#damn i love librarian! reader so much | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sunnami · 10 months ago

Text

❝time will tell.❞

[credits to the original artist of the photo!! can't seem to find their @ anywhere. title is taken from jane austen's persuasion, as was the first part.]

summary. ❝you are loved. and harry thinks there is no better description that that.❞

pairing/s. poly!mauraders + lily x reader.

word count. 9.5k.

tags. reader is referred to mum, with she/her pronouns[!], canon-typical violence [!], canon-typical deaths mentioned[!], very brief marauders as soldiers of the order[!], creepy old men being creepy[!], child abuse[!], pureblood arranged marriages, a minor character expresses wanting to die[!], Depressed and Traumatized Slytherins, the capital is important[!], themes of misogyny [!], teen boys fuck around and find out there are consequences to their actions, THERE IS ACTUALLY A LOT OF FLUFF, I PROMISE YOU, angst, children lose their baby teeth up until the age of twelve!! google said so!! not proofread we die like dobby the free elf

note. damn, i cried, you cried, we all crode. tbh, the first part was only intended as a oneshot, sdfkhdf, but when i re-read it, i thought that i could have expanded on more details,, so now here we are!! i love it more than the first part ueueue. thank you all so so so much for the kind comments :((( please please enjoy the second part to this installment!! part one

HARRY JAMES POTTER was only a few months old when you died at the hands of Voldemort — or as strangers have told him every time they ravaged his personal space and ogled at his scar. They said it was a quick death, better than what had happened to Alice and Frank Longbottom. But that was all they’ve ever said about your death. Unfortunate; caught in the wrong place at the wrong time, entirely different from the pedestal James and Lily have been put on by the wizarding society.

At first, Harry had wondered if it was due to your blood relations, being the daughter of a renowned Death-Eater, heiress to the fortune of a pureblood House. Harry can’t even count the amount of conspiracy theories he’s read or heard to his face that it must have been you who betrayed James and Lily, and not Sirius Black.

Even Hermione’s shared to him a theory that your death was faked to surrender your loyalty completely to Voldemort — of course, Hermione was eleven at the time, head full of books and her favorite theories, and Harry’s already forgiven her. But there’s a part of him that despises the way he’s never known the full truth about his parents, just bits of information dangled in front of him like bait for people [read: the Dursleys] to get him to do what they want, to act like the way they want. Until Remus and Sirius, you were a stranger to him, really.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1976; CURRENTLY, IN THE PAST.)

IT IS RATHER UNFORTUNATE that Madam Pince has already taken her position as the unbearable librarian at this point in time. The woman gives Harry and you a pointed look as you slam the large book onto one of the tables — to Harry’s surprise, you glare right back at her. You’re awfully flushed, however, blushing cheeks betraying the fire in your eyes; it must have been from when Remus escorted the two of you to the library; he had tried to brush your hand with his pinky, to which you had responded with a startled hiss — Remus only smiled and chuckled at you, and Harry swears he’d like to forget that entire interaction because he saw literal stars in Remus’s eyes.

Jumping back in time and potentially causing chaos? Fun.

Meeting your parents? Definitely fun, in the strangest of ways.

But watching them pine and fall for each other? Not so fun.

Nonetheless, he hesitantly takes the seat across yours and watches you flip through the pages until you land on a chapter with the large, bold letters: THE CURIOUS CASE OF ELOISE MINTUMBLE — Time-Travel and Its Many Dangers. He meets your gaze with a sheepish grin, mustering a look of innocence; except the puppy dog eyes only worked when he was nine — you are not amused.

You slide the book towards him, scarily resembling Molly Weasley when she’s miffed with the twins. “You are aware, right, that just by existing here you’ve changed the future? Your future? And, that’s not even the worst thing that could happen.”

Harry sulks. “Yes, mum.” He prefers not to think about it, actually, it makes his head hurt.

“Don’t call me that in public!” You whisper heatedly, looking over your shoulder to check if anyone had heard him — to your luck, the library was empty, save for a Hufflepuff that was passed out on top of his books. “The less people that know about this, the better. It’s bad enough we told Potter about you. Do you even know what you’re going to do?”

“Considering I was thrown here against my will, no.” Harry shrugs. “And to be honest, I was just going to obliviate the people who asked too many questions.”

You reach over to smack his head, scowling.

