get the memo. After what feels like forever, James lifts the inhaler. “Got it” he yells triumphantly.

Snatching it from his hand, you take a couple of puffs, breathing in and out slowly.

“Woah. I guess you could say I took your breath away.”

You shoot him a look but can’t help but burst out laughing. James' laugh follows.

“No, seriously though. Are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine. Just a bit winded.”

James smirks, seemingly a bit too proud. “Sorry about that,” he says with fake sympathy.

“Sorry about what? Trying to eat my face off or trying to take me in the back of my car?”

James' face goes bright red. You don’t understand how he can be so confident yet so easily embarrassed.

“I-I okay, woah, I-” He stutters over his words.

“Gosh James, I thought you’d have a bit more class than that.”

He scoffs, “I have plenty of class and I don’t think I heard any complaints from you.”

You shrug, “Could’ve been better.”

James' jaw falls open in disbelief. “Oh really now.”

“Yup”

Before you know it he’s bringing you down to your back and you let out a yelp of surprise.

“Well since you’re so great I guess you’ll have to help me practice.”

You hum. “Oh yes, you’ll need all the practice you can get.”

James lets out a loud laugh, making your heart flutter. “Yeah, well let's hope you don’t have to reach for your inhaler every 5 minutes.”

You smack his shoulder. “Hey! I am a star athlete. I don’t think a little acti-”

James cuts you off, bringing his lips to yours. This time it's soft and sweet. James pulls away. “Talking to you is going to be a lot easier now that I can do that.”

“Keep talking and that’ll be the last time you get to do that.”

James nods quickly. “Yes ma’am. Message received.”

With a nod from you, James is back on you. He leans into you heavily, moving his lips with yours. You reach up for his glasses, feeling them start to dig into your face. James' hand comes to your wrist, stopping you. Pulling away, he rushes out a ‘wait!’

You look at him confused. “What?”

“Don’t take them off.”

“James, as much as I love your glasses, they’re digging into my face.”

James blinks at you with a slight pout on his face. “I can’t see anything when I take them off.”

“Okay?”

He sighs, “I can’t see you when I take them off.”

You roll your eyes at him. “James Potter you are such a sap.”

He rolls his eyes back at you. “Yeah, well you’ll just have to deal with it.”

“I suppose I will. Okay they can stay on”

James smiles brightly. “Yay! Now shut up and let me kiss you.”

And who are you to deny him?

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Alright, you guys did great today! Don’t forget to tell your parents that there won't be any classes next week.” you hear a chorus of answers promising they will. Considering you’re talking to a bunch of toddlers, you make a mental note to send out an email.

You guide them off the ice and towards their parents, waving bye to them all.

You’ve been helping teach the toddler class while their coach is out of town. Doc hadn't fully cleared you but gave you the green light to teach the little ones.

You make your way towards the office to drop off the sign-in forms. When you walk in, you’re greeted by a smiling Remus.

“Hello, love. How are the tots?”

You give him a tired smile, “Rambunctious as always.”

Remus laughs, taking the papers from you. “You think you’d take this opportunity to get away from this place but no.”

You lean forward on the counter. “And miss out on seeing you every day? No way.”

Remus shakes his head, turning away from you. Ears slightly pink. “You’re insufferable.”

Before you can respond you hear someone else enter the office. More like two someones.

James and Sirius walk over to where you’re talking to Remus. James' eyes shift from you to Remus’ red ears and then back to you.

“Hey, I thought I told you to stop flirting with Remus.” He says with a slight frown.

You shrug, “I’ve done no such thing.”

James rolls his eyes. “Yeah right. Liar.”

Sirius and Remus erupt in laughter as James pouts.

Sirius ruffles James' hair. “Oh James, it’s sweet that you think you can stop whatever it is they’ve got going on.”

James huffs, pointing at Remus. “You’ve got to stop whatever alluring charm you’ve got going on.”

Sirius laughs harder. Remus gives James a cheeky smile. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m just myself.”

You swoon dramatically at his words. “Oh, Remus.”

“Hey! No, don't swoon!” James says, looking frantically between the two of you.

Remus and Sirius roar in laughter at his reaction.

With the other two still laughing, James walks over to you. You give him a sweet smile.

He frowns at you. “Why do you insist on giving me a hard time?”

“Someone's got to keep you on your toes, humble you a bit.” He glares at you but breaks into a smile of his own.

With Sirius and Remus now wrapped up in their own conversation, James leans in a bit closer.

“Hm, humble me? How can I be humble when you’re praising me all the time when we-” You slap a hand over his mouth, blushing furiously. You feel him smirk against your hand.

He reaches for your wrist, pulling your hand away, giving it a soft kiss. “How were the lessons?” He says changing the subject.

“They were great. Lenny didn’t cry at all this time.”

He gives you an encouraging pat on the waist. "Nice, and what about your foot?”

You shrug, “It feels fine. I think stretching before ice time helps.”

James smiles. “You’ve been doing the stretches?”

You nod. He gives you a high five “That's my girl.”

He goes silent, looking between you and his friend's chit-chatting. He leans in, whispering into your ear.

“Hey, when's your appointment with Doc again?”

You think for a minute. “Um, not till this afternoon, why?”

“So you’re free right now?”

“Yeah”

“What a coincidence, so am I.” He says with a mischievous look in his eyes.

A moment pauses.

“Well. What are you waiting for?”

James springs into action. His hand grabs yours, leading the both of you out of the office.

“Hey, where are the two going?”

Without turning around James yells out “Practice” You can’t help but laugh at the confused responses you get from Sirius and Remus.

James continues down his path, determined.

“Wait James, what about my bag and my-”

He pats the side of his bag. Hanging from a chain is one of your backup inhalers. You stare at him in shock. With a quick kiss on the forehead and a cheeky smile, James continues to drag you both out of the rink.

Practice does ensue.

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A present to you all for being MIA.

I pinky promise I'm working on the Peter series!

#james potter #james potter x reader #james potter fanfiction #james potter x you #marauders era

138 notes · View notes

m0nnypie · 4 months ago

Note

hii! can you write something similar to ur dating deku but ur bkg’s sister but flipped? as in dating bkg but being deku’s sister <3 thank u!!

SORRY FOR BEING SO LATE! I was so busy that I forgot to post this 😭😭😭 but here it is!!! Hope u likeee it

DATING KATSUKI (BEING DEKU'S SIS)

Warnings: just Katsuki being his usual stupid, 'n Deku a brother who love u a lot.

Bro!Deku x Sis!reader, Katsuki Bakugou x fem!reader

_ Well, everyone knows that you've known each other since you were kids. I mean, if Katsuki was Deku's friend, how could he not know you?

_ Your relationship was good, I mean, he was what you called a hero. Silly, right? But can you blame kids? They always see the good side of things. And that's how it was with the blond. You saw him as someone who, despite being a bit temperamental, was your knight in shining armor. He protected you from bad people, he was a true hero, as you said.

_ But of course that changed. You presented your quirk, about a month after him. You were happy, you played together more, you tried to figure out how your quirk worked, great, right? But over time, you could tell that he was developing a feeling of revulsion, maybe? For your beloved brother.

_ You were worried, I mean. It was already past the normal time for people to develop their quirk, and so far your brother hasn't shown any sign of having one. So, when your mother came back from the doctor, you saw her crying, you saw your brother crying. Your first instinct was to run to Katsuki. But as soon as you told him, you saw something change in his eyes.

_ It didn't take long for you to find out that your brother was being bullied, you wanted to kill whoever was doing it. And to your surprise, it was your precious friend Katsuki. Of course, when you asked him why, he said something like "he's scum, that's what he deserves for being born that way" "you're lucky to have a quirk, or you would have to join your brother". After that, you beat him up so much that you had to have about 3 teachers separate you from Bakugou.

_ You warned him many times to stay away from Izuku, but he never listened. You always ended up getting into a lot of fights. Fights that drove your brother crazy with worry, because you always ended up getting hurt. But no matter how many times Izuku asked you to stop, you always said that you would rather die than let anyone touch your brother.

_ It didn't take long for you to go to U.A. What surprised you was your brother's quirk. You just figured he was a late bloomer, that's all. Meanwhile, you could see the blond fuming with rage, not that you cared.

_ On the first day, as soon as you met for the first time, you stared at each other for long minutes. You could tell there was something more in the way he looked at you, something he wanted to say. But he simply stopped looking at you and bumped into your shoulder. Making you angry.

_ The day he was kidnapped, you had a panic attack. The only person who knows about it is Uraraka, she was the one who helped you calm down. You also went with him to save Katsuki, even though your brother didn't think it was safe. You just wanted your old friend to be okay, that's all.

“(Name) I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to go along…it could be dangerous.”

You understood him, really. He was worried, but he had recently discovered his own quirk. You’ve had yours for years, you trained for it.

“Izuku, I trained for years to get into U.A, and Katsuki is someone who has been part of my life for years…you’re not going to be the one to stop me from going to save him.”

He could see the desperation in your eyes, but he was so afraid of something happening to you. He knew that if he didn’t let you go along, you would find a way to go there. So he simply accepted.

_ After saving him, nothing really changed. He was still the same arrogant guy he always was. You often fought, being separated by Kirishima, your brother, or Aizawa. You often got lectured for it.

_ Because you fought a lot, you were often paired up to improve your companionship. And it never worked out, because one moment Aizawa was watching you, and the next he saw Katsuki blowing your face off, and you punching him in the face and pulling his hair.

_ Over time, you learned to live together again. It wasn't that you were best friends, you still fought a lot. But your relationship with him improved to the point where you could work with him without strangling him to death. Not that you didn't want to.

_ The rest of the year was hard for all of you. After Katsuki basically died, and you almost passed away due to a punctured lung, you changed completely.

