#and that whole notion affects me in the way that people ask me every single summer without fail if i'm not hot in all that | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

y2fandom · 3 years ago

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Warming Up — Ben Hargreeves

→ Summary: You are convinced Ben hates you, Ben is convinced you hate him. Klaus is convinced you are both idiots.

→ Genre: Mutual pining! Idiots to lovers! Fluff! Humour! The whole circus is here

→ Warnings: A very small passing mention of murder

→ Word count: 6K

→ A/N: I genuinely think this is my longest fic and I don't regret a single thing.

English is not my first language and this is not beta-read, please let me know if there are any mistakes

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The universe is based on absolute truths. Truths that no matter how many people deny them will always be. The earth is not flat. Water makes things wet. Ben Hargreeves is absolutely head over heels in love with you.

It isn't up to discussion, in any way. Anyone who denies any of these facts is immediately considered a fool by everyone around them.

And yet…

"Klaus, for the last time," you sigh, resisting the urge to run your hands through your hair for the millionth time in the afternoon, "Ben. Is. Not. In. Love. With. Me."

Surprisingly, instead of the singsonged 'yes he is' response you expect, Klaus only gives you the weirdest look. He looks like he has never seen someone so stupid in his entire life, and he sees himself in the mirror every day.

"Quit looking at me like that," you grumble, hiding behind the battered drink menu. You pretend to consider ordering a milkshake, muttering the flavors available.

"You really don't see it," Klaus states, an airy laugh following his observation. "You really think Ben hates you,"

You wince. Leave it to Klaus to rub salt to a very sensitive wound. "I don't want him to hate me but—"

"He doesn't!" He interjects.

In your exasperation, you drop the menu. "Then how do you explain how much he avoids me? The minute I look in his direction he leaves!"

"He's nervous!"

You scoff. Ben Hargrevees. Number Six of The Umbrella Academy. Number Six who fights bad guys on a daily basis. Ben Hargreeves with an intergalactic horror living inside of his stomach. Nervous of talking to you? As if.

"He is," Klaus emphasizes, like he can't think of a way to make you understand.

"Sure, okay," You roll your eyes, "prove it then."

"What?"

"Prove it." You say, shooting him what you hope is a determined glance, "Prove Ben likes me like you claim oh so confidently."

Klaus shifts in his seat. Ben is going to kill him.

"Fine," He nods and you don't pay much attention to the way your heart beats with renewed hope.

You know Ben doesn't even like you as a person, much less in a romantic way, but your traitorous heart doesn't care about the facts, it just flutters against your ribcage, fueled by the notion of Ben Hargreeves returning your affections.

The drinks menu feels soft under your touch as silence falls on your table and you allow yourself to wonder what it would be like to be sitting in front of Ben, instead of his brother. You wonder what flavor of milkshake he likes. You wonder if he would like to share one with you.

You have to shove the last piece of your abandoned donut into your mouth to stop the stream of thought. Klaus always says things, whether they are true or not is another issue. You can't let his words feed any sort of hope inside of you, lest it takes root and crushes your heart.

"Easy there or you might choke, Y/N," Klaus says.

You shoot him a glare that doesn't really do the job when you are very clearly still chewing what was at least a two-bite sized chunk of donut. He immediately laughs.

"Do you want another one?" He asks when your chewing comes to a stop.

You shake your head, "You have no money, I paid for the both of us,"

Klaus shrugs, "I am a well educated young man,"

You snort, "You murdered chivalry right outside of Griddy's and spit on its corpse."

Klaus smiles, "You know who can bring it back to life though?"

The groan you release is probably heard by everyone enjoying a nice donut dinner tonight but you don't care so much about it as you care for getting out of the booth before Klaus can joke about Ben being chivalrous.

You just can't hear about it. You know. God knows you know Ben Hargreeves is one of the most chivalrous guys out there. You can tell in the way he holds the door for older women or in the way he politely says thank you after everything a waitress does for him. You know and it makes your heart burn with ideas on how he will treat you on a first date. It's not fair.

You hop out of your seat like you can physically escape the intrusive daydreams. "I think I need to go."

Klaus visibly deflates and you feel a pang of guilt. You were probably Klaus's only non-drug-involved friend and the only person he could actually talk to and escape the mansion with, without having pills be involved.

He follows you outside of Griddy's, silently begging you and tugging at you to stay. You bite your lip, weighing down your options.

"I'm sorry, Klaus," you say, reaching for him, "my parents…"

Klaus gives you a small smile that looks slightly forced, his eyes already look far away. "It's okay, see you on Saturday?"

You nod, giving his arm a light squeeze. "Noon."

You remember the first time you saw the Hargreeves.

It was a normal Saturday for you. With your father off to some business trip, your mom and you had decided to go and get some donuts from your favorite place.

When you got to Griddy's they were already there. The first thing you noticed was that there was something odd about them. You couldn't really pinpoint it then but they stood out like a sore thumb. Maybe it was their clothing or that they seemed vaguely familiar or even that they looked way too giddy for a normal group of teenagers in a small donut shop.

You hadn't talked to them that time, you just watched as you tried to think of what drew you to them. When they noticed your gaze they lowered their voices and seemed uncomfortable so you decided no to bother them anymore and looked away. You didn't notice that a certain gaze lingered.

The second time you saw them you were on your own. You had taken on the duty of getting donuts and coffee for your family and you noticed them as you got there. You made a point of not staring and you stayed in the to-go queue.

You were getting your coffee when something hit you from behind and the coffee cup overflowed with the scalding liquid all over your hand. You hissed a curse as you turned around to find your assailant.

Honestly, you didn't know what you expected but one of the teens from the group was in front of you and he looked terrified.

"I'm–" he stuttered out, "I hit you, you were in the way—"

You frowned, turning to receive a wet towel Agnes was handing out to you. "Sorry," you muttered bitterly. He wasn’t the one with a third degree burn on the making but ok.

"I have to go." He announced before rapidly bolting to the door. The other four teenagers followed suit.

Agnes offered to refill your cup and you thanked the woman a million times, glad you wouldn't have to pay twice but deeply ashamed that she felt like she had to do that. It was that mysterious guy's fault and it annoyed you to no end that he hadn't even offered to pay for the damage.

It amuses you, in a way. You hadn't appreciated Ben back when you first met, and look at you now, harboring a secret crush for a guy who has barely spoken to you since you met.

Your opinion on Ben changed and he grew on you but it is clear it isn't like that for him. Instead, The Horror himself can barely stand you, and it hurts to know so.

A book flies through the air before hitting Klaus square in the chest and the next one comes swiftly a second later and lands on his head. (If anyone asked, Diego would totally deny altering the trajectory of any of the books, despite everyone knowing Ben has the worst aim out of all the umbrella members).

"Ow," Klaus laughs, falling silent when a hardcover hits him. "I take it you like the idea,"

If looks could kill, notes Diego, Klaus would be as dead as the apparitions he sees.

"Why can't you, for once, mind your own business?" Ben hisses, trying to keep the fight out of Reginald's earshot.

"I did you a favor!"

"I didn't ask for one." Ben facepalms and groans into his hands. "What am I supposed to do now, Klaus?"

"Chillax, it's not like you're gonna be all alone on a date."

Another book hits Klaus and it sends him tumbling to the floor.

"Right, thanks for that," Ben mutters sarcastically, "You just told her I have a giant embarrassing crush on her."

"It was a jerk move." Diego says, looking over his book.

Klaus clicks his tongue. "I told her you don't hate her."

"And now I'm supposed to talk to her."

Klaus shrugs. "Easy peasy, right?"

Ben looks just about one dumb-Klaus-comment away from choking him to death, and Diego has no intention of stopping him from doing so.

"I physically can't talk to her, you idiot!"

Klaus seems to think about that little fact for a second before he dissolves into giggles. "Oh right! Cause you aren't a man!"

Ben lunges at Klaus, and though the ambient noise isn't ideal, Diego keeps reading.

Ben remembers the first time he saw you. It was one of the few times he had actually decided to join his siblings in their escapades to the donut shop.

To be honest, Ben wasn't having the greatest time out with his siblings. When you live with a group of people there's hardly any story they could tell that would entertain you and even if he was enraptured by the outside world, the curious side glances his group received tainted that wonder and made him hyper-aware of how much they stood out.

As the conversation on the table continued, Ben silently people watched. He kept wondering about the lives of normal people, people unburdened by the weight of saving the world on a daily basis.

The ring of the bell above the entrance snapped him out of his thoughts and his gaze went back to the glass door.

Ben felt like someone kicked him in the stomach. All thought of breathing was forgotten as he watched you walk into the building, it suddenly felt like it was only you in the whole place and Ben didn't mind giving you his whole attention.

And then your gaze flitted over to him. Ben looked away and scrambled to appear busy in any way. He took a discarded menu and pretended to read it. The weight of your gaze made his face burn and his siblings were being so loud he wanted the earth to swallow him whole.

"Someone is watching us," he said in between clenched teeth, "you're acting weird, we will get recognized."

The comment had the desired effect and an uncomfortable silence set in. Some of his siblings pretended they didn't notice they were being watched, the others were trying to look for whoever Ben was talking about.

After a few minutes of Ben containing his breath the bell rang again and you were gone. He longingly looked at your figure until you were no longer in his range of sight, and unbeknownst to him, he sighed when he couldn't see you.

Of course, his demon brother; Klaus, immediately picked up on the small gesture and he took the opportunity to tease Ben in stride. "Ohh, it looks like Ben has a crush!"

"Shut up. " Ben muttered, trying to shrink in his place and avoid the prying eyes of his siblings.

"He really does." Diego pointed out, his tone making it clear that he found the situation amusing.

"You don't even know her," Allison said.

"I just think she's pretty," Ben defended himself weakly.

"Ben, you know we can't date." Luther chastised and Ben wanted to bang his head against the table.

"Yes, I know," he said, "It's not like I'll ever see her again."

Ben didn't know at the time that his words that day would become complete and absolute lies. He also didn't know that he would actively try to make them lies, as he did when the next week he was the first to agree to go for donuts when usually he was the last one to do so.

He didn't want to admit to himself that he was only going because of you. He fooled himself into thinking he had liked the last donut flavor he got (though he couldn't even remember what it was) and when he told the other's his flimsy excuse it was obvious none of them actually believed it. It wasn't like it mattered though, Luther couldn't stop him from going out because he wanted to see a girl from afar. Who was he going to tell? They were already breaking the rule of not leaving the academy grounds.

Honestly speaking, Ben wasn't hopeful. He knew the chances of seeing you again were slim to none but the smallest speck of hope moved him and added a noticeable perk to his posture. His enthusiasm grew with every step they took in the direction of the donut shop and this rare outward indication of how Ben was feeling had the cogs in Klaus's brain turning.

"Ben, truth or dare?" Klaus asked as soon as Griddy's came into view.

Ben gave him a confused look, and then he looked away.

"Ben, truth or dare?"

Ben squinted at him, trying to read what he was planning. Tentatively, he said, "Dare."

Klaus was… dumb when he put his mind to it; but he wasn't dumb enough that he would dare Ben to do anything that would blow their covers. Ben didn't mind eating some dirt or ringing a doorbell and bolting if he got to have a good time with his siblings. He knew Klaus couldn't possibly dare him to do anything too bad.

"If the girl you liked is there for some reason, you have to talk to her."

Ben went back over his thoughts and crossed all of them out. He had been a naive little boy who foolishly expected anything close to being a nice human being from his brother, the raccoon man.

"No way," Ben expected the words to come out of his own mouth, instead the words came from Luther.

Ben felt a pinprick of annoyance, a reaction that seemed irrational given how he agreed with the sentiment. But he was used to reacting that way, a knee-jerk reaction stemming from years of being pitted against each other and made to listen to one of your siblings. A perfect recipe for jealousy, envy, and annoyance.

Ben envied Luther. He was very clearly in love with Allison and it seemed that she felt the same. Even if none of them did anything about it, it still felt like Luther had an advantage in the love department. The no interacting with normal people, and therefore not dating them didn't affect Luther in any way, so it was easy for him to enforce it.

"C'mon Luther!" Klaus protested, "She might not even show up!"

"But she might."

"He is just gonna say hi!" Klaus said, then he looked at the others, "It's all in good fun, right guys?"

He was met with silence, but no one joined Luther either.

"We can't talk to normal people."

"He won't say anything weird! Just a simple hi!"

Silence. Then, "Fine."

Ben jolted. "What?"

"Fine," Luther repeated, "She won't recognize you without the domino mask and you won't give us away."

Ben considered running, and he wondered if his siblings would follow him. He knew for a fact Klaus would and he would rather not make a scene. He took solace in the fact that you might not show up.

The visit to the restaurant went on. They ordered and ate without a sign of you anywhere. Ben was equally disappointed and relieved that you hadn't shown up.

The bell on top of the door rang.

Ben immediately looked at the door, a nervous reflex he'd been exercising through the whole visit. Immediately he felt himself blushing. Impossibly, you looked prettier than the last time he saw you. He knew he couldn't speak to you, not while he was going into cardiac arrest by simply looking at you from afar.

Ben forced his eyes to look at the plate in front of him and his jaw to close. He counted the crumbs on his plate and the seconds until anyone noticed you, pretending to be doing literally anything else.

Ben knew his time was up when he heard cutlery clanking in Klaus's general direction. He pressed his eyes closed and vehemently swore on the inside.

"She's here!" Klaus exclaimed way too loudly and it made Ben cringe. "She showed up!"

Ben sighed, he had partially hoped his siblings cared so little they wouldn't recognize you, but he should've known better, after all, you weren't someone people could just forget.

"You have to talk to her!"

Ben shook his head, "No, I don't want to."

"It was a dare you can't say no!"

Ben looked at Allison, a hundred pleads in his eyes. "Allison, make Klaus forget about the dare, please."

"I can't," she said, but she meant I don't want to, and though Ben knew she wasn't obligated to do anything he was desperate.

For the second time in the day, Ben considered running away.

"I need to go to the bathroom."

Now, if he hadn't been in such a panic to be literally anywhere else he probably would've thought of a better excuse, an excuse that didn't involve getting close to the counter –where you were– to ask Agnes for the customer bathroom key.

He would've thought of an excuse that didn't make it easier for his brother to shove him right into your arms (figuratively speaking anyway). Ben didn't hit you hard, so it seemed like an accident but it was just enough that he made you spill coffee.

Ben's head was reeling. You were so close and so pretty and oh god. But also, he made you spill coffee all over yourself oh no oh no. His head swirled, trying to find a coherent train of thought to grab onto. All the blood flow was going to his face and somehow he managed to feel lightheaded.

He heard you whisper something akin to a curse and suddenly the anxiety train took over his whole head. He was sure he'd made you angry and the idea terrified him. He wanted to apologize, he wanted you to know he was truly sorry.

"I'm—" Ben thought of justifying what had happened and then he thought against it, nevertheless the words still left his mouth. "I hit you, you were in the way—"

"Sorry," it was impossible to deny it then, you were mad. Ben cursed internally, his whole body shutting down, there was only one option left:

Running away.

"I have to go." He blurted out and before he even noticed he was outside Griddy's but he didn't stop there for a second, instead, he kept running until his lungs burned the same way his face did, Ben tried to ignore the sting in his eyes but that didn't stop the hot tears from running. He made a frustrated sound and wiped them away before his siblings caught up to him.

Ben sulked all the way home, cursing himself over ruining the first and most likely only impression you would ever have of him.

That day he hadn't expected anything that later happened, like Klaus finding you a third time or him befriending you. To this day Ben feels like you hate him because of the coffee incident, and he doesn't blame you either, he just wishes he could go back and handle it better.

You shift in your seat, trying to find a sitting position where you don't feel like you look dumb. You shift again, and this time you also glance at the clock over the door. 12:01.

They are not late, you tell yourself because they are not, you are just nervous and excited because for the first time since you befriended Klaus you're going to be able to exchange more than two words with Ben Hargreeves. Your crush. You feel lightheaded, willing time to either move faster or to stop completely.

It's almost embarrassing how fast you whip your head towards the door once you hear the chime of the bell overhead. It's almost embarrassing how easily all blood flow goes to your cheeks at the sight of Ben Hargreeves.

You suppress the urge to spring from your seat and go meet them at the entrance like some sort of 70s hostess. Instead, you press your fists to the plush seat and wait for them to find you and come to the seat.

You feel the seat dip by your side and it's almost embarrassing how you expect it to be Ben as if he hasn't made it entirely clear since you met him that he wants as much space between you and him as politely possible. You're sure he would move to the moon if it was possible, just to put distance between you.

Two arms are around you before you even have time to process who it is that is hugging you. You give Klaus a puzzled look while you return the hug, while he is your most touchy friend, hugs as a greeting are rare and entirely not a thing your friendship has a lot of.

Klaus shrugs when the hug is done and you recognize the entirely too familiar mischievous glint in his eyes. You squint at him but it only makes a smile break on his face.

You look away from your friend to pay more attention to his siblings. They are all already looking at you and suddenly you feel like you are under some sort of spotlight.

"It's nice to see you Y/N," You hear Allison say and it does wonders to soothe your anxiety.

"Hi Allison," you give her a weak smile.

"Hi Y/N."

You startle at the voice. Was that..? You look up and find Ben already looking at you and he is smiling. Your cheeks burn and you barely manage to squeak a greeting out.

"I can get us donuts!" You suggest once you've said hi to everyone. You know that despite having a millionaire as a father The Hargreeves kids rarely carry any money with them but you don't mind, it feels nice to be able to do something for them, a way to thank them for saving the city on a daily basis if you will.

"Do you need help?"

Again, you startle slightly at Ben's voice. These are probably the most words he's ever directed at you and it makes you feel better than you care to admit. Your heart aches at his chivalry and even though, realistically, you can manage just fine bringing back six donuts you still nod.

"Sure!" You confirm, "Does everyone know what they want?"

The Hargreeves tell you their orders and you split the memorization with Ben. He takes Luther's and Allison's while you take Klaus's and Diego's.

The silence settles between you and Ben as soon as you are done ordering and are waiting for your orders. You sway on your heels and toes awkwardly.

"I don't hate you, you know?"

You look at Ben, hoping you don't look as bewildered as you feel.

"Klaus told me you think I hate you."

Blood runs to your cheeks and you are reminded why you have never told Klaus how you feel about Ben. You would most certainly die if Ben knew you might be into him like that.

"I don't hate you."

"Oh." It's not exactly the most carefully formulated answer but it's the only one you can come up with. "I thought you did because… because you are always avoiding me."

Ben winces but you don't notice. "I, uh, I actually thought you hated me."

You choke, just a little bit. "What?"

Ben flushes under your gaze and the environment makes it all too easy to remember the reason. He's pretty sure you're standing in the same spot as when the accident happened.

"When we first met…" He says and he sees the realization dawn on your face. "I didn't make the best first impression."

You chuckle, moving any hair away from your face. How can you tell him that he's right? That you didn't exactly like him that first time?

Instead of being completely honest, you settle for: "I don't hate you."

Ben smiles. Genuinely smiles and it makes your heart stutter. You decide that you'll do whatever is needed to make him smile like that again.

Agnes places your orders in front of you once the conversation halts and you have a creeping realization that she usually doesn't take as long to serve you, even when you order from the secret menu. Her smug smile only confirms your thoughts.

Once you return to the table with the others it's almost like you've been friends with all of them for ages and you fall in easy conversation with them. Sometimes they ask you questions on what a normal life is like and you ask them to confirm what Klaus had shared before with you; the training, the silent meals, and all. It saddens you to know Klaus wasn't exaggerating for the most part and silently you decide that you're going to try and make them live a little bit more outside the mansion.

Despite everyone practically fighting for your attention for the first few minutes, once the one-hour mark has gone by your conversation is mostly with Ben and it amazes you how comfortable he makes you, despite the ever-present burning in your cheeks he causes.

Slowly, Griddy's is left with less and less of the Hargreeves as they bid their farewell before Sir Reginald Hargreeves notices their absence.

"So, are you two love birds done?" Klaus interrupts, he is looking intently at both of you and it makes you self-conscious about how much you've been talking to Ben.

Ben shoves Klaus and says something under his breath that you can't quite catch but he looks awfully flustered and you remember how much Klaus insisted that Ben liked you.

For the first time since you met Ben, you allow yourself to hope.

"Are you jealous Klaus?" You tease and Klaus outright laughs.

"Of what?"

"Your brother just stole your best friend."

He makes a face, "You are not my best friend."

You gasp, offended. "Excuse me?"

Klaus cackles and you fall on easy banter with him, almost like its second nature for you to shoot snarky comments back and forth with him. Not for the first time, Ben feels a twinge of jealousy for Klaus.

Ben figures this is the part where he leaves.

"I should head back or I'll be dead," he says and it takes all of his energy to pretend nonchalance. "It was nice talking with you Y/N."

You startle and hope you don't look as desperate as you feel. You are not ready for this (whatever this is) to end and so you shoot out of your seat almost immediately.

"I can walk with you guys, I don't have anything to do today, anyway."

Liar, your internal voice answers and you make a point of ignoring it. So what if you have homework for Monday and a packed Sunday? Surely your English teacher would understand you wanting to spend time with Ben Hargreeves himself.

Klaus looks at you incredulously because you never offer to walk with him, in fact, whenever he wants you to do so he has to insist and do a lot of dragging. You pretend you don't notice him boring holes in the side of your head.

Ben smiles again and the blocks of extra walking don't matter because the world is always right if Ben is smiling. "Sure, that'd be cool."

Klaus guffaws but he is still trying to figure out where this sudden interest for Ben is coming from so he agrees. He purposely walks behind you both, which gives him a front-row seat to a lot of stolen glances. Finding out you like Ben as much as Ben likes you is not as surprising as he expects it to be, maybe deep down he already knew it was like that.

Climbing the fire escape is already muscle memory for Klaus and he waves you goodbye in favor of maintaining his cover. He makes kissy faces at Ben, who promptly flips him off.

"Don't you have to go..?" You ask, your voice softer than intended. Being so close to the mansion feels dangerous and thrilling.

"Klaus has to go first," Ben explains and he feels impossibly close even if he hasn't moved.

"About the book you told me about…"

"I can lend it to you." He offers and it implies seeing him again.

You nod.

Ben hesitates, "Are you busy tonight?"

You are. You have a whole English essay to write on top of all your other homework. You shake your head.

"Meet me in the fire escape after sunset and I'll give it to you..?" He says, but it sounds more like a question.

You nod, a smile threatening to appear on your face. "See you, Ben."

It's cold.

That's the first thing you notice. The sun has been gone for less than an hour but the chill still bites at your skin and leaves goosebumps behind. You consider going back and getting a coat but decide against it, you don’t want to make Ben wait, he is already being excessively kind by sneaking from his house to lend you a book.

Now, with the wind hitting your face you feel ashamed of having brought the topic up, only to have an excuse to see him again, no less. It’s not like you can back out now, so you keep treading towards the mansion, finding comfort that maybe Ben wanted to see you too, after all, he’d suggested seeing each other instead of just letting Klaus give you the book.

Ben is sitting on the window sill when you get there and the warmth that explodes on your chest at the sight of him makes you forget the cold. Ben looks worried when you meet him in the fire escape and you worry that maybe you got him in trouble.

“Are you okay?” he asks, and you smile at how he stole the words from you. You tilt your head when the question sets in. Ben thinks you look way too cute to be real.

“I am,” you say, confused, “Why?”

Ben points at your face. “You’re flushed, are you cold?”

You feel the heat in your face increase and you panic. You had been blushing and hadn’t even noticed. You nod and then shake your head.

“I’m- “ your voice breaks and you know you are positively red, “I’m fine, don’t worry.”

Ben looks unconvinced but he doesn’t press any further. He holds a book towards you and you relish the seconds your fingers brush his to accept the paperback.

“Thanks,” you whisper and you know you have to go, you know it’s late and he probably has training tomorrow morning but, “Ben?”

He looks startled but he gives you his complete attention. You wish he didn’t.

“Um, Klaus said,” your voice feels small but you can tell he is listening. You don’t meet his eyes. “Klaus said you have a crush on me, is that true..?”

Panic flares inside of Ben. A million emotions run through him. Anger, at Klaus. Embarrassment. Fear. Hope. He squashes the last one, you were probably looking for the best way to reject him.

He considers lying. He considers telling you that no, he doesn’t like you. That he doesn’t think you look adorable with your cold-flushed cheeks. That he doesn't think about wrapping you in a hug every time you shiver and that he doesn't want to kiss you every time you make eye contact.

But he can't. He is weak for you and lying to you, betraying your trust, it's unfathomable. Ben wouldn't do that, not to you.

Ben looks away, past your figure and into the darkening alley. He nods, though the movement is barely noticeable.

"It is." His voice sounds small, even to him. He hopes you didn't listen but your head snaps to look at him almost immediately. There's something in your eyes, though he can't really tell what it is.

You open your mouth to say something and then close it again. It's almost impossible to hide the smile on your face but Ben is not looking at you. "You do?"

He looks at you, confused. You aren't rejecting him and it takes him aback. You can't possibly like him back. But he looks at you and you are smiling so brightly. Unless you find some sort of sick pleasure in rejecting people, he is pretty sure you are not about to reject him. His heart skips a beat.

"Why..?"

"Oh, um…" You look away. "Just wanted to be sure…"

Ben feels the hope falter.

"Since I like you too…"

Taken aback, Ben studies you. You like him? Despite searching he can't find a single hint of malice or deception in your face. Relief washes over him and everything comes into sharper focus. He is hyper-aware of everything around him. The cold wind hitting his face. The freezing metal rail on his hand. How close you are to him, less than a foot away.

"Can I..?" he says, "Can I kiss you?"

Your eyes widen at that but it takes you less than a second to process his request and nod eagerly.

Ben steps closer to you. His steps on the metal are loud on the dead silence of the alley, to Ben nothing is louder than the blood rushing through his ears.

"Is this okay?" He murmurs and you're so close you can feel his warm breath in your face.

You nod, looking at him with big eyes.

His hand finds your face and you lean into his cool touch. You close your eyes and sigh.

The soft feeling of Ben's lips on yours startles you and before you can properly kiss him back he is already pulling away. You swallow the disappointment and doubts start to claw at you. Has he changed his mind? Were you so unkissable he lost all his feelings for you?

You look at him and the doubts go away faster than they came. He is smiling and red and he hasn't pulled away from you.

You stand on your tiptoes and kiss him. Just a peck. He kisses you again. The whole situation has your head turning and you almost feel feverish from the small pecks Ben gives you and you give him.

You don't notice you're giggling until you can no longer kiss him. "I can't believe you like me."

His other hand cups your face and he looks adoringly at you. "How could I not?"

You duck your head, feeling the blood rushing back to your face. "Stop."