“Ow! That hurt!” Harry rubs the sore spot as he grumbles petulantly. “This is technically child abuse, did you know that?”

You roll your eyes. “Do you at least have a plan to get home?”

“Of course I do,” Harry retorts with a scoff, “Her name is Hermione Granger.”

“Hopeless.” You groan exasperatedly. “Absolutely hopeless.”

Harry only grins in response. For a brief moment, he forgets about the present — his reality where the skies are bleak and home is where he knows the feeling of loss more than the warmth of his own parents’ embrace. He lets himself forget, and pretends he isn’t the Boy Who Lived. Just some random boy who’s pestering his mother — even if she likes to deny the inevitability of being romanced by the Marauders, (except for Wormtail because Harry would eat troll slime before he ever lets that happen.)

“Right then,” You say after your tangent — which Harry tuned out when he hears the words, be responsible. “If I’m going to help you get back home—”

Harry’s heart drops to his stomach; as selfishly as it sounds, he didn’t want to go home just yet — not to where people just took and took from him. He’s exhausted. Still, he puts up a front of being excited to be returned to his timeline. It’s for the greater good, of course, because his existence — present or past — is always somehow a threat to the wizarding society.

“—you need to answer this one question for me.” Your voice drops lower as you stare at him intently, lips pressed firmly.

Harry nods slowly. “As long as it’s within reason, yeah.”

You inhale sharply. “Do I outlive Dolores Umbridge?”

The wince escapes Harry before he can even stop it.

That’s all the answer you need, apparently. Your mouth hangs open in disbelief, eyes nearly bulging out of your head as you slam your hands down onto the table surface, shrieking.

“That slimy bitch!”

Needless to say, the two of you are kicked out of the library.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1970; ORIGINAL TIMELINE.)

YOU ARE ELEVEN when your father introduces you to Ferguson, commonly known as Fergus, Bulstrode. He smiles at you with a leer, eyes hungrily dipping to the neckline of your dress. You grit your teeth as you hold out your hand for him to take — you almost shudder at the feel of his lips on your cheek. You eagerly take a step back away from him, hoping your father won’t notice the way you shy from Ferguson’s touch. You’re not dull, you fully understand the implications of this introduction and the way Ferguson is complaining to you about his third wife’s passing — as if you were the solution to his loneliness. Bile rises to your throat, and you shove it down with a forced laugh at your father’s jokes about Mudbloods. From across the room, Allegra Greengrass stares at you in sympathy, and you send her a glare — you do not need anyone’s pity.

The corset your mother laced on too tight is suffocating you; this whole Yule extravaganza made for elitist purebloods is suffocating you; and yet, you smile and greet every red-lipped witch your mother introduces you to. For hours, you pretend, and you pretend. By the time the guests have left, you wonder if you have any more of yourself to give.

You manage to convince your mother to let you slip away for the night. Without missing a beat, you rush outside and into the garden labyrinth, lest old Ferguson snatches you up for a dance and let his gaze wander elsewhere. For the first time since the sun had set, your aching feet finally find some relief. You drop onto the edge of the stone fountain as you toss your heels to the side. You begin working your fingers through your hair, ripping the glittery ribbons from your head. It’s not until you’re unclasping your necklace that you realize you are crying. Tears fall from your eyes, and they sink deep into the fabric of your dress.

You barely hold back your sobs. Your chest heaves as you hiccup; your vision goes blurry as your fingers grow numb. There’s nothing you can do but cry.

You’ve used up all your smiles for tonight.

But then, the sadness turns into resentment and then turns into indignation. Harshly, you wipe the tears from your eyes as you rip a violent scream from your throat.

You sink to the ground, perfectly polished nails digging into the soil as you gather patches of grass and tear them from the roots. You throw a handful of mud at the marble statues. You grab another fistful of mud, scream, then bash your head against the garden floor. You let out another cry, whimpering as you curl into yourself; shivering as a gust of wind brushes against your skin. Surprisingly enough, this is the most human you’ve ever felt. This is the most you have ever felt — period.

When hiccups regress into soft sniffles, you lay on your back, watching the stars float above. As the last of your tears slide down your cheek, you lift a shaky hand to trace the constellation in the sky. It’s not a familiar one to you, but then—

“That’s Sirius.”