_ He even apologized to you, which certainly surprised you. But you forgave him, you didn't see any point in resenting him anymore, not after what happened. You started spending a lot more time together after that.

_ Which didn't last long, because Izuku wouldn't let you go. It's not that he didn't trust Bakugou, he just...cared about you. And of course, his clinginess irritated you, which made you fight.

_ As strange as it may seem, it was Katsuki who comforted you, in his own way of course. He basically gave you a portion of the spicy food he had made for himself, and kept telling you how stupid it was for you to cry over stupidity. Neither of you knew it, but that day something more blossomed between you.

_ At first, you only went out together in the company of others, never alone. That changed when you had to do the dorm shopping. You realized that it was much nicer to be alone than to hang out with others. Not that you didn't like them, but everything was so much simpler when it was just with the blond. You liked the comfortable silence between you, as well as the common taste for many things.

_ So, from the end of the second year, you started going out more. Obviously, this didn't go unnoticed by the green-haired boy. Once, he even followed you with the help of Uraraka, Mina and Denki. What went wrong, because Katsuki got angry and blew them up, and you stayed in the corner eating your ice cream, because if you had Bakugou to do the dirty work, why lift a finger?

_ You were as close now as you were when you were kids. When you started calling him by his first name again, even though he wouldn't admit it to himself, he died of nervousness inside. I mean... that should mean something, right?

_ You went on an official date, only after the end of school. Because even though you two were developing feelings that you were too cowardly to admit, you two wanted to focus on the goal of becoming heroes.

_ In the 4 years after U.A, you had a few relationships. Nothing that would leave a big mark on your life, but it certainly did leave a mark on Bakugou's life.

_ When you were 19, you started to distance yourself a little from him. Obviously, this didn't go unnoticed by him. He hated doing it, but he went to your brother to ask why. And when he heard that you were dating, he was (????). How come you were dating? Oh, for some reason he hated your boyfriend.

_ He saw every breakup you had, not that you were close enough for him to know how you felt. But Mina would make everyone go out for drinks, watch a movie, or even stay home, to support you because of the breakup.

_ At 22, a month after your breakup, everything was great, until it wasn't. You were on one of your daily patrols, until by chance you ended up running into your ex-boyfriend, the one who made your life hell when you were dating.

_ You did everything you could to make him go away, and as much as you wanted to send him to hell and beat him up, you couldn't. That's because your PR team would kill you. But like a demon disguised as an angel, Katsuki showed up.

_ He simply came up to you, asking if you were excited about your date today. And to make it even better, he pulled your waist close to his. And of course, he looked at your ex with that mocking face.

_ Then it was hard to explain to your PR team that this was a mistake. Which was denied by Katsuki who said he would take you on a date. He said that, and left you there, open-mouthed along with your team.

_ Of course Mina FREAKED OUT about it. She seemed more excited than you. She literally arranged everything, chose your outfit, hair and everything she thought would look good on you.

_ The date was great, it was at a small spicy food restaurant that you used to go to back in U.A., and of course your fans and his went crazy, that place was packed the next day.

_ One date became two, which became three and then became many. You missed going out with Katsuki, and so did he. Anyone who looked at you could say that you two had never seen so happy in each other's company.

_ It's obvious that your brother didn't like it much at first, not that he didn't trust Katsuki!! But after you had your heart broken several times... he was afraid. He even threatened Katsuki that if he hurt you, he would end ruin hid life (Katsuki took it seriously, especially since you were Deku's sister).

_ After 7 months, you were finally dating. Even though your friends thought you should just get together, you thought it was better to get to know each other again. And it was amazing, every moment. The kiss shared under the cherry tree you used to climb as children, the wonderful meals Katsuki made, every moment you had with him was incredible.

_ At 27, all of his fans found out he was married. That's because, after being away for 3 months and then coming back with a ring in his hand, they started to suspect, and he confirmed it.

_ As strange as it seemed, you wanted to keep the relationship under wraps for a while. You wanted to be able to enjoy each other, without anyone getting involved. And finally, the day you revealed you were married, it was a mess. Your PR team, certainly hate you guys.

_ Of course you had the support of all your friends. All of them talking about you in interviews. Especially Deku, who talked about you as if he were talking about angels (?), he loved to say how much Katsuki loved you, and how even in front of everyone he was rude and annoying, when he was with you he was a cute little cinnamon roll (he freaked out with Deku after that), and also how amazing you were, that you always supported him, and that he knew that if you were there, Katsuki would be in good hands.

_ You loved him, even though he was often complicated and extremely annoying and stupid. And he loved you, even though he often tried to distance himself, even though he tried to run away from love. Your 'n his greatest achievement was your relationship.

HEYYYY! if y'all like it, I can do a fic with the part that bakugou says to reader about the date, then I'll do gender neutral if y'all prefer

#bnha fanfiction #bakugou katsuki #bnha #bnha fic #bnha x reader #bnha bakugou #bnha x fem!reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader

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acowardinmordor · 4 months ago

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So you know how lots of kids get dumped into foster care when their parents are either not around or deemed unfit? And you know how lots of religious groups and religious get approved as foster homes despite being cruel? And you know how the Midwest of America is/was super not great for anyone queer in the 80s? And how sometimes if people couldn’t get store bought conversion therapy, homemade was fine?

Before Wayne finds out that his brother and sister in law have lost custody of their kid, before he raises hell and rips up the system to find him, Eddie goes into the system for a few years.

After Wayne finds him, he immediately rebels against all the things they insisted he do. He listens to satanic music and he finds dungeons and dragons and becomes as much of a freak as possible. Because those are the pieces he feels safe reaching for. That’s the stuff they lectured about and reminded all the kids not to touch. That’s what’s safe.

The stuff they really wanted to crush down and smother is too broken for Eddie to rebel against. Not right away. Not a few years later when he starts to think about it more. Not when he tries to like girls his junior year and fails at it.

The things they did to him when he was a kid and gave them the slightest indication he might be queer are too deep in his bones.

Even when Steve comes out, and Robin and Will. Even when they’re supported and loved, even then, he can’t break that hold. He doesn’t repeat the words that echo in his memories, he knows it would hurt his friends. He isn’t unsupportive, but he can’t even think about himself that way without feeling sick.

And maybe Robin and Steve aren’t paragons of queer inclusion and are actually sharp about. Because it’s so obvious to them that Eddie is gay. He flirts with Steve constantly and he has never stared at women or girls, no matter how hot they’re considered or how topless they are. They’re confident. So confident they kinda pressure him. It’s with the best of intentions, since they both felt so much better about themselves after coming out and finding allies.

They know Eddie was in the foster system for a little while, and that Eddie hated them, but to Eddie, they didn’t do anything beyond the normal scale of shitty guardians. He doesn’t think of it as conversion therapy. To be honest, it wasn’t. It was Aversion therapy. He never really got a chance to recognize anything about himself before they started grinding that identity into dust.

It comes to a head when they’re all a little crossfaded and hanging out at Steve’s. Nancy, Jon and Argyle are there too, everyone laughing teasing each other.

Eddie always sits next to Steve and he always leans close when he teases, when he jokes, when he flirts. It’s so so obvious to everyone, and Steve knows everybody in the room is some kind of queer. It’s safe. He knows it’s safe.

Steve closes the distance, kisses Eddie. It’s a question and an invitation. Do you want this too? Do you like me? Can I kiss you again? Longer? Harder? It lasts a short few seconds.

Eddie shoves him away, hesitates, and then breaks Steve’s nose. He’s out the door and gone before the others have gotten past their initial wtf reaction.

The only reason Eddie is still in town the next morning is because Wayne was home when Eddie got there. He got a fragment of an explanation, and stole the keys to Eddie’s van when he passed out after a panic attack and breakdown.

#my writing #steddie #angst #this was written right before bed #but I hit draft not post #so enjoy some afternoon pain #hot potato fic

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lovelybee666 · 1 year ago

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FLUFF ALPHABET DOGDAY

A ctivities - What do they like to do with their s/o? How do they spend their free time with them?

I already published it in one of my first writings but so that they don't bother to see it, they both play hide and seek, tag, maybe truth or dare, etc.

B eauty - What do they admire about their s/o? What do they think is beautiful about them?

He thinks everything about you is beautiful, from your eyes to your your toes (if you even have toes or feet).

C omfort - How would they help their s/o when they feel down/have a panic attack etc.?

If you are sad he tries to cheer you up either by giving you physical or verbal affection, drawing, talking, watching something, whatever cheers you up.

D reams - How do they picture their future with their s/o?

It sounds strange but he would like to have a family (he knows he can't 😞) he would like to see you and him with his little children but since he can't, he use his stuffed version as one and depending on how you are, you will play along or try (don't even think about telling him that it's stupid of him or I swear I will come to your house with a gun 👹 /j)

E qual - Are they the dominant one in the relationship, or rather passive?

He's in the middle 👍 there's not much to say honestly

F ight - Would they be easy to forgive their s/o? How are they fighting?

Look, I don't know what happened but it was probably your fault😒(just joking) their arguments probably don't go beyond a few raised voices, the second the discussion ends there are two options, the first is that he run to you and apologize or that he is lecturing himself with his tail down.

G ratitude - How grateful are they in general? Are they aware of what their s/o is doing for them?

He is VERY grateful and even thanks for things he shouldn't(I'm sorry this is short, I couldn't think of anything)

H onesty - Do they have secrets they hide from their s/o? Or do they share everything?

Imagine there is a door, that door symbolizes honesty now look at Dogday's door that door is so open that the door flew away and the frame too.

I nspiration - Did their s/o change them somehow, or the other way around? Like trying out new things or helped them overcome personal problems?

J ealousy - Do they get jealous easily? How do they deal with it?