Ben's forehead presses against yours and you sigh in content. "It's actually a relief that you like me back."

You try looking at him without breaking any contact. "How could I not?"

He laughs and you feel positively delirious. Any weight in your chest is gone the second he laughs.

You stay like that for who knows how much, just breathing in the other. You wish you didn't have to go home, you wish you could stay like this forever. And though you know you have to leave at some point, it doesn’t matter when on a cold night, Ben provides you all the warmth you need.

#ben hargreeves x reader #hargreeves x reader #the umbrella academy x reader #hargreeves family #ben tua x reader #tua ben x reader #tua headcanons #the umbrella academy scenarios #x reader

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donutloverxo · 4 years ago

Text

Good little girl

*gif is not mine*

Note - Requested by @holacia2 and a part two to good little wife. And special thanks to @gotnofucks for all her help! I'm so overwhelmed with all the love that fic got I hope y'all like this little follow up as well❤❤

Dividers by @firefly-graphics.

Summary - Married life isn't always easy. Will you be able to solve your problems?

Warnings - 18+ only explicit sexual content, younger woman/older man, daddy kink, soft dark!Andy, SO MUCH MISOGYNY, housewife kink, innocence kink, (accusations of) cheating, arranged/forced marriage, spanking, possessive Andy.

Pairing - Mob!Andy Barber x reader

Word count - 4.9k

Masterlist is linked in the bio and the pinned post!

You handed your mother the brownies you had baked, she thanked you, telling you how it was so unnecessary, before Andy placed the wine you had gotten on the way over on the kitchen counter.

“Why don’t you go keep your father in law company, Andrew?” your mom told him. He only nodded before making way to his boss.

“So? How are things going with him?” she asked. “You are positively glowing honey! Do you have any good news yet?”

“Mom!” you gasped.

Over the past seven months you had only seen your mother a handful of times. You were still a bit upset with her for marrying you off to an older man you barely knew, a man who you thought despised you so much he refused to even touch you.

You knew she didn’t really have a say in it. Your father never really valued her opinion, there was no way she would’ve been able to stop it but she hadn’t even so much as tried.

“No, I don’t. And I won’t any time soon,” you huffed.

While being a mother was something you’d like to experience someday, you didn’t know if you were quite ready for it yet. Which was good because Andy didn’t want kids for the next few years either, he had taken you to a doctor to get you on birth control as soon as the holidays were over.

He stated that he wasn’t ready to share you just yet. That he wasn’t sure he wants his kids to be a part of the mob, which you didn’t want either.

“Oh, but you have to, cookie. I need a distraction. Being a mom is all I’ve ever known and ever since you left the house has been so empty.”

“Well, what about daddy?” you frowned. He had never really liked spending time with your siblings or your mother, but to leave her be on her own like that.

“He’s always with Charlotte,” she rolled her eyes. “I would’ve been fine with it, he’s always been like that, can’t expect him to change now, but he brought her here, now, to a family dinner.” She sighed in resignation.

You had heard a familiar high pitched annoying laugh upon coming home, but you thought that to be one of your brothers floozies.

Charlotte, or Cherry, used to be a good friend of yours in college. Before you brought her home for the holidays of your freshman year and she decided to shack up with your married father, who was almost thrice her age. You lost touch with her after that.

“I’m telling you, honey, a kid is a good way of securing your marriage and starting a family. You are young now... but you will grow old someday. Andrew’s a good man... but he is still a man at the end of the day.”

You scoffed at that, “I won’t have you talking that way about my husband! We are already a family, we’re in love each other and he’s nothing like dad.”

She gave you a teary smile, “Young love--is just so innocent and beautiful. You always see the best in people, cookie. I hope I’m wrong about this. Any man would be an idiot to not appreciate you.”

“Andy does appreciate me. And take good care of me, ma...” you trailed off.

He did take good care of you. After the night you consummated your marriage he brought you breakfast in bed. He hadn’t kept his hands off of you for the past few weeks, doting on you any chance he could get, telling you he loved you every chance he got.

But you wondered... did he love you?

The kind of love you’d only ever read about in classical novels. The kind of love you’d dreamt of having ever since you could remember, the kind you thought you once had with someone, but didn’t. You didn’t love Alex the way you love Andy. You were in love with the idea of Alex. You knew Andy now. You knew how kind, passionate and fierce he was, your love for him consumed every single part of you. Where you would literally die for him.

But did he love you for you. Or was he just lonely because it was Christmas. You had avoided taking the tree and the decorations down, begging him, even dropping to your knees and making love to him with your mouth, you didn’t know much but Cherry had taught you that you could get men to do anything for you just by kneeling before them.

While he was very obviously pleased with your passion, returning the favor tenfold, till your thighs burned from his bread and you were shouting for him to stop, he still took the decorations down. He said he wanted to start anew this year. He made a resolution to be the best husband he could.

But you were going to protect your heart this time, hope for the best but still prepare for the worst.

Unfortunately, you had been seated next to Cherry. You found out that your father was living with her now and that while she had hoped he’d leave his wife for her there, but apparently there was no such luck.

“They never leave their wives do they,” she shook her head. “Oh I’m sorry! I shouldn’t be saying these things to you...”

“Its alright,” you shrugged. It would be hard to see your mother be unhappy but there was never any love between your parents. Your mother had learned to live without him and find happiness in other things, and other people, she was just a bit more sneaky about it.

“Well...” you hesitated “how do you keep a man?”

“What kind of question is that?” she giggled. “There are many ways to keep a man but you’ll have to be a bit more specific...”

You ended up changing the subject. The kind of questions you wanted to ask were not suitable for the dinner table, and you didn’t like the way Andy was staring daggers at the pair of you, almost displeased with the two of you chatting.

***

You smiled at him from the passenger seat when he put his hand on your knee, giving it a light squeeze. He had been quite the whole ride home so you decided to speak first.

“Can’t believe Cherry’s like my... step mom.” You laughed out loud at such a ridiculous notion.

“Step mom?” he furrowed his brows, turning his head to look at you.

“Oh I’m just joking,” you waved him off. “Dad would never leave my ma. He’ll move on to another one soon enough.”

He hummed, nodding, “Alright. I was just worried she was troubling you at dinner.”

“What would you have done if she was? Would you swop in like a knight in shining armor and save me from the big meanie?”

“You know I would,” he smiled.

You had asked for a piggy back ride from Andy from the garage to your home, he rolled his eyes and tried to say no but then gave in when you used your princess eyes on him.

He placed you on top of your bed, kissing the tip of your nose, he started unbuttoning his shirt to get ready for bed.

“Andy... um... Daddy?” you corrected yourself instantly.

He liked you addressing him as that whenever you both were alone, he had warned you that you would receive a punishment if you ever failed to comply.

You didn’t know what his punishment would be and you didn’t plan on finding out anytime soon. You’d withhold all affection from him if he ever dared take away the platinum card from you, or lower your allowance as your father had told him to at the dinner, ‘to tame you' supposedly.

But that wasn’t a very good plan... what if he just looked for love elsewhere.

“What is it, honey?” he asked.

“Um... do you think... you would ever take a mistress?” you gulped and prepared yourself for his answer.

“I wouldn’t...” you sighed in relief, “one woman is enough trouble.” he said flatly.

“Daddy!!” you whined, stomping your foot on the floor and folding your hands over your chest.

And he had the audacity to laugh. His laughter at your expense only fuelled your anger. “Do you want to sleep on the couch tonight?”

He finally stopped laughing, “Look at you being a big girl,” he tried to pinch your cheek but you swatted his hand away. “You don’t wanna be daddy’s little girl anymore?” he pouted.

“No... no I do!” you answered all too eager. “I’m sorry...”

“I’m sorry too, honey. I shouldn’t be making fun of you.”

“No, you shouldn’t,” you hugged his hard stomach, rubbing your cheek against his undershirt. “It’s mean, and you promised not to be mean to me.”

“I was just teasing,” he cooed, stroking your hair. And while you knew that and secretly enjoyed it even, you still wanted a serious answer out of him.

“I intend to keep my vows forever. There is just no way I could ever want anyone who’s not you.”

“Really?” you propped your chin on his abdomen, looking up at him through your lashes.

“Promise.”

***

“Um... I’m here to see Andy,” you told the lady sitting outside of, what you had been told was Andy’s office, you assumed her to be his secretary Erica.

You always packed a lunchbox for Andy, always remembering to leave a sweet note for him and he would always call you to thank you for it. You also made sure to have dinner ready before he got home on the nights he wasn’t taking you out on the town. It was just your duty as a good wife.

But Andy had been working way too much the past couple of weeks. Where he would be gone before you wake up and be back when you were already in bed. You knew his job was demanding, working for your father and being a partner in a law firm, the job was like a mistress, stealing your man away...

So you simply decided to make his favorite, food pack it up and come to him to eat it together.

“Mrs Barber! It’s so nice to meet you. I’ve heard so much about you,” she gave you a toothy smile, shaking your hand.

You would’ve been happy, elated that Andy talks so much about you at work. If you hadn’t smelled her perfume. So familiar... you couldn’t quite place it at first but then you remembered.

The night you had slaved away, hoping to profess your love to your husband, when he had rejected you and smelled of chanel.

“That’s a nice scent...” you wondered out loud.

“Oh thank you! I love it as well,” she said, taking in a whiff of the inside of her wrist. “It’s the new chanel one!”

“Hmm....”

You almost didn’t hear Andy calling for you. “What a nice surprise.” He kissed your cheek.

You set the food before him, thinking of telling him what was on your mind.

Was he really so cliché to have an affair with his secretary?

Could you really blame him though? Although you had been married for almost seven months, you were strangers living under the same roof for the majority of them. He wasn’t really cheating... but what if he was still doing it?

“Honey,” he shook you to get your attention. “What’s up with you today? I have a meeting in a few minutes.”

“You’re always working.” You complained.

“Well...” he grinned, grabbing at your thighs and pulling you on his lap, “I have to. If I had the choice I would never come into work, I would stay home forever, between your legs, right... here,” he snaked a hand up your leg and stroked the inside of your thigh. “You would like that wouldn’t you?”

You nodded, “I’ve been so lonely without you.”

He hummed, biting the shell of your ear before speaking into it, “I know, honey. I miss you too. But you do still remember the number one rule right?”

“Yes, daddy. Never touch myself without your permission.”

“And why is that?”

You whined, to embarrassed to say the words, “Because... it’s your... pussy.” You replied in a small shy voice.

“That’s right, sweetheart. It’s mine to do whatever I want with,” he cupped your mould, just to demonstrate what he meant but then frowned when he felt your soft curls and wet slick against his palm.

“You’re not wearing any panties, sweetheart.” He noted, surprised to your boldness.

“Um... I must’ve forgot.”

So maybe you had ulterior motives behind coming here. Your body was used to be doted on everyday now, and to not have his touch for so long was agonising. You had hoped to maybe bend down to pick up a napkin that fell ever so conveniently and flash him, it would work, he would be driven mad.

“Forgot huh?” You nodded in reply as he gathered your slick in his fingers, tracing your labia with them. “That’s too bad, If you had left them on purpose I would’ve cancelled my meeting and fucked you right here. But since it was just an innocent mistake I wouldn’t do that,” he retreated his hand, placing a soft kiss on your hair. “Thanks for lunch.”

***

You were determined to prove your worth to Andy. If he did have a mistress, whether it be his secretary or any other woman, he would forget all about her when he saw how you could do everything for him.

You had went all out today, baking a pie and a four course meal from scratch, lighting up candles, the pink babydoll that Andy had gifted you was under your dress.

He was as always exhausted when he got home, his face visibly lighting up upon seeing you, you took his hand in yours taking him to the couch and making him a glass of whiskey, you handed it to him before kneeling on the soft rug.

“You work so hard, daddy,” you murmured as your fingers worked on unzipping his pants.

He looked at you in confusion, shaking his head, “You don’t have to do that, honey,” cupping your cheek in his plan, stroking your cheekbone with his thumb.

“But I want to make you feel good,” you blinked at him.

He groaned, unable to say no when you looked so willing to please him, but at the same time he wanted to do more with you. To cuddle and watch a movie and talk, it felt as if he hadn’t in ages.

“Very well,” he nodded.

With the green signal from him, you licked your lips, tasting some of your minty gloss, taking his length out of the confines of his underwear, you took a minute to simply marvel at the sheer size and beauty of it.

You licked a stripe up the underside of it, suckling at the crown, you remembered that he liked that the best, at least from the way he twisted his hand in your hair, pulling at it till it caused a slight burn to your scalp.

You slurped his precum up before he pushed his hips up till his tip hit the back of your throat, causing you to gag around him, didn’t take him long to come down your throat.

His neck and cheek covered in a crimson blush, his chest heaving as he threw his head back against the couch.

“You did good, honey...” he rasped. “I don’t know what I would do without you.”

He absolutely loved the dinner you had made for him. But when you subtly, because you were raised to be a good lady and wife, tried to coax him to make love to you before bed, he.... rejected you.

Sure, he was kind about it. He told you he was simply tired and would make it up to you. But it was still shocking how a man as insatiable as him would ever say no. You truly didn’t know what to make of it.

***

“Oh... I don’t know about this... it’s a bit too bold for me,” you bit your lip.

“Just try it on! You might end up liking it!” Cherry urged you, putting the bright red lipstick on you without waiting for an answer, “There is nothing more classic than a red lip. Or a red anything. Men go crazy for it.” She told you.

You simply hummed through closed lips as she put some finishing touches on it. “Doesn’t that look nice?” she asked, holding up a mirror before you.

You smiled, it did look different. Maybe different was what you needed. “It’s very pretty. It makes me feel... confident?” Which was strange. Because how could a simple lipstick make you feel confident?

“See! I told you. Confidence is the key to sexiness. Now, let’s talk lingerie.”

***

“Honey, I’ve been waiting for over fifteen minutes,” you heard Andy call out to you from the bedroom.

“Just a minute,” you said, perfecting your edges with a lip brush.

This was something you had never done before. You wore a lot of lingerie for Andy, but most of them were cute pastels or white nighties or babydolls. Nothing like what you were wearing right now...

A sheer black lacy body suit that clung to your body, leaving literally nothing to the imagination.

Top that off with your red lip... you looked like some kind of dominatrix. Cherry told you that most men secretly wish to be dominated. Although you highly doubted your daddy would want anything like that. Or would he?

“Alright, I’m coming out,” you announced, before shyly stepping out, your eyes trained on the floor as you twiddled with your fingers to maybe distract you from your nerves. “What do you think?”

He was speechless. His jaw almost dropping on the floor when he saw you like that. So far from his sweet girl. You were just as much beautiful and sexy, and while it wasn’t something he was used or prefer to he would welcome it if it was what you wanted.

He extended an arm to you, ready to tell you that you were sexy, that he wanted to spend hours worshipping every inch of your body, that he wanted his cock stained the shade of red you wore on your lips, that he was ready to make up for being away for weeks.

Until he saw... that.

He lowly growled your name, making your head snap up to look at him, “What did you do to your pussy?” Because from what he could see, through the sheer material, there was nothing where your pubic hair used to be.

“Uh... I uh... waxed it...” From the tone of his voice you could tell that he wasn’t too happy about it. “Do you not like it?”

“Like?” he scoffed, shaking his head. Taking a seat on the bedding, “C'mere, let me take a closer look.”

Hesitantly, you walked the few strides it took till you were standing before him.

He studied your mould, trying to take the fabric off so he could see it more properly and then tutting when he couldn’t even open the stupid thing.

“Wait, it um... opens here I think,” you interrupted his scrutiny, undoing the zipper that was on your side and taking the suit off of you.

He sighed in resignation when he saw what you had done, making you regret your ever spending so much money and going through all that pain.

He parted your lips apart, running his fingers along your vulva, acquainting himself with this new strange feel of you, “When did do this?” his blue eyes looked up at you.

“Just a couple of days ago. It’s just hair... it’ll grow back in like three weeks.”

“Three weeks?” he scoffed.

You could feel your eyes getting misty. You tried to go all out for him, to please him, be completely naked and vulnerable before him, only to have him get angry at you.

“You don’t like it,” you sniffled.

His furrowed brow softened when he saw you crying, pulling you down till you were straddling his lap, “The question isn’t whether I like it or not,” he explained, his thumb wiping your wet cheeks, “I could... maybe live with it. But I wouldn’t prefer it.”

“Okay,” you nodded.

“But for you to have done this,” he touched your newly waxed skin and almost winced at the smoothness, “You must’ve let someone else see you naked. See what belongs to me.”

“Bu - but they were all women...” you stammered, squirming in his lap as his fingers toyed with your clit.

“It doesn’t matter,” he tutted, pushing two fingers inside you, “Only I get to see you. This is MY pussy. Only I get to decide what to do with it. Do you understand?”

You nodded, holding onto his tshirt as he twisted his fingers inside you. “So-sorry, daddy.”

“No, honey, since you were bad you don’t get to call me daddy. For tonight you will address me as sir. And of course you’ll have to be punished.”

“Punished?” you pouted. “Can’t you just let me go since it was my first strike? I’ll be good from now on I promise!”

“No, you have to learn your lesson. Come on,” you yelped as he manhandled you so you were face down across his lap, “What is your safe word?”

“Unicorns” you giggled. You thought you were so witty for coming up with it. Since he for some reason was jealous of your unicorn stuffie.

He hummed, stroking the soft skin of your butt, “How does twenty sound?”

Your eyes went wide as you gasped, looking at him over your shoulder, “No!” you said.

He didn’t really plan on spanking you... did he? He liked swatting your ass here and there, and truth be told you liked it too. But you had never been spanked or even hit as a punishment.

“Well, if not this then maybe we can make you go a week without cumming.”

Your gasp was louder and even more incredulous this time. You could most definitely take twenty swats, but just the thought of not being able to finish, after knowing what an orgasm with Andy feels like, made you shiver.

“You will count each one, and then thank me for it. You are grateful I’m teaching you, aren’t you?”

“Yes, sir,” you nodded.

“Do you know how to count to twenty? Or would I have to teach you that too?” he asked ever so condescendingly as you huffed.

“Of course I do! I was just two semesters away from graduating college!” Never mind that you learned that in kindergarten.

“That’s good. Are you ready?” he asked, cracking his knuckles as he got in position.

With a nod from you he delivered the first slap to your right buttcheek, the sound of it reverberating in the room, his palm stinging slightly as he stroked the skin he had just punished, it was already warmer.

“One, sir. Thank you, sir,” you held onto a moan, it wasn’t half as bad as you thought it would be...

You jerked forward as he unceremoniously hit your other cheek, since you were unprepared for it, and he was much more brutal.

“Tw-two, sir,” you sniffled.

You considered throwing in the towel and saying your safe word by the time fifteen rolled around. Your behind was on fire, while you couldn’t see it, you just knew it was bruised. But you wanted to be good for Andy and it was wrong of you to do something that drastic without his permission.

“Sixteen...” you hiccupped. You could feel your slick running down your thighs but at this point... you just couldn’t bring yourself to care.

“Do you want a break?” he asked, taking pity on you.

You nodded frantically, “Yes please! Can you... can you touch me? Down there?” Since the pain in your throbbing pussy was unbearable. If you didn’t receive any attention, you might actually burst.

“Down where? Here?” He had the audacity to play down, while you were suffering, and touch the back of your knee to patronise you.

“No!” you whined.

“Well then you’ll have to be a bit more specific, princess.”

“In my... between my legs... my pussy...”

“Are you sure you deserve it though?” he asked.

You thought about it for a moment, before coming to the conclusion that, “No I don’t. Not until I finish my punishment.”

“That’s a good girl,” he praised, his hand massaging your raw ass as your heart swelled in pride.

“Nineteen, sir,” your mind was hazy. It didn’t even feel as if you were in your reality anymore... it was as if you were floating, while you could still hear and feel him spanking you, for some reason it wasn’t as painful anymore.

“The last one, doll, hang in there,” he said before delivering the last swat.

You whimpered, “Twenty, thank you, sir,” willing your nose with the back of your hand.

Andy collected your weak form in his big string arms, rocking you back and forth in his lap as he kept whispering soft praises in your hair, “My sweet beautiful doll,” he pecked you on your lips.

“Sorry about your pants, daddy...” you said when you realised what a wet mess you had made on him.

He shushed you, “Don’t you worry about that right now. Do you want to take a bath?”

You pouted, your red lip jutting out, “No.”

He chuckled, kissing your forehead, “Do you want daddy to fuck you?”

“Yes,” you nodded.

“We have to be careful about your butt, baby,” he said as he gently placed you on the mattress.

Your head on your pillow, besides your two most trusted stuffies--your unicorn and teddy. Andy only allowed you two in the bed after complaining they made it hard for him to cuddle you. You demanded he buy you a shelf to display them or you would go back to your old room. Which of course made him comply instantly.

You made grabby hands at him, impatient to have him closer to you, but then were glad he took the time to take off his tshirt so you could ogle the wide expanse of his chest, the light scattering of fuzzy hair over it, his numerous tattoos along with one of your name, which marked him as yours forever.

He took a hardened nipple in his mouth while his hand tweaked the other, nudging your legs apart to make room for him, he placed his length at your entrance.

Slowly pushing into you, letting you get accustomed to the size of him. Although your pussy was always so welcoming to him, he knew you often struggled to take him.

You whimpered at him, tears rolling off of your face. “What’s wrong, honey? Does it hurt?”

“No... it’s just so good,” you sniffled.

“Okay, just hold on,” you held onto his shoulders as he slowly fucked in to you.

Your pussy clamping around his length, the soles of your feet digging into his ass, “Can I come, daddy?”

“Of course, baby. You earned it.” He groaned, his hips hammering against yours as you bit his neck, letting out a muffled scream.

You hummed against his neck when you felt his warm release fill you up, he pulled out of you, frowning when he looked at your naked and hairless pussy, dripping with his cum.

“From now on I’ll be picking out your clothes,” he stated, rolling off of you and pulling you into his arms.

“Okay, daddy,” you hummed.

“And no more surprise bikini waxes.”

“Mmm...” If that’s what you had to do to get in trouble and be punished, then so be it. “We’ll see.”

***

Three days later

“Lotion time, doll,” Andy said, pausing the movie you were both watching to go get said lotion.

He had rubbed your lotion on your backside when he spanked you and decided that he wanted to be the one putting your body lotion on you from now on since he had too much fun doing it. He insisted on doing it twice everyday since it was still very cold.

You followed him to the bedroom, lying face down on the bed a he squeezed some on his palms, rubbing them together to warm them up.

You winced just a little, your skin still a bit sensitive, you even had to sit on a pillow the time.

“Will you be going back to work tomorrow?” you wanted to know.

He didn’t like the sadness in your voice, “Yes,” he sighed. He hated leaving you all by yourself.

“I’ll be all alone then.”

“Didn’t you want to go back to college?” He remembered you telling him that your parents forced you to drop out so that you would marry him.

“I do actually. Hate leaving things incomplete... maybe I can even go to a law school and become a lawyer like you!” you perked up.

“You’re not working for your father though, you’re too good for that world.”

“You’re too good for him too.” You said. “Maybe I can work with you.” And you and him could be like a power couple. It would be so exciting.

Tags will be in the reblog! Click the link in the bio to be join the taglist or shoot me an ask/dm. Comments and reblogs are really appreciated! ❤❤

Please note that my work is not to be reposted or published anywhere other than my Tumblr or AO3 account without my permission. Reblogs are most welcome though!

#andy barber x reader #good little wife #steve rogers x reader #andy x reader #andy barber x oc #andy barber x you #chris evans x reader #steve x reader #defending jacob fic #andy barber fic

2K notes · View notes

ot7always · 4 years ago

Text

Ignorantly, Yours

Word Count: 10.6k

Pairing: Alpha!Jimin x Omega!Reader

Genre: Wolf!AU, Best Friends to Lovers!AU; fluff, smut, angst

Warnings: dom!Jimin, sub!reader, A/B/O dynamics, heat sex, fingering, unprotected sex, dirty talk (including a bit of possessiveness), marking, creampie, hair pulling, degradation, praise, rough sex, multiple orgasms

Rating: 18+

Summary: You never could have expected your best friend to show up at your apartment right as you were about to go into heat, but when he did, something in you just wouldn’t let him go.

A/N: Truly, this was never supposed to be more than drabble. Which truly became a nuisance once it grew a lot and I had to go back and change a lot of things during editing. This is my first fic with some sort of supernatural element to it, and I had a lot of fun! I hope you guys enjoy, and please let me know what you think!

Reposted without the header gif and without any links or taglist. Sorry for any inconvenience if you were already looking at the first post. I will reblog with the taglist shortly.

Maybe it should have been embarrassing.

Maybe it was, 5 years ago when the habit first started.

5 years ago, when you’d had your first pre-heat. When the world had quickly become too overwhelming, your nose unused to the myriad of scents that assaulted you in your sensitivity. Your skin feeling so raw that even the clothes on your back felt uncomfortable.

It was then, in your childhood bedroom, amidst everything else, you recognized a scent that accompanied you through your life for as long as you could remember. A scent that felt like home, felt like warm days under the sun and shared laughter under blankets at midnight.

Your nose had led you to the bottom drawer of your dresser, your hands digging through the mess of fabric there until you pulled out an orange hoodie. You didn’t remember ever having it, and it looked small enough to have been from years ago – maybe even from before he presented.

But as you pulled it out of that drawer, the scent that might have been faint to you any other day filled your nostrils. A blueberry and pine scent that left you feeling calmer instantly, safer. Whether that had to do more with your friendship or his alpha status wasn’t a thought that crossed your mind. All you knew at the time was that it made everything better – he made everything better, even when he wasn’t there.

That marked the first time you laid in your bed, curling yourself around that small piece of comfort, your face shoved into the soft fabric. The peace that washed over you then was addicting, and any thought of giving up that feeling was unfathomable.

And if Jimin noticed how you were covered in his own scent when he saw you after every heat since that day, he didn’t say a thing.

You missed him a lot.

It wasn’t as though his university was that far away, and you should have grown used to it after several years of living apart for most of the year. Weekend visits were hardly enough when you’d spent more time together than apart growing up.

It definitely didn’t feel like enough when you were lying in bed, surrounded by the products of your skillful swiping over the years during Jimin’s visits. Hoodies, t-shirts – you had at least a dozen by now. All of which were tossed across your bed alongside you, your upper body already clad in one of his oversized hoodies.

When your pre-heat started affecting you yesterday, you’d already emailed your professors to tell them you wouldn’t be able to make it to class for the week. They, of course, understood – every university accommodated for their students to get a week off about every 3 months for this exact reason.

You were already overcome by exhaustion, Jimin’s scent wafting around the room lulling you into a sleepy daze.