You sit upright in a snap, wiping away the wetness from your eyes as you muster a mean glare at the newcomer.

Sirius Black.

“Oh, none of that,” He tells you when you move to stand. There’s barely any emotion on his face and it irks you that you can’t figure out what he’s planning. What you don’t expect is for him to sit beside you, thereby ruining his expensively tailored suit.

“You’ll get creases,” You scold him instinctively, nose scrunched — but your voice is hoarse; too tired to put up any pretences. “Your mother will be cross with you.”

Sirius scoffs, laying his head on the dirt, making sure to smear his sleeves with grass stains. “Walburga can go fall in a ditch and die for all I care.”

You gasp. “That’s horrible!”

Sirius gives you a look. “You don’t believe that.”

You really don’t, but you don’t have the courage to admit it either.

After a few moments of silence, Sirius asks, raising a brow, “So who was that?”

“Who was who?” You stare at him with knitted brows, toying with your fingers. You still can’t wrap your head around how weird this is — sitting with Sirius Black in the middle of your mother’s hedge maze, your once bright blue dress now sullied at the ruffles, eyes bloodshot and your hair a frizzy mess. (Sirius thinks you look cute, though; especially with your missing front tooth that peeks out every time you talk to him.)

“Bald guy, older than Merlin himself.” Sirius makes a face. “Looks like a troll. Smells like one, too.”

A giggle flutters past your lips, and your hands fly to your mouth. You really shouldn’t be bad-mouthing your guests, but Sirius was right — Ferguson really did act like an ugly troll. You sigh, letting your arms fall to your side. “My betrothed.”

Sirius nods in understanding. “My mother tried to set me up with my own cousin once.”

You grimace. “Which cousin?”

He sits on his knees to face you, and with a very solemn face, he says, “Bellatrix.”

This time, you laugh freely, throwing your head back as Sirius pouts at your amusement. “O-Oh, that’s golden.”

“No, it’s not,” says Sirius, lips twitching as he watches you snort like a pig through your giggles. “It’s horrible. A literal nightmare. You should feel awful for me.” He pokes your stomach, and it just makes you laugh harder, eyes disappearing into your smile. “Oi. I said feel awful, not take the piss out of me.”

“S-Sorry.” You wheeze, batting away his hand pulling at your cheek. “I just can’t imagine Bellatrix in a white wedding dress and saying her vows to you.”

“That’s disgusting.” Sirius gags. “You’re horrible, I hope you know that.”

When you finally calm down and Sirius tickles your bare feet until you cry in surrender, the two of you lay on the grass as he points out each constellation to you. Later, he fishes a small box of sugar mice from his pocket and offers it to you, opening one for himself. “Here’s to shitty parents and the one day we get to decide our own future.”

You bump your squeaky candy mice against his. “Cheers, Black.”

“Will you go to Hogwarts next year?” He asks you once he’s bitten off the tail of his mice.

You nod.

Sirius shifts on his side, holding his pinky out to you. “We’ll be friends when school starts?”

Again, you nod, wrapping your pinky around his. “Friends.”

The next September comes, Sirius finds a compartment and one James Potter in it. You sit with Allegra Greengrass and Endora Lestrange on the way to Hogwarts. You are sorted into Slytherin, and Sirius finds freedom and a home in Gryffindor. You play the role created just for you; you lift your nose at those beneath you, adorn yourself in custom-made silk clothing, and carry yourself with the etiquette of a pure-blooded lady. Perfect grades, perfect hair, perfect clothes, always picture perfect.

You pretend that Allegra doesn’t throw up in the evenings from the fear of getting married to a man twice her age. You pretend that you don’t notice Endora sleep-walking and begging for her mother to save her from her father. You pretend that under your blankets, in the Slytherin dungeon, you are safe.

You pretend that it doesn’t hurt when Sirius looks at you in disappointment when you shove a Hufflepuff student to the ground for getting a higher score than you in Charms.

They call you an ice-princess behind your back, and you overhear some of the fifth-years calling you foul words as well, and no one steps in to stop them; there’s no defending a Slytherin, after all. But you are keeping your head above treacherous waters, and you suppose that is all that matters.)

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1976; CURRENTLY, IN THE PAST.)

“SO ACCORDING TO THIS, Eloise was stuck in 1402 for five days until she was retrieved to the present, which means we only have four days left to figure out a way for you to get back home.”