I'm already doing a hc of him jealous so this will be more summarized and shorter, It's difficult for him to get jealous since he trusts you TOO much but if he is jealous he will try to get your attention hugging you and saying your name over and over again.

K iss - Are they a good kisser? What was the first kiss like?

The first kiss was okay although he had never kissed so at first it was a little awkward, as time went on his kissing skills improved(he definitely didn't ask Bubba, Cickin and Bobby for advice☺️ DEFINITELY)

L ove Confession - How would they confess to their s/o?

He was nervous, he asked Catnap if he could come and support him, he complied as a good friend and he was a little far away but behind you with a sign that said "YOU CAN DO IT, DOGDAY!" or said what Dogday was supposed to say because he probably forgot(I promise to make a more detailed version soon in the not too distant future).

M arriage - Do they want to get married? How do they propose? What would the marriage be like?

He wants to marry you but since you and him are toys you can't but still in some creative way you got married, they used a fabric that they found with the help of Crafty and they got married, it was actually something funny and adorable to see (YOU DEFINITELY WORE THE SUIT AND DOGDAY THE WEDDING DRESS‼️‼️) by the way, the ring was some donut-shaped gummies.

N icknames - What do they call their s/o?

I already made a post about it but I wanted to make a little update here by adding "angel" and "star"

O n Cloud Nine - What are they like when they are in love? Is it obvious for others? How do they express their feelings?

It's VERY obvious, just watch him for a few seconds and you'll see how when you're close he moves his tail and seems happier, he stops what he's doing and comes to greet you giving you a hug while his tail moves at a thousand miles an hour, he's not sure if he's in love, he confuses his feelings and thinks maybe he just loves you as a close friend (spoiler, it wasn't)

P DA - Are they upfront about their relationship? Do they brag with their s/o in front of others? Or are they rather shy to kiss etc. when others are watching?

He's a big fan of PDA and even once probably shouted from somewhere quite long how much he loved you(a worker or Miss Delight scolded him because the children were supposed to be sleeping at that time), He loves to hold your hand and kiss your nose, he probably emphasizes 24/7 that you're dating him, he is very proud to know that you are dating him, If you are not a fan of PDA, he respects it and when you are alone he gives you a lot of kisses on the cheeks and hugs you.

Q uirk - Some random ability they have that’s beneficial in a relationship.

There's not much to say but technically you're second in command for dating the guy who's the leader👍 IDK MAN

R omance - How romantic are they? What would they do to make their s/o happy? Cliché or rather creative?

He is cliche AND creative, He likes to do very cliché but very creative things at the same time, They are going to have a date with red petals and candles, yes, but instead of candles they will be candles with fun shapes, the petals will be daisies (clearly I don't get them from a destroyed Daisy) and the chairs are chairs of frogs, he likes to do the same things that are romantically cliché but at the same time add things that have nothing to do with it or make it chaotic.

S upport - Are they helping their s/o achieve their goals? Do they believe in them?

ABSOLUTELY YES, it will help you in anything, believe 100% that you can achieve any goal you have.

T hrill - Do they need to try out new things to spice out your relationship? Or do they prefer a certain routine?

Every day he do something new with you, one day you are looking some ants working and the next you are creating a base to protect yourself from a non-existent deadly virus that he created with you.

U nderstanding - How good do they know their partner? Are they empathetic?

Depending on who you are, he probably knows a lot about you and is quite empathetic (I couldn't think of anything here, I'm sorry)

V alue - How important is the relationship to them? What is it’s worth in comparison to other things in their life?

For him you are the most important thing in his life, his top is probably

3. Humans

2. His friends

1. You

W ild Card - A random Fluff Headcanon.

When you give him the cold shoulder after an argument he goes to Catnap and Catnap has to deal with his best friend crying because you don't listen to him

X OXO - Are they very affectionate? Do they love to kiss and cuddle?

Y E S He is very affectionate although obviously there are days when he is less affectionate.

Y earning - How will they cope when they’re missing their partner?

He will be looking for things that remind him of you and hugs them while waiting for you to appear.

Z eal - Are they willing to go to great lenghts for the relationship? If so, what kind of?

He is willing to do almost anything for the relationship, his only limits are attacking or killing someone for obvious reasons.

I FINALLY FINISHED THIS, now I will have to do other pending things

#poppy playtime #poppy playtime x reader #smiling critters #smiling critters x reader #dogday #dogday x reader #fluff alphabet

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bisexual-thoughtss · 1 year ago

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I have a Bernard request 👉👈 maybe Bernard, right before the holiday season, works himself so much into a stress-induced anxious lather in front of you that he literally has a small panic attack and struggles to breathe, and you have to de-escalate him w/ kindness (and possibly cuddles)???

I combined this one with 🍀 anon’s ask, I hope you like it!

Bernard x Reader

You stick your head into the stuffing room, excited greetings ringing out when you’re spotted. You look around, spying piles of fluff, half stuffed animals, and hardworking elves.

“Hello, hi. Hey, you!” you greet a few of the elves, “Has anyone seen Bernard?”

“Last I saw he was headed toward the kitchen,” one elf pipes up.

“On a war path, I heard,” another mentions with a raised eyebrow.

“Uh oh,” you wince, “I better go talk him down.”

As you make your way through the hall, you don’t spot Bernard anywhere so you continue your hike toward the kitchens. Finally approaching the candy themed doors, you pull them open and head inside.

“How’s it going, everyone?” You ask cheerily as you pop in. Your smile falters a bit as you see the baking elves and their drained faces as they mumble replies to your question.

“Why the long faces?” You frown, looking around at them for answers. They avoid your gaze, halfheartedly rolling out cookie dough.

“Bernard yelled at us,” one of the elves finally admits and you grimace.

“Oh no, I’m sorry. You all know how he gets this close to Christmas,” you apologize.

“Do you know where he went?” You ask the elf nearest you.

“The toy floor,” she murmurs and your heart breaks at how downtrodden she seems.

“I’m gonna go find him, why don’t you guys take a break, huh? Have some cocoa,” you tell them and their faces light up. You grab a bagged cookie, tucking it in your pocket to use to talk Bernard down when you find him, and laughing as a chorus of ‘thank you!’ follows you out the door as you leave.

When you round the corner to the toy floor you spot Bernard right away. He’s gesturing and pointing while he talks to the painters, and you can see how tense his shoulders are from across the room.

“Oh, thank goodness you’re here,” You hear someone behind you exclaim. You sidle up to Bernard just before it seems like he’s really going to snap.

“Hey, I’ve been looking for you all over,” you smile, rubbing the velvet of his shirt over his bicep. He softens as soon as he hears your voice.

“Hi, sugar,” he smiles dopily for a second before his eyebrows furrow again. He looks like he’s about to turn and start again but you cut in as he opens his mouth.

“I’ve got something for you, c’mon,” you tell him, tugging lightly on his sleeve so he’ll follow you. He frowns, clearly wanting to stay and finish whatever lecture he’d started but he trails after you. When you finally make it off the toy floor he can’t stand it anymore.

“What do you have for me?” He finally asks.

“A break and a cookie,” you tell him as you reach the door to his office.

“I don’t have time for a break!” he insists.

“Yes, you do. You need one, you’re starting to take out your frustrations on the elves,” you argue.

“I can’t take a break, it’s almost Christmas!” His voice cracks.

“Santa has only checked his list once! The painters painted all the dump trucks green, the bakers aren’t meeting their cookie quota! The- the-“ he rants until his breath is coming out in short quick puffs and his hands are shaking.

“Whoa, hey, hey,” you reach out to hold onto his shirt as he sways slightly on his feet. You pull him into his office, and towards the plush couch against the wall. You sit the both of you down, scooting back to give him some space.

“Can you breathe with me?” You ask and he nods with wide eyes, breath rabbit quick.

“In, two, three…” you count a couple of breaths for him to follow, but it doesn’t seem to help calm him as much as you’d like.

“Can I touch you?” You ask and he croaks out a yes. You bring his hand up to press flat against your sternum, breathing deeply and encourage him to match your pace. The steady thudding of your heartbeat helps calm him down as he matches your breaths.

“Feel a little better?” You ask once you feel like his breathing is normal again and his hands have stopped shaking. You get a tiny ‘yeah’ and you can’t help but coo at how pitiful he sounds.

“Oh, honey,” you pull him to you, rubbing his back soothingly.

“C’mon, take some of this stuff off,” you murmur, taking his hat and necklace off, gently dropping them to the floor. He takes his bag off and deposits it in the pile as well.

“Lay down with me,” you suggest and he gives in easily. His head rests on your chest once you get settled, your fingers scratching against the nape of his neck. You hum an apology when he shivers at the touch, moving to pop open the button on the back of his collar to give him more room to breathe. By now you know better than to run your fingers through his hair and risk messing up his curls, so you move down to scratch his back lightly.

“Santa always gets the list done, he knows what he’s doing. The kitchen elves are doing their best. They seem to be on track to make enough, but you can always delegate a few more elves to help in the kitchen if you feel like they need it. And there’s nothing wrong with green dump trucks,” you talk him through his worries.

“I know it’s your job to take care of everything, but you have to take care of yourself too,” you remind him.

“What did I do to deserve you, sugarplum?” he wonders, voice muffled into your sweater.

“You must’ve been on the nice list,” you joke, poking him softly in the side to watch him squirm. You’re sure this must’ve taken a lot out of him, he seems ready to fall asleep any second and you’re more than willing to lay here as long as it takes for him to get a little rest.

“I love you, sugarplum,” he mumbles sleepily, arms wrapped tightly around your waist.

“Love you too,” you press a kiss to his unruly curls as his breathing starts to even out.

“Did you say something about a cookie?” He looks up suddenly and asks, and you can’t help but let out a startled laugh.