It was common for an omega to nest amongst an alpha’s scent before their heat, though said alpha would typically be their partner.

It wasn’t something you liked to think on very often. Something like this couldn’t be that uncommon, right? After all, he was your first friend, and that went beyond being an alpha or omega. Besides, if it bothered him, wouldn’t he have already called you out for it by now? Wouldn’t he have said something when he realized that even when you’d started spending every heat with an alpha, his scent was still somewhere in there?

You tried not to worry too much about it. It didn’t matter, anyway.

Based on how you were feeling, you knew your heat would probably be here within 2 or 3 days. Which meant you should probably call someone soon to ask them to help you through it. It was normal practice to ask a friend to help you with your heat, but it was a line you’d never crossed with Jimin. Rejection was never something you dealt with well, and you were too afraid to put him, of all people, in that position. Knowing him, he would agree even if he didn’t want to.

Who, then? Namjoon? Hoseok? Both have agreed before, though the notion of crossing your room to pick up the phone you’d so foolishly left on the dresser was severely unappealing.

Instead, you let your eyes flutter shut, your face nuzzling into a blue and red scarf Jimin had forgotten at your apartment last winter. As the tranquility washed over you, your mind drifted closer and closer to sleep, warm and cozy and surrounded by Jimin’s scent.

Until the doorbell rang through your apartment.

At first you elected to ignore it, hoping whoever it was would get the hint and go away. But when it sounded out 2 more times after you hadn’t moved in several minutes, you groaned.

Wasn’t it bad etiquette to do this to someone? Surely that had to be written in a handbook somewhere.

With heavy limbs, you dragged yourself out of bed, flipping the hood up on your (well, Jimin’s) hoodie. As much as it may have been a bad idea to answer the door by yourself in pre-heat, your scent enveloped by an alpha’s would be enough to ward off unwanted advances. Though there were definitely bad people in the world, it took a truly insane person to go after an omega scented by an alpha.

When you made it to the door, you took a deep breath, preparing yourself to ream out whoever was on the other side. While you could sense someone’s presence there, every apartment was insulated, scent-wise, for protection. You didn’t know what to expect.

But of every possibility, when you opened the door, you didn’t expect to get assaulted by the very scent you’d been basking in only minutes ago. You didn’t notice how his eyes widened or how his pupils dilated when your scent hit him, too preoccupied by your body’s visceral reaction.

The full force of his scent almost had your knees buckling, your eyelids growing heavier as every single part of you instinctively yearned to curl up into him. Maybe your heat was closer than you thought.

When you were finally able to focus your eyes on him, his teeth were biting into his bottom lip, the hand holding an overnight bag clenched so hard his knuckles were white.

You didn’t give him the chance to say anything before you were stumbling forward, colliding messily with him, only focused on getting as close to him as possible.

You barely heard a mumbled ‘shit,’ not registering that he backed you into your apartment until you heard the door slam, his bag hitting the floor.

“Jimin,” you mumbled, your hands grasping at his shirt, eyes closed as you shoved your face into his neck, sighing happily when you were finally as close to the source of your happiness as possible.

But much to your discontent, he pushed you from him, keeping you an arms’ length away. The whimper you let out in response sounded pathetic even to your own ears, but every cell in your body was screaming to get as close to him as possible.

“Y/N,” he said firmly, the unusual hardness in his tone snapping you out of your daze slightly, wide eyes fixing onto his face. He audibly gulped at the glazed look in your eyes, before continuing. “You’re in heat.”

“I’m not,” you whined, trying to push against his hands, but he was stronger than you were.

“You will be,” he responded, letting out an incredulous sigh. “Fuck. I meant to surprise you but I forgot what the date was, I’m so sorry.”

“But I’m not yet,” you complained, changing tactics and instead aiming to shove your nose into the wrists near your shoulders. When your hair swished with your movement, sending a whiff of shampoo and your scent Jimin’s way, he groaned loudly.

“God, I can’t be here, I should go,” he said through gritted teeth. But when he started leaning down to pick his bag back up, you panicked.

“NO!” you yelled, launching yourself at him with your whole weight, not at all concerned about how he stumbled back in surprise. Your hands gripping onto his waist, you looked at him with wide eyes, your irises barely visible around the black of your dilated pupils. “Please don’t leave.”

His composure visibly cracked at the desperation on your face, but the sensation of your hands trembling in their grip on him brought him back to reality. “I can’t stay, I know that you know that-”

“Why?” you cried, your bottom lip trembling. The logical part of you deep inside knew you were being unreasonable, but even that part of you was a slave to instinct. All you knew was that Jimin got you through every pre-heat, and here Jimin was in front of you now. He’d never seen you like this, not ever in the last 5 years. And now that he has, nothing has ever been more unappealing than the thought of him walking out your front door.

He was very clearly taking shallow breaths, eventually bringing his own wrist to his nose to try to drown out everything else. Based on the low grunt he let out, it didn’t seem to be working very well.

“You smell like you’re going to go into heat at any moment, fuck, I can’t,” he panted, every part of him resisting the urge to grab you and scent you until there was absolutely no question whether you were his.

Except you weren’t his.

“I-I...” he stuttered, the scent of you not only clinging to him, but everywhere throughout the apartment occupying every part of his brain. “I need to go, I’ll call someone for you, Hoseok or-”

But that was definitely the wrong thing to say, because you sprung back from him as though you’ve been burned. When you looked at him as though he’d betrayed you, he knew he’d messed up.

“Why? You’re already here,” you spat out. “Don’t go,” you finished in a much weaker voice, pleading gaze fixing onto his.

A flash of pain went through him when he saw you hug yourself around the middle, as though to appear smaller. As though to protect yourself. From him.

“You don’t know what you’re asking of me.”

“I know exactly what I’m asking of you!” you wailed, the space between you feeling wider than it’s ever been.

“I can’t,” he repeated, a tinge of desperation making its way into his tone. Why was this so hard? From what he knew about omega heats and pre-heats, without a partner or relationship you shouldn’t have cared this much about which alpha stayed with you.

“Aren’t we friends? Can’t you just stay?” you begged, eyes brimming with unshed tears. Something about him trying to leave felt like a hole was being ripped through your chest, even if you’d understand why any other day.

“Of course we’re friends,” he said incredulously, a conflicted expression on his face. He knew exactly what you meant, exactly what was implied within that statement. When something like desire crossed his gaze, you felt a dash of hope bloom within you. “But...”

And it was crushed just like that. “Why don’t you want me when I want you? What’s wrong with me?” you sobbed, the tears finally spilling from your eyes as you dropped to your knees.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

The smell of an omega in distress was always something that set off an alpha’s protective instinct.

But the knowledge that he was the one who caused it brought forth an ugly wrenching in his gut.

For all the required readings Jimin had done in the course of his life, nothing had ever taught him what to do when the girl you’re secretly in love with was on the floor crying because you refused to fuck her through her heat.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to. God, did he want to.

But you weren’t there begging for his heart or his love or his devotion – you were begging for his body. Which wasn’t the problem. It wasn’t that he was offended. The problem was that he wanted more than this, and that right now was most definitely not the time to have that conversation.

And it’s not that he didn’t think you knew what you wanted. He knew you knew that you were asking for sex, but he also knew that was all you were asking for. Pre-heat was about preparing for sex, not romance.

As much as a heat could completely fog an omega’s brain, in pre-heat they could still make coherent decisions. It was typically a time spent preparing for heat, a time to call an alpha or to prepare for the much more painful option of suffering alone. They were typically in a perpetual state of exhaustion, bodies crying out for sleep to save up energy for their heat.

But more importantly, it was a time where omegas were at their most emotionally vulnerable, where they gave in to instinct. A time where they surrounded themselves in the things that made them feel safest, most at home.

He knew – he knew you used his scent to get through your pre-heat, but he never thought it meant that much. You were his oldest friend, and the fact that you found comfort in his scent was never something he questioned. He was an alpha, and you scented each other often – it made sense from a biology standpoint.

And – oh.

It hit him then that this was more than an alpha’s refusal to help their friend through their heat. This was more than a refusal for sex.

This was your biggest security blanket pushing you away at your most vulnerable, the person you trusted most to keep you safe leaving you when you were begging him to stay.

He really, really fucked up by coming here.

He should have checked the dates properly in the first place, and now he’d have to deal with the consequences. There was an unbelievably high chance that if he walked out that door, you’d have a breakdown, and he couldn’t just break your heart by leaving now.

Even if it ended up breaking his own. Even if you ended up thinking nothing of it, and he would never be able to erase the memory from his brain.

Because you were begging him to stay out of instinct, out of need. Not out of love. Not that he knew of, not the kind he wanted, at least.

But there was no reason to go there or question you about it, because he knew you’d say anything to make him stay, even if it wasn’t true. Not because you were a liar, but because that’s what your body would push you to do right now.

Knowing that the smell of his own panic would just set you off more, he took a couple deep breaths before falling to his knees in front of you. He had to force down the rising upset in his chest at the scent of your tears, every part of him screaming at himself for upsetting you this deeply.

“Hey,” he called out softly, his hands reaching out to gently pull your hands away from where they were hiding your face. At the sight of your red-rimmed eyes and wet cheeks, his heart tugged. “Look at me.” He slipped a hand forward to cradle your head, brushing against the hair at the nape of your neck. He hoped so badly that he could be a comfort to you, even when he was the one who hurt you in the first place.

He waited almost a minute for you to look up, doing his best to calm you in that time. When you finally raised your eyes to look at him, the fear in your expression was something he’d only ever seen a few times in his life. You were an expert at putting on a brave face for the world, and seeing the uncensored pain displayed there punched him in the gut.

“Baby,” he cooed, pulling you into his arms. He carefully maneuvered your face into the crook of his neck, smiling as you melted into his hold, a content sigh leaving you. He wrapped his arms around you, face rubbing into your hair as he stopped resisting the urge to scent you. He ignored the shiver that ran down his spine at your scent that only seemed to be growing stronger.

The two of you stayed like that for several minutes, your body so limp in his grasp that he had to keep both of you upright himself. He couldn’t tell whether you were awake, goosebumps rising to the surface of his skin as your nose brushed against one of the most sensitive parts of his body.

But when he stood up, wanting to get you somewhere more comfortable than the floor, he felt every muscle in your body tense, a low whine leaving your throat. Your hands grasped onto his shirt. “Jimin-”

“Shh,” he soothed, continuing to nuzzle into you as he stood you both up. “I’m not leaving.”

“You’re not?” you repeated, muffled into his shoulder.

“I’m not.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.” He scratched lightly at your scalp as the other hand stroked up and down the length of your back, humming when you finally relaxed again, your arms wrapping around to tug him as close as possible. “Good girl.”

Something in him awakened when he heard the hitch of your breath at his words, but he shoved it down. He had to keep a hold of himself while he still had the chance – because once you were in heat, there would be no rest for either of you. Not when it was taking his entire focus to hold himself back right now and it was only your pre-heat.

“I’m gonna take you to your room, okay?” he asked quietly. When you nodded, he scooped you up, your legs wrapping around his waist, head lolling sleepily against his shoulder.

You were very clearly exhausted, and guilt gnawed away at him for it. The emotional ups and downs of the past half hour must have taken even more out of you – while you tended to be quiet, you were never this quiet, not with him. You seemed to be asleep, steady exhales hitting the skin of his neck.

When he entered your room, his heart skipped in his chest at the sight of his belongings strewn across your mattress, a you-sized gap in the middle where you must have been laying. He couldn’t help the pride swelling in his chest, the possessive part of him thrilled at the notion of you burying yourself in his scent.

He supposed he should be happy you were asleep. Omegas tended to be self-conscious about their nest, which was why he was surprised you agreed to let him take you here so easily. The idea that you felt comfortable enough to let him in here without a fight brought forth a feeling in his gut that felt suspiciously like butterflies.

Easing off the shoes he’d never had the chance to remove at the front door, he brought you both down into the bed, careful not to jostle your form. He laid you down together, your body atop his, heart melting at your tiny noise of content.

He had to bite back a moan when you nuzzled further into his neck, your lips brushing against his skin.

Get it together, Jimin.

He didn’t know if he would ever be relaxed enough to sleep when you were on top of him already smelling like every sinful desire he’s ever had. His cock shouldn’t have been stirring when you looked so innocent, your hands curled up ever-so-slightly under his shirt. And despite everything in his mind telling him that he would regret this, his entire body was screaming in anticipation for this entire weekend.

This wouldn’t be the first time he’s helped an omega through their heat, but everything was different because this was you. Someone he cared about, someone he loved, and he knew you loved him too, whether it was in the way he wanted or not. Heat flared in him at the thought of you wet and desperate only for him, begging to be filled. He knew you’d be out of your mind with lust, and even before seeing it he knew it would be the most beautiful sight he’s ever set eyes upon.

Get a hold of yourself, Jimin.

It was absolutely no use to contemplate these things now, especially not when the scent of his arousal might wake you up and set you off prematurely. You both needed rest – he’d be damned if he didn’t make this the best heat you’d ever had just because he was tired.

And so he wrapped his arms around your middle, willing arousal from his brain and replacing it with thoughts of sleep. Luckily, his body must have been able to sense his need for rest before the upcoming days, and sleep found him easier than anticipated.

You awoke to your back hitting your mattress, the first thing you noticed being that your body felt like it was being burned alive. But when you inhaled, the scent of pure alpha overtook all thought, brain incapable of anything other than unadulterated need, arousal shooting to your core almost instantaneously.

When your eyes shot open, fire lit within you when they immediately locked onto Jimin’s dark gaze, his body hovering over yours like he was about to pounce. When he took in the neediness in your eyes, his lip upturned in a salacious smirk, stare burning holes into you.

“Rise and shine, little wolf,” he drawled, hands locking onto your ankles and dragging you down the bed until your face was right below his.

You shivered despite yourself at the predatory expression on his face, holding back the whine that threatened to escape. You felt incapable of speaking, every intake of breath only fogging your mind further, the fire in you becoming so potent it was painful.

You couldn’t help the keening whimper that escaped when he roughly fisted a hand into the hair at the nape of your neck, yanking until your entire neck was on display. You gasped and arched into his body with want as he leaned in to inhale deeply right above your collarbone. The feral growl he let out at your scent had you shuddering, trembling hands trying desperately to pull him closer, but he didn’t relent.

“Please,” you begged, shoving your body upwards as much as possible, desperate to feel his body against your own. At the feeling of his canines brushing against the skin of your neck gently, you felt new wetness rush from you. Your desperation was only growing exponentially with every passing moment, and it felt like if you didn’t get touched soon, you would surely die.

“You smell so fucking good,” he snarled, voice raspier than you’d ever heard it before. He sounded almost pained, and it only set you off further. Everything in you ached for his touch, your cunt clenching around nothing despite Jimin not even having touched you yet. You needed it – needed to be touched, you needed him to quell the ache.

“Hurts,” you gasped out, still trying and failing to grind against his body above you.

“Aw, baby, I’m sorry,” he cooed, pressing his free palm down onto your clothed centre. His breath hitched as you started forcefully grinding against it immediately, a choked whine slipping from your lips at the sudden pressure right where you needed it most.

“Alpha...” you moaned, rutting shamelessly against his hand as you pushed further against the hand in your hair, baring more of the soft expanse of your neck. Your eyes shut as pleasure rocked your system, but it wasn’t enough. You needed more, his cock in your drenched cunt, his nails raking down your body as he utterly ravished you. You whined loudly at the thought, arousal slipping from you. It was clear he noticed when he hissed.

“Fuck, look at you. You’re dripping, so fucking desperate,” he panted, somehow sounding almost as ruined as you. “I’m gonna fuck this cunt senseless, fill you up so good you’ll never ask for anyone else again. Do you want that, little omega? Want me to make you mine?”

Any other time you might have questioned his possessive words, but any rational part of your brain was long gone. No, all that existed was you, Jimin, and your excruciating need to be filled.

“Yes, yes, yes,” you cried, whimpering at the imagery he put in your head. You wanted nothing more than to be his bitch, to take his cock and his seed and his knot. “Fuck me, please.”

“You beg so nicely,” he breathed, and you keened at the praise. You gasped as he sat back and quite literally ripped the shirt from your body, following suit with the rest of your clothes. You didn’t have it in you to complain, not when he was yanking your legs apart, gaze laser-focused onto your centre. “Don't worry, baby, your alpha is gonna take care of you, okay?”

You only nodded furiously, hips bucking upward suddenly as Jimin wasted no more time, two fingers smearing through your heat before thrusting abruptly into you. You finally felt some sort of relief at being filled, but it wasn’t enough. The stretch wasn’t satisfying enough, and your desire for more only amplified. But it seemed he knew this, adding another finger wordlessly.

“God, this cunt is so fucking hungry for me,” he growled, pistoning his fingers in and out roughly before grinding the heel of his hand into your clit.

You cried out as pleasure reared on you embarrassingly quickly, but no part of you wanted to cum without his cock inside you, dragging against your sensitive walls.

“Jimin...” you moaned, arching your back as you sought to push yourself closer to the source of your pleasure. He almost groaned at the sound of his name coming so wantonly from your lips. “Want you, please.”

“Yeah? You want to get stuffed?”

The garbled response you gave was nowhere near coherent, but it didn’t take a genius to see what you wanted. When he gave a low chuckle and pulled himself from his sweatpants, you started salivating immediately. He was girthy, vein visibly spanning the underside beneath his hand as he palmed himself. The head looked almost purple, the tip leaking. You needed it inside you.

Before you even realized it yourself, you were turning over onto your front. By the time you’d planted your face down, ass up, Jimin was already growling, roughly digging his fingers into your asscheeks. As several more seconds went by without his cock in you, you arched your back further, whining as he only dug his fingertips in harder.

“Such a good little wolf,” he crooned, hissing when your arousal dripped from your pussy to the bed. “Getting yourself so nice and ready for me. You need cock that badly? Can’t wait for it?”

You could have cried when you finally felt the tip of his cock at your entrance, but you didn’t have time to do or say anything before he shoved all the way in to the hilt without warning.

You must have screamed then, but you hardly noticed anything apart from the way he set a quick pace, hardly noticed when the tears left your eyes, body swimming in relief and euphoria. Every snap of his hips brought forth a moan from your lips, fingers digging helplessly into the sheets by your head.

“Tell me how it feels,” he snarled, moving to hold your hips up when the overwhelming pleasure left you unable to do it yourself.

It was all you could do to whimper, body feeling as though it was in the clouds as your walls clamped down on Jimin’s cock. He was stretching you so well, the slight burn nothing compared to the waves of pleasure he was sending through your entire being. You took a breath to respond to him once you registered what he said, but when his cock brushed against that spot inside you, it only left you as a choked moan.

“This needy cunt just sucks me right in, huh?” he groaned when your walls clenched down on him again, as though to trap him inside you. But it made no difference to him, his thrusts only continuing, fast and precise as your walls fluttered around him, whines falling from your lips. Recalling how responsive you’d been to praise earlier, he kept talking. “Doing such a good job for me, baby,” he hummed, smirking when he felt the shuddering of your body beneath his hands. “So fucking perfect for me, taking this cock so well.”

His words shot through you like fire, and combined with the drag of him inside you, you were propelled toward your end.

“Alpha...” you whimpered, pushing back onto his cock, a particularly rough thrust pulling a shout from your lips. You were so close to slipping over the edge, the squeezing of your walls around him more and more insistent as you approached your end. “Please.” It was as though no other words existed in your vocabulary, but Jimin could read you perfectly well, as though he was made for you.

“What’s that, hm? Baby’s gonna cum?” he taunted before reaching around to rub at your clit. “Let go then, milk my cock. I want to hear you.”

The added stimulation was more than enough to propel you into your orgasm, your mouth agape as your walls clamped down on his cock. You distantly registered Jimin’s moans from above you as he held you up and fucked you through your it, the sparks of pleasure never-ending.

But while his thrusts became less harsh, they did not lower in their intensity whatsoever. And as the fog in your head receded some from your orgasm, you only felt that much more sensation as you regained your bearings.

Rather than a mindless slave to pleasure and want, with your brain partly yours again you could truly feel. Feel the cotton of the sheets where they were clenched between your fists, feel the slight strain in your knees as they dug into the mattress, feel Jimin’s fingers anchored onto your hips, as though you would float away if he let go.

You could truly feel every drag of his cock against you, every grind, and when he perfectly maneuvered to hit against your g-spot, you were left breathless once again.

But with your increased coherence, your body craved more than just cock – you wanted closeness, wanted Jimin’s body against your own, his groans in your ear, his chest against your back.

“Jimin,” you called out, voice needy but noticeably more present.

His thrusts slowed but didn’t stop. “Hm?”

Rather than attempt to formulate an answer, you blindly reached a hand in his direction and made a grabbing motion. It was accompanied by your best impression of some sort of demanding noise, but you sounded like a spoiled brat even to your own ears.

He clearly didn’t mind though, huffing a laugh at your antics before coming down to your level, pressing some of his weight into your back as he nuzzled your neck.

“This what you want, baby?” he asked, wrapping his arms snugly around your middle. It would almost be cute, if not for the snap of his hips he opted to punctuate his question with.

You could only shiver and take it as he set a slow but intense pace, his cock slowly dragging out of you before he thrusted forward quickly in one single motion. But even in its intensity it was intimate, his lips tracing nonsensical patterns into the skin of your shoulder, his moans increasing in volume as you whined your pleasure.

His pace slowly but surely built you back up toward a second release, Jimin’s thrusts growing faster as he approached his own end. It wasn’t long before your moans were increasing in volume again, hips squirming beneath Jimin’s as that pressure in your abdomen only built and built.

“Gonna cum for me again, little wolf?” he growled directly into your ear, digging his fingers in close to your scalp and pulling your face up out of the sheets. No longer muffled, your moans were loud and unabashed, your pleasure surrendered entirely to him.

“I’m gonna fill this cunt up, gonna stretch you wide, is that what you want?”

As much as you were more coherent than last time, the effect his voice had on you was visceral, eyelids fluttering shut and goosebumps raising on your skin. When you only nodded with what little movement you could make within his grasp, he growled.

“Answer me!”

“Yes, yes!” you pleaded, eager to please. “Want you to fill me up, Jimin, please.”

“Such a good girl,” he moaned in response, moving to suck bruises into your neck. The thought of being marked by him for all to see only lit a new fire within you.

But when you felt the press of his canines brushing against the sensitive part of your neck, it was as though something in you snapped. You almost squealed as the orgasm rained down on you unexpectedly, something resembling ‘Jimin’ spilling from your lips, though you paid it no mind.

You were so lost in your pleasure you hardly noticed Jimin’s gruff yell from above you as he came, only registering it as his knot started to stretch you.

He shushed you gently as you whined, warmth still spilling into you as it finished inflating. Panting breathlessly against your back, he softly cupped your face as you caught your breath.

The stretch was more overwhelming than painful, every tiny movement seeming to shift his knot inside you enough to make you gasp. You should have grown used to the feeling by this point in your life, but it managed to catch you off guard every single time. You never felt ready for the immense stretch or the soreness that lingered between waves of your heat.

After several minutes of silence, breaths finally quieting, he spoke up.

“Are you okay?” he asked, hands reaching to keep you from squirming too much under him, knowing you’d only make the discomfort worse. “Relax for me.”

You nodded in response, letting yourself release the tension from your limbs as he continued to gently nose at your neck. His scent washed over you, but in this brief limbo between waves of your heat it spurred only calmness rather than arousal.

For you, at least, the first wave was always the worst in terms of self-control and mindedness. That was why it was essential for omegas to share their heat only with someone they could trust – if not a partner, then a friend. While omegas were at their most emotionally vulnerable during pre-heat, they were at their most physically vulnerable during the heat itself. In theory, Jimin could have done whatever he wanted, and you would have begged for it.

He hummed in approval when you went still beneath him, rolling the two of you onto your side so that you were no longer supporting his weight.

“Sleepy?” he inquired softly as he watched you stifle a yawn.

You only nodded again, reaching for Jimin’s hand to make him wrap it around you more snugly, pressing yourself as close to him as possible. You shivered as his knot shifted with your movement, though it didn’t ache as much as it did initially. You felt so full, his cock still half-hard within you, release still painting your walls with nowhere to go.

You let your eyes shut, soreness and exhaustion taking up residence temporarily before the next wave. As much as a heat could feel so intense it hurt, you found that the time between each wave was truly the most difficult. It was the time where every ounce of muscle pain and sleep deprivation hit you, but it was also the time where, to put it simply, if you didn’t recharge you were fucked.

Heats were strenuous on the body, and it unfortunately wasn’t abnormal for omegas to be brought to the emergency room from dehydration and malnutrition from their heat. That was why the medical professionals tended to encourage of-age omegas to spend their heats with a trusted partner – it was just safer altogether. It was difficult to push past the fog of exhaustion to take care of yourself when you were on your own, though not impossible.

A tiny whine was the only acknowledgment you gave when you felt his knot go down enough to slip from you. You made a noise of complaint as Jimin pulled from your side, but he quickly returned to you, wiping away the mess that was now between your thighs.

“If I help you, can you sit up?”

After hearing your noise of affirmation, he pulled you up so that your back rested against the headboard, careful not to move you too quickly. But despite that, you couldn’t help the lightheaded feeling that came with the motion, reaching out to steady yourself on Jimin’s arm.

When he took in your rapid blinking and unfocused eyes, his concern grew exponentially. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Tired,” you mumbled, leaning into his touch when he moved to stroke your face.

“Let’s eat something and then we can nap, okay?”

“Mm.”

He moved away from you quickly to grab things from under your bed. One of the first things they taught omegas after presenting was that it was essential to keep a food and drink store in your room during your heat. One of the most important parts of pre-heat was not only securing a heat partner if desired, but also packing enough nutrient-rich food and drinks to last through your heat if you’re unable to leave the room.

You hadn’t realized you’d dozed off until Jimin’s hand on your shoulder startled you awake. He took your hand in his own only to wrap your fingers around an energy bar he’d opened for you.

“Eat,” he commanded, though the soft, caring tone characteristic of Jimin never left his voice.

The thought of putting in effort to do anything was unappealing, but once you started, you realized how famished you were. When you finished your first bar within moments, he handed you a second, eating some for himself at the same time.

He didn’t waste any time with handing you a Gatorade bottle once you were finished eating, ensuring you could hold it yourself before getting his own.

As much as he seemed to be in a rush, this was a better safe than sorry type of situation. While sometimes you could squeeze in some sleep between waves of your heat, it sometimes felt like one huge gamble in terms of time. You’ve had downtimes of as little as 10 minutes in the past, so you were grateful that he was hurrying you along.

When he noticed you stopped drinking, he grabbed it from you to place it on the nightstand a safe distance away from the bed.