Harry sinks into his chair, arms crossed over his chest. The two of you had found an empty classroom to discuss your plans away from inquisitive ears. “What’s the rush?” It’s unfair, he’d only just met you, and now he’s losing time with you.

You sigh. “Harry, Eloise Mintumble spent five days in the past and when she came back, her body aged five centuries, and she died in St. Mungos. It’s not just about altering the whole timeline, you could actually die.”

When you are met only with silence, you close the book, frowning. “Harry? What’s wrong?”

Harry swallows the lump in his throat, looking out the window to avoid your gaze. “What do you know about the Mirror of Erised?”

Your head tilts in confusion. “That it shows our heart’s deepest desire.”

“Yeah,” says Harry, nodding. “I was eleven when I found it.”

“Oh, Harry. . .”

It’s almost pathetic how quickly his eyes water. “Did you know, before today, I hadn’t known at all what your voice sounded like?”

You stay quiet, and Harry sucks in a shaky breath.

“When I looked into the mirror, I saw my parents—all of you. There I was, in the middle. You were behind me—happy.” Harry swipes a tear from his eye. “I wanted to stay in that room, stare at that mirror forever.”

“It’s—”

“Dangerous, I know.” He laughs bitterly. “Just like finally being able to meet you all here.”

“Harry, you aren’t supposed to be here in the first place,” You say quietly, eyes drooping sadly.

“I know that!” He exclaims desperately. “But is it so selfish to just want some time? I don’t want an illusion, I want the real thing. A real family. Why can’t I have that? Bloody Malfoy gets everything he wants, and what do I have?”

“Your friends,” You tell him firmly. “Your friends who must be worried sick that you’re gone and must be going great lengths to bring you back.”

“I know.” Harry wilts. He’s got Remus at home, too, who probably needs him more than ever after Sirius’s death. “I know. But can’t I just have this one thing?”

You purse your lips for a moment, brows furrowed in thought. Then, you break the silence with: “Do you want to hear a story?”

“What?” Harry croaks, peering at you through wet lashes.

Shrugging, you say, “Stories to remember us by. I’ve got six years worth of stories and then some. I know it’s not much, and you’ve probably heard some of these already from the others in the future, but it’s better than nothing, right?” You lean against the back of your chair, glancing at the wall clock before grinning at Harry. “We’ve got time to spare, anyway.”

Harry manages a smile, setting down his glasses before rubbing his stinging eyes with the handkerchief you offer him. He figures this is what Remus means when you’re the gentlest creature he’s ever known — just not gentle in what the world expects you to be.

“What do you say, Harry? I give you tidbits of the past, and you tell me if you know anything about the next Triwizard champion, so I can place my bets in advance.”

Harry snickers. “Not a chance, mum.”

“Worth a try.” And the smile you give him is nearly blinding.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1977; ORIGINAL TIMELINE.)

YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND what it is about Gryffindors and their hobby of invading others’ personal space.

A year into dating and James likes to shove his head under your shirt, claiming he loves the sound of your heartbeat — but you know really what he wants to nestle his head in between. The amount of cashmere blouses he’s ruined is absurd! Sirius has a hobby of tracing runes on the plane of your stomach. Lily prefers it when you sit in front of her, just within reach where she can wrap her arms around you and rest her head on your shoulder. Remus tends to lag behind the group when he notices you walking slower due to your leg flaring up. He kisses the side of your head and promises to chase the pain away — sappy poetic that he is. And in the moments where all five of you are together, tucked under a wide alcove, you can best believe there is no escaping what they like to call, a cuddle pile. Limbs are tangled, kisses are shared, and confessions of love are whispered.

Before them, you hadn’t really known the different ways to love and be loved.

Onto the pressing matters at hand, you discover that the brazen show of affection extends to their parents as well. Particularly, the Potters. After a year, you finally caved into James’s requests for you to spend the holidays at their manor, since the others have already made a space for themselves there, and James had said it would be an honor for you to feel at home with his parents, too. Honestly, you spoil them too much — one look into his bright, wide eyes and you gave in. James didn’t even care that you brought two luggages for clothes alone; he lifted each bag with delight and with ease.

(Remus had the audacity to laugh when he caught you and Sirius staring at James’s flexed muscles, mouth wide open.

“As I have said, Remus Lupin, I do not drool!”