#bernard the elf x reader #bernard x reader #bernard the head elf #bernard the santa clause #🍀

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prncssie · 1 year ago

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ever since you’ve became friends with hobie, he makes your insides feel all weird. he’s got to know what this feeling is. he can probably help you with it, right?

caution! mdni 6k wrdz, mentions of religion, reader is super sheltered, set in a college setting, black fem reader, fingering reader receiving, oral reader receiving, corruption kink mayb just barely, hobie is real gentle, everything happens on a desk, blushing is described but can’t be physically seen, unrealistic description of coochie juice we all know it doesn’t actually taste like that hobie is just obsessed, the smut section is a littleeee bit short but i def think i could expand on this in the future pls do not spam like my blog if you enjoyed it, feel free to tell me in the reblogs

hobie has been a good friend of yours for a few month now. it all really started at a party at the college you attend. with it being your first year, every experience is a new one. your sheltered childhood only further added to it.

it was easy, hobie always claims, to tell you didn’t belong when you stood in the room, eyes wide and frantic. not to mention, you were fully dressed in jeans and a sweater. he didn’t understand how you hadn’t passed out, yet.

he walks up to you that very same night. your panic only became more evident when he’s introducing himself. “you alright, love?” and he’s truthfully concerned. you’re nearly shaking, hands clasped together.

you explain to him what happened. that the group of girls you came with disappeared, that you don’t know anyone here, that you’re extremely overwhelmed.

it’s hobie who leaves the party early, despite enjoying himself. he escorts you back to your room and stands outside your door until it’s clicked shut and locked. he also leaves his number in your phone that night with the innocent promise to help you with whatever you need.

the reaction from your parents is expected when you tell them what happened. you receive a scolding for going to the party and indulging in secular music and sin, as well as trusting a man and allowing him access to your room. you can argue that you didn’t invite him in but your parents won’t and don’t listen.

you’re used to it, used to their lectures that you actually heed their warnings. all your life you’ve been living by their rules. no boys and no parties. church every sunday, home at nine. you’ve even accepted the routine phone checks every night with no back-talk. this has been your way of living since forever.

so of course the big, gentle, temptation himself intrigues you to no end when you’re presented with such an open gateway. you’re sure if your god-fearing parents saw him, they’d have a heart attack right on the spot.

six five and exactly what your parents warned you against. piercings galore, stick and poke tattoos decorating his skin. his hair is assorted into wicks, which you don’t mind but your relatives would have called him sloppy. not to mention the clothes he wears, decorated in spikes and chains. sometimes the gems in his belt catches the sun in just the right way and he glows like an angel.

hobie gives you butterflies and not just in your stomach but in other places as well.

you don’t know what to do about the fluttering in your pussy when hobie’s had grazes your thigh when he bends to pick something up. even the word pussy has your face warming up.

at first, you thought it would be a one time, unrelated thing. the wet mess in your panties shocked you after spending your evening with hobie. you made a mental note to stop by the doctors in case it was something serious and went about your night.

and then it happened again and every night since. coincidentally, you’re with hobie every night, only to return to the safety of your dorm and deal with the same heated feeling.

that’s exactly how you find yourself in this dilemma tonight. you’re as quiet as a mouse, strewn across his bed. the strip led lights cast a blue shadow on the room. hobie is across from you at his desk, clicking around in some music making site you wouldn’t even try to comprehend.

his headphones are over his head, stretched to the biggest setting to accommodate his hair and his fingers, nails painted black, tap against the wooden desk. hobie can’t hear you with the noise filling his ears. he hums softly to the beat.

you’ve been staring at him for a while, now. originally, you were working on some homework due that night but your gaze found him and his sharp jawline that’s just barely visible from the diagonal angle he’s sitting.

before you know it, your eyes have wandered downwards until you’re looking at his legs, wide and manspreeding. your downstairs area does that weird pulsating thing.

you lips form into a pout and you shift to remove the discomfort. you never actually made it to the doctor, having realized this is only something you experience around hobie. despite this unusual situation find yourself in, distancing yourself from him wasn’t an option. oddly enough, he’s one of the few people that didn’t make you feel other.

“come listen to this.” hobie swivels in her chair to face you. he pops the headphones off his head and waves you over. “was thinkin’ about submittin’ it as my project.”

you sheepishly shake your head. your cheeks burn at the possibility of him catching you. “oh, i don’t think you want me to.” it makes you nervous to partake in the creation of something so vividly can nonreligious. you're already laying in his bed, unsupervised and alone with him. all your teachings let you know it could lead to other things.

he tilts his head, dangling the headphones off his fingertips. you can hear the punk rock melody blaring from where you’re stationed. “you never wanna listen to my music. scared or somethin’?” he doesn’t wait for a response, already slapping the bluetooth headphones back over his ears and turning back.

hobie already knows the answer but he’s uncaring, regardless. he’s become accustomed to your thinking and even though he feels it’s distorted with reality, he doesn’t judge you for it. nor does he blame you.

you’re back to staring at him and the way his hands dance across the keys. his hands are so big, you think. each finger is slender and long and could probably swallow you whole.

you take your lips in between your teeth with a disgruntled sigh. all these impure thoughts are driving you up the wall. you can’t even blame him because he’s doing nothing to provoke it. you, apparently, just can’t control yourself.

with hobie’s back to you, you’re able to silently pack your stuff up. your laptop is tucked away into your bag and you grab your spiral notebook. he doesn’t notice you’re preparing to leave until you softly slide off his platformed bed and shove your feet into the soles of your matte mary janes.

“where are you going, duck?” he pushes the left side back until it’s no longer covering his ear, rapidly glancing at you.

“my room.” you grab your hello kitty lanyard off his desk. “i’m going to do my work in there. can’t do it here. i’m too distracted.” you sling your bag over your shoulder.

“shit, is it me? hobie pauses his track. he’s rapidly hanging his headphones on the stand and jumping to his feet. “at least let me walk you back.”

hobie stuffs his feet in his traditional black boots. he doesn’t care enough to tie the blue, ladder laced laces. he’s already grabbing that loud, extravagantly pinned vest before you have a chance to blink.

“no, you don’t have to do that.” you nervously fiddle with the blue ribbon tied at the base of your braid. “i don’t want to inconvenience you and it’s not the far from your room.”

he merely tsked and rests his hand atop your head, right in between the pigtails. “darlin’ there’s no chance i’m lettin’ you walk your little self back alone. you of all people? fuck no.”

“hobie!” you chastise, hands flying up to cover your ears. the keys dangle and bump again your cheek. your mom always told you that anyone who says adverse words is going straight to hellfire. you didn’t want to be apart of that.

he opens the door and motions you through, a hand on the small of your back. “you’d follow a man to his truck just ‘cause he said please.”

the warmth from his fingertips spread throughout the nerves on your spine and you feel like you’re on fire. you pout and it can easily be mistaken for your opposing opinions on your naivety.

“sorry but it’s true.” the door clicks shut when both of you have stepped outside it. hobie shoves his keys inside his pocket and begins down the hallway to the elevator. he hasn’t noticed you trailing behind him, teeming with explanations as to why your core throbs at the sight of him.

you do this all the way until you’re out the door of the men’s dormitory. you haven’t uttered a word, thumb rubbing against the warming metal of the cross dangling around your neck.

it’s not like you’ve ever felt this feeling before. not even around the other boys you’ve been around. granted, your hangouts were never like this. it was always under adult supervision, even in your older years, and you mostly saw each other during youth groups and summer camps. this, what you’re feeling now, is an entirely new and uncharted territory.

“hobie,” you start. the warm summer breeze ripples across your skin and leaves behind a chill of the promised winter to follow.

hobie lifts his head. the rock he kicked scattered off the sidewalk and into the grass. he hasn’t spoken to you. either. that’s the best thing about him. he doesn’t ask questions, letting you process things your own way. hobie is all too aware of your differences and has no problem letting you take your time.

“i have a question. it’s kind of personal, i think.” you take a brief pause before each word, meticulously picking them to match your uncertainty.

hobie is still silent. at some point, you would have begin to question if he’s even listening to you if it weren’t for the way he lazily shifted his gaze over to you.

“are you . . . have you ever gotten this feeling in your stomach? like a hot one.” you wet your lips. your heart is about ready to stop beating. how do you explain this to him? are you just supposed to tell him he makes your no-no square all fired up? do people say that?

“what are you goin’ on about, lovely? has my stomach ever burned? yeah, if i eat enough dairy.” he chuckles with a small shake of his head. unbeknownst to him, that is not at all what you’re referring to and you are too ashamed to ask him again.

“never mind,” you say with your head hung low.

it’s your parents fault and the way they neglected to teach you about your body. it’s not like you’re a complete idiot and you know sex can lead to children. however, you were taught that sex is bad and children are blessings so it’s fair to say you’re a bit clueless on the contrasting beliefs. not to mention this weird feeling a boy invokes. the boy that might as well be the son of satan himself.

you sigh, heavy and drawn, pulling your keycard out your lanyard. it scans and the lock beeps, allowing you both entrance into the girls dormitory.

hobie lifts an arm and holds the door open over your head. he’s confused. it’s obvious you’re mulling over something, putting so much energy into it that you don’t notice the weight of his eyes boring into the back of your head.

it isn’t until you’re standing in front of your door does he speak his mind. “what’s keepin’ your head so busy?”

your hand is steady on the handle but you have yet to turn it. you can feel the heat from his body standing so close to yours and just once you wish for him to reach forward and put his hand — oh no.