“Do you want anything else?” he asked, shoving all of the garbage into a bag to deal with another time.

“You.”

He turned around quickly, thinking you were going into your next wave, but froze at the sight of you simply blinking up at him sleepily.

He bit down on his lip to suppress a fond smile when you reached for his hand, severely hoping his face wasn’t as red as it felt.

He let you tug him forward, settling beside you in bed before pulling you securely into his side.

As much as you might have loved to talk or quietly cuddle, you were out like a light as soon as you laid your head down on his shoulder, face tucked securely into his neck.

The next two days went by in a blur. You never tended to remember very many specific moments from your heats besides that you felt good, and were definitely sore after. The combination of physical and mental exhaustion along with the mind-numbing desire didn’t seem to be conducive to proper brain function.

Fuck. Eat. Fuck. Eat. Nap. Rinse. Repeat.

“Kiss me,” you demanded, pulling Jimin down toward you by his shoulders.

From what you could tell, it was the last day of your heat, also making for the most coherent day. The consequences of not sating your heat on the last day were more uncomfortable than painful, and the sex almost resembled what it would any other day.

He obliged you easily, mouth meeting yours as he snapped his hips, filling you up and stretching you all in one stroke. He nipped at your lower lip as you moaned freely, arching your back to feel as much of his skin as possible.

You couldn’t help the increase in volume when he settled with his length in you, grinding his pubic bone into your clit. It seemed that Jimin was feeling similarly, both of you simply panting by each other's mouths rather than doing any sort of kissing like you’d intended.

It was only minutes before you felt the familiar tightening in your abdomen, Jimin groaning above you when he felt you clench around him. You whimpered as he sucked new bruises into the skin of your neck, a shiver making its way down your spine as he reached the soft skin below your ear.

But every part of you was screaming out for more.

“Mark me.”

Jimin froze instantly at your words, but it seemed that you weren’t properly considering the weight of your words, only urging him to continue his motions in search of your high.

A mark wasn’t permanent, but it was no small thing. More than a mark of “possession,” it was a mark of an alpha's care and loyalty, a mark of an omega’s trust. It was only something ever shared in serious relationships, and it would sometimes take partners years to reach that point.

“Jimin,” you whined when he ignored what you said. Every instinctive part of you wanted it so badly, your head subconsciously tipping back to give him easier access.

“No.”

“Jimin...”

“Don’t you know what you’re saying?”

“Please-”

“I said no,” he snarled, speeding up the snap of his hips enough that you were shifting up the bed. “Tomorrow, when this is all over,” he panted above you, teeth bared, “Then we’ll talk.”

He didn’t let you get a word in edgewise, continuously pulling himself from you fully before abruptly sheathing himself to the hilt once again.

You were left gasping for breath, swimming in sensation as your abdomen tightened, all else forgotten for the time being.

When he shifted to one side, a hand dropping to rub circles into your clit, you saw white. Your nails sharply dug into the skin of Jimin’s back where they were held, waves of pleasure battering you nonstop as he continued his thrusts.

But it was only moments later that he seated himself into you fully, warmth spilling into you as his knot inflated for the nth time since your heat began. It didn’t leave you gasping the same way as the first time, but a groan still wrenched itself from your throat at the sensation.

As soon as his body collapsed onto yours, you knew that your heat was finally over. The feeling was inexplicable, almost as though a weight had been lifted from the back of your mind.

You might have addressed the words uttered from your mouth only moments before if not for the debilitating fatigue that filled every limb and every square inch of your brain.

So, against your best judgment on any other day, you knocked right out.

When you next awoke, it wasn’t because desire ripped you from slumber, nor was it because your scent set off Jimin enough to wake you.

In fact, you were alone in your bed, immediately cringing at the sight of all the questionable stains dotting the sheets.

Good thing you had a mattress pad.

You sat up, wincing as every muscle screamed in protest. From your neck all the way to your fingertips, everything hurt. You’d probably be feeling this for days. It definitely didn’t help that the stench of sex was so strong you could feel a headache coming on.

You didn’t have time to ponder on Jimin’s whereabouts before he was coming back in through the doorway, half-dressed with water in hand.

He sent you a smile when you met eyes, but it was lost on you because as soon as he was here, every interaction over the past few days flooded your mind at once. And this time, there were no hormones to mask proper thought.

You asked – no, begged – him to stay. Even when he told you no.

You’d practically thrown a tantrum, what was wrong with you? Since when did your pre-heat make you throw respect out the window?

He wasn’t here because he wanted to stay, he was here because you forced him to. He was here because you were pathetic enough to get on the floor and beg him to stay, and Jimin, for the life of him, didn’t know how to say no to people. How could he look at you right now?

“Y/N?” he called, sounding puzzled. He must be able to smell your rising distress coming off you in waves, but you paid him no mind as you continued to recall the past few days, hating yourself more and more with every passing second.

You’d basically forced him to stay with you and fuck you for nearly four days without ever talking about it before.

It was more difficult to put together the pieces of what happened in your heat, memories mostly a blur of pleasure and then sleep.

But-

Fuck.

“Mark me.”

Your blood ran cold instantly.

Were you fucking insane? You dug your fingernails into your palms harshly to check if you were dreaming. Unluckily for you, you weren’t.

Was there any coming back from this? You couldn’t blame him if he could never look at you the same, if he never spoke to you again. Who would tell their heat partner – the first time they spent a heat together – to mark them?

It didn’t matter that you’d known each other since before you were even forming proper memories. It didn’t matter, because that wasn’t how this worked. You didn’t just ask your friends to mark you, no matter how much you loved each other.

A mark was something you shared with someone you intended to be lifelong partners with. Someone you’d dedicate your life to, someone you might want to have kids with someday.

God, what was wrong with you?

You didn’t notice his approach until a hand met your shoulder, too engrossed in staring at the floor as thoughts whirred in your head.

“What is it?” he asked, concern quickly turning into panic at finding you in this state with no explanation.

But it was as though with one touch, the floodgates broke, and angry tears started spilling from your eyes. Tears that had nothing to do with Jimin and everything to do with yourself.

He jumped back slightly in surprise, and you didn’t give him the chance to touch you again before you were furiously wiping the wetness from your face.

“God, are you okay? Did I hurt you?” he questioned frantically, hands returning to your shoulders as he angled his face to try to meet yours, but you only kept turning your head to avoid him. He looked like he didn’t know what to do with himself, whether to join you on the bed or continue hovering awkwardly from the bedside. “Talk to me, please-”

“Do you hate me?” you choked out, eyes fixed on a random, insignificant spot on the sheets.

That seemed to quiet him instantly. “Huh?”

“I forced you here,” you whispered, though it seemed that the words didn’t want to stop once they started, volume only rising as you carried on. “You came here to be nice and then you tried to leave and I didn’t let you. You said no so many times and I begged you to stay until you couldn’t say no anymore! I don’t even know what I was thinking, I guess I wasn’t thinking at all-”

“Hey-”

“I’m so sorry, I don’t know how you must think of me right now but I wouldn’t blame you if you thought I was disgusting, I think I’m disgusting, god-”

“Hey, look at me,” he urged, prodding lightly at your chin until you raised your head enough to meet his gaze. When he saw your red eyes and miserable expression, it was as though a piece of himself broke. “I stayed because I wanted to.”

“You didn't, I remember you told me no, you ‘wanted to’ because I made you.”

“It’s not like that,” he replied, expression almost pained.

“Don’t lie to me to make me feel better,” you snarled, though it came off more broken than aggressive. “Stop trying to protect me, tell me when you’re mad at me!”

“I’m not mad at you.”

“Jimin-”

“You trust me, don’t you?”

The sudden question was enough to give you pause. “You know I do.”

He took a moment to settle onto the bed beside you, stretching out an arm to invite you in to lay with him. After only a moment of hesitation, you did.

“Then trust me when I say I wanted to stay,” he said firmly, stroking calming circles into your side. “You know I don’t like lying to you.”

It was true, he didn’t. Which summoned the question – if he wanted to stay, why did he refuse so many times? Were you sure he wasn’t lying now?

No – that wasn’t Jimin. Plus, you knew him so well that you doubted he would lie to you about something this serious, not when he was such an open book. But you didn’t have long to think about it before he piped up again.

“You asked me something yesterday,” he started, and you could hear in his tone that he was treading carefully.

You tensed up immediately when you processed his words, breath quickening as you anticipated what he was about to say. Was this the part where he told you he’s not mad he stayed, but he never wanted to speak to you again? You’d relaxed enough in the past few minutes that you’d almost forgotten about what you’d said yesterday. Almost.

“Why?” he asked simply.

Why. An obscenely loaded question contained within one 3-letter word. And yet, an answer wasn’t so easy.

“I don’t know,” you stalled.

“Don’t do that,” he scolded. “Really think. I know you, and I know you’d never be that nonchalant about a mark, ever. What changed?”

“Nothing changed!”

He only turned to give you a disapproving look before leaning his head back against the headboard and shutting his eyes. It was clear that he wasn’t going to make any more conversation until you properly pondered his question and gave him a real answer.

Why?

Did you even know why?

You wished you could say it just slipped out, that there was no other reason.

Maybe any other time you’ve said something questionable or downright stupid that would fly, but not for something like this.

Even at their drunkest, people didn’t ask their friends to marry them with the full intent of following through and starting life as an actual married couple.

Just the same, an omega doesn’t just ask a friend to mark them, mate them, not even in heat. Omega heats made it a fairly common occurrence to fuck your friends (at least, a select few) while unmarked, and it wasn’t as though the desire to be marked stemmed from a heat. If it were, platonic marking would be a thing already. And sure, marking made sex feel better, but heats were sexual, and marks were... more.

That was the problem, wasn’t it? There was no easy excuse, no escaping this.

One might say an omega was a slave to instinct in their heat, but instinct didn’t come from nowhere.

The instinct to nest came from the pursuit of safety in a vulnerable time. The instinct to ‘hibernate’ came from the need to save up energy for a heat. The instinct to scent came from the desire for intimacy and comfort. The instinct to fuck came from hormonal cycles and the body’s inherent goal to breed.

The instinct to be marked as an omega? To ask for it?

The need for emotional security, to know that your feelings were returned – attraction, desire, love.

Love?

If your love for Jimin was supposed to be a secret, it wasn’t a very well-kept one. You talked every day since you were kids, knew each other's mannerisms so well you didn’t need words to communicate, gravitated toward each other in every group setting, cried together when you separated for university...

You loved him, without a doubt. It was obvious. But was it more than that? Was your body trying to tell you something that you didn’t even consider?

“I...” you started but immediately trailed off, limbs so tense you almost seemed ready to run away. This wasn’t a conversation you ever imagined could take place.

“Don’t be scared. You can tell me anything.” Were you imagining things, or did his tone sound almost... hopeful?

“I’ve never asked someone to mark me before this.”

He only hummed lowly in response. You knew that he knew this already, but it seemed that this time, he wouldn’t call you out for circling around the question.

“I’ve never met someone who I felt more for than you. Safe, comfortable, happy, loved.” You paused, taking a deep breath. “I love you a lot, you know?”

His breath hitched despite himself, even though he knew you didn’t mean what he wanted you to mean. “I know,” he replied, sounding almost disappointed.

“But...”

“But?” he responded, allowing that tiny thread of hope to wind around his heart one more time.

“But I don’t know what I’m feeling,” you finished, panic increasing exponentially by the end of your sentence, your body almost feeling as though it was trembling.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he rushed, bringing you closer to rub his cheek into your hair. Was it cruel of him to feel some sort of joy at your words when you were clearly scared and confused?

His scent washing over you helped calm you some, but even still, you couldn’t stop thinking. What were you feeling? Did you want something more than friendship, or was this entire situation just putting thoughts in your head? Sure, you were undeniably compatible sexually, and sure, you found him attractive, but did you want a relationship? A romantic one? But even then, how much would that really change? What did you want? Would Jimin be disgusted with you? Let you down easily? It would have to be the latter, right?

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked-”

“No,” you cut him off.

“Huh?”

“You should’ve. I can’t be stupid forever.”

“You’re not stupid.”

“I am stupid, what kind of person doesn’t know whether they...” Even despite knowing he could tell exactly what you were trying to say, the words wouldn’t come from your lips. Were you in denial? Embarrassed? Something else?

“Emotions don’t have to be straightforward.”

“I wish they were.”

He breathed a laugh at that. “Believe me, I know.”

“Jimin, be honest with me.”

“I’m always honest with you.”

“Let’s say, hypothetically, you have this friend. You’re very good friends – best friends even. You see each other as much as possible, all that. And she tells you one day she wants to talk.”

“Oh? What’s her name?”

“Uhhhhh...” you paused, pulling out the first name that came to mind. “Susan.”

He choked back a laugh, though you could still feel his chest bouncing beneath your head. “My friend Susan. Okay, go on.”

“And she tells you that something happened, and it spurred this huge train of thought that had never occurred to her before. Something that made her think about your entire relationship as friends, and made her think about herself.”

“Uh huh...”

“And she had to wonder, how much of her heart was invested in this relationship? That answer was easy – all of it. But what really had her confused was what parts of her heart were in it.”

You fidgeted nervously, but instead of saying something, Jimin only reached for one of your hands, intertwining your fingers together.

“But what really scared her the most was – how would you react? What happens when your best friend tells you that maybe your love for them extends beyond friendship?”

You took several deep breaths, trying to muster up the courage to finish the ‘story’ you’ve started. There was no backing out of this now. Your hand squeezed his hard enough that it must have hurt him, though he didn’t seem to mind.

“If she told you she thought she loved you as more than a friend, how would you respond?” you asked, trying to inject as much nonchalance into your voice as possible and failing miserably. You could feel your palms getting sweatier, and you thought your teeth might chew straight through your bottom lip. You held your breath once you heard Jimin take one of his own, preparing mentally for whatever was about to leave his lips.

“I would tell her I love her back.”

It was as though time stopped. “You... you what?”

Unwilling to let you hide your face anymore, he pulled you over so that you were straddling him, your heart filling when your eyes met his, full of honesty and understanding and... love.

“I would tell her I love her back. That if she wanted me, I was hers.”

Your eyes searched his face desperately for several seconds longer, waiting for the moment this bliss would break, the moment he took his words back, left you heartbroken before you’d even properly processed that it was his to break. But that moment never came.

“Really?” you whispered, eyes wide and screaming with vulnerability, but also wonder. The petty part of him wished he could fault you for being so oblivious, but it wasn’t your fault that you two had simply never outgrown the innocent intimacy from childhood, even after presenting.

“Really.”

“I do want it. You. I want to try. If you can be patient with me.”

“Okay. Give me a chance and I’ll make you fall in love with me for sure.”

“Oh.” As hard as you tried to purse your lips, the smile still broke its way through, eyes crinkling happily as every insecurity felt like it left at once. Was it this easy? Could happiness come so quickly in a moment, just like that?

“Oh,” he replied simply, beam splitting his face at your barely-contained joy, your expression so innocent even after all that happened the past few days.

“Oh,” you repeated, though this time the word undoubtedly seemed to harbour more weight, brows furrowing.

“Hm?”

“That’s why you said no, isn’t it? The reason you wanted to stay but tried to leave?”

The sad smile that spread across his face at that was all the answer you needed, the briefly-forgotten guilt coming back instantly.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” he assured, pulling you close enough that your bodies were plastered together. “It all worked out anyway, right?”

You nodded, relaxing in his arms. If your brain wasn’t going a mile a minute right now, you were so comfortable you could’ve slept like this.

You allowed yourself several minutes to simply lay in his arms, that familiar blueberry-pine scent making you heart feel lighter and lighter.

“So,” you mumbled.

“So.”

“What changes now?”

“What do you want to change?” he replied.

“I asked first.”

He chuckled lightly. “Fine. Well...” You leaned back in confusion when he started pushing you up and off of him. “I think being able to do this is a good change.”

He leaned his face into yours, giving you a moment to back away before gently pressing his plush lips to yours.

You’d kissed already in your heat – you remembered that much. But this wasn’t a kiss that demanded your surrender, nor was it fast, or rough. It was just soft, intimate – because sometimes, emotions were easier said through actions rather than words.

You slid your hands into his hair, dragging your nails against his scalp as you deepened the kiss. His hands traced nonsensical patterns into the skin of your back, holding you close as though you’d ever want to leave. It was so easy to get lost in him, in the way he held you, touched you, kissed you, as though you were something to be cherished.

It wasn’t long before the kiss started to get more heated, though, and you couldn’t help yourself from nipping at his bottom lip. He made a low noise in response, a hand moving to grip your ass as the other winded its way into your hair.

It was when his hand made contact with your bare ass that you remembered that you were naked throughout this entire ordeal. And just as you processed that, his hand started inching its way slowly but surely between your legs.

“I think the fuck not, Park Jimin,” you gasped, breaking the kiss and throwing his hand from your body.

He burst into bright laughter at your words, eyes forming crescents that would make any person’s day better. His happiness was contagious, and you couldn’t hold back the giggles at the sound of him.

“How sore are you?” he questioned, tiny giggles still escaping him. You thought you detected a hint of concern somewhere in there, but you couldn’t blame him for being in an obscenely good mood.

“Ugh. Are you not sore at all?”

“Not really? Mostly hungry, I guess.”

“I hate you. It feels like all of my limbs want to detach from their sockets, and don’t even get me started on what it feels like between my legs. You and your dick can go die.”

Your words only set off another round of laughter from him, his grin wide as he took in your fake pout.

“Are you sure you want that? You seemed to enjoy it from where I was standing. You’re sending me mixed signals here,” he teased.

You let out a childish noise of complaint. God, was this what you were getting yourself into? You were already used to his antics by now, but now you had to deal with them while he flirted too? Someone send help.

“Pity me a bit,” you whined, giving him the best wide-eyed pout you could muster. Though, it only seemed to raise his mood even more.

“I’m sorry I broke you,” he said.

You smacked him a bit harder than you would normally. “Jiminnnnnnnnn,” you said, stringing out the word for as long as a breath would allow.

“If I made you food, would you forgive me?”

“...I’m listening.”

“What if I said I already made you food?”

“What?!” you perked up, any grudge you might have held disappearing in an instant. “What did you make?”

“Lay down and find out in 5 minutes, I’m tired,” he responded, laying down comfortably and encouraging you to do the same. You didn’t require much convincing, cuddling back into his side. This position wasn’t anything abnormal for you two, but it felt different now. Newer, more intimate.

Needless to say, 5 minutes turned into 2 hours after you’d both fell asleep.

But when Jimin placed a bowl of re-heated stir-fry in front of you 2 hours later, you would say he secured his place as fully, unequivocally yours.

#btsgoldnet #btsguild #ficswithluv #cypherwritersnet #heartsforbts #magicshopnet #mikrogalaxynet #jimin x reader #bts x reader #jimin smut #bts smut #jimin angst #bts angst #jimin fluff #bts fluff #bts fanfic #bts fic

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prettywordsyouleft · 4 years ago

Text

Matched

Pairing: Kim Mingyu x female reader

Genre: match-maker au / fluff / university au

Warnings: none

Prompt: “Are you lost?” - #1 of Idea Starters

Word count: 1545

You were stunned when Mingyu walked through the door. Not because of the obvious, however.

You weren’t like the rest of the population who thought of the tall man as incredibly handsome and fawned at his feet. Sure, you could acknowledge that when he was created, his maker dumped him in the physical appearance container one too many times. You just weren’t someone who went ga-ga over attractive guys.

No, you were stunned because Mingyu had no perceived reason to come into your department at all at this point in the day. You serviced many people on the university campus every Friday. Those who came into your little office in the Clubs department were of a certain type.

Those who found dating hard.

You simply couldn’t imagine Kim Mingyu having troubles with dating at all.

“Are you lost?” you couldn’t help but ask in a detached voice, clearing your throat immediately and chuckling. “Sorry, I just can’t imagine you need my services. Are you looking for the tennis club that used to occupy this room? They’ve moved into the bigger room-”

Smiling softly, Mingyu shook his head and interjected. “No, I meant to come here, Y/N.”

“Oh wow. You know my name.”

“Should I not? We’ve shared the same classes in high school before coming to the same university.”

“Huh,” you simply said, staring at the tall man for half a minute before recomposing yourself. “Well, what brings you to Matched, Mingyu?”

“What brings other people?” he enquired, and your eyebrow rose in confusion.

Your match-making skills were second to none, and you had built up quite the reputation in creating some of the hottest campus couples. Surely, your services were widely known.

Again, you gave him a reprieve, still convinced he didn’t need to come to you for anything.

“Most people enter my office looking for a way to make their crush see them in a romantic light. It doesn’t always work out, and I’m straight forward with pointing this out so people can move on instead of pining over the impossible. I also help with dating advice to build confidence in general.”

Nodding, Mingyu smiled weakly. “I’ve heard good things.”

“I appreciate that.”

Silence prevailed your statement, and so you smiled politely before reaching for your water bottle, pulling your straw between your lips.

“Can you help me?”

It was unexpected, much as it was to him that you would splutter your mouthful of water over the desk towards him. For a second, both of you stared at one another, aghast, before you launched into using some tissues to mop up your mess.

“I’m sorry, what did you just say?” you requested, darting your focus between the mess and the man before you.

Mingyu rubbed his neck awkwardly. “I need help.”

“With what exactly?”

“Dating. Finding the confidence to ask someone out,” he offered shyly, and you stifled a snort.

You could count on both hands how many close friends you possessed who would sell their souls to date Mingyu. You had witnessed countless girls throw themselves at the man and assumed he had his weekends full because of it.

“You need assistance with that?”

Mingyu nodded.

“The world is stranger than I thought.”

“What does that mean?”

“Oh!” You let out a small laugh and waved a hand dismissively. “Nothing! No reason. I could help you. If you need it.”

“I do. I’ve liked someone for a while now, and I’ve struggled to ask them out.”

“Do you know why?”

You were already running through a mental list of the hottest girls and guys on campus. As you did so, Mingyu fumbled with the cuff of his sweater. Finally, you glanced up at him, and he was startled, sitting back in his chair as if you were about to confess his secret crush to him.

“Do I know them?”

“You know her, yeah,” he said, inhaling a shaky breath that relaxed him again.

“And she’s single?” you continued, turning to your laptop to take notes.

“I think so.”

“You don’t know?”

Mingyu cringed. “Her relationship status isn’t public knowledge, but I’m pretty sure that she’s single.”

“Okay, so we can work with that.”

“You’ll help me?” Mingyu asked, hopeful.

“I’m not sure what help I can be for you, but I’m ready to give it a shot. Everyone deserves the chance to tell someone they like them.”

You worked with Mingyu twice a week for a month. At first, it was rather awkward. You had a preconceived notion that someone like him wouldn’t need help. But after unpacking his good looks, you were able to establish that he wasn’t the type to do things just on a surface level. He was a deep thinker, and you began to appreciate his sensitive side a lot.

Mingyu warmed up to you the further he spent time in your company, his endless smiles leaving you in a good mood. In fact, after each session, you felt great. It was different from your other clients. They were always so focused on their situation, which made sense. However, Mingyu really engaged with you, was eager to learn more, and even wanted to understand how you would feel in the hypothetical situations you created.

“So, you would appreciate someone just telling you honest?” he asked, and you nodded immediately. “Even if they fumble over it?”

“Of course. Honesty is endearing.”

“I’ve held it in for so long though, I wonder if it would be taken as sincere or not,” he wondered, and you leaned forward, reaching out for one of his hands on the table and gave it a gentle tap.

“I’m sure when you do it, she’ll appreciate it.”

“In any situation?”

You laughed. “Describe the situation?”

“Like right now.”

“Totally fine. If you’re in a position like this with her, it would be the right time. There’s no one else around to interrupt the moment. Timing it to where it’s just you and her will make it easier for you.”

“Y/N,” Mingyu said, and you waited for him to continue. “It’s you.”

“It’s me what?”

“I like you. I’ve liked you for years.”

“Ohhhh, you’re practising with me!” you replied, chuckling lightly. Gesturing with your hands, Mingyu implored you to pay proper attention.

Your eyebrows furrowed together.

“It’s not practise anymore. I want you to realise the girl I’ve crushed on is you.”

You blinked slowly.

“Is what I’m saying registering?” he asked, and you nodded before shaking your head.

“I’m confused.”

“I can tell.”

“Are we talking about what you’ll say or-”

“I’m confessing to you.”

“You came to me for dating advice about myself?” you concluded, and Mingyu smiled coyly.

“You should know yourself the best.”

“I don’t know, right now I’m having a bit of an out of body experience,” you admitted, and Mingyu reached out for your hand, brushing his thumb over the top of it.

It was then when you comprehended everything.

Of course, it had been different.

Every session, Mingyu seemed nervous to be around you, not the idea of dating. He had a lot of questions for you, asking you what you liked, and you had assumed it was to get a general feel for what other girls of your age group might like. You had been completely blind to his affections because you believed from the moment he stepped into your office that you weren’t even someone on the cards.

You hadn’t offered yourself up to him to be approachable over all these years. No wonder he was hesitant to know how you felt compared to those who had confessed to him.

“Can I like you?” he asked, and you melted away from all confusion, a smile gracing your lips. His own curled up hopefully. “Can I?”

“Was this your plan all along? To blindside me like this?”

“No, definitely not. I didn’t know how else to approach you. And since you are a formidable matchmaker, I had hoped you would have the skills to even match yourself.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” you replied with a wry smile. “I don’t ever consider myself.”

“Why not?”

You shrugged. “I’m too busy with crafting love for others.”

“Can you try to craft a little with me?” he asked, and you clamped your eyes shut, feeling flutters erupt in your stomach.

Oh, you were good. Way too good. You had taught him well.

Laughing, Mingyu leaned closer, and you felt his breath hit your face. Opening your eyes, you blinked at his proximity. “Did you like that?”

“I don’t know if you need any more sessions with me. I think you’re about to become the master at flirtation.”

“That’s not true,” he mentioned, though his smugness permeated through his body. “I need more help.”

“With what exactly? You’ve done too well with this confession of yours.”

Mingyu smirked. “I’m not a very good kisser. I’ve been pining over this girl for so long that I haven’t had a whole lot of experience, you see.”

“Oh, so you think I could offer you lessons on how to improve kissing, like I’ve done with the dating, huh?”

“That would help me out a lot. I appreciate your efforts.”

Giggling, you then bit your bottom lip giddily.

It looked like Mingyu had you matched.

_________________

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yanderart · 4 years ago

Text

As the next installment in my bnha yandere pov series, I decided to fill a vampire!shouto request I got a while back (and thanks anon for the brain juice 🖤)

Below the cut is a little one-shot I wrote based on the portrait (todoroki x reader, 1.2k words, dark themes), so feel free to read it if it interests you~

People like Shouto, you had come to learn from the source, took until they had no more to take. You had been warned of vampires like him before, the ones who were not content with just drinking and had to mark, had to own and consume. To them, humans were not just blood bags, but pets too.