“Sure, dove, whatever you say.”)

But now, you really aren’t so sure of your decision.

“Oh, she’s beautiful, Jamie!” Euphemia encases you in a bear hug the moment you step inside the manor. You’re engulfed in the scent of cinnamon and burnt sugar. You stiffen as she cradles your face in between her palms, smiling ever so fondly at you, cooing about how precious you look, much like a mother would — and how your mother never did. You wonder if this is what you’ve been missing all along — the thought stabs you right in the heart. “Please excuse the mess, dear, we haven’t had the chance to clean up yet, Monty and I are excited to try the recipe Lily owled to us the other day, you see.”

“I-It’s okay,” You rasp, struggling to hold back the tears.

“Oh, what a darling you are!” Euphemia smiles and ushers you further inside. “Come, come. The others are right upstairs. You must be tired from the train ride. It is so lovely to finally meet you. Make yourself at home, dear heart — James Fleamont Potter! Give your mama a kiss this instant! Don’t think introducing your girlfriend will distract me from the fact you didn’t owl me letters for two months straight!”

James whines as he hides behind you. “Mum, I’m seventeen, stop embarrassing me.”

Euphemia scoffs, hands snapping to her hips. “You’re going to be my baby boy forever, now come here.”

With a shy smile, you step away to surrender James to his mother — you don’t understand which part of this is embarrassing; you wish for a mum who’d welcome you home like that, with unconditional love and kind eyes. James squawks and calls you a traitor, just before his mum attacks him with loud, exaggerated kisses to his cheek, leaving lipstick stains all over his face. You hide a laugh behind your palm, ignoring the way your heart pangs at the sight of their unrestrained smiles. Euphemia lets her son go after a few more seconds, cackling at the masterpiece she’s created on a grumbling James, who’s rubbing his skin to erase his mother’s affections. She hugs you once more before setting you off, telling you to meet Fleamont after you’ve unpacked.

Just as you reach the foot of the stairs, you hear a girlish squeal, then the sound of rapid footfall against each wooden step. Lily greets the two of you by jumping off the last step and wrapping each arm around yours and James’s neck. “Welcome home, Jamie!” She captures his lips with her own before doing the same to you, cupping your cheek lovingly, “So happy you made it, princess! How was the ride here?”

You were never a fan of traveling by Floo; it made you nauseous after, and left you with a pounding headache for hours. Without hesitation, the others offered to accompany you on the train, but you insisted they Floo ahead to Godric’s Hollow — it took a lot of convincing, but they finally agreed, (they’re not the only ones spoiled; they couldn’t refuse you, too.) With the exception of James, who wanted to be there when you saw his home for the first time. You nearly cried when you saw how well-loved their manor was; rose shrubs dipped in snow, Sirius’s motorcycle parked outside, a mailbox with poorly painted shapes, the fences covered in Christmas lights, and the amount of shoes by the door. From outside, you could hear the laughter and warm conversations.

“It was fine,” You say in a daze.

Lily sees right through you — and frowns sadly. “You alright?”

Were you?

You catch sight of the moving photographs of James and you finally reach your breaking point. There’s a swell in your throat that you can’t seem to push down. There’s a photo of James, Lily, Remus and Sirius; James is in his Quidditch jersey, raising the Golden Snitch high up in the air, Remus is twirling Lily, his arms around her waist, and Sirius is holding up a charmed banner that says: Gryffindor Rules! Slytherin Sucks! Except For My Darling Angel Love Of My Life Most Beautiful And Gorgeous Perfect Brilliant Girlfriend!

There are hints of life all around the manor. Remus’s textbooks and scarf are laid by the coffee table. Lily’s O.W.L. marks are framed on the wall, along with Dumbledore’s letters to James and Lily awarding them the position of Head Girl and Head Boy, as well as McGonagall’s previous letter to Remus that came with his Prefect badge years ago. There’s a spot dedicated to Peter, filled with a photograph of him awkwardly holding his Herbology test, one that he scored a hundred and twelve percent on. It’s a wall dedicated to them, you realize.

Then, you find it.

Right there, up above James’s spot, and beside Sirius’s display of beyond perfect Transfiguration exam marks, and a picture of him and Remus kissing each side of your face.

It’s a space on that wall just for you.