“m – maybe you should just come inside.” you yank your door open and pull him behind you. it’s a drastic decision on your part. never have you ever invited any man in your room, not even hobie. at best, he got glimpses of the shared living space but never of your room down the hall. he’s always walked you back, stood at your door until you were safe inside, and made his exit. always.

even when he’s come to walk you to class, your roommates would open the door and invite him in but he’d stay planted right at your welcome mat. hobie knows you, knows what silly boundaries you have but he follows them strictly because as long as you’re comfortable, he’s comfortable.

“hold on, look at me.” hobie finds himself abruptly stopping in your living room. he yanks his arm until you’ve spun back around and settles his hands atop your shoulders. his eyes fall on your lips, caught between you teeth and nearly knawed raw. he doesn’t miss your hands clenched into tiny fists by your side. “are you okay? this isn’t like you to act so . . . erratic.”

he has to stop his curiosity from getting the best of him and drink in the interior decorations you’ve done. out the corner of his eyes, he can tell just what you contributed, different nooks and crannies filled with pink trinkets and round eyed figurines. you’re the sweetest thing all worked up and making rash decisions. he doesn’t like where this is leading.

you give him a small nod of your head, eyes downcast and on the tops of his worn boots. the grime is welcoming. better than looking in his eye and having him see how unnerved you are.

as if you aren’t shaking under his grasp.

“dove, don’t lie to me. if there is somethin’ wrong, you need to let me know and i need to hear you say it.” his hands drop to your elbows, fingertips just barely touching your skin. hobie knows you’re avoiding him, avoiding addressing something big but welcoming him in your personal space. the contrast is enormous and it’s especially a big deal for you.

“i’m f – fine. i just . . .” you timidly shift your feet, sweatered arms going to wrap around yourself. you’re clutching your cross again, attention boring into the floor. “. . . can we please talk about it in my room. it’s not something i want to say here.”

he’s hesitant to let you go, drawing in a breath. you’re going to be the death of him, he decides, with the way you concern him but he’ll take your word for it. maybe, maybe just maybe you know exactly what you want.

he allows you to take him back to your room, pushing the door open. immediately, he gets a good whiff of the clean linen wax you have burning in your wax warmer.

your space is tidy, but not necessarily clean. you’re a bit of a maximalist, soft blankets and frills draped around your room. you have posters and paper hearts hanging on your wall, a my melody rug laying in the floor beneath your chair.

there’s a couple flower cushions strewn about and plenty of stuffed animals to go around. you have fairy lights across the wood of bed, casting the room in soft yellow lighting. there’s a rack in the corner full of lacey clothes that he assumes you’re planning on wearing soon.

you look so comfortable, fitting right in. of course you do, considering you decorated it yourself. hobie lingers at the edge of the room while you go through your routine of taking off your shoes and putting your bag by your desk. you’re putting your earrings in the strawberry shaped jewlery holder when you finally address him.

“you don’t have to stand there like that. you can take your shoes off and stuff,” you speak with your back turned to him. you know it’s weird, having him in here. it’s weirder when hobie acts as if his presence in your room will turn it into an active landmine.

hobie licks his lips, hands deep inside his pockets. he doesn’t even want to let his eyes linger too long on anything in fear he’s taint your purity, full of innocence and hope. “what am i here for?”

you rest your hand against the cool, light colored wood of your desk. you feel feverish, the topic making your palm sticky with sweat. the room suddenly gets hot and you’re clearing your throat while motioning for hobie to close the door. “um, well . . .” you trail off, tapping your manicured fingers loud enough to fill the silence with quiet clicks and clacks. “i have something to ask you.”

“ ‘nd you needed to bring me here to ask me?” his head tilts in deep skepticism. hobie leans against the white wall next to your door. he doesn’t want to go any further. he doesn’t belong here.

you’re irked, hands flying to wrap around yourself. the ruffles at the bottom of your dress rub against each other like flower petals in a spring breeze. “just listen! i have something serious to ask you and you’re being awkward. it’s making me awkward.”

hobie lifts and drops his shoulders. he’s tense when he crosses the threshold of your room and takes an uncomfortable seat at your desk chair. “sorry doll but we both know i’m not supposed to be in here. what do you want to talk about? make it quick so i can go.” he leans back as far as the chair will allow, eyes up and on you.

his question demands a straight forward response, one that you cannot provide. you don’t know what is happening, yourself. you’re back to your silence, grasping for words to form an explanation. “remember when i asked you if your stomach ever burned before?”

“not this again. i thought we already talked about –”

“no! listen.” you’re shouting at him again, lips pressed into a pout. you’re just barely working up the courage and you need to get it out before it goes away. “lately, i’ve been feeling like that but not in my stomach.”

you’re speaking so fast, hobie can barely understand you. he just catches your words, suddenly sitting up with his brows knitted together. “are you okay? sick?” he presses his hands flesh against your cheeks and forehead but your skin isn’t warm to the touch.

“n – no. not that i know of.” you nearly whine when his fingertips brush along your waist as they’re lowered back to his side. “it’s a little uncomfortable.” you rub your knees together in an attempt to satiate the ache between your thighs.

hobie has enough experience to recognize the little shuffle you do, accompanied by the needy glint in your eye. it startles him. not you. anyone but you, miss purity herself. he’s seeing things. “then what?”

he’s terrified of the way you look at him, eyes glossed over. the cherry colored blush dusted across your cheeks appeals to your cherubic state. this is his worst nightmare and best dream, that you would entice him like this.

it isn’t easy to ignore the chub of your ass that you’re unaware you carry and the softness of your breasts when you grab his arm and press your body against his. it especially isn’t easy to ignore the sweetness in your voice when you plead and chastise him for his vulgar words and behavior. oh how badly does he want to twist your brain but he won’t. he can’t allow himself to. you’re too good for that and that’s the problem.

“i feel weird inside around you, hobie. only you and . . . i don’t know.” you’re meek and quiet, face advert and back in the ruffled hem of your white socks. you cross and uncross your ankles to satisfy your need to stir and wriggle. “i wasn’t going to say anything but i don’t know how to make it stop and sometimes it hurts.”

you look so pitiful and pretty like this, almost begging for his help. it doesn’t take a genius to understand what you mean but hobie can’t bring himself to act on it. it feels so wrong on so many levels. he can’t take advantage of your unawareness like this.

“aw baby,” he has to curl his fingers into his palm to prevent himself from reaching out and grabbing you. that’s why you were so insistent on coming to your room. “you don’t want my help with that.” he keeps telling himself he has to be the bigger person, the one who thinks clearly.

“i do,” you insist, daring to take a bold step closer until you’re slotted between his knees. it’s a lot for you, coiling in on yourself to find comfort despite acting out your comfort zone. “i can’t take it anymore. you don’t understand.”

his hand comes up to rest against your cheek, following an empathetic shake of his head. “no, you don’t understand. you don’t even know what you’re talking about. what am i supposed to do if you can’t even tell me what you’re talking about?”

hobie stands, presumably to take his leave. he pushes you away from him by your waist. he’s stopped when you wrap your hand around his slender wrist, staring up at him with big, entreating eyes.

“please? anything? please, hobie. i’ll take anything just help me do something. tell me what to do, i don’t care. it’s terrible and uncomfortable and i can’t bear it anymore.”

he takes one look at you and is met with your waterline, gathering in tears of desperation. all his resolve slowly breaks until he’s cupping your cheeks with a soft sigh. “you’re gonna be the death of me, you know that? babblin’ about shit you don’t even understand.” he’s gentle, backing you up until your knees are knocking against your desk. he sits you up there, hands resting on either side of you.

“hobie,” you reprimand him again for his words out of habit, hands going to cover your ears again.

he stops them, much larger ones enscasing yours with a tut of his tongue. “don’t even. you don’t get to complain about me sayin’ shit and fuck and whatever else. not right now.” he presses your palm against his lips, piercings warm against your skin.

your mouth falls open, only to wordlessly shut. you don’t know what to say, what to do. all you know is you’re slightly overwhelmed with the future possibilities. what’s about to happen? what is he going to do?

“i don’t even know what to do with you. you sure this is what you want?” hobie doesn’t feel he needs to ask with the way you were begging him but he can’t help it. you’re such a sweet thing, asking him to do something about your aching cunt. you don’t even know what you’re asking him.

you nod, eyes widening when his hand falls over your knee. it’s a respectful distance but you’re anxious, already wiggling under his gaze. “you keep asking me.”

“i know darlin’ but can you blame me? just gotta make sure.” hobie ever-so-swiftly slides his hand up your thigh until his thumb is brushing against the front of your panties. he isn’t interested in beating around the bush and quite frankly, it would be so much better to just get the first touch done for. break the ice just enough.

your body immediately reacts, legs pressing closed as far as you can get them. your eyebrows knit together as your nerves crackle and pop with a sudden desire you haven’t felt before. “i’m s – sure.”

“never had this pretty pussy played with before have you? ‘course not. you’re a good girl.”

you hate the way he’s talking to you. it’s not quite derogatory but it makes you feel otherworldly in a negative way. as if you have no clue what he’s talking about. you don’t. and his words are so unclean.

“not gonna fuck you tonight. you’re not ready for that, yet.” he aids your legs back open with a firm grip, holding them in place. “you know what that means, yeah?” hobie doesn’t mean it as an insult, circling his thumb around your already puffy clit.

“mhm,” you’re wiggling again, lip caught between your teeth. you’ve heard the phrase in passing, understanding the word and its context. never have you used it, yourself. you’re clueless, not dumb.

hobie bunches your white dress up by your hips. he’s greeted with a view of your black panties, dark enough to conceal the dampening spot but he can still feel it beneath the pad of his thumb.

your glittery lip gloss has begun to spill over your plump lip and dribble down your chin with how much you quiver. he swipes the excess off, lightly chuckles at the way you fawn and fall over.

just over the clothes touching has you like this, mewling and hiccuping and doing your best to conceal it. it’s endearing, the way you try to maintain his level of composure.

he continues toying with you, a bit hesitant. it’s not like him but hobie knows he has to take his time with you. he can’t rush. he has to prep you thoroughly, get you used to his touches. this is what you want.