But you looked so lovely with his hands around your throat, he loved to tell you while caressing the puncture mark of his fangs, his fingers closing around you like an improvised collar.

Even if you had both entered an agreement at first, a set of rules put into place for your comfort and safeguard (humans might’ve been a commodity in your world at that point, but that didn't mean you weren't a costly one), soon enough you were quick to realize those same rules held little importance in the eyes of your somber creature.

What had started as an exchange of blood for monetary compensation, a bargain you had shamefully entered out of pure necessity, had morphed with the passing of weeks. When he started worldlessly demanding more, silently coaxing you out of things you had never thought you’d be willing to give.

This is okay, he’d say before latching again to your wounds, his tongue lapping at the blood trickling down while his eyes fixated on your pained expression. He should’ve stopped drinking, the numbness from blood loss quickly settling, but he hadn’t.

This is okay, he repeated as he pushed, as he kept taking.

And you believed him.

He told you of his old life in detail while the forceful bond between you two grew, his attention suffocating you while he lingered despite having had his fill already. Between opened wounds and a pensive stare that never left your side, he would retell you his origins, the path that lead to his awakening, to the hunger he could not rid himself of now no matter how much he tried.

A runaway noble who had fought against a preconceived fate, against the notion of what he was supposed to be, against parental pressure and the boot of a man who mistook obedience for affection.

“I’m sorry that happened to you”, you’d reply every single time, at a loss for his need to keep retelling the same story time and time again, “Ownership is not love, never will be.”

And he stared at you so peculiarly then, not articulating a retort but hinting at his thoughts with a clouded stare.

He had daddy issues, in other words. And mommy issues too, judging by the way his face would nuzzle against your chest as he asked you to keep combing through his hair. He was satiated, drank until you felt dizzy and frail, but refused to leave so you could go on with your life. Instead, he now seemed to dread letting you live without the shadow of his company.

Although you think it was partly your fault as well, how the situation had no doubt escalated with time. Because as much as you scoffed, as you belittled the vampire inwardly, you couldn’t lie and say it didn’t feel just as intoxicating to be needed, to be remembered in a place where people like you were just another luxury for the upper class, another object for the rich to feast upon before tossing aside like playthings.

Just a pretty little human, you’d been called your whole life. Blood bag, meal ticket, and much more unsavory terms. And yet in his arms, you couldn’t help but feel like you were of importance.

It filled your heart with a twisted sense of pride, to see a hunger crawling into Shouto's eyes that far outgrew the base desire of blood. To feel hands that crept up your sides as he fed, fingers that slid down your shirt and caressed your skin in a way most unbefitting of a strictly professional relationship.

To feel him grind against you, hands bruising as they gripped you, the rumble of his moans resonating deep within you, the weight of his words numbing your mind as they coaxed your body into returning his need with a necessity almost as alarming.

Yet what had started with him just lightly fondling you between meals had also quickly transformed, Shouto taking advantage of the validation he knew you sought too, of the glimmer in your eyes whenever he praised you for being such a pretty little thing, and such an obedient one too.

His appointments became more frequent, his carefulness slipping as your phone buzzed with dozen of texts and calls, of new demands and new rules, new terms of a business partnership which sounded less and less business-related as time went on.

He started by demanding even more of your time, had the status to make sure you were available to him every second of every day, willing and waiting for his arrival.

"You don't need to work anymore", he convinced you while he nuzzled your neck, his arms holding you more like a lover than a mere meal, and his voice dripping with an urgency far more telling, "anything you want, I'll provide."

And soon enough, that too delved into convincing you of leaving behind your place, of moving into his luxurious house. He was your only worry now, the only thought worth preoccupying yourself with, and it was a matter of time before that too mutated, his need to own you full-heartedly becoming even more apparent.

His tongue stopped darting against the wounds his fangs opened, seeking to heal, and stopped nursing the bruises his too eager hands created in the height of his feedings. All of your body became a canvas of his work, a testament to his artistry, and judging from his wondrous stares you wondered if he didn't consider you his masterpiece.

You hadn't commented on it, because he had taken advantage of your lack of expertise, of your lack of knowledge about vampire-human etiquette, and the alarming lack of decorum exhibited by him every step of the way.

However, you also were smart enough to notice how he started handpicking the places for his ministrations. He went from your wrists to your neck, to the expanse of your stomach… and now your thighs, your chest, your hips. He smiled as he marked you, telling you it was better to change places before your veins became too abused by his constant prodding (and, certainly, not ever commenting on how it could all be solved if he just closed the injuries he opened himself, instead of leaving you wounded and weakened).

He would press his nose against the crook of your neck, drunk on your scent as well as your blood, and urge you to keep running your fingers through his locks.

His lifeline, he called you with a tinge of urgency, a heat that unnerved you as much as it fascinated you.

How intoxicating it was to feel wanted, so enrapturing that you hadn’t realized just how much you were willing to compromise.

Even when you stopped needing the money, when you became dependent on his charity altogether, all of that became secondary. A red flag so blurred it blended against the scarlet liquid dripping down your skin.

Even as his blood-covered mouth crushed against your own in a staggering kiss, even as you felt the taste of your own life entering your mouth and sliding down your throat.

Even as his hands discarded your clothing, demanding, overwhelming, and he guided and persuaded you until you were no more than pliant dough in his hand, his to take and his to mold.

While he had an eternal hunger for blood to keep him company, Shouto had conditioned a different kind of need to be awakened in you. A kind of overwhelming need, a longing you did not understand but felt.

And one only he could satiate.

-----

And special thanks to @reinawritesbnha, @snappysnapo, @eevwrites and @thermaflute for hyping me to hell and back and helping me through the process. Y’all are amazing and motivate the hell outta me :,)

🥀 Requests/Suggestions OPEN 🥀

And, as always, click on the image for the HQ version 🖤

#bnha fanart #todoroki shouto #yandere todoroki #todoroki x reader #yandere bnha #bnha imagines #mha fanart #yandere mha #bnha x reader #todoroki fanart #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #anime fanart #shoto todoroki #bnha todoroki #todoroki angst #artists on tumblr #just art tingz #bnha art

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kidpunkjunk · 3 years ago

Text

hi!! lets talk abt boone/arcade fanfic and the issue of depicting gay men as perverted/predatory :)

lets start out by touching on the stereotype of gay men being predatory/inherent perverts

theres an awful trend within media where queer characters; gay men, lesbians, and bisexual, and trans people alike, are depicted as, you guessed it, perverted and predatory. especially towards straight characters. lusting after them, flirting with them despite the other character is showing clear discomfort, even going as far as sexually harrassing, both verbally and physically, them. it stems from the perceived notion that queer people are inhentally oversexual beings. that being oversexual goes hand in hand with lgbt+ identities. its often the reason why some cishet people, upon learning a colleage of theirs is queer, immeditely thinks that that colleague is now dead set on having sex/starting a relationship with them.

you may be asking "okay so what does this have to do with boone/arcade fanfic" the answer is, surprisingly: a lot!!!

ive read just about every single boone/arcade fanfic on ao3, which granted isnt many. something ive noticed is that people LOVE depicting arcade as a horny, perverted, has-no-boundries teen and boone as a straight laced straight boy who uses arcade as, pardon my crass language, a hole to use for stress relief. and dont get me wrong, pure smut fics arent inherently bad, but you have to be very mindful considering that one of the characters is canonically gay. fuck bro, you have to be mindful period when it comes to queer ships. unintentional usage of harmful stereotypes is rampant in fandom. i always get very wary of non gay men authors write about gay male relationships, and especially about gay sex. i hate to gatekeep a whole ass sexuality but some of you just dont get it. not to mention, the trend of boone being a "its just one man"/arcadesexual (honestly same tho) kinda guy. as if the idea of him being queer is unfathomable. i promise you that straight boys dont fuck their gay friends nearly as much as you think.

on a more personal note, thinking of my own experience as a gay man who's been through. A Lot. when it comes to sexual relationships. i have to say that the diluted, watered down plot of "gay man turns straight guy" is uhmmm gross!! the idea of arcade making so many sexual comments to boone and coming on to him in such a casual way is really upsetting and follows the line of inherently over sexual gay men. the idea that gay men dont care if the men they are attracted to are straight or not, theyll harass them till the goddamn cows come home. the trend of gay men pushing and pushing and pushing till their an inch away from being punched. that they dont care about peoples boundries. the tone deafness of it all is palpable. not to mention a huge mischaracterized of arcades character, as well as boones to a certain degree.

actually, lets talk more abt that :) people also love to warp arcades personality and characterization to fit the plot of the story theyre writing. its as if they forget that he's a whole ass 35 year old man. a full grown adult man with three decades worth of life experience as a gay man. as if he doesnt have a very clear personality type and how it affects his sexuality. its insane!! despite having the highest charisma out of all the companions, i promise you that hes not as suave and smooth talking as you all make him out to be. hes just old and has experience. thats off topic tho hold on gimme a hot min.

hes also a full on wasteland genius. he most likely knows the nuance and egg shell walking that comes with being a queer man, around a straight boy, especially in a place so fucked and shit as post apocalyptic america. major knight, who's most likely not a ten intelligence, is full aware and wary of how the west view queer people. so the idea of arcade flirting with a perceived cishet man (from the ncr no less !!!) is the wildest notion ive seen in the fandom. almost middle aged old ass man arcade knows better than to do that and people discard that for the situation of "gay man flirts with 'straight' guy and makes him haha uncomfortable with no concern for the result of his unwarranted actions" the idea that he would disregard someones comfort to that level makes me wonder if yall ever leave ur bedrooms and interact with real people. not to mention the idea of boone just. accepting these come ons. that he just puts up with it and lets it happen, regardless of how he feels. which is even worse when you realize thats exactly how he would respond. he would just let himself be uncomfortable. or, worse, giving in not bc he reciprocates but again bc hes just horny. giant mischaracterization and also straight boys don't do that.

but anyway, its late, and i feel this is more of a directionless ramble than a well thought out critism piece. but i wanted to get out my thoughts and maybe help people realize this kinda uncommon, but still harmful, thing within the fanfic community.

#arcade gannon fnv #arcade gannon #craig boone #craig boone fnv #fnv #fallout new vegas #stupid gay man gatekeeps his sexuality because yall dont know how to act.#long post #very long post

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novelconcepts · 4 years ago

Note

Not sure if it’s Drabble worthy. What if Peter and Rebecca don’t die and therefore Bly doesn’t need a new Au Pair. Do Jamie and Dani still meet somehow?

There is a woman in the pub. Not, strictly speaking, an oddity--there are people here every night upon Jamie’s return from the manor. People with drinks and conversation, taking up space she doesn’t have the energy to deal with.

This woman, though. This woman is strange simply because she isn’t. Because there is a look about her, too normal, too put-together. Because her eyes are too bright, and her hair too shiny, and she is--most important of all--not of Bly.

Not Jamie’s problem, either, she thinks, pushing past the woman’s table with little more than a glance.

Blue eyes, she registers. Blue eyes, catching hers for a bare moment.

Jamie keeps walking.

***

The woman is back again. Still looking a bit too clean, a bit too bright to be allowed in a smudgy place like this. She’s seated at that same table, nursing a drink with her eyes on a book, and she is...

Just a woman, thinks Jamie, whose day has been marked by Miles’ attitude and Flora’s perfectly splendid’s, and whose head is in all honesty ringing just a bit more than she can stand.

She could use a drink tonight. Could use a bit more than a drink, really--could use a long rest, a long break from memories of Peter fucking Quint moving about the house like he owns the place. Tonight, she’ll settle for the drink. It’s cheaper than therapy, easier than talking to Hannah or Owen about the whole business. Certainly easier than cornering Rebecca, pressing her toward sense.

Problem is, there is a woman in the pub.

At her table.

She drinks at the bar instead and finds her eyes searching out that woman’s face in the mirror. Finds herself coming back time and time again to the curve of the woman’s cheek, the angle of her nose, the way she bites the edge of her thumbnail as she turns the page.

Her eyes never raise, never seek Jamie’s in return, though Jamie is certain--judging by the insistent tap of one boot under the table, the fidgety quality of her fingers around her glass--she knows she is being watched.

***

The woman, she supposes, has nowhere else to be. What must that be like? What cart must have overturned, tipping her onto the pavement of Bly, to this pub, to this dark corner of the world?

Jamie can remember all too well what it feels like to have nowhere to be. To just stumble into whatever place will hold a person up. This woman, with her tailored blouse and her hoop earrings, doesn’t much look like Jamie had, living that sort of life. But what does Jamie know?

Blue eyes. Shiny hair. Very little else.

Jamie has taken in a drink every night this week, less for the value of the alcohol, more out of curiosity. Could the woman really be here each time she walks through the door? Could this same woman always set up shop at her table, alone, peaceably making her way through a battered paperback?

So far, survey says yes.

And the week has been long, it’s true: Rebecca, growing agitated as tensions between Peter and the rest of them wind ever-higher. Last night, Hannah had gripped her steak knife as though considering plunging it into Peter’s thigh. Tonight, it had taken every ounce of Jamie not to take a swing with the expensive wine bottle he had produced from thin air.

Deserve better, chick, she’d thought as Rebecca had soothed Peter’s glower with a kiss. You have to see that.

Rebecca, predictably, does not.

Jamie, sitting here with yet another drink, watching the strange woman at her table in the mirror, isn’t sure who she is to talk.

***

Someone is trying to talk to the woman tonight. Someone--a bulky man in his mid-thirties who Jamie has already marked as endless trouble--is trying to take a seat at the woman’s table.

Jamie watches with hackles raised, glass poised at her lips, waiting. The woman looks like the sort to make polite conversation, to smile warmly, to find herself in a bad situation before she realizes. Not that it’s any of Jamie’s concern. Not that Jamie ought to be making noise in the pub above which she sleeps.

The man is leaning across the table, his huge hand reaching for the woman’s book. His grin is sloppy, his eyes ale-muddled, and when he moves toward the woman’s hand, she recoils. Glances toward the bar.

Glances directly at Jamie.

Hell, thinks Jamie tiredly, because this isn’t the way. This is never effective, never wise. Keep to yourself, keep your bloody head to your own bloody business, that’s the trick.

The woman’s eyes are so goddamned blue.

“Saved me a seat, I see,” Jamie hears herself say, cocking her hip against the man’s chair with a fuck out of it smile. He squints up at her, clearly trying to piece together some bleary vestige of memory.

“You’re,” he slurs, “upstairs.”

“Seem to be down among the locals tonight,” Jamie says cheerfully, and gives him a single jerk of the head in warning. He frowns, pushing himself clumsily to his feet.

“Borin’ conversation anyway.”

Jamie watches him go, raises her glass to her lips, smiles when he shoots a dark look over his shoulder. She does not look at the woman, not until she hears a soft voice say, “Thank you.”

American, realizes Jamie.

Mistake, realizes Jamie.

“Hang a jacket over the seat next time,” she suggests on her way back to the bar. “Dissuades the stupider ones.”

***

The woman buys her a drink.

She seems, Jamie notes with some alarm, to have registered Jamie’s schedule. How Jamie seems to walk in around eight every evening, her shoulders tense with a day’s battles still hanging tight. How Jamie has long given up trying for her usual table, sacrificing it in the name of pretty blonde Americans.

There is a drink waiting for her--her usual, though in a place like this, it isn’t hard to guess.

“That one,” the bartender--tonight, a fiftyish woman with a smirk--says, and points exactly where Jamie expects. She glances over, finds the American with her own glass raised. Eyebrows arched. Head gesturing for Jamie to come on over.

Mistake, she thinks again, even as she’s obeying.

“Wanted to thank you again,” the woman says, as Jamie hovers beside the second chair. There is, she notes, a denim jacket tossed over its back.

“Not a problem.”

“Sit?” the woman suggests, and Jamie finds she can’t locate a reason not to. She settles awkwardly, trying not to dislodge the jacket, all-too aware of the filthy floor beneath her boots.

“Really don’t think,” she begins, but the woman is saying something. She blinks. “Sorry?”

“Dani,” the woman says again, touching a hand to her chest. “Dani Clayton.”

It’s a bad idea, Jamie thinks distantly, because the woman is so goddamned pretty, it hurts. She’s pretty, and she’s smiling, and there’s something about her eyes that makes Jamie’s pulse do tricks she hasn’t entertained in years.

“Jamie,” she replies, and allows the woman to clink a half-finished glass against her own.

***

Dani, as it turns out, actually works here.

“Just started,” she says, almost sheepishly, when Jamie makes blustery noises of surprise. “On the early shift. Just to have something to keep me busy, until I figure something else out.”

She’s in England, she says, on a sort of personal retreat. A finding myself sort of adventure, she adds with a laugh that rings in Jamie’s ears like the best kind of music.

“Better places to do it in,” Jamie points out, “than a hole in Bly.”

Dani shrugs. “I like it. The people are nice, mostly. And it’s quiet.”

“Home wasn’t quiet?”

Dani doesn’t answer. Dani doesn’t seem to like to talk about herself all that much, Jamie is noticing. She likes, instead, to talk about the town--the strangers, the clients, the newness of it all. She’ll talk about the beer, about the book resting at her elbow, about the weather. Most of all, she asks after Jamie.

“Not much to tell,” Jamie says--a lie, if you go back far enough, but honest enough for now. “Groundskeeper, over at the big house down the way.”

“What does that entail?” Dani, unlike most, actually sounds interested. She is the oddest bird, Jamie thinks, and is startled to find a sense of light affection behind the notion.

“Gardening, mostly. Keep up the grounds, like I said--minor repairs about the house, too. Make sure everything keeps moving.”

“You like it?”

“Love it,” Jamie says honestly. Dani smiles.

“That’s what I want. Something I really love. Thought for a while it would be teaching, but...”

“Kids,” Jamie says. “Take a lot out of a person. That why you’re here?”

Dani thinks on it, seems to step right up to the edge of a reply before changing her mind. “Couldn’t be at home anymore,” she says instead. It’s a non-answer, Jamie recognizes. A too much truth answer.

“Fair enough,” Jamie tells her, and doesn’t push.

***

“So--he lives there?” Dani is three drinks in to Jamie’s two, her hair falling across her forehead as she tries to piece it all together. Jamie shakes her head.

“Nah, not most days. Hannah, she lives there--full-time, I mean. And Rebecca, she moved in couple of months back. Kids love her. Quint, though, he’s...” She can’t find a nice way to put it. Isn’t sure why she’s even bothering. “A cockroach. Hard to kill, harder yet to wish away.”

“Sound like you’ve tried,” Dani says with a faint smile. Jamie shrugs.

“Waste of everyone’s time. He’s Henry’s fuckin’ lapdog. Long as he’s pulling at the leash, we all just need to make do.”

Dani mulls this over with the interest of someone who has not a single face to put with any of these names. “Rebecca really likes him, huh?”

“Likes him. Stuck into him. Not much of a difference.” Jamie leans back, pouring the remainder of her drink into a single swallow. The idea of it, of Peter’s hands on Rebecca’s waist at dinner, still makes her stomach sour. “You ever just--you ever meet someone who is like a human pair of handcuffs?”

Something flickers in Dani’s eyes. She nods once. Jamie sighs.

“That’s Quint. Fucker never met a woman he didn’t try to win--and I do mean win. Like a prize. Like women are little more than trophies to be locked behind glass.”

She watches Dani rub absently against her lips with the back of one hand, unable to tear her eyes away until Dani says, “I don’t understand.”

“It’s like,” Jamie begins, trying to find the best way to explain, “like he thinks she’s property, right? Like he thinks any choice she makes without his say-so is a fucking--”

“Not that,” Dani says quietly. “I mean I don’t understand how people can do that. To each other. When they say they love--I mean. It’s the wrong way around, isn’t it? Trying to own someone out of love? You can’t do it. That’s...they’re not...”

“They’re opposites,” Jamie finishes. Blue eyes skip up, hold hers, don’t so much as waver. Dani’s lips turn up at the corners, her head giving a single nod.

“Yeah. Exactly. How do people mix that up?”

“No idea,” Jamie says, and swallows against the clamor of her own heart.

***

Peter tried to pick a fight this afternoon, out among the roses. Would have succeeded, Jamie thinks with no small amount of shame, had Miles not been lurking just behind him, watching everything.

She is vibrating when she reaches the pub, every motion just a little more exaggerated than she likes. She slams down into her usual seat, hands clenched into fists against the table.

“Bad day?” Dani asks, sliding a plate toward her. Half a sandwich, carefully set aside as if for Jamie all along.

“Not great,” Jamie agrees. She softens, looking Dani over, reading the tension behind her smile. “Look like you can say the same.”

Dani glances over her shoulder, eyes finding the mirror behind the bar and darting jerkily away again. “Hard to explain,” she says.

“Do you want to?” Jamie asks. Dani’s eyes land on her with all the abrasive surprise of an explosion. Jamie taps light knuckles against the tabletop. “Just sayin’. If you want to get it off your chest--”

Dani shakes her head. “It’s...really hard to explain,” she says, almost apologetic. “It--it makes me sound...kinda crazy.”

Jamie has never met someone who looks less crazy. Someone who holds herself with such steadiness, though her hands are twitchy and her smile doesn’t always reach her eyes.

“If you want,” she says, knowing she will, in a moment, let the moment slide. “I don’t mind.”

There’s silence between them, a great comfortable swell of it that shouldn’t exist in a small pub, on a night like this, between two women who barely know one another. Jamie lets it ride, taking a bite of sandwich, watching Dani read her expression with tentative interest.

“I had a fiancé,” Dani says at last, and Jamie feels something in her stomach turn over. And then a second time, when Dani adds, “He died.”

“Dani. I’m so--”

“He died,” Dani says, staring grimly ahead as though trying with everything in her power not to glance toward the mirror again, “and I had just--I had just told him I couldn’t--”

She hesitates, pressing her face into her palms. When she lifts her head, her eyes are blazing.

“I’d just broken--up with him. Broken the engagement, broken the whole--because he wasn’t what I--and then he died. And sometimes, I...I...”

Jamie waits. Dani sucks in a ragged breath.

“I see him. Sometimes. In mirrors, mostly. In--and it’s insane, I know, but I can’t stop.”

“S’why you came here?” Jamie guesses. Dani nods.

“Crazy, right?”

Jamie shakes her head slowly. She’s not much for ghost stories, for fairytales, for dreams made flesh. Loss, though? Grief? Missing who a person was, who they could be? Those aren’t the marks of a crazy person. Those are just...

“Sounds like a rough time,” she says, and lets herself reach across the table. Dani’s hand is soft beneath her own, and she is suddenly too aware of her own callouses, of the skid against Dani’s skin when she turns her hand over and squeezes Jamie’s fingers in return.

“Thank you,” she says softly, and looks once more toward the mirror. Jamie watches her: the tension in her brow, the way her eyes seem to narrow. “I think I...needed to tell someone. Finally.”

She’s still holding Jamie’s hand, even as she turns the subject to the day’s customers, to Jamie’s plans for tomorrow. She’s still holding Jamie’s hand, and doesn’t even seem to notice.

***

There is a fight, but it isn’t Jamie who starts it. Isn’t Jamie who finishes it, even.

Jamie is only stupid enough to step in the middle.

“Your eye,” Dani says in greeting, standing briskly up from the table. Jamie, who is aware she is no longer bleeding, aware that the glass thrown could have done significantly more damage on a less-fortunate occasion, waves her off.

“Bit, ah. Messy at the house tonight.”

Bit messy is a gentle way of putting it. In truth, it had been a horrorshow: Hannah already furious with Peter for having barricaded Rebecca in the bedroom all afternoon, Peter furious with Owen for having enlisted Rebecca’s help with dinner, Rebecca wound tight with the rising pressure of a situation primed to go bad for days. When the glass had been thrown--by Peter or by Rebecca, Jamie still can’t say; she suspects it had really slipped from a gesticulating hand, regardless, given momentum by a moment of frustration more than genuine violence--it had been the bomb they’d all been waiting for.

Rebecca had stormed off to her room. Peter, out of the house. Hannah had collected the kids, both of whom were sobbing, and Jamie had pushed Owen’s helpful hand away and cleaned her own wound.

“Theater,” she says now, aware of Dani’s eyes on her, of the abject concern in Dani’s face. “S’all it was.”

“Not good for the kids,” Dani says quietly. Jamie sighs.

“None of this is good for ‘em. Miles, he keeps...picking up shifty habits from Quint, and Flora’s enamored with the whole rotten mess. Thinks it’s romantic.” Jamie shakes her head, winces when her head rings back in answer. “Like there’s anything fuckin’ romantic about the way he talks to her.”

Dani is quiet a moment. She reaches across the table, presses her fingertips very gently to the place along Jamie’s brow where the glass had landed.

“Lucky it didn’t break,” Jamie murmurs, almost unaware of leaning into Dani’s hand. “Shouldn’t have gotten in the...”

Dani is gazing at her with eyes too blue, an expression too meaningful. Jamie reaches up, closes her own fingers around the hand gingerly exploring her brow.

“I’m okay,” she says. “Really.”

Dani seems not to believe her. Dani, whose palm slides across her own, thumb working a swipe along Jamie’s skin.

“Do you,” she begins. Clears her throat. Tries again. “Do you want to go somewhere?”

Dani nods.

***

She leads Dani upstairs, and even as she’s unlocking the door, she thinks, Mistake? This is, she knows, the kind of thing a person can’t take back. The kind of give that can’t be explained away.

Dani has not stopped looking at her since leaving the pub. Dani has not let go of her hand.

Dani, she is sure, feels it, too.

She’s aware of all the bits of the flat that feel wrong when set alongside Dani Clayton: last week’s shirt tossed over the back of the sofa, last night’s cup on the counter, last month’s dust painting the bookshelf. All the little merits of a life lived alone, she thinks. If she’d known--if she’d planned--it would look different.

Not much different, maybe, but enough.

Dani is looking around with an expression Jamie can’t read. It isn’t unease, or polite interest, or even amusement; it is, Jamie thinks, genuine awe. It is, Jamie thinks, a hunger to belong.

She’d fit in, she catches herself thinking, watching Dani walk slowly around the flat with the faintest smile at her lips. In that house, with the rest, maybe better than I do. She’d fit right in.

“This is yours?” Dani asks, not gesturing at any one thing in particular, and Jamie nods slowly.

“Serves its purpose.”

“I’ve never had this,” Dani says. Her eyes linger on Jamie’s face, and she adds hastily, “A place of my own. It seems...quiet.”

“It is,” Jamie says, and wonders if there isn’t more to it. If I’ve never had this is reaching for more than four walls and a bed Dani wouldn’t have to share.