James follows your gaze and rubs the back of his head, ears tinged with a shade of deep pink. “Mum left a space when I first told her about you. I-It’s yours, you can put anything you want there.”

“I can’t,” You whisper, lips quivering as your heart cracks into a million pieces. It’s too much.

James blinks. “Can’t? It’s yours, I promise. Mum won’t mind. You can even hang your dumb Montrose Magpies poster and I won’t tear it down — Marauders’ honor. I can help you if you want. I-I’m not good as decorating as Lily, but I paid attention to your boring explanation of color theory and I know that you hate this shade of—”

“James, I can’t do this.”

That’s all you say before you run out of the door.

(And you’re absolutely delusional if you think James won’t follow you out that door and into the brewing snowstorm.)

You hear James call out to you, but you opt to ignore him and clutch your winter coat tighter around your body, shivering in the blowing wind, trudging through the deep snow through your heeled boots — designer couldn’t help you now even if you tried. You sniff, the salty taste of your tears dripping to your lips, chest tightening with a foreign kind of pain, and the frost nipping at your fingers. You give up after a few minutes, falling to the ground with an anguished cry, hand clutching the front of your chest as you struggle to breathe.

James reaches you in a matter of minutes, draping his jacket over you, barely flinching as the cold welts his bare skin. Frantically, he wipes the tears from your eyes, a pained expression on his face as he sees you cry helplessly. “Come on, dove, it’s not safe out here. Let’s go back home, yeah? I’m sorry for upsetting you. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry — I’m so sorry, dove, please don’t cry, it’s killing me to s–see you like this.” Tears fall from his eyes, and he begins stuttering from the cold, but you can’t go back to the manor. “What did I do? Please tell me so I can fix it. I love you—I’m sorry.”

You bat his chest. “G–Go home, Jamie. I’ll just take the train back to the castle.”

“What?” He shakes his head, grabbing onto your hands. “Y–You can’t. Not in this weather. You’ll get sick if you try to walk back to the station.”

You withdraw from his hold as you back away from James, slipping into the ice-cold mask you know so well.

James rises in an instant, reaching for you. “No, no, no, no, no. You don’t get to do that. Not now. Not with me. Please, just come home and I-I’ll fix it.”

“Goodbye, James,” You tell him firmly, clenching your jaw as you look him straight in the eyes.

He grimaces. “That won’t work on me, princess, and you know it. Don’t push me away—please.”

“Go home, James!” You yell bitterly, pivoting on your heel as you march through the thick inches of snow, hearing Remus and Lily’s voice grow louder in the distance. “Just go!”

He grits his teeth, nails digging deep into the palms of his hand. “You’re a coward if you walk away from here—from us—right now!” James shouts through chattering teeth and stray tears. “And I hate cowards more than anything!”

You don’t look back.

(Later that night, James stares blankly at the fireplace, tossing twigs now and then. He’s all out of tears. Remus crosses his legs as he sits beside James and offers him a steaming mug of hot chocolate.

“Don’t want one,” He mutters, words coarse from earlier, head turning away from Remus’s gift. “Just want her.”

Remus sets the beverage on the ground before pulling James’s head down to his chest, gently wiping the tears from his eyes as he wraps the blanket around both of them. He presses a soft kiss to James’s hair.

“I said I hated her,” James says weakly. “I don’t—I never will. I just hate that she’s out there spending Christmas all alone. She could be here—with us. I hate not knowing that she’s safe, or that she thinks I don’t love her anymore—that’s a bloody lie, Moony. I adore her. If anything, I don’t deserve her.”

James finds out that he does have more tears left in him. “I miss her. Bring her back, Rem, please.”

“You’ll cry yourself sick, love.” Remus wipes each tear away. “Let’s go to bed, yeah? Mornings do have a way of bringing miracles to us.” Because after a night of excruciating pain under the moon’s command, he wakes up to sunlight, and there you all are — smiling down at him like he is deserving of love; and maybe Remus can’t fault you for running away.

You’d kiss him gently and tell him how proud you are of him for coming back to you.

Remus only hopes you come back to them, too.)

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1976; CURRENTLY, IN THE PAST.)

“AND THAT, dear Harry, is how I humiliated Lucius Malfoy in fifth-year.” Your eyes gleam wickedly as you rest your arms on the school desk. “If he ever bothers you in your time, just mention my name—oh, I wish I could see the look on his face when he realizes I’m haunting him from my grave. Tell him, okay?”