“and you’re not gonna act all shy when i take these off, are you?” his finger hooks through the leg hole, snapping the fabric back until it pops against you when it’s released. “or are you still trying to be a little angel?”

the thought of hobie pulling your underwear down and seeing what no one, let alone a man, has seen. your private jewels that you’re sure are soaping wet the way they are every other night. your cheeks heat up and you squeeze your eyes shut, knees trying to do the same. “no, i’m not.” you’re trying to be so brave, it’s cute.

“don’t worry, dolly. not yet. just gonna rub your cunt, just like this.” he pushes and pulls on your clit, hot underneath the pressure of his thumb. it has your hips shuffling in an attempt to rut against him. he doesn’t know if you’re aware, the way you stare at him like he hung the moon himself. “could make you cum like this, i bet. you ever done that before?”

a particular jerk of his finger has you gasping and grabbing whatever part of him you can get to first, his forearm and his shoulder. “i never –,” your chest heaves with a broken moan, partially restrained, “n – no. i don’t.”

as far as you know, premature sex and masturbation is a sin. you have never been tempted before even meeting hobie. not only would he be the first to touch you but he’d be the first to make you cum.

his boxers get increasingly more tight at the thought. you’re so pure and he’s so lucky, being the first, even before you, to dip his fingers between your folds. he can barely restrain himself.

hobie plants himself in your hair, his gruff groan vibrating your scalp. he can’t help the way his thumb jostles your clit. it’s nearly primal, how badly he wants to draw an orgasm out of you and he knows you’ll do it so easy with how pent up and inexperienced you are.

“you don’t gotta hide it, baby. let me hear you, dove. tell me what you like so i can make you feel good.” your hair smells of vanilla and shea butter. it makes hobie want to devour every part of you, his long cock leaking with precum but he has to remember to take his time. he has to.

“hobie . .” your weak whine fills the hazy spot in his brain that’s indulged so deeply in every part of you. you don’t have to tell him for him to know, it’s obvious in how you’re unable to be still, nails stabbing into his skin. “i f – feel weird.” you’re so wound up.

hobie pulls his head back. he feels heavy with need as he tilts your chin towards his face. he just wants to see you, that’s all. he just needs to see the expression you make the first time you cum. “don’t fight it, sweet girl. just let it happen. it’ll feel real good.” his thumb strokes your jawline, coaxing you to give in to the growing lust filled pit in your stomach.

hobie knows you cum simply because he can feel it. your pussy spams so hard, he swears he can hear it. he doesn’t even have to put a finger up to your entrance to feel the pulsating. it’s almost as if your hole is searching for something to suck in.

your mouth has fallen open in a tiny o, working your body into hobie’s through your experience. he was right. it felt so good, satiating the need and burn of your body. it’s almost addicting, the way your body reacts to his touch. your brain is becoming mush with each throb. “oh my goodness.” you speak in between breaths, finally releasing hobie and drawing back your nails.

he only chuckles, rubbing at your thighs. “that was good, wasn’t it? did it help your little problem?” he plays with the bottom of your dress, conflicted between pulling it down to set you free and suggesting another round. you offered a starved man a seat at the table.

you smile shyly at him. you don’t know what to say now, what to do. your friend just made you cum after you begged him to. how do people do this casually? “yes, thank you. i’m deeply sorry for being so forceful.”

at this, hobie laughs out loud. it’s genuine and booming against the walls. it seems he has yet to break you in but he supposed he was too hopeful. of course he couldn’t turn you into something like him just from rubbing on you a little bit.

“you’re all good, duck. you weren’t being forceful, at all.” he pulls out the desk chair and takes a seat, getting comfortable in the flower shaped cushion. his limber fingers are back to picking at the side of your panties. he’s a bit hungry, he thinks.

his eyes, dark and narrowed, do something to you. you don’t understand. you can still feel the sticky mess in your underwear but something is stirring inside you, again.

you both stare at each other in a heated silence, thinking the same thing but waiting for the other to say it first.

“you want me to eat you out?” hobie is the first to speak with his head tilted. he’s far more impatient and bold to play around. when he wants something, he’ll take it.

at first, you believe you heard him incorrectly. “do i want you to what?” you feel stupid having to ask but you’re truly at a loss. “i’m sorry. hobie, i don’t know what that is.”

hobie is the luckiest man in the world. if he could whip his cock out and slide it inside you, he would but having you on his tongue would be the next best thing, especially when you’re asking him what that is. “you’re about to find out.” he murmurs, pulling you to the edge of the desk.

you’re surprised when hobie yanks your underwear down, lifting up a hip at a time to get it down your legs and tossed across the room. both the cool air and his dark gaze has you snapping your legs shut. there’s too many things to hide from and you’re unprepared.

“no, no. don’t shut me out like that.” he has his hands hooked under your knees and props them on your shoulders. his excuse is that it would be better for you to manage but truthfully, he does it to get an eye to cunt view. he pulls you even closer until your lower body is dipping into his lap and you’re relying on him to hold you up. “you’re gonna like it, i promise.”

“oh, i don’t know about this.” you grip the edge of the desk, still sitting up and getting a perfect view of the carnal look in hobie’s eye. he actually licks his lips, flicking his attention up to you for only a second.

“just once. just try it once and if you don’t like it, we can stop. you have my word.”

you don’t know how much you can trust him like this but his warm breathe is just tickling you in all the best ways. it’s hypnotizing enough to have you nodding in agreement before you know it. “o – okay.”

hobie has enough sense, what little he has left, to put a hand in your tummy and pushing you down until your back is against the cool wood. he doesn’t have to tell you to stay there. he just knows you will, especially when you’re gasping at the feeling of his hot tongue on your cunt.

your sap is sweet and unbelievably so. like cherries and strawberries and mangos on a warm summer day. he’s delusional, drunk already and nose deep in your cunt.

his tongue finds your entrance as the source of the sweetness all to easy. he’s addicted to it, each suckle and slurp persuading more of your cream to pour out your hole.

it doesn’t take you long to start writhing, hand all in his hair, tugging in every direction. each swipe of his tongue and bump of his nose in your clit has your back arching. it’s better than you could have ever imagined. you can’t believe you were about to turn this down, or the fact that you didn’t allow yourself to experience such pleasure simply because of your parents fears.

you cry and sob, legs shaking on his shoulders. you can’t decide whether or not you want to tighten your legs around his head or open them wider to accept more of him. “hobie, p – please!”

hobie almost doesn’t hear you. almost.

your words just barely float around his brain but your pleas stick just enough for him to push your legs up by the bottom of your thighs. he keeps you hooked there so strongly, he’s able to grasp your hand and maintain his hold.

it sounds so wet that it’s humiliating. you can’t believe these sounds are coming from you, that hobie’s tongue is deep in you, that he has you folded like this. you didn’t know this was possible.

your body is all warm all over again. you’re fortunate there’s no excess clutter on your desk with the way hobie has you. your hands fly to the metal structure holding your bed together, mouth drying from how long you’ve held it open.

you swear it comes faster than it did before. it occurs to you that you’re a ticking time bomb. the previous orgasm has your clit feeling like each touch is a hot stone.

it’s as if hobie steals your breath with your growing cries at your approaching release. you don’t know what to do with yourself, where to put your hands. it’s overwhelming, your second orgasm and the first time anyone has ever “eaten you out”.

“feel weird again!” you say through broken sobs. you’re met with hobie’s acknowledging hands massaging into your skin. he’s coaxing, encouraging you without having to remove himself from his new favorite spot in the world, right between your thighs.

it gives you whiplash with how quickly your orgasm comes, pushing out of you as if the first one never happened. it’s just as strong, if not stronger. your body trembles with your spurts of cream. it’s weeks worth of sexual frustration to know end and a confusing search of a solution, all washed off you in one night.

you’re so sensitive, you have to push him off with your feet at his chest and chest heaving for air. “fuck, that was good.”

“did you just say fuck?” hobie leans over you, bringing the bottom of his shirt up to wipe your sheen off his face. he’s well amused, almost snorting at your response. that had to be his influence.

“did i?” you cover your mouth with quick regret. you didn’t realize it rolled off your tongue so easy.

hobie grins, pulling you to seating and then to your feet. he tries not to ogle at you too much. it’s difficult when your lower half is completely exposed and he’s still so desperately horny but he puts your needs first, closing his eyes and clearing his throat. “you got somethin’ to clean you up with? wipes or somethin’ until you shower?”

you open your desk drawer and pull out a pack of baby wipes. you present the package to hobie, who pops it open and takes one out.

he doesn’t ask you to move, merely just lowers himself to the ground and with gentle hands, wipe up the mixed mess of saliva and your juices.

you whine, presumably from the unavoidable ache that accompanies your sensitivity.

“i’m sorry, lovely. have to,” hobie tries to be as quick and harmless as possible, soothing you with kisses to your inner thigh. they’re well mannered and innocent, until you’re clean enough and he’s throwing the baby wipe away. “are you okay, though? you don’t regret it, do you?”

you watch hobie straighten out your dress again. his gaze is as polite as it can get, avoiding any look at your pussy, although its right in front of him. instead, he meets your eyes until he rises to his feet. “um, no.” you’re back to being quiet, hands clasped and fumbling with each other.

you’re suddenly aware of how close he’s standing but it’s short lived when hobie is making his way back to the door to put his shoes on.