***

They don’t really talk about it, as Jamie’s flat commandeers the pub’s place in line altogether. Sometimes, Jamie even finds Dani seated on her steps, book propped upon on her knees, waiting patiently to be discovered. It never feels like expectation, Jamie notes with feelings too big to look at for long. It only ever feels like Dani, warm smile and easy hand accepting Jamie’s for balance, has belonged here all along.

“D’you ever just,” Jamie begins, cutting herself off before the rest of the words can spill out. Dani, curled on the sofa with a blanket half-tucked around her, furrows her brow.

“What?”

“Feel like someone was always there,” Jamie finishes after a moment’s deliberation. It’s too much, probably, but she walked in on Peter and Rebecca screaming at one another again, and Flora spent the whole day in a sulk, and Hannah’s got a weariness around her eyes Jamie doesn’t like. Maybe it’s just a day for too much.

Dani doesn’t seem to think it’s too much. Dani is nodding.

“Like you don’t even have to introduce yourself, really, because you remember them from another life. Yes. Yes, I’ve...felt that.”

It’s romantic rubbish, Jamie wants to say, something out of one of Flora’s story-time adventures, but the words seem to settle along her skeleton like she needs them. Like they’re offering some kind of strength she didn’t realize she was lacking.

Dani is gazing at her, her expression fixed and unblinking in a manner that should be off-putting, and Jamie finds herself pulled irresistibly in. Finds herself leaning across the sofa, her thigh pressing to Dani’s, twisting at the waist to face her head-on.

“I’ve never,” Dani says softly, though her head is inclining, her lashes fluttering against her cheek.

“Don’t have to,” Jamie replies, though her blood is singing, her fingers itching to delve into thick blonde hair.

“But we could...” Dani is an inch away, and Jamie wants nothing more than to close the gap. Wants to take something for herself, for once, something soft and warm and easier than it ought to be.

She hesitates. Flexes her hands against her own knees, resisting the urge to grab for Dani’s shirt.

“Dani, I don’t want to--”

Dani is leaning back, nodding feverishly. “Right. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry--”

“No, listen.” She allows herself this, one hand reaching for Dani’s fingers, unfolding the instinctive fist she’s made. “I'm not...people don’t make sense to me. Understand?”

Dani shakes her head, puzzlement spreading over her impending humiliation. Jamie closes her eyes.

“There’s a lot to it, and if...if you want to hear it all sometime, I’ll...but for now, just know that people are hard for me. Exhaustive. Complicated. They ask too much and they return too little.”

“Even me?” Dani asks, eyes shining, and Jamie smiles grimly.

“Even you. Even me. Everyone, understand? But sometimes I still want...”

Dani waits. Dani, who never hurries Jamie anywhere. Who never tries to argue Jamie into a corner, or tells Jamie she needs to be kinder, or sneers for Jamie to get out of her way. Dani, who only sits on Jamie’s sofa, watching Jamie with an intensity no one else seems to possess.

“If you do,” Jamie says, almost helplessly, letting one hand brace beneath Dani’s elbow. “I want--”

***

Some people--some women--kiss to escape. To flee from their lives, to hide inside Jamie’s hands and lips and fleeting desire. Some women kiss to build up armor: to convince themselves they really are brave enough, even for a night, to be someone else. Some women even kiss to shame themselves, because the memory of Jamie on their skin will rise up at unexpected moments and make them feel something, anything, even if it’s terrible.

Dani doesn’t kiss like any of those women.

Dani kisses like she wants. Simple and steady and nothing more. Like she wants to be kissing Jamie, wants to be learning Jamie, wants the want of it as much as the thing itself. There is no shame, in the way Dani kisses her. There is only breathless excitement, Dani moving across the sofa to press tight to Jamie’s frame along the cushions.

“I’ve never,” she says again, only this time, she’s curling the words into the underside of Jamie’s jaw. She’s letting them spill across Jamie’s skin from within the loose grip of Jamie’s arms, her hands wound tight in Jamie’s shirt, her voice jittery with anticipation.

“If you want to stop,” Jamie begins, and Dani is shaking her head, kissing her neck, murmuring against her in such a way, Jamie can’t help but shiver.

“It’s what I--it’s right. The right way.” She lifts her eyes, and Jamie can’t help but grin at the joy reflected back. “I’ve never done it the right way.”

Jamie wants to know what that means, what the wrong way was, but it doesn’t seem a question for now. Now is just Dani, the one golden light untouched by a bleak day, the one bright spot after a tattered house Jamie doesn’t really belong in. Dani, who sighs against her lips, smiling, like she’s never been so happy to kiss someone.

She’s waiting for Dani to reel back, to gasp, to mention the fiancé again--but Dani only presses in closer and lets her mouth linger against the thunder of Jamie’s pulse beating along in her throat. Dani only finds her lips with such a sound of relief, Jamie can do nothing but grip at her back in response.

Have we done this before? she thinks with feverish uncertainty. Have we been here before? Dani is new, each press and slide of fingers along her skin calling forth unexpected sounds, but Dani is also right. Like meeting someone and knowing they were meant to be in your story the whole time.

“You’re sure?” she asks, though Dani is gazing down at her with such obvious desire, it makes her stomach clench.

Dani, in answer, kisses her as no woman has ever kissed her, and Jamie lets herself fall.

***

Dani is still in her bed come morning.

Dani is still wrapped around her, naked skin and rapturous smile, and Jamie thinks, How can I be so happy, when the rest of it is falling apart?

“All right?” she asks, half-expecting the awareness of the previous night--of their slow stumble across the flat, of Dani’s shirt over her head and Dani’s hands cradling Jamie’s skin--to crash in around them both like a bad dream. Dani only wriggles against her under the blankets, face pressed to Jamie’s shoulder.

“Yes. Are you?”

No one has ever asked that, Jamie realizes dimly. Not even the first girl she’d ever loved, the one who had taken Jamie by the shoulders and kissed her hard enough to hurt. Jamie, who had only been preoccupied with the sense memory of a moment like that, with the teeth buried in her bottom lip and the hand cupped between her legs, hadn’t much cared at the time.

Now, though, with Dani looking at her this way, she can’t imagine being with someone who doesn’t ask. Who doesn’t trail the tips of their fingers along her shoulder, her collarbone, her neck, and smile like they knew all along they were needed here.

“I’m glad,” she hears herself say, morning rasp tracing the words, “you stayed.”

Dani is still beaming when Jamie kisses her, the implication of I am, too buried in the gentle press of her hand against Jamie’s cheek.

“Are you going to be late?” she asks a little while later, when there’s fresh sweat on her breast and Dani is gulping air against her neck. Dani shakes her head, dusting light kisses across Jamie’s skin. She swallows, laughs, groans when Dani finds a particularly pleasant spot in the hollow of her throat and sets to exploring it properly. “Keep doing that, and I will be.”

And would that be so bad? To leave the house for a day. To pretend like it isn’t all imploding around her, a little family divided by one man’s arrogance. Like Jamie doesn’t feel, more and more each day, as though she is the odd one out, the seventh wheel amid three solid pairs.

Dani, still teasing the clench of her stomach with curious fingers, says, “Guess you should go, then,” and Jamie thinks no one has ever said as much to her with less pleasure. No one has ever sounded quite so inclined to keep Jamie close.

“I’ll be back,” she promises, and Dani--spilled across her sheets like she was placed by some grand wish--grins all the wider.

***

Rebecca spends the day in silent fury, tears running down her cheeks. Hannah spends it trying to keep her lips pursed around I told you so-shaped phrasing. Owen spends it in the kitchen, head down, and Jamie spends it teaching the kids how to properly weed out a garden, just for the distraction of it all.

Peter, they tell her, is gone.

Peter, they tell her, left last night.

“Gone where?” Dani asks when she pushes into the flat that night to find her still here, wrapped in one of Jamie’s favorite shirts and a pair of shorts. She has spent the day, she says, feeling intrusive, feeling as though she ought to be somewhere. Jamie, unable to explain the ease with which she does it, only leans in to kiss her slowly.

“Here,” she says. “Meant to be here.”

As for Peter--she doesn’t much care where he’s skittered off to. Good fucking riddance, in her opinion.

“Rebecca probably doesn’t agree,” Dani says, folded onto one of the sparse kitchen chairs with bare feet and a worried expression Peter doesn’t deserve. Across from her, Jamie sighs.

“Maybe he’s got the right idea.”

Dani tips her head, waiting, and it strikes Jamie that this is an already that doesn’t make much sense. Like the comfortable silences, Dani’s capacity to already understand when she needs to talk something out, when she needs to come to a matter on her own terms without being rushed along, is a thrill.

“Been thinking,” she goes on slowly, giving voice to thoughts she’s been batting around for months, “maybe I’ve outstayed my welcome, as it were. At the house. With the others.”

“You said you loved it,” Dani points out. Jamie sighs.

“Love the work. Love the people, some of ‘em. But there’s something about it--something about being bound to the place that feels...”

Suffocating, she doesn’t say. Like trying to walk against the wind. Like a clock ticking down.

“Been thinking for a while,” she says instead, “about moving on. Traveling some. Can find good work for my hands anywhere, can’t I?”

Dani doesn’t answer. Dani seems to recognize this is Jamie’s future to parse out, Jamie’s thoughts to sift through. Dani having spent a night in her bed is not qualified to deter or convince her.

“It can be lonely,” she says, when Jamie goes quiet. “Traveling without a destination.”

“You’ve been doing it,” Jamie points out, smiling a little, and Dani looks almost embarrassed.

“Seemed the only thing to do, at the time. If I had to do it again...”

“You’d stay home?”

Dani laughs. “No. No, absolutely not.” Her hand slides across the table, tangling with Jamie’s fingers. “But...I don’t know that I’d do it alone again. If I didn’t have to.”

Jamie says nothing, the words revolving around and around between them. It’s too early to say it, she thinks. Even if she feels as though she’s known Dani far longer than these few weeks, these spare bundles of days spent talking, laughing, kissing, it hasn’t been long enough to say a thing like this.

Dani is watching with serious eyes, with a strangely calm expression, and Jamie wonders if she can see it in her eyes, the thing she is deliberately not saying out loud.

***

She expects to find Peter back again the next day, but his absence is etched into every inch of wallpaper like a smoke stain. Rebecca seems to be moving in slow motion, going about the business of teaching the kids with very little investment. Hannah and Owen exchange concerned looks over the lunch table, and Jamie--who had enjoyed a languorous morning with Dani in her entirely too-small shower--finds herself thinking again of this house, how good it is at building pairs of people. How, without her pair, Rebecca seems lost. How, without Jamie around each morning, Hannah and Owen seem to be revolving ever nearer to one another.

And maybe that’s for the best, she thinks. Maybe it’s like science, like the simplicity of an atom. Maybe without Peter holding her to the structure, Rebecca will ultimately bounce off again, vanish into a space built for, instead of around, her. Maybe Owen and Hannah will finally speak of quiet lovely truths they’ve been dancing around for years. Maybe it will all balance out.

“Where are you off to next?” she asks Dani one night, the two of them curled close in bed. Dani, who had been drowsing against her shoulder, raises her head.

“Kicking me out?” There’s a smile on her lips which, when paired with the genuine edge of worry in her voice, makes Jamie’s heart hurt.

“No, I--I mean, I know it’s...early. And you can say no. Please, by all means, say no if you--”

“Ask,” Dani interrupts gently. Jamie sighs.

“I’m going to call up Wingrave. Let him know he’ll be needing a new groundskeeper for the autumn season. I can’t...”

Keep listening to the walls breathe around me, she doesn’t say. Keep watching Rebecca mope, and the kids checking every window for Peter fucking Quint’s reflection. Can’t keep still in this place that only ever wants a person to stay the same.

“I can’t,” she repeats solidly. “I was wondering if you’d...if you wanted...”

It’s been a week since opening her bed to Dani Clayton, and a week is nothing. A week is barely a breath, in the grand scheme of things, but there are feelings Jamie can’t bury once dug up. Certainties she can’t turn from, once looked in the eye. There is something about the way Dani exhales across her skin in her sleep, about the way Dani kisses her with open abandon when Jamie touches her, about the look in Dani’s eyes when she thinks Jamie doesn’t see. A week in her bed. A month in her life.

Sometimes, she thinks recklessly, you know it’s worth trying for.

“If you wanted the company,” she says finally. “Not even forever, if you didn’t want--”

“Forever’s a long time,” Dani replies, though she’s smiling. Heat winds its way up Jamie’s neck, settling between her shoulder blades, at the small of her back where Dani’s hand seems always to grip tight around her shirt.

“It is. Yeah.”

“Start smaller?” Dani suggests quietly, even as she’s pressing close, one leg sliding between Jamie’s beneath the sheets. “Only, I knew someone once, who demanded forever. It...didn’t work out.”

“Smaller,” Jamie agrees, relieved. Dani smiles against her lips, each kiss a little longer, a little more wanting than the last. “Little at a time, maybe.”

“Company would be nice,” Dani answers, and then she’s kissing Jamie for real, pressing Jamie into the sheets, and Jamie doesn’t care that the summer has been a mess of other people’s feelings, that the house is a cataclysm of old ghosts and unpleasant exhumations, that people are rarely worth the effort sunk into them. Jamie doesn’t care about anything just now except the distinct sound of Dani’s laugh in her mouth, the distinct pressure of Dani’s fingers against her heart.

A woman in her pub. An event built of a dozen tiny accidents, a dozen roads taken without expectation of consequence. Maybe in another life, Dani would have chosen the next village down the way. Maybe in another life, Jamie would have been too wary to meet her eyes. Maybe in another life, Rebecca would never have come to teach those kids, Peter would never have made a misery of that house, Owen and Hannah would have built a love in Paris to put them all to shame. Other lives. Other roads.

In this one, Jamie dreams of adventure, of a soft hand tucked into her own, of blue eyes and a brave little grin, and thinks, Half the fun, isn’t it? Never knowing where you might land.

#fanfiction #the haunting of bly manor #the haunting of bly manor spoilers #dani x jamie #damie #this was a ficlet. about 3000 words before the ending #anyway I ASSUME we are all on the same page that I can find a way to put these two together regardless of how the story goes #but certainly if it's as simple as Rebecca surviving (as she absolutely should)

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thisnoodlewritesao3 · 4 years ago

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The One Where You Fall In Love (And Then You Don’t) | Sawamura Daichi/Reader

Characters: Sawamura Daichi, Reader (Moonlight), Sugawara Koushi, Azumane Asahi (mentioned), Miya Osamu, Other!Reader (Angel), Other!Reader (Sunshine)

Pairings: Sawamura Daichi/Reader

Warnings: Angst, mentions of cheating, mild swearing

Word Count: 4406

Summary: You loved Daichi - you swear you did - for so long, and for so hard. You loved him, but you weren't quite sure when you stopped liking him.

A/N: And we are back to my regularly schedule antics as promised. I want to give a big thank you to @satan-ruler-of-hells for helping me by Beta-reading (and to my mom for reading it too). This is also one part of what will eventually be a much larger series including some of the girls that you meet along the way. So, follow me and keep an eye out for them

Series Masterlist | Next

----------

You loved Daichi.

You had ever since you met him - well, that was a strong sentiment - but it had always felt that way, so you couldn’t fault your own emotions. Of course, you’d heard about him before, he was on the volleyball team after all; you’d just never met him until your third year. Somehow, by some miracle, you were put into the same class, seated right next to each other. He was sitting by the window - something that made you jealous because you wanted the window seat - you opted for just staring in that direction instead.

Maybe he took your staring the wrong way because he apologised to you after class. Obviously, you were confused, because he hadn’t done anything wrong. His friend snickered, “already scaring the ladies on the first day?” Earning himself a swift elbow in the ribs. You snorted at the noise he made.

“It’s just… you were glaring at me the whole class.” He said sheepishly, completely different from five seconds ago; it was endearing, his sudden nervousness.

Now that you couldn’t figure out, had you really been glaring at him? Your friends had always said that when you get lost in thought you tend to look more pissed off, but you never took them seriously. Not until now, that is. “Oh. Oh! Oh God no!” You cry out, waving your hands, “I was just staring out the window!” You explained, now feeling the heat rise to your cheeks.

“Oh.” He says, looking more relieved with each passing second. “Had me worried for a minute, thought I’d done something wrong.” He chuckled - God, that chuckle was gorgeous.

“The only one who did something wrong was the teacher,” you scrunch up your nose and smile, “putting someone so gorgeous next to the window, how am I meant to stay focused now?” You froze, realising what you said. Come on, Y/N, you can’t just go around flirting with people. You silently kick yourself when he doesn’t say anything, just lets his jaw drop open. Of course, it doesn’t take him long to recover, flashing you a winning smile.

“Maybe you should sit by the window, although I think I’d find it hard to focus.” He gave you a lazy wink, his silver haired friend hollering at him for such smooth moves; now it’s your turn to recover, only you don’t do it with half as much grace as him, stuttering and fumbling around.

“I think you broke her,” his friend laughs, smacking him on the back, clutching his stomach like this is the best thing he’s ever witnessed.

An arm wraps around your waist and it snaps you back to reality, your friend smiling up at Daichi sickeningly sweetly. “Look at you, picking up the hot guys on the first day. And two of them!” She calls out, eyes darting to the silver haired boy.

“Picking up-” You ponder what she meant before gasping, “stop it!” You push her off of you as she starts her own fit of giggles. “I was just apologising for my resting bitch face.” That sets her off again, because of course your resting bitch face had managed to attract two guys.

“You always have a bitch face.” She quips, whisking you away. You wave over your shoulder, taking note of the soft smile on his face.

----

You loved Daichi.

Despite his confidence yesterday, it’s actually his silver haired friend that talks to you first - his name is Sugawara Koushi - you don’t know it yet, but he will grow to be the person you confide in the most. Even before Daichi.

“What’s up, bitch face.” Suga sits on your desk, and for a second you contemplate kicking him.

“What’s up, Suga tits.” You lean back in your chair. Daichi snorts at the nickname, making your heart swell with pride - wow, that has never happened before. Suga breaks out into a big grin, pointing his thumb at you.

“Oh, you should totally keep this one,” he says.

“This one? Is Sawamura here a player? Do I need to protect my precious little heart?” You gently place your hand over your heart, gasping lightly and making sure to pull the most adorably-shocked face that you can. The playful tone doesn’t go unnoticed by either of the boys.

“The only thing he plays is volleyball.” Suga says at the same time that Daichi says, “maybe you do.” With another lazy wink.

You can’t help but snort again, causing the three of you to break out into a fit of laughter.

It surprised you how close the three of you became and how quickly; for you, it felt like everything finally fell into place. Suga was rather chaotic - you remember the time he basically used Asahi as a human battering ram - but he had his moments of kindness. Daichi was effortlessly smooth, sometimes a little intimidating, and he had this aura of authority that you couldn’t help but smile at.

When they introduced you to their volleyball team, you made sure to stick closer to Daichi’s side. One of them asked if you were his girlfriend, neither of you fought off the notion - maybe you were crazy, but you swore Daichi was blushing.

You aren’t surprised when he asks you to go on a date with him - in fact, you’re elated - this is the moment you’d been waiting for; Suga was the first to hear the news and congratulated you.

Your happiness with the silver haired boy was quickly silenced when he brought a packet of condoms to class the next day and not-so-subtly shoved them in your direction. Had you ever wanted to punch someone? Not until you met Sugawara Koushi.

Everything gets worse when Daichi sees them on your desk, eyeing you curiously before you haphazardly shove them in your bag. No one else seemed to see the box, but that didn’t stop your embarrassment.

You made a note to kill Sugawara one day.

----

You loved Daichi.

That one date had turned into two, then three, and next thing you know, you’re seeing each other multiple times a week. He even asks you to be his girlfriend, which you all but scream yes at.

Maybe the first sign that things weren’t going to be perfect was how much time his volleyball club needed from him - but you weren’t upset about that, not at first, at least.

Because Daichi still never failed to make you feel special, like you were the most important thing in the entire world. He’d whisk you off your feet every single time you came to see him at practise. The amount of times he’s put a bouquet of flowers on your desk made your heart swoon. He showers you with kisses and hugs, love and affection for days; you swear, if he could have you stay with him all the time, he would.

You never put that box of condoms to use - not yet - but it sits inside your bedroom drawer behind an old packet of cute pens you never wanted to use, a new set of nail polishes, and a book you’d been meaning to move to the shelf.

“Do you know how much I love you?” He mused one evening, running his fingers through your hair while you watched a film. You hum, a little confused by his question, so you turn to face him.

“I’m going to assume that it’s a lot,” you giggle when he swats at your arm.

“A lot does not begin to cover it,” next thing you knew, he was kissing you, pulling you so close like he was afraid to lose you.

----

You loved Daichi.

So much that you’d watch his volleyball games and cheer him on, even if you really had no idea what was happening - he’d tried to explain it to you, but it didn’t help that much. The thing was that you didn't need to understand the passion in his eyes, you just needed to be there for him.

You wouldn’t have felt so bad about not learning about volleyball if he didn’t pay so much attention to all your hobbies - though you didn’t think it was that difficult to figure out the plot of Ouran HighSchool Host Club.

It became so easy to lose yourself in him. Soon, it was no longer just Y/N - the girl who makes friends a little too easily, and Daichi - the boy who is so blissfully unaware of the eyes on him - now you are Y/N and Daichi - the couple who are ignorant to their own worries. Because who needs to worry when everything is just perfect?

The way his hand fits into yours makes your heart swell; the hunger in his eyes when he’s playing volleyball makes your breath pick up; when he brushes your hair behind your ear and swoops in for a kiss.

Everything he did was just so effortlessly perfect. Did he even realise it? The way he drove you completely crazy? Before him, you were sure you’d never feel this way - especially not with how your mom talks about your dad. You were sure that true love was a myth told by hopeful housewives.

You thought this until you met Daichi. Until you fell for him so hard, so quickly that you weren’t really sure what had happened. The fire of your love burned so bright and hot, with such anger, spreading around to everyone - whether for the better or the worse, you wouldn’t know. Not yet.

----

You loved Daichi.

That was why, when things were just a little too difficult, you’d rather call Sugawara. You didn’t want to bother your boyfriend with your problems - even when he said that it’s fine and that’s what I’m here for. But you knew what would happen. You’d seen it happen in front of your eyes.

“What if I’m not good enough?” You sigh, pulling at the grass beneath you as Suga stares at you sadly. “What if he leaves me because I can’t figure out volleyball? It means so much to him, and yet I just...” There’s obvious panic in your voice.

The setter sighs heavily, running his hand through his hair. You were difficult to figure out. Your confidence always seemed unwavering. But beneath the surface you were riddled with insecurities; it was like a maze in your mind. One wrong word and you’re met with a dead end with no memory of how to turn around. He could only imagine that a scared little girl lay in the centre, wrapped up in a little fantasy world with dolls - a world where mommies and daddies got along, and she could act like a girl again.

“You know Daichi would never do that to you. He’s just happy that you watch the games.” Suga said, confident that that was the right choice. He couldn’t tell, not as you slowly looked up to the sky, face lacking the emotion your eyes yearned to show.

“I guess you're right.” He barely heard you, but maybe he hadn’t made such a mistake afterall.

He wondered how Daichi managed to deal with you; then he remembered that he didn’t. For Daichi, you were a constant ball of sunshine and happiness. Even when Suga could see the pain in how you moved, when he could hear your frustrated phone calls to your mother, the way you almost fell asleep in class so many times.

He watched you on the few days they’d come back to yours as you acted more like a housewife than a teenage girl. He’d joked with Daichi that you’d make the perfect wife one day - he didn’t miss the way you glared before lifting your baby sister up and planting her softly on your hip, feeding one of your brothers as he wailed.

Sometimes Suga wondered whether Daichi saw these things too. If he did, he never said anything.

----

You loved Daichi.

But when he asked you what you were planning to do after school, you didn't really know how to respond other than saying, “I have to watch the kids…” you said it like it should have been obvious, there wasn’t much else you could do. You’d never put much thought into college, not that you had the time to. You were happy with how things were now, why did they have to change?

“What about after that?” He asked, pausing the episode of Attack on Titan you were watching, turning to face you fully, clearly intent on continuing this conversation.

After what? After your siblings grow up enough to not rely on you? But that wouldn’t be for such a long time. The twins were still only two, not even taking in account your sister, who can now hold her head up herself.

“Do you not want a job?” His brow twitched in slight anger and you knew why; he wanted to know what future you had together. But you didn’t know. You’d never had a chance to daydream about the future, you couldn’t even glance back to the past, you were glued into the present without room to move.

“I do,” you shrugged, laughing nervously, “but it isn’t that big of a deal. Besides, I’ve got you. So what more do I need right now?” You tentatively reached out and rested your hand on his, squeezing it lightly. He squeezed back, letting you know he wasn’t really upset.

“Yeah, we have each other,” he smiled softly, pulling you into a big hug. You ran your hands through his hair, trying not to think about how he’ll be going off to college soon, trying your best to bask in this moment.

Things were never going to be easy, you see that clearly now.

----

You loved Daichi.

You just wished he hadn’t chosen somewhere an hour away from home. You wanted to be able to see him, to hold him close and never let him go, but he seemed hellbent on leaving. Of course, you never told him this, you just stayed by his side, talking idly about what he plans on doing.

He plans on being a police officer. You tell him he’d be good at that. He says thank you. There is an awkward tension in the air, but neither of you bring it up.

You want to tell him how you wished he would have chosen somewhere closer because he knows you can’t just leave the house whenever you want, but he’d just tell you that that was ridiculous. That you were an adult and you could do what you wanted (it was a fight you’d had too many times this month alone). He would never understand, so you told yourself you were okay with that.

That night you’d fallen asleep in his jacket, his scent barely lingering on the fabric now - you considered asking him if he would make it smell like him, but he’d be leaving soon, so he’d probably accidentally take it with him.

----

You loved Daichi.

Even when his nightly calls slowly turned into every few days, and then once a week. Nowadays, you felt lucky to hear his voice once a month. Of course he’d visit, but even those visits were so sparse that you didn’t really know how to feel. Empty. If you had to put a name to the feeling, that would be it.

You brushed off your feelings, because Daichi was still so happy, so maybe you were just missing something. Because on the days when he did call you, you were able to smile so wide.

Because you did love him.

That was why you decided to surprise him, take his advice from many months ago, to finally live life how you wanted to - even if it was only for a day. You left your siblings in the caring hands of Suga, who almost looked sad as you left, but he waved you off proudly nonetheless.

Maybe you should have felt sad when he didn’t get worried that you didn’t respond to his text, but it was normal, what’s the point of getting sad at something that happens every day? There wasn’t one. Not a single one.