“i’m gonna go because i’m sure you want to process that and get your space and whatever else, yeah? but don’t worry, i’ll answer your texts and your calls.” he does feel bad, as if he’s fuck-and-dashing you but in reality, if he doesn’t get out of here, he’ll be too tempted to try and actually fuck you. “i’ll be back tomorrow to walk you to class, doll.”

you’re speechless as you watch him gather himself to leave, grateful for the space because you could probably explode right now. you also miss your panties just barely peeking out of his pocket.

“and feel free me to ask me again if you ever need my help.” and with that, he’s gone with a soft click of your door.

#࣪✮🕷✮⋆˙#hobie x black!reader #hobie smut #hobie brown #x black fem reader #astv hobie #x black reader #hobie x reader #x reader #hobie x y/n

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bonny-kookoo · 1 year ago

Note

Does someone older JK spoil the OC sometimes? Like surprise her with something which he considerd to be nothing it would mean so much to her?

Oh he does, ALL the time! Warnings for a bit of angst, beginnings of a panic attack but Kook handles it well

"...we can go there again, maybe before new year's if I can get a table on short notice." He simply says as he drives you both back to his place, radio playing quietly in the background.

You're still a little overwhelmed.

He does things like this a lot- expensive dinner dates in restaurants he either knows or wants to try out, randomly buying you clothes or jewelry he finds online and deems pretty, or he just changes things in his house to adjust it more towards you and your preferences. Like the pillows in his bedroom, the by now multiple pairs of thick socks for your cold feet, or the baking supplies he bought for you now stacking up in his kitchen.

It's things like that you're not used to. In the past, it has always been you who needed to adjust and do things for your partner- not the other way around. So now, you feel almost guilty whenever he does something- like a bank account draining, slowly going further and further into the negatives, red numbers piling up and making you anxious as to when he'll want it all payed back.

"Did you not like it?" He wonders, taking your silence as a sign of discomfort as he pulls up on the expressway. "You don't have to lie." He chuckles, reaching out to hold your hand.

"No, it's not that." You deny, letting him warm up your cold fingers. "It's just.. it was a little expensive, no?" You wonder, and he shrugs.

"Was it? To be honest, I don't think it was considering what we ate." He just brushes off. "I've been to steak restaurants that were a lot more expensive and half the quality. And the service was great too, so I didn't mind." Jungkook explains, and it's now that you realize once again that you and him live in quite different worlds. Or at least, used to.

For him, money isn't an issue. He's made and is making enough of it to live comfortably, he doesn't have to really worry about running out of it anytime soon, even if his company was to go bankrupt next week. And he's also got enough saved up, has invested with good tactics in mind, so it's really no wonder he doesn't see a problem in spending the amount that he does.

But you aren't used to that. You have been living paycheck to paycheck with barely anything left over at the end of the month, needing your bonus desperately as to not fall behind on any payments you have to make regularly. You've lost your apartment before, had to sleep at friend's places to get by, and even ate only at the company cafeteria to save money usually spent on groceries. All of this feels almost excessive, and you also worry.

What if Jungkook starts spending too much on you? He shouldn't fall into a habit of mindlessly throwing money out.

"What's on your mind, darling?" He wonders, lifting your hand to kiss the back of it, before he changes lanes.

"I just.." you fidget a little. Jungkook isn't a bad guy. He won't get mad. He won't scold you. You won't have to endure being lectured for the rest of the ride- you know all this, and yet again, the past haunts you and makes your breathing pick up as you begin to chew on your lip.

Suddenly, you realize he's pulling up to a gas station, parking on the side. He gets out to get something from the backseat, before he walks around the car to open the passenger door where you sit, unbuckling your seatbelt. "Here." he offers the bottle of water, having opened the cap for you. "Put your legs out like that- there we go. Breathe baby." He gently tells you, squatting down a bit to make himself look smaller. "Take your time."

You feel embarrassed. How do you explain to him that you were feeling like a kid about to confess a bad grade just now?

"We can keep it a one-in-a-month thing, maybe, if that makes you more comfortable." He proposes. "I didn't take into account that it might be overwhelming to you- I'm sorry." He apologizes, but you shake your head, looking down at your knees.

"I just.." You mumble, unsure how to really explain. "I feel.. back then, you know.." You sigh, having trouble finding the proper words. "Talking in the car makes me.. anxious." You admit. "Because you know, when you get mad.. I can't escape.." You say. "I can't get away from it."

Jungkook kindly takes the bottle away from you to put it on the backseat again, before he's back in front of you.

"Thanks for telling me. I had an idea it might be that, but I wasn't sure." Jungkook says, hands on your knees. "I promise you I'm not mad. And I'm in no position to be mad at you for having opinions or personal taste that might differs from mine. We're two different people-" He chuckles. "-of course we'll have different views on things."

"But I really liked the dinner too." You say. "I just.. I don't want you to start.. spending so much money on me to the point of, I don't know, losing sight of it." You confess. "And maybe, we should keep stuff like this a bit rare? So it doesn't become routine. I want to keep it special.." You say. "I'm not.. I don't really know much about this stuff, because I never had enough money to go to these fancy places, and get designer clothes, or plan vacations in different countries and all that. I feel.. stupid sometimes?" You spill, making him lean his head a bit to the side. "Like, what if you one day take me to a company gathering or something, and someone asks me something and I can't answer or I say something dumb-" You rant. "-or maybe you won't ever take me because I'm too young? Maybe Eve is right and I'm not really the kind of-"

"Baby, darling, stop-" He chuckles, pushing your shoulders back a bit to look at him. "-take a good breath. You're panicking." He worries a little, but tries hard to stay composed as to not make you spiral any further. "Eve is wrong. If you're okay with this, of course I'll take you to company events. Why wouldn't I show off such a beautiful women at my side? I'd never pass up a chance to make those stuck up geezers jealous." He jokes, making your crack up a little. "Let's keep the dinners to special occasions. Keep it special, like you said." He offers, holding your hands now. "And I'm also.. the fact that you worry about me makes me feel.. very special." he chuckles. "I appreciate you looking out for me."

"I always look out for you.." You mumble. "..I just don't want to overstep any lines. You know. Since you're older than me-"

"Just because I'm older doesn't automatically mean that I know everything better." He reassures you. "Our age gap has nothing to do with any sort of power balance. Please don't think you can't speak your mind just because I was born earlier than you."

"..okay." You nod, and he leans forward to peck your lips, before he closes the door for you after you pull your legs back in and buckle your seatbelt, him getting back into the driver's seat to do the same.

"You know.." he starts, as he pulls out of the gas station to continue the drive back home. "..I'm really falling in love with you." He chuckles, dimples of his cheeks showing with how hard he smiles.

"Huh?" You wonder, taken aback by the sudden confession.

"I mean it." He nods. "I really am."

"I'm glad then." You admit. "..cause I am too." You admit, making him grin before he reaches over to hold your hand again.

Knowing that he really won't ever let you go again.

#bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts fic #jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook imagine #bts jungkook imagine #bts jungkook fanfic #bts jungkook x reader #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook fanfic

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whoopsyeahokay · 10 months ago

Text

October Sun

summary: Simon had been on the verge of getting the fuck out of Dodge, the enormity of everything he'd found out starting to bog him down. He hadn't been able to do it alone, not anymore, not even for Maddie. Thankfully, the universe had heard him and had held out an olive branch.

pairing: Wally Clark x fem!reader

warnings: eventual smutty smut smut. and mad spoilers. and obvious Canon divergence. very involved, very dense plot.

bon reading, frens

___________________________💀

OCTOBER SUN pt.11

Simon crept to his car, a tactical advance, hunched low to the ground and clinging to the shadows as far as they would take him. He was afraid, adrenaline pumping, heart pounding in his ears; he didn't want Mr. Anderson to find him sneaking around the school a second time. Not after what he and Maddie had uncovered in the supply closet.

Mr. Anderson had propelled up Simon's short list of suspects to the top spot, the cache of money a sure sign the man was up to no good. Simon didn't have a lot of experience with society's seedy underbelly, but if movies had taught him anything, it's that normal people didn't hide stacks of cash outside of their homes unless they expected a police raid.

Was Mr. Anderson a drug dealer? Some kind of kingpin moonlighting as a high school English teacher? It was the perfect disguise. Cops would never think of a man who works with teenagers capable of that level of corruption. At least, not in Split River. No matter how many problems the town had, it wasn't that degree of shitty.

Only, Mr. Anderson had seemed nervous; a man forced onto a ledge at gunpoint. Threatened. Scared.

Okay, Simon reasoned, so Mr. Anderson wasn't a high-ranking drug lord. But he was definitely on the wrong side of the law and was obviously desperate. And desperate people were unpredictable when they felt backed into a corner.

He'd claimed he'd given Maddie what sounded like had been a large sum of money. A bribe, maybe. One that, in the end, hadn't been enough to convince Mr. Anderson she wouldn't rat on him. The thought made Simon's stomach churn, bile burning the back of his throat.

Maddie had been wrecked by the discovery, hands shaking from a surge of emotion too enormous to contain. She'd held it together long enough to caution Simon not to contaminate the evidence by touching it, assuring him she'd count it after he was safely off campus.

She'd shooed him from the classroom, "You have to leave, now," eyes watery as Mr. Anderson's betrayal had finally seemed to register. "I've got this, okay? Just go."

Simon had done as ordered. What good would he be if Mr. Anderson took him out next?

He peeled out of the parking lot and into the road, lightheaded as a thousand and one questions flooded his brain. His chest tightened, breathing labored, and—God, shit, he hadn't had a panic attack since middle school but, since Maddie's disappearance last Friday, they'd made a grand comeback. Kept him awake at night when there was nothing left to distract him from what could've happened to his best friend.

"Fuck." Simon rasped, smacking the steering wheel with his palm. And then, increasing in volume and intensity, "Fuck. Fuck. FUCK!" He beat the steering wheel, accidentally hitting the horn once and startling a woman walking her dog.

"Sorry!" He called, sheepish, through the open driver's side window, flashing a hand in apology. He didn't wait for a reaction, simply continued to drive home.

The thought of interacting with his parents put him on edge. He didn't know how he was supposed to stay quiet about Mr. Anderson. Noticeably off the last few days, Simon had already endured three separate lectures about drug use, depression, and sexuality respectively.

His parents' unconditional support, though amazing, made him feel like garbage—or, more accurately, a landfill—for causing them to worry to the point of draping a rainbow flag over the back of the couch and reassuring him that, "Love is love, mijo. We just want you to be happy."

Even if he could slip past his dad, his mother would undoubtedly pick up that whatever plot she suspected Simon of hiding had thickened. And, frankly, if she asked just right, Simon knew he'd crack and tell her everything. About Xavier, about Mr. Anderson...about developing The fucking Shining and assuming the role of Watson to his best friend's ghost.

Buying himself some time, Simon took turns he didn't have to; drove through random neighborhoods as he tried to think up a plausible excuse for his behavior that wouldn't result in another intervention. He didn't have it in him to watch his mother's face crumple as he lied to her again. The umpteenth time that week.

He needed to talk to someone. To get it out of himself and share the burden. His skin felt too tight and his bones too heavy and he couldn't carry the weight of Maddie's murder mystery alone.

And then, as if God had heard him, Simon's prayers were answered.

Without thinking it through, he pulled over and beeped his horn to get your attention before you turned onto the path that margined the small, neighborhood greenspace.

Clambering sideways to get out of his car, his foot caught on a pedal, seatbelt still hooked, Simon called out, "Hey!" grunting when he was knocked back into his seat by the strap. He took a second to collect himself, unbuckled his seatbelt, and climbed out in a less frenzied manner.

"Uhhhmm, are you okay?" You asked, your face displaying how not okay you thought Simon was. You glanced up and down the street, puzzled, "What are you doing here? Don't you live in Cedar Bank?" A suburb on the other side of the river that bisected the town.

Simon debated whether or not it had been a good idea to stop, but he didn't think he could give you an excuse and drive away, either. He dimly sympathized with how Mr. Anderson had felt back in that classroom; splitting threads pulled through the eye of a needle.

He summoned his resolve and turned to face you, "I need to tell you something."

You cocked your head, looked Simon over, and nodded slowly. Simon could tell you were trying to determine what this was about. Realized as you walked him into the little playpark and took a seat on one of the two swings, that he'd come out of nowhere in a move that could easily be interpreted as stalkerish.

"I could give you a lift home if you wanna talk in the car?" He offered, settling into the second swing all the same. The park was deserted, dark, the glow of the streetlights falling short by a few meters.

You shook your head and hooked your thumb over your shoulder, "That's literally my backyard."

Simon followed your indication and saw the top half of an antique build, painted a deep royal purple and trimmed in evergreen, that peaked over a tall, bushy hedgerow. A wooden fence several inches shorter than your family's hedges divided the public space from private property, running the length of the park behind your house and a few others.

"Huh." Simon returned his gaze to yours, "Never mind."

"Did you talk to Nicole?" You asked, possibly thinking that that was what Simon wanted to discuss.

He fiddled with his hands, closed his eyes, and supported his head on the metal chain that held the swing up. "No." He stated honestly. He needed to tell you about Mr. Anderson. Just. Start talking. But the words kept sticking in this throat.

"Simon? You're starting to scare me, is everything okay? Is this..." You trailed off and when you spoke again, you sounded worried, "Is this about Maddie?"

"Kind of," Simon admitted, pressing the meat of his palms into his eyes. "Screw it," He spun the swing so he faced you completely and then uncorked the bottle, "I found a shit ton of money in Mr. Anderson's classroom. Like, wads of it. Probably thousands of dollars hidden in the wall in the closet."

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

What the f u u u u u u ck.

One minute you'd been on your way home, trying to parse out why the connection between you and Wally had gone dormant as soon as you'd left him, and now, there you were, listening to Simon basically tell you that he'd unmasked Mr. Anderson like a Scooby-Doo villain.

You didn't have that on your Everything is FUBAR bingo card, that's for sure.

Okay. Okay. This was...big. Huge. And, "Holy shit, maybe it has to do with why he freaked on me in the theater," you said, mostly to yourself though you knew Simon would hear it.

"He what?"

You looked at Simon, "Earlier, I was—" Lie like a smart girl, "—looking for something Tilly forgot in the theater and he found me. But, Simon," You stood, started to pace, "He was acting paranoid like I found his dead mom à la Norman Bates. He practically threw me out of there." Which was, fine, a mild exaggeration, but Mr. Anderson's paranoia hadn't been. "I've never seen him like that. And he kept getting these phone calls that made him even more angry."

"Wait, what do you mean 'phone calls'? Did you hear anything?"

"No, just that he needed a minute. I guess to go find somewhere I wouldn't hear him."

Simon was standing now, pacing in a pattern the opposite of yours.

"He was on the phone when I saw him. Talking to someone about how he shouldn't have given Maddie money."

You felt like the sky had fallen on your head, "He gave Maddie money? Is that why she..." You'd wanted to say ran away, a kneejerk reaction borne from days of convincing yourself she'd just put Split River in the rearview. With what you knew now, you settled for, "Disappeared?"

Simon appeared to notice your choice of wording, peered at you like a math problem, but didn't mention it, instead revealing, "It's a line of inquiry."

You rubbed your temples to ease away the migraine that was building. Today had been too much; too many things unfolding one after the other: First hearing from Wally that Maddie was a ghost, and then just Wally and everything you had to unpack with that, and now Mr. Anderson's apparent criminal activity that may or may not have had a direct impact on Maddie's being a ghost in the first place.

Of course, you reminded yourself, she wasn't a ghost because you couldn't see. her. Which meant that, if he was involved, Mr. Anderson had drugged her to the point of a coma and had hidden her body somewhere.

"Oh my God," You moaned dismally, "This is so f u c k e d." As the gears turned, a thought clawed for your attention. "Simon," you ceased pacing to lift your gaze and regard Simon closely, "Why were you there?"

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

Simon knew he had to give you something, but, Jesus Christ, he was nervous. He'd already decided not to admit he could see Maddie, unable to believe that you wouldn't tell a trusted adult. And he wasn't keen on getting pumped full of antipsychotics and locked in a padded room, thanks.

You watched him, eyes hard, jaw set, more serious than he'd ever seen you, "Simon, what the hell?"

He swallowed, opting for half-truths, because he'd come this far. He needed help. A confidante. Would've preferred Nicole but she'd galivanted off with Xavier, apparently, and took the choice out of Simon's hands.

"I've been looking for clues about what happened to Maddie," Simon confessed, a weight lifting from his shoulders. "Since the search on Monday, when Xavier got arrested—"

You interrupted, fierce, loyal, "He wasn't arrested, Si. His dad was just taking him to the station to give an official statement."

"In the back seat?" Simon deadpanned.

"There's no room in the front of the cruiser!" You threw your hands up as if dealing with the situation would drive you to drink.

"With the lights on?"

"Because there was a crowd of people practically throwing themselves at the car to get Xavier's face on video."

Simon conceded and resituated himself on one of the swings. You followed his example, though, this time, you shrugged off your backpack and dropped it in the sand beside you.

"So, what do we do?" Simon wanted to know, close to getting on his knees and begging you to take the reigns on this because he was exhausted.

"Alright." You shifted to straddle your swing, hands in front of you as you counted details on your fingers. "We know that Maddie went missing on Friday. We know Xavier had nothing to do with it." Your eyes narrowed, daring Simon to comment. He didn't. "We know that Mr. Anderson is hiding money and that he gave some to Maddie. To keep her quiet?"

"That's what we-" Simon tensed, quickly undoing his mistake, "I'm thinking."

That intense look of scrutiny was back on your face and Simon resisted the urge to gulp. Three days ago Simon had figured you for the only person who'd believe him about Maddie's ghost. My how times have changed.

"If he was hiding money in his classroom, he could be hiding other things around the school, too." You rationalized. "Like the theater. I bet you anything that there's something in there he doesn't want us to find."

True. In fact, "Do you think he's hiding Maddie in there?"

"What, like, under the stage? That'd be pretty risky. And the cops went through every room in the school with search and rescue dogs and everything. Wouldn't they have found her if she was down there?"

Simon deflated, "Good point," reluctant to add that those dogs probably weren't the type trained to find cadavers.

"Right." You paused, either to organize your thoughts or analyze Simon further, he wasn't sure, but you soon continued, tone weak, "Simon, if he did have something to do with Maddie...I take back what I said before."

"About?"

You shrunk into yourself, forcing, "Maddie being okay," as if the words had to be wrenched out of you. "I don't want to believe Mr. Anderson could've hurt her but..." You blinked a rapid dozen times up at the sky, visibly shaken as you considered the worst, "I don't think she's okay."

A lump formed in Simon's throat. He was all too aware of the painful truth. His vision blurred, nostrils prickled, the enormity of the situation closing in on him.

"Yeah," He sniffed, "Me neither."

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

Neither you nor Simon were aware that, only ten feet away, crouched in the bushes, a figure wearing Simon's best friend's face had heard everything.

Cold.

Hungry.

And without an iota of guilt.

💀___________________________

PART TEN - PART TWELVE

also available on AO3!

MASTERLIST

#Milo Manheim #Wally Clark #Simon Elroy #Kristian Ventura #Wally Clark x Reader #fem!reader #Wally Clark smut #Wally Clark fanfiction #Milo Manheim fanfiction #School Spirits #zed necrodopolis #Disney Zombies #October Sun

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