You can’t help the feeling of something - though you aren’t sure what - weighing down your chest. Each step closer to his dorm feels like an eternity and before you know it, you’re too busy thinking about whether or not you’d made a mistake. The hallway suddenly feels hot, air slowly suffocating you. Had it always been so hot in these halls? You'd be sure to ask Daichi; maybe he could explain the aching in your chest, the weight of your lungs, the mild headache from the stress around you.

But when you knock, and when he opens, you aren’t greeted with the normal show of being whisked off of your feet. In fact, you aren’t greeted with Daichi at all. In his place stands a young woman, so radiant and ethereal you might think her an actual angel. But she wasn’t. No, the sinister reasons for her being here are all too obvious. You note the marks down her neck - the ones he’d refused to give you, lest you ruin your innocence before marriage - the way her cheeks are flushed, sweat shining her forehead. The way his shirt - you knew it, because it had been one you’d bought him - taunted you by daring to fall so perfectly on her body.

You can’t speak. The wind knocked from your lungs. Have you ever been hurt so quickly? Maybe, but that was only in front of Sugawara. You slowly raised a shaking hand to your mouth, trying to decide whether or not to give into the nausea that hit you so violently.

What had you done to deserve this? You couldn’t think of anything - not right now, at least. Of course you weren’t perfect, but who was? Daichi was. To you he was.

All around you, the world seemed to crumble, you couldn’t speak or move. For a second, it seemed like she recognised the look in your eyes - so obviously wounded by the sight of her. Her eyes flitter into the dorm. His voice calling out, “who is it, angel?” You have to press your hand to your heart, and check it, it felt like you’d been stabbed. You might have been happier with that.

When he pulls himself into frame you don’t even have the energy to cry, mind wracked trying to figure out where you’d gone wrong.

His chest is littered with bites, and marks, and scratches.

His face falls when his eyes meet yours, something breaking deep inside of him as you shake, feigning the softest smile. “Surprise…” you try and cheer, trying to pretend like you hadn’t seen him this way. Trying to cover the image of him in front of you with the Daichi you knew. The man with an aura of authority, the man too kind and blissfully unaware of the eyes on him.

----

You loved Daichi.

No, you love Daichi.

Maybe that was your personal imperfection.

As you sat in his dorm, listening to his excuses, you could only smile, tracing your finger around the edge of the mug. If you were honest, none of this hurt as much as you thought it would - of course it hurt, but the pain was lessened so deeply by something inside of you.

“I didn’t mean for you to find out like this. I-I… I thought maybe if we kept trying, then maybe we could-” you cut him off by gently placing the mug onto the coffee table, noting the little pieces of her that littered the apartment.

“I think what you mean,” you straighten your back and turn to face him - he’s still shirtless, that girl is still in his shirt - she sits next to him, the space between them seems like such a cavern now. She looks so much like she wants to escape, but you can’t ever escape something you’d walked into so effortlessly, “is that you didn’t mean for me to find out.” He opens his mouth, trying to find the words before he grunted. You let out a breath, clapping your hands together, “well, when you told me to go out and live my life, I never thought this is what it would be like.” You look around the room slowly.

“It isn’t like you ever needed me,” now he was desperate, trying to find something to use against you, “you always had Suga clinging to your side.” He sneered. Was that something he was proud of? That he might have hurt you with your own friendship. “You never even trusted me anyway.” He was hurt, you knew that much.

You bite back at your lip, wanting to yell I think everyone can clearly see why, but no. Because this is the first time he’s ever done something like this. “Maybe that’s true, but if you really think that, then you never really knew me at all.”

There’s guilt in his eyes because he knows that you know he just tried to hurt you, tried to make you run away from him. But you don’t need to run.

“I spent a lot of time thinking,” you continue, rubbing your hands on your sides to try and ease some of your personal tension, “that when you slowly stopped calling, that you were really busy; you were out here doing what I should have. You were living your life.” You glance at the girl - she stinks of shame, tugging at the hem of the shirt. “And I can see that I was right.” There aren’t any more words needed. You can’t even think of anything else to say.

You stand up to leave, but he grabs your wrist, “we can still try, I- I want you to still love me. And I will love you, because I do love you.” He reeks of desperation now. It makes you feel sick. It hurts. You just want to leave. You don’t want to be here anymore. You can’t stand to see him. Not like this. Not when you’re about to crumble. You were fine holding yourself up a moment ago, but now, seeing the tears prickle into his eyes, you don’t know if you can do it.

It takes everything in you to smile sweetly down at him, “I never said I didn’t love you,” you chime, gently unwrapping his fingers from around your wrist. What’s left behind isn’t warmth, no, it feels more like a burn, “but I don’t think I like you anymore, Daichi.”

Maybe that is your last hurrah as you slink out of the dorm.

----

You still love Daichi

As tears dribble down your cheeks, you call the one person you can think, hoping he can give you the strength to keep walking and not crumble right here.

Just as he answers, someone taps on your shoulder. The girl - she’d introduced herself, but you didn’t hear her - a buzzing in your ears reminds you of the blinding anger. You can’t even focus on what she’s saying. Something about how she didn’t know, or that he’s a great man. You don’t have a response. Not until she opens her eyes and notices the tears, “you really loved him, didn’t you?” Her voice is soft. Maybe she finally realises the calamity of what she’s done.

Did you love him? Well, that was definitely a yes. You couldn’t deny it, not even to her. You doubted you could ever fall out of love with him. “I’ll call you back,” you mumble to Suga, hanging up and taking a seat at the nearest bench, beckoning her to join you. “I do- I did. Did he ever tell you how we met?” She shakes her head slowly, so you decide to tell her a tale as old as time. Of a boy in a class, and a girl with a love for windows. Of how he blocked your light, and had kept doing so until right now. She listens so intently, because she must know the pain you feel.

You tell her about his unwillingness to give up and his aura of authority - she agrees, because who wouldn’t - you tell her about the passion in his eyes, how he could bring the first years to their knees. She laughs and you can see why he chose her. There were stars in her eyes for a thousand light years.

You can’t help but think that maybe love doesn’t exist, just as your mother had warned you for so long.

----

For too long, five years to be exact, you spend endless nights trying to forget Daichi. The memory of him sticks to the walls. So as soon as you can, you move to Hyogo - a place that even Daichi hadn’t managed to touch. You hesitated when you said goodbye to Suga, but he had met a girl that radiated the sun, and you just knew that he was going to be fine.

You opted to go to online university, some shame in the fact you’d never had a chance to go before, but that was a worry for another day. Your biggest concern was work. How were you to find a job with no work experience? A place to stay would be nice, too, but you could easily take it one day at a time.

On your hopeless search, you practically stumble into a restaurant by the name of Onigiri Miya. Of course, Daichi somehow lingers here when you are met with two - or one - vaguely familiar faces. You dig into the depths of your mind, trying to think of where you remember them from.

You brush it off, sitting down at the counter and aimlessly searching through the menu. Maybe you sat there for too long, staring with such tension, because a plate of onigiri is placed in front of you. “From my idiot brother, but made by me,” he sighs, taking a quick note of the way your eyes light up.

“I can pay!” You call out, sifting through your bag for your wallet. Except they both refuse to take your money and you huff.

When the chef - Miya Osamu - smiles lazily down at your pouting face, something in your heart fizzles awake.

For the first time in five years, you think that maybe love can still exist.

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

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dianapana · 3 years ago

Text

SH Day 12- ANBU Black Ops

@sasuhinamonth

たえる Part 2 (taeru=to endure)

Part 1

Rated M, Ninja Universe that underwent some changes (you’ll see that I use major events in the canon world but there is a lot of history that’s altered), OOC (major OOC for Hinata especially)

Warning: self-harm, mental health, sexual harassment, trauma

Hello, dears, I play quite a bit with chronology in this chapter, I hope it's all easy to understand. I made moth things be during summer so around the time of the girl SH month which is why in all the cases you'll see Sasuke is 1year older than Hina, since his bday is in July and hers in December. I hope you enjoy, ~Love Dia

Sasuke, age 23

I think it’s fair for me to say that I’ve been through a lot, not many things shake me anymore and all the things that have made me worried in the past years have had something in common, they were all somehow related to Hinata. I remember when I woke up after the war, I was chained to a hospital bed, placed under a jutsu that blocked my chakra, I was missing a limb and I was on the verge of insanity once more. The only thing that calmed me down was her image. Even without my chakra I searched for hers. She too was in the hospital; I found her signature light purple chakra but it was so faint and small I almost missed it. Seeing her like that made me crazy with worry, once everyone left my room, I broke all the chains and dragged myself to her room despite the pain. I hadn’t thought of her as fragile since our reunion when she was 15. I could barely stand to see her that way, and even if I wanted to stay and watch over her for longer, I could feel Naruto’s chakra getting closer, which meant I had to leave. For the following weeks I could only go and see her late at night, for there was always someone in her room, Naruto, her father, her sister, some sort of nurse or medic. I recovered under a month, yet I stayed until she woke up.

I was the only one in the room when her eyes opened, she looked confused and for a moment I was sure she had amnesia and would not remember me, us. But for the briefest moment her eyes rested upon my figure and recognition was there, relief was there, gratitude, affection and many other nuances that I can never seem to read or fully comprehend reflected in her eyes. I took her hand and kissed the back of it, allowing myself a small selfish gesture before leaving the room to inform the medics she woke up. Sakura gave me a strange, questioning look when I told her Hinata had woken up, but I didn’t care about subtlety at that second, I just wanted them to check her for any issues, I wanted her to be physically fine.

She didn’t have many memories of the war when she was first questioned, but they came back in waves and waves. I could tell that the questions overwhelmed her, much like the people that littered around, there were over 10 visitors in her tiny hospital room, from her father to Naruto, Kiba and many others. I just watched the whole situation from outside her window. I noticed her looking around, searching for someone that wasn’t there. No, it wasn’t me, she knew I wouldn’t be there when other people were, I knew exactly who she was searching for, that’s why I wanted to be close by. I kept waiting for the other shoe to drop, I knew things would take a turn for the worse soon enough. I saw it, the exact moment the fog raised off of her memories, the moment in which reality hit her, the moment in which the remaining light in her eyes died.

She asked for Neji, Naruto cringed, her father was the one to inform her of his passing. She asked when the funeral was going to be and silence fell onto the room. Sakura tried to slowly explain that the war ended two months ago and all the dead were already long buried. Hinata cried, she cried for her fallen cousin, she cried for missing his funeral, she cried for herself. They all gave her hugs and condolences, they reassured her that none of that was her fault. They all expected her to mourn and soon enough bounce back to the façade she always kept around the people in the village. They were unaware of the emotional depth her sadness could reach. I knew their expectations would never be met, I could tell that the headspace she was in was similar to the night I found her on the forest floor, she had the same look in her eyes as when she constantly begged me to let her die. Knowing all of that, I expected her to make certain choices, yet, despite knowing what was to come, I was unable to help, there wasn’t a single moment in which she was alone for a week to come. And when it all happened, I panicked at the notion of her death and responded wrongly to her actions.

I wasn’t watching her when she attempted to kill herself, I was with Tsunade who kept insisting that I accept their fake arm. I was in the midst of refusing once more, when I could feel a commotion in her room, I left without a word and ran there. The image that was in front of me wasn’t surprising but it was just as heart-breaking. Hinata’s bed was covered in blood, her left wrist was being treated by Sakura but you could still see the long and slim-cut along her wrist, Naruto was holding her other arm trying to put pressure on her wrist to stop the bleeding. It scared me, the amount of blood on herself and the bed, her light-headedness and indifference indicated that she had been bleeding for a long time. She waited for a moment in which I wasn’t there either, she wanted to escape me too. Had Naruto and Sakura been late they might have found her corpse instead. I left the room to calm myself down, I couldn’t cause a commotion. I tried my best to come up with kind and comforting words to tell her later when I would return to her room, but when I did, the image that greeted me, her arms strapped to the bed, made me lose my composure. I screamed at her, I can’t even recall what I said but I know it was very inappropriate, she laughed, she cried. Trying to comfort her with only one arm was difficult, that was the very first moment when I even considered accepting Tsunade’s offer, but in the end I didn’t. I spent every night that followed with her, after the initial shock I was able to recall the words I meant to give her, I knew they weren’t going to miraculously fix everything but I felt that she needed them nonetheless.

She apologized for considering that path and acting on her thoughts. I undid her chains and pulled her to my lap as she talked. “The moment my eyes moved past Naruto’s shoulders and I saw you in the door frame I regretted my choice, I wished I could undo it if only to never have to see that look on your face” I placed my face into her hair and just breathed her in. “I think I understand a little better now…what you felt when Itachi died, when you found out the truth. Our situations aren’t the same but I remember how…” she stopped, searching for the perfect word.

“Crazy? Unhinged? Mad?” I provided, but she frowned and shook her head.

“No, no, none of those…how anguished, sorrowful, wretched you were at the time. You come to me in a very agitated state, I was scared and concerned but couldn’t grasp that feeling. Now I do” If I’m honest I don’t remember how felt at the time, I don’t remember many things about that period of my life, all I know is that I wanted to give up, I thought I had made only wrong choices in my life, but I saw her and I remembered that even I could save someone.

After a few more nights she assured me that she was now mentally stable, her sadness was still very much present, but she had not had any self-harming thoughts. The decision to leave the village was very difficult at the time, but Hinata assured me that she enjoyed our routine and wished to continue it. I left but our correspondence was much more frequent than before the war, I would write her every other day and she’d reply as soon as my messages reached her. It took a bit over 3 months for her to resume her work as an ANBU, and a bit over 8 months in total to convince Kakashi to promote her to ANBU Black Ops. Her missions became more difficult and longer, she even had a mission in Amegakure that lasted half a year. When she first sent me the message informing me of the location of her mission it reminded me of our first encounter after I left the village. Our encounter that summer isn’t a memory I think of fondly, I was cruel, I was insane, I abused my knowledge of her trauma. Whenever I remember my actions, I want to go back and rewind the time, I want to apologize to 15-year-old Hinata, she was meek and fragile and I broke a part of her. She was doing her best to survive and to keep going and I was a huge obstacle in her recovery. When my feelings for her started changing I was always self-conscious whether they were genuine or not, wasn’t I using her? Wasn’t I just feeling guilty?

Hinata, age 15

I am nervous as I pack my bag for this mission, it is my first solo mission ever. 6 months after I became a Jonin and Tsunade finally trusts me enough to allow me to go alone in a mission. The destination is Amegakure and the mission is supposed to last for about to 3 weeks. The difficulty level of the mission is only B which I’d be pretty annoyed at, but the distance factor and the solo factor make up for it so, I am equally nervous and excited. When I told Neji about the mission he was concerned but didn’t show it much for my sake. Instead, he congratulated me and we had a small picnic in the outer skirt of the Hyuuga estate as celebration.

Now I am looking through my dresser for appropriate clothes for the rain to pack, I have to look for another set of kunais just in case and prepare myself a couple of bentos to have on hand. Slowly, the closer the night before my departure gets the less anxious I am, excitement seems to be the winning sentiment.

The morning of, I wake up at 4:30 a.m. and am unable to sleep longer. By the time I am fully dressed and ready to go it’s only 5:00 a.m. and the sun is barely raising, but I decide that it is light enough outside for me to leave. As always whenever I pass through the forest there’s a chill going through my veins and my enthusiasm is a bit dampened, I actively try and avoid that specific place even if it means it will add to the journey time. On the schedule, Tsunade gave me I’m meant to spend 8 days on the road to the village, approximately 4 or 5 days into the village and 8 more days back.

The mission itself isn’t supposed to be that difficult all I need to do is meet with different people in the village give them the scrolls Tsunade gave me and wait for their replies. All in all, there should be no fighting, I’m mostly a messenger but the large amount of people that need contacting made it impossible for a summon raven to deliver the scrolls. My adrenaline rush of being on my own, experiencing what freedom feels like made me speed up during the journey, I took less stops and didn’t even spend the night in one of the Inns I was supposed to. Thus, not only did I depart earlier than planned but I arrived into the village almost a day and a half ahead of the schedule. Since it’s still barely past noon I decide to start the mission a day early and I am able to cover a fifth of the task on the first day.

People usually when talking about Amegakure call it gloomy and depressing, but I enjoy walking around in the rain, the temperature isn’t too high despite it being the middle of a heatwave everywhere else, the smell and sounds of rain also add to its charm. The Inn I’m supposed to stay at for the duration of my mission is on the outside of the village, it is away from the noise of the centre, but not far out enough to say it isn’t part of the village at all. Walking into my room I sit down and finally grasp that I am days away from Konoha, I am alone. The realization makes me emotional; I hadn’t realized how much I needed to be on my own, how good it would feel to put distance between me and everything that Konoha entailed.

Sitting alone in the dark, only with the occasional lightning brightening up my room, I make a decision, I promise myself to only ever come on solo missions. I’ve endured years of discomfort so I deserved to feel this way, if only during missions. I take a shower and go to bed, I’m not as physically tired as I thought I would be after the journey and that worries me. I don’t want the nightmare to come and ruin my mood, but I close my eyes nonetheless.

It feels like barely a second passed when I open my eyes and see the cool light coming from outside. The sun is hidden behind the clouds of rain, but its light still pushes through to an extent. I had no dreams, no nightmares. I rested well and I feel better than I did in many years. I walk barefoot onto the cold wooden floor and I open the window, not caring that the rain is getting both me and the floor wet. I close my eyes and feel immensely liberated, the heavy chains that dragged me down at all times disappeared. Nobody here knows me and I don’t know them, I am but a face in the crowd, this anonymity offers me the independence I never knew before.

I complete the mission in under 3 days. I feel faster, stronger, happier here. It feels like I can do anything and everything. I have about 3 days I can waste in the village, under normal circumstances I’d return immediately to Konoha to get another mission and the cycle would repeat. But I decide to stay here for a while longer, I want to enjoy this feeling to the best of my ability. The day right after completing the mission I simply stay inside and sleep almost the whole day. I’m recharging my batteries which have been on low for 3 years now. I forgot what being well-rested felt like.

The following day I decide to wander around some more. The mission had me walk all over the village’s centre so, I decide to check out its outskirt more. I go and eat delicious food at a small booth owned by an older couple. Due to its relatively small scale Amegakure’s buildings are much much higher than those from Konoha so I climb on top of one that I deem to be among the highest and sit there, in the rain just watching the busy streets, looking over all the sky-high buildings and enjoying the feeling of being unrestrained by people’s gazes and expectations. For the smallest second, I feel someone’s gaze on me but I discard it as being the locals looking at the strange outsider that’s standing in the rain. I refuse to let my mood be dampened, not when I am just as high as this building is.

I return to the Inn and decide to take a shower, tomorrow is going to be my last day here and I feel like time is moving far too fast. I’m rinsing my hair when I get the same feeling as before, like someone is watching me. Before I can dismiss it again, I hear steps behind me, my mind goes blank. I’m suddenly turned around by a powerful hand, before closing my eyes I see a pair of black dead, unfeeling, cold, cruel, scary, scary, scary, scary eyes. I close my eyes and clench my jaw; I can feel tears trailing down my face. I’m hyperventilating, I can’t move, I’m weak, I’m small. I whimper when I feel his hand touching the scar right above my pelvis. The touch transports me back to when I’m 12 and on the ground, my legs no longer support me, the only reason why I’m still standing is because the man is holding my arm in an iron grip. The moment passes and his hand is gone allowing me to fall to my knees and then onto my butt. I have no idea how long I stay there in a trance. When I’m finally able to regain strength in my limbs to feel and make small movements I notice the shower water is freezing cold despite it being set to warm. I turn it off and walk into the room, there’s no trace of the man anymore, he didn’t do anything beyond touching my arm and my scar. Maybe he was simply created by my brain, yea no one was here, how could they be, why would they be.

I can feel myself slipping into hysteria as laughter bubbles up into my throat. I look around the room again searching for proof again and I sigh in relief when I find none. I’m finally calm enough to get dressed but I make the mistake of looking in the mirror. There’s a handprint on my arm where he gripped me. The print is red and turning a weird purple colour in places and yellow in others. He was here. He was real. I take small breaths in order to calm myself, I am fine, I am here, I can’t even picture the face of the man that was here, I try to force myself to forget the handprint, it was just a dream, another nightmare.

I pack my things and leave that very night despite being tired physically, mentally and emotionally. I don’t want to return to Konoha, and I can’t stay here, I don’t know where to go. The freedom I felt before gave me an amazing sense of accomplishment, but now it is a source of unease. I feel lost and like I do not belong anywhere. I feel insignificant. I feel lonely. I close my eyes and just sit on the floor outside of the village, waiting for something or someone to come get me. But nothing happens and the weather is turning cold despite the summer so I pick myself up and start walking wherever the road will take me.

I don’t remember the journey back home, I can’t even tell in how many days I completed it, I didn’t stop at all, I just ran. I ran from the man, the past, I ran from my weak self. I thought myself to be strong now that I am a Jonin, but I froze and was unable to do anything all the same. I need to be more than I am, I need to be stronger, braver, untouchable, more perceptive.

I hate myself for hesitating to enter the Konoha, I hate myself for hesitating to take on a new mission when Tsunade offers it. I hate myself when I have to walk through the halls of the Hyuuga compound, I hate myself when I hide from Neji. I hate myself when I walk into my room and burst into tears. I hate myself for getting my hope that high in Ame only to have them all crash and burn. I hate that I feel more broken today than I did 3 weeks ago.

Sasuke, age 16

I’ve been in a weird mood since a week ago when I saw Hyuuga in the Village Hidden in Rain. I hadn’t heard or seen anything related to Konoha since I left during the Chunnin exam. She was my first contact with it. Hinata Hyuuga, I remember her name clearly, she holds a special meaning to me, she is a life I saved. I saved her back before I was caught up in any business with Orochimaru, when I still thought following Kakashi was the right path to take, back when I was stupid and naïve. I hadn’t thought of her since that moment, but when my eyes fell onto her, I felt proud that she survived, but I also felt the need, the urge to utterly crush her beneath my feet. Her life belongs to me; I saved her so, I have every right to destroy her.

I could tell she was uncomfortable with me there, I felt her flinch as I traced the scar above her pelvis, I heard her whimper when I turned around, and I saw from the corner of my eye, as her legs have in and she fell to the floor. She looked small and pathetic and I felt strong in comparison.

However, now, days later I feel…guilt. I feel as if I used something against her that I shouldn’t have. At the time her image was blurry and not something I paid attention to, but I can clearly see it now whenever I close my eyes. He white skin had almost no imperfections besides the three scars, her eyes were shut tight, her face was red and wet, at the time I gloated at the thought that the water droplets were tears, now I’m hoping they were from the shower. Her long dark hair was wet and clinging to her body. She did her best to hide from me with her hands, with her position slightly bent. She was helpless, she didn’t even try to stop me, she didn’t scream or fight back, she froze in place and allowed me to do whatever I wanted. At the time that too made me feel powerful, I deluded myself into thinking that my presence as Sasuke Uchiha made her cower in fear. Now that I am analysing things once more, I realize it was her trauma that rendered her powerless, it was my presence that caused her fear, but she wasn’t scared of me, Sasuke, but rather of me, a male; she didn’t see me as an individual but as the image of the man that hurt her in the past.

Realizing that in her mind I was equal to that disgusting piece of trash makes me livid. I clench my jaw, pick up the first thing I see, a jar of whatever substance from one of Orochimaru’s labs and I throw it to the wall. The green liquid escapes its container and slowly eats away at the wall and ground, the sizzling noise and putrid smell don’t even bother me. I’m angry at her, I want to find her and scream in her face that I’m not that man. I wanna shake her until she understands. I am mad at her, at myself. Kabuto comes in and curses, he drags me out and talks under his breath, his presence adds to my anger.

“What do you want?” I ask him, I’m looking down at him. I grew taller these past few weeks, taller than him. I want him to pick a fight, I want a reason to smash his face in. The image of his bloody face as he lays unconscious on the ground would bring me the satisfaction I need. He looks mockingly at me, that’s enough to start a fight.

Less than 20 minutes later the fight is over, he’s not unconscious, he’s still standing, more precisely, walking away. But he is bleeding and so am I. The fight didn’t help. I still feel angry, but my anger is slowly being overshadowed by guilt.

The sudden urge to find her and apologize overcomes me, but I dismiss it. She’s long gone…I checked. The two of us won’t meet anytime soon and even if we do, I’ll never apologize, not to her, not to someone that…weak…

Hinata age 22

After sleeping in until 11 after all, I wake up to Sasuke’s face next to mine, I feel at ease, I feel happy. I cup his face and place a kiss over his closed eyelids. I feel his change in breath when he wakes up but his eyes remain closed. His arm comes around my waist and pulls me closer to him, slowly he opens his eyes and offers me a lazy smirk. For a while I forget that we’re in Konoha, I forget everything about people trying to control me. All my worries just disappear with his presence.

“What are you thinking about?” he asks and brushes my bangs out of my eyes. ‘You’ I want to say, but I decide to be selfish instead. I sit up and he does too, I move towards him and place myself on his lap, we are chest to chest, face-to-face. “I am unsure how long they’ll make me stay here. This... sensei job…they could stretch it for months, who knows.” I hate that that’s true, I hate that they’re trying to cage me into the village. “it’s difficult being here for an indefinite period of time, especially since I don’t have out missions to look forward to. So…” I stop talking, rethinking what I’m about to ask, wondering if it’s worth it, but he looks at me with no judgement, he’s waiting patiently. “So…I was thinking. Maybe being here in Konoha would be better…if you were here as well” Part of me initially regrets the words and wants to take them back.

“You want me to stay here until you can go back to your normal missions” he didn’t formulate it as a question so I didn’t reply, mostly because I didn’t trust myself not to say no, to act like it was a joke, so I stay silent. “Ok, I will” his hand is on my wrist and it’s slowly moving up under my tank top. “You should already know that anything you ask of me, I’ll do Hinata” I do know that, but this was something that I had been afraid to ask for a while. Would staying in Konoha be better with him here? It must be.

We talk some more about his stay in Konoha and then proceed to eat a late breakfast. “I passed by the cottage outside of Amegakure on my way to Konoha” that cottage will forever represent my safe space, all my memories in it are out-of-this-world happy. The cottage itself is pretty much outside every territory of every village, it belongs to nobody, yet that’s the place I feel I belong in. I stayed there for my thirst or fourth mission as an ANBU, as usual Sasuke met up with me and we live together there for months. Sasuke and I worked together for most of my missions, we completed them faster than it was estimated they would take and we spent the remaining of the time just being together outside of all the rules of everyone. That was the place in which after much deliberation and inner-fights I decided to put my trust in him. By then we had already expressed our feelings verbally and with actions such as kisses and hugs, but I wanted to move past that because I craved that closeness with someone, I wanted a stronger bond between us, but also out of spite, I wanted to prove that I was able to enjoy sex. I wanted to prove that what had happened no longer affected me. Out first time was a bit awkward, we were both virgins, Sasuke was overly conscious of making me feel comfortable and I just wanted it to be done with so our desired speed didn’t match, but it happened and it was fine. The second and third time around it was much better and now we reached a point in which intimacy with him doesn’t scare me in the least, I love it and it makes me feel amazing. I am aware that I’m not fully over the incident, the close proximity of strange men that I don’t know still bothers me at times, however, I am much stronger and able to protect myself, I am just...wary.

I end my train of thoughts by going back to the memory of our first time and it makes me giggle a little. Sasuke asks me with his eyes what I’m laughing about and my reply is only a smirk, I see the wheels spinning in his brain and the connections being made. I love that after so many years we’re able to just understand each other in this manner. He gets up from his chair and walks around the table to place his hand on the nape of my neck. “I can show you how much I’ve improved since than” he whispers and bends down to kiss me. I smile against his lips and loop my arms around his neck allowing him to pick me up.

I must have fallen asleep again because I am woken up this time by Naruto loudly knocking on my door. He left me alone yesterday because Sasuke was around but I guess even his long-lost best friend can’t keep his attention off of me for more than 24 hours. I look next to me and my heart hurts because Sasuke isn’t there. I tell myself it’s because he felt Naruto so he left, but I still don’t like that.

Naruto keep knocking on the door and I’m sure he’s about to tear it down if I don’t open it soon so I walk to it in my pjs with my hair a mess. When I open the door, he stops in his tracks. “Oh…” his eyes linger onto the scar on my shoulder, he has an obsession with it I’ve noticed. Does he believe that’s my biggest scar…if only he knew. “I didn’t know you were sleeping, I’m sorry”

“After yesterday’s mission the kids have the day off so I wanted to rest” I don’t assure him that it is ok even though I know that’s the polite thing to do. I am bitter and annoyed that Sasuke isn’t there. For a split moment when I woke up, I thought I had imagined his presence.

“I just wanted to bring these to you.” He says and presents me with a pile of papers. “I know you were given them before when Kakashi assigned you as their sensei” hah, like it was Kakashi’s idea. Hokage-sama wouldn’t have pushed me into being a sensei from a Black Ops and we all know that. I know Naruto pulled all of the strings to get me here, however, Kakashi-san is also to blame for allowing all of this to happen “but I think you should really read them well, you said you have a free day today. I can stay here with you and read them together”

I look at him and his easy-going smile. On normal days I’d try and be nice, but all I want to do today is spend my time in peace. “I heard Uchiha-san is back. Are you sure you want to spend the day with me reading about some kids rather than catch up with him?” I feel sorry for guiding Naruto towards Sasuke, but I know Sasuke and if he’s one thing, he’s good at not being found.

Upon hearing Sasuke’s name Naruto’s smile brightened to the extent that it actually hurt my eyes. “I already saw and talked to him today” He left before Naruto came here, was it before we ate? After? When did they meet? “We talked and agreed to go on a mission together this week” He’s leaving after I asked him to stay “We went to Kakashi and already got all the info, so I’ll spend a lot of time together with him and find out all about what he’s been up to in these years and I ---” Naruto keeps talking but I feel suffocated.

#sasuhina #sasuhina month #sasuhina month 2021 #sa survivor #sasuhinamonth2021 #shmonth #shmonth2021 #shino #hinata #susake uchiha #hinata hyuuga #uchiha #hyuuga #sasuhina facfic #fanfic #fanfiction #dia story #diawrites

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mc-critical · 4 years ago

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So I honestly thought of this ask from the Dilruba ask you got that spoke about Safiye’s idolization of Hürrem and Nurbanu. It makes me think, I felt like in observing Safiye’s character, she exhibited a phenomenon in which you’ve spoke of before, in which she reached a point of her life where she completely internalized and became the toxicity in her enviornment. I feel like she put Hürrem and Nurbanu on such a pedestal (especially with Nurbanu having treated her so terribly) is because she adapted a Social darwanist mindset of sorts which caused her to firmly believe that those who were/are “strong/worthy” were those who succeeded within the system by any means necessary, even if that meant killing and harming even those closest to them. It felt to me almost as if she came to “understand” Nurbanu’s stance towards her or even sympathized with it albeit in a strange, traumatized way? Or when she wanted to pass down her ring to Kösem after she suceeded in killing Iskender, it was almost like she wanted to congratulate Kösem on being able to kill her son. It’s interesting, like her entire moral compass was completely warped having been in the harem for so long and in unlike any way I can recall seeing on other sultanas in either franchise. I don’t remember Mahi/Hürrem coming to idolize Hafsa later in their lives but this could also be because the SOW time period was still relatively fresh in their time and Hafsa may not have wielded or exhibited as much power as Nurbanu may have as a valide sultan. What do you think?

Yes, Safiye as a character is the embodiment of these destrustive philosophies to the extreme. The toxic system leaves no one untouched and she is indeed one of the characters in the SOW and in the franchise overall that is the most affected by it.

Unlike Hürrem and Nurbanu, where we get a solid exploration of what exactly made them this way, with Safiye we have the philosophy set at the very start, her introduction sets many things clear. We know that she loves power. We know that she wants to keep that power until the end of time. Her role as an antagonist is revealed immediately in her unwillingness to give up her power. One may find her a little less multi-faceted, precisely because her motivations were more vague than the rest- we don't get anything outright with her, we don't get much insight. We're left to figure things out by ourselves. That doesn't make her a cardboard cut out however, given that we have very vague reasoning, but with enough context to see what's behind it. I find her "backstory" counterpart very interesting in that she could only be used to drive a contrast between MC E139 Safiye and MCK Safiye, be presented as the former shadow of Safiye's self, what she has previously been. With only a single scene we technically have her foundation, but what is retroactively set-up (her worship of Hürrem aside) is completely turned on its head. MC E139 Safiye is perceptive that one day you have to step out of power, but that's the primary dilemma of MCK Safiye, the very thing she refuses to do. It's hinted that she has had many, too many years of power in the harem and it's not only something she has become used to, it's much more than that: it's as if she's had this power her whole life. The prospect of her losing it has become truly unthinkable, out of reach. She has gained an self-image of greatness that would always "sustain" the castle and preserve its life force. She's accustomed to endless, limitless power. She has set her own network of people. She loves every aspect of this power: both the simple and the complex stuff, from her long morning routine to her orchestrating things from the inside. Her power as a concept alone is her whole being and I don't think she ever separated herself from her royal demeanor. She is always power and majesty and splendor everywhere, from her dresses, to her mannerisms, to her constant addressing of herself as "we", taken from European courts.

I agree that she values power as something for herself and something that is hers by right, not for the advantages or disadvantages it may bring. Safiye doesn't care about that: as long as she's there and in power, it would all be fine, it would be enough. Safiye has her own distorted understanding of applying power: she speaks constantly about the dynasty and the country (just like many sultanas), but she leaves them aside completely when she's threatened. And she doesn't view what she does as morally right, she's always ready to play dirty in order to maintain her own accomplishments and to outplay everyone else. She actually resorts to dirtier and dirtier tricks the more she loses her power. I did mention when paralleling and contrasting her with Kösem in another ask of yours that Safiye, unlike Kösem, doesn't focus her efforts on reaching out to the people, she is a lone wolf when it comes to power and she is projecting indisputable superiority on everyone she's in front of. The closest relationship she has is with Bülbül and even that is merely an addition to Safiye and the result of him being the person always next to her and fills all her whims much more than it is all genuine affection. The Darwinian philosophy is what she lives by; and the notion that she gave the ring to Kösem because of her starting to respect another person's own power except for her own, admitting that someone has outplayed her, doing it only because someone has outplayed her, is really important. Her arc was about finally accepting defeat after deluding herself for so long that no one could truly eclipse her, but then again, has she gotten completely over her toxic environment? Hardly. Because once again, by giving the ring, she symbolically continues the SOW cycle that has, in the show, many toxic aspects especially when it comes to power. Safiye could respect people only when they keep up for longer than she anticipates, have been tied up to her in a more "unconventional" way and have a (previously and contemporarily) good position on the hierarchy. She did accept Kösem as a rival at the end of the day, in part probably because she started off as someone loyal to Safiye and evolved way past that, but didn't accept Handan, because she couldn't face it that someone like her, someone she perceived as weaker, can now rule over her. I saw Safiye as someone finding disobedience from a person previously loyal to her more challanging than a permanent, irreparable change of the hierarchy she is strongly dissatisfied with. Her elitism is so strong that she doesn't go past it even when there is a change in position. She doesn't get over that biased, stereotypical thinking.

She worships this Darwinist philosophy in Hürrem, that she's the strongest survivor, that she has prevailed over her opponents, without having the chance to know the bigger picture and has heard only the banter of someone who is still biased to her after all (Mihrimah). She shares this philosophy with S02B post-E59 and S04 Hürrem in even scarier extremes and that's what she has set as an example for herself. It's true that she takes this mindset from this cult to Hürrem, too. This very disrupting cult of hers. But then again, I never saw her sympathizing with Nurbanu, per say? She's perfectly able to acknowledge Nurbanu's cruelty and correct me if I'm wrong, but the only praise I recall for her is her being the most beautiful (but the cruelest) sultana she's ever known? Which in no way indicates sympathy. But I wouldn't brush off at all Safiye viewing fer experiences with Nurbanu as the twist of fate, in which she has prevailed after all, but could acknowledge the ones before her. (but not after her, Kösem aside.) Safiye isn't that kind of person that would show in any way that she has experienced trauma, but she could've brushed said trauma even deeper within than other characters, to the point that her direction even would never ever indirectly hint at it, keeping her usual regality in check.

[Hürrem did say she set Valide as her own example in her last words to her in E61, but I get how it could be missed when she also lamented their previous, not so good experiences and told her about Nigar and Ibrahim, which put an end to Valide's life. Mahidevran, on the other hand, never mentioned Valide post-S03 outside of saying that they would bury Fatma in Ayşe Hafsa's mosque (was it?). They both mourned her death, but interestingly enough, both of them have "violated" her memory in some way by wanting her chambers. Mahidevran wanted the chambers to set her own model in the castle during her harem ruling period, while Hürrem wanted it to show she could one-up everyone, for them to respect her the way she thought she deserved. There truly wasn't this worship to such extent as in MCK, also because it presented the beginning of the SOW rather than the peak of it. There wasn't much to blindly praise there, hence the effect wouldn't be as strong.]

#magnificent century #muhteşem yüzyıl #muhtesem yuzyil #magnificent century: kösem #muhteşem yüzyıl kösem #muhtesem yuzyil kosem #safiye sultan #ask #stuffandthangs

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jeongyunhoed · 4 years ago

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I’ve Got a Crush on You (a surprise)

I’ve got a crush on you sweetie pie All the day and night-time give me sign I never had the least notion that I could fall with so much emotion

Could you coo, could you care For a cunning cottage we could share The world will pardon my mush ‘Cause I have got a crush on you

Member: Wooyoung Genre: Fluff, singing, dancing, all that jazz (again!)

Things to note: Another one-shot to make us all feel single, a lot of dancing (ballroom, tap), musical actress! lead, established relationship (?) kind of

A/N: I’m back at it with a musical-themed piece. This is also a way for me to just get out of a writing rut as I haven’t really been actively updating lately and I feel bad about it. But here is something I hope people like?

s/o to @closer-stars and @barsformars !

Wooyoung quietly stood by the threshold of the practice room he knew she would be in. It was hard to miss as it was the only practice room where the noises were purposely coming from the hardwood floors, caused by metal-soled shoes with its wearer being, dare he say it out loud for everyone to know, the love of his life.

She was back in the practice room to go over her routines in another musical she was cast in, but except she was back in a supporting role. Flying Down to Rio was the name, and she didn’t mind being a supporting role again. She loved the movie, and to be cast in its Korean musical adaptation was an honor in itself. It was an opportunity she didn’t dare miss and to her surprise, the directorial team of that musical felt the same way about her. Ever since she broke out in Top Hat and in the Astaire-Rogers musicals that followed, she had become one of those musical stars that directors just HAD to cast. Her performances even caught the attention of people overseas.

As Wooyoung quietly watched her, being careful not to get caught by her, a big smile crept on his face. He was proud of her and for what she achieved. He had no doubts in his mind that she would do well. Maybe he was biased, incredibly biased, but he knew everyone would think the same, even if he would catch himself getting jealous of her co-star, who would obviously do Fred Astaire - a name that would come up in their conversations about dance a lot - justice.

What he didn’t know was, she was aware he was standing by and watching her the whole time. She figured she’d give him what was probably the surprise he would never see coming. She stopped the song that was playing, a smirk on her face as she played another song, a whole other song that seemed incredibly far out of the genre she danced to.

Wooyoung looked like a deer caught in the headlights when the familiar strumming of a guitar suddenly played. It was their song, and she was tapping her feet to it, keeping up with the beats and adding her own flourish to every move she executed, even including some of their choreography. Never in his life did he imagine a version of their song being danced in this manner. He was so entranced by what he was seeing that before he knew it, the song had ended and she was standing in the middle of the practice room, catching her breath a little from what she just did.

Before she could register what was going on, a pair of arms enveloped her in an embrace, and Wooyoung had attacked her cheek with kisses, making her giggle. “Ya! That was so good! How did you- When did you- That was really good! Why didn’t you tell me you did something like this?!” He could only ask so many questions out of excitement.

“Well, seeing as I felt like I was boring you with all the talk of Fred Astaire, Gene Kelly, and Ginger Rogers, I thought I’d try something new and- ta-da?” She laughed, a little too loudly before he kissed her, overcome with such affection and emotion.

“You could never bore me with that talk, especially as I can see what else you dance to now,” Wooyoung was unable to hide how moved he was and how proud he was of her.

“Oh, one more thing,” She said, grinning.

“What?”

“That was all improvised.”

As if Wooyoung wasn’t already surprised, he was now and he held her tighter, ticking her sides. “Improvised?! You improvised that whole thing?” He laughed, peppering her face with more kisses.

#kdiner #ateez #ateez fluff #ateez scenarios #ateez timestamps #wooyoung #jung wooyoung #ateez wooyoung #clearly i write more wooyoung than yunho #there might be something

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robininthelabyrinth · 5 years ago

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I need to know what u think of an AU where JC is the one who dies (sacrificing his life to save WWX) instead of JYL, he’s not as angry with WWX bc JYL is still alive so when he sees his brother about to get murdered he just steps in front of him while JYL and WWX see :) I don’t even know what I want u to do with this? Give me some headcanons? Is it a prompt? Idk I just want u to to see what u make of this (I promise JC is my fav but my mind likes to make me suffer :p)

It wasn’t a matter of conscious thought when Jiang Cheng threw himself between that cultivator’s sword and Wei Wuxian’s unguarded back, all his defenses down in the face of Jiang Yanli’s pleading, same as always; it was just instinct. Wei Wuxian was always the troublemaker, the crazy one, and Jiang Cheng always the one being dragged along; he’d long ago learned to spend all his time watching his shixiong’s back, keeping him away from dogs, away from angry shopkeepers, away from any harm. It was instinct, just as it had been the day he’d thrown himself out into the street to distract the Wens, and he’d always justified that instinct because he knew that Wei Wuxian would do the same for him.

Though – he didn’t know that anymore, not after everything that happened recently. Wei Wuxian had made him all the promises in the world, to stand by his side through wind and lightning, and he’d seemed to have no issue abandoning those promises, picking the remnants of the Wen sect over the remnants of the Jiang sect without a moment’s hesitation and not even the courtesy of an explanation.

The Yiling Patriarch was all but a stranger to him, and Jiang Cheng still didn’t understand why.

So it was probably stupid of him to react as if the person being stabbed at was Wei Wuxian, not the Yiling Patriarch – stupid of him to give up his life for someone who didn’t care about him nearly as much as Jiang Cheng cared for him.

But that’s why it wasn’t a thought. It was instinct.

He heard someone scream “Jiang Cheng!” as if their heart were breaking, and he thought for a moment that it was Wei Wuxian again, the one who loved him best. Wei Wuxian, not the Yiling Patriarch, who threw him to the dogs over and over again, put his sect at risk of utter destruction a second time over, just to indulge himself and his bizarre fixation on saving the Wens at the expense of everyone else. Who didn’t care about their duty to their sect, to their parents - who didn’t care about him at all.

Jiang Cheng’s heart hurt. It was probably just the sword that’d just been driven through it, though.

Hands grasped at his clothing, pulling him back; his sister’s face had lost all blood, and Wei Wuxian looked as if his world had ended – he wasn’t sure why. Jiang Yanli had her son to care for, a new life in Lanling that she refused to abandon even if Jin Zixuan was now gone; Wei Wuxian had his Wens, his new cultivation – perhaps it was some little regret, far too late, for the Jiang sect that would now come to grief, leaderless, the end of their family line and the disappointment of their ancestors. Jiang Cheng’s final and most absolute failure.

Jiang Cheng looked at them both, the ones he loved the most and who had left him without a single glance backwards, and found with his last breath that he had nothing to say to them.

He closed his eyes so they wouldn’t have to.

The battlefield was full of corpses, and Jiang Yanli didn’t care about a single one of them.

“Do you think he can be brought back, the way Wen Ning was?” she asked, holding the corpse in her arms as if it were still the baby brother she sang songs to as a child, the little crybaby who was so fierce on the outside and so soft on the inside. She had been able to lie to herself with Jin Zixuan’s body – he almost looked as though he were sleeping, head on the pillow beside her own – but Jiang Cheng had never slept well in his life, his brow always furrowed as if he was worrying about something even in his dreams, and the blank peace on his face was so wrong that she couldn’t bear to look at him.

She wasn’t asking Wei Wuxian.

Wei Wuxian had only stopped the massacre when Lan Wangji, of all unlikely people, had bodily tackled him; everyone had always said that the Second Jade was like oil and water with her A-Xian, but he’d unexpectedly taken their side in this battle and was even now letting a barely-conscious Wei Wuxian sob Jiang Cheng’s name into his collar. He looked silently at her, his gaze a quiet reminder that her question was inappropriate – one Ghost General had already been enough to cause all of this tragedy, and certainly no one would ever accept another as a sect leader.

She looked steadily back at him, indicating in return that she didn’t give a damn about the standing of the Jiang sect if it meant she wouldn’t have to bury her baby brother.

Lan Wangji hesitated, looking down at Wei Wuxian. “You cannot stay at Yiling,” he finally said. “After this…”

They’d killed people from virtually every sect; no matter who had sympathized with Wei Wuxian before this or how much they felt he was wronged, they would have no choice but to raise up arms against him.

Jiang Yanli understood. They would be fugitives, condemned by all. She didn’t care. “Will you help us?”

He nodded and stood, Wei Wuxian cradled as gently in his arms as she held Jiang Cheng in hers.

“Will you come with us?” she asked. Anyone who loved her brother enough to defy his sect, to stain his untainted blade with the blood of his own kin, deserved a chance to court him properly, if she hadn’t misunderstood his intentions; she didn’t think she had, not with the expression so clear on his silent face.

“I will help you,” he said, and that wasn’t an answer, wasn’t the one she wanted, but it would have to do for now. “Let us go.”

It was Jin Zixuan who figured it out, oddly enough. Perhaps it was because he was an outsider, looking at the situation without affection to blur his eyes.

“You gave him your golden core,” he said, less than a week into his resurrection – Lan Wangji had been very efficient in his help, not only finding a new place to hide Jiang Yanli and the remaining Wens but also returning to Lanling to steal Jin Zixuan’s corpse and little Jin Ling before returning to his own sect at the first sign that Wei Wuxian would awaken from his coma. He hadn’t sent word since that time, whether from regret or other reasons; their only consolation was that there was no news of his death. “That’s why you couldn’t do anything other than demonic cultivation – is that right?”

Wei Wuxian looked at him through blood-red eyes. “Get lost,” he said; the phrase made up the majority of his vocabulary, these days, and because he refused to curse his shijie he mostly ended up not talking to her at all.

“Wen Qing was a famous doctor – she could have figured out a way to do it, and that would explain why you felt so indebted to them,” Jin Zixuan continued. “You never told him because you didn’t want to burden him. But instead you left him without any reason, any explanation: he must have felt that you abandoned him because you didn’t want him.”

“Get lost!”

“You broke his heart,” he said, and looked down at Jiang Cheng’s body – still perfectly preserved, but unmoving. The resurrection spell had already failed three times. “No wonder he doesn’t want to return.”

“I did it for him!” Wei Wuxian screamed, tears of blood dripping down his cheeks. “He didn’t – he wouldn’t – he has to come back!”

Jin Zixuan said nothing.

They ended up back in Yunmeng, rather unexpectedly; the new leadership of the Lotus Pier, a distant branch cousin who’d survived the massacre because he’d been night-hunting elsewhere, had all but begged Jiang Yanli to return. Against all odds her reputation had survived the massacre at the Nightless City; the loving wife, sister, and shijie that nearly sacrificed herself to save what lives she could and to banish the dreadful Yiling Patriarch who was never seen again from that day forth – she was very nearly regarded as an incarnation of the goddess of mercy.

She had no idea where that ridiculous notion came from, but it did mean that she could live in Lotus Pier again, with Jin Ling by her side – she’d told Jin Guangshan to name someone else as his heir, or at minimum as regent; the Jiang sect needed her and her son more. It wouldn’t have worked if Jin Zixuan hadn’t snuck into his mother’s room to convince Madam Jin to throw her support behind it; officially he was still in his tomb, since Lan Wangji had been very subtle, but in fact he lived within shouting distance of the Lotus Pier, spending his days playing with his son.

They all did, actually, the whole lot of them resettled into a tiny adjacent water town populated largely by civilians that relied on the Jiang sect for their prosperity. As long as Wei Wuxian never did anything, which he didn’t, the illusion that he was gone for good in a cloud of self-destruction after his terrible massacre could be maintained; no one expected they could possibly be so daring as to simply go home after all of it.

Lan Wangji was in seclusion, they were eventually told; Wei Wuxian hadn’t believed it for one second, smuggling himself into Gusu to check – he’d come back unconscious, slung over Jin Zixuan’s shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

“Struck by the discipline whip,” her husband, the fierce corpse that wasn’t fierce at all, said, and didn’t comment when she instinctively reached out to touch Jiang Cheng’s body, to trace the scar he had; she often spent her days next to the bed that preserved his corpse. “Many times; his body is ruined. It will take years for him to heal – the Lan sect saying he was in seclusion was their way of saving face. Wei Wuxian wants to bring him back to the Lotus Pier to hide him.”

Jiang Yanli rubbed her face, thinking not for the first time that the world would be an easier place if only her two brothers weren’t so stubborn. One who wouldn’t wake up, his spiritual consciousness all in pieces; the other who wouldn’t give up – “The Lan sect wouldn’t accept that.”

“He wasn’t planning on asking. That’s why I knocked him out. Anyway, they’re distracted with the Xue Yang matter now – my father’s still insisting on protecting him, and the Nie sect gets angrier about it by the day; without the Jiang sect, there’s only the Lan to play peacemaker, stop there from being another war.”

Jiang Yanli, who was very nice but also very much not the goddess of mercy, tilted her head to the side; something of her mother was in her eyes. “A war would be a good cover, though, or at least the rumblings of one. If we were going to steal Lan Wangji away from his sect, that is.”

He kissed her forehead. “I’ll sneak into Lanling to talk to my mother, maybe see if I can follow Xue Yang and see what he’s up to. You go talk to the Nie.”

Jiang Yanli’s visit to the Unclean Realm turned out to be more fruitful than anyone had expected. The moment she walked into Nie Mingjue’s receiving room, her Jiang sect bell rang so hard that it shattered, which it definitely hadn’t done during the war – they both stared at it wordlessly for a while.

Eventually, he cleared his throat, averting his eyes. “You know my family history,” he offered as an explanation, embarrassment at the public revelation of his problem already turning to anger but suppressed by his strict adherence to etiquette.

“That’s no family history,” she said, bemused, as she crouched down to poke at the pieces. “The silver bell of the Jiang sect can steady focus and calm the mind, and the ones made for the family are the strongest by far; it would only shatter like this in the effort to resist a spiritual poison…how are you feeling now, Sect Leader Nie?”

He considered for a long moment, and his face grew black with rage. “Better. I feel – like my mind has been filled with fog, and a clear breeze has blown it clear.”

She smiled up at him. “Perhaps you should visit Yunmeng.”

He scowled, and she realized he must know about Wei Wuxian’s presence, though she wasn’t sure how; despite that, in the end, after a roaring argument with Nie Huaisang in another room, he agreed to go, even if the idea of staying willfully blind clearly pained him to the core.

Jiang Yanli quietly approved of his decision to put family over principle.

When they put their mind to it, the Nie sect had an underrated talent for saying ‘I don’t know’ to just about everything. Neither brother blinked an eye at the Wen sect remnants that still teetered every time they went on a boat, very clearly not Yunmeng locals; they politely greeted Jin Zixuan as if he’d only been gone a while and not murdered; much to his older brother’s very evident irritation, Nie Huaisang even leapt over to give Wei Wuxian an enthusiastic hug while Nie Mingjue was still talking with Jin Zixuan about what it meant that Jin Guangshan had hidden away the still intact Wen Ning, who Jin Zixuan had found in a hidden part of Koi Tower during his most recent visit and immediately liberated.

“Definitely a case of spiritual poisoning,” Wei Wuxian said after a short examination, and the most reliable doctor they had left in the Jiang sect concurred. “The silver bell can help a little –”

They’d already shattered seven of them, but Nie Mingjue had actually cracked a smile for the first time in months, to hear a sobbingly relieved Nie Huaisang tell it.

“–but it can only help so much; that technique is really only meant for acute cases. And you really need to figure out what was doing the poisoning; there’s no point in curing you if you’re only going to get poisoned again.”

“A matter for a later time,” Nie Mingjue, who clearly had some suspicions that made him look as though he’d been stabbed in the back, said. “Now that we know it’s a poisoning, and my mind is clearer, I can take some action myself – the Nie have plenty of techniques to stabilize the spirit.”

Wei Wuxian’s smile was full of self-hatred, as it always was these days. “I don’t suppose any of those are designed to work on the dead.”

“Actually,” Nie Huaisang said. “Several are. Why do you ask?”

Jiang Cheng opened his eyes.

#mdzs #jiang cheng #wei wuxian #jiang yanli #lan wangji #nie mingjue #nie huaisang #jin zixuan #my fic #my fics #congrats!#you get a full ficlet #this one just wouldn't stop writing

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