Harry nods excitedly. “Definitely.”

“Got anymore stories?” He asks.

You cackle menacingly. “Boy, do I ever. Let me tell you about the one time Beckett McLaggen took me out on a date to Madam Puddifoot’s!”

Harry grimaces. “Do I even want to hear about this?”

“Oh, pish-posh.” You dismiss him with a wave. “You do, this story is hilarious. Now that I look back on it, Sirius was quite cross with him for the rest of the day—how strange. I wonder why.”

Harry stares at you in disbelief. “You’re joking.”

“I most certainly am not, Harry Potter.”

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1974; ORIGINAL TIMELINE.)

AN EAR-PIERCING scream wakes you up in the middle of the night. You snatch your wand from under your pillow, heart thudding against your chest in fear — last year, the Prewett twins decided it was funny to break into the girls’ quarters at midnight; you get a month worth of detention for hitting Gideon with the Expulso curse and suspension from class for two weeks, while the twins get away with a slap on the wrist and have the time of their lives spreading rumors of you being a Death-Eater.

Endora shoots up to her feet as well, staring at you in panic — then the girl screams again, and you realize it’s Allegra.

You sigh in relief, lowering your wand before saying to Endora, “I-It’s alright. I’ll handle it.”

“Are you sure?” Endora asks timidly, gnawing at her lip and wincing when Allegra wails once more.

“Certain,” You respond, yawning.

As Endora climbs back into her bed, you slip into Allegra’s side, holding her head to your chest, brushing your fingers through her hair and untangling the knots. Like most of the Greengrass women, she was of ethereal beauty — silky blonde hair, smooth and fair skin, deep blue eyes that enchant wizards and witches alike. But her cheeks have gone sallow from exhaustion, eyes devoid of any emotion, and her skin now sunken into her bones.

“I don’t want to marry him—I can’t! He’s old enough to be my father!” Allegra sobs violently, desperate for anyone to hear her, but no one really ever hears their cries from the dungeon. “They said they’d wait until I graduated—they promised! I’m supposed to marry him this summer!”

Your heart breaks for your friend — there’s nothing you can do but hold her until she’s cried every bit of her soul out.

“I hate them,” Allegra whispers to you; she had been shedding tears for hours, trembling in your arms until morning finally came.

“I know,” You say defeatedly.

“I wish I was dead,” She replies lifelessly. “He can’t marry a dead bride.”

“Don’t say that,” You beg as you hug her tight; afraid to lose her to the world that has worn her down. “Please.”

Allegra sinks into her pillows, and you follow in suit, hesitantly laying your head beside hers. She stares at the ceiling dully. “The world is so, so cruel to us daughters sometimes. And it’ll be cruel to our daughters, and their daughters. When will it end?”

“I don’t know,” You say honestly.

Allegra hums, neither disappointed nor surprised, and turns away to lay on her side. “Pansy,” She mumbles.

“What?”

“If we lived in a better world and I married for love, I’d want to name my daughter Pansy — like the flower.”

(Later that day, you are given detention for beating Evan Rosier to a pulp. He makes a joke about dirty blood, and you snap — you are tired of laughing and pandering to the arrogant men in your life. This is the first time you publicly defy your parents, and it felt good — more than good, it was liberating. It’s like breathing fresh air for the first time. Then, you earn a second detention for storming up to the Gryffindor common room and punching Fabian Prewett in the face — because fourth-year boys had no business sneaking into the girls’ dorm in the middle of the night for some stupid prank — and you threaten him by pointing the tip of your wand deep into his neck, demanding they apologize to you, Allegra, and Endora.

You get what you want, naturally — as princesses do. You decide then that you’re going to create a world where girls like Allegra don’t cry anymore.)

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1976; CURRENTLY, IN THE PAST.)

HARRY TWINGES WHEN he hears the end of your fourth or fifth story of the afternoon — no wonder you had been so angered by his being in your room. “I-I’m sorry—”

“Yesterday was hardly your fault,” You interrupt him. “There’s no controlling where magic brings you, not in your case. You didn’t know, but now you know. I don’t hold it against them — anymore. Fifteen-year-old boys can be stupid, and at least they’ve learned from their mistakes. You should have seen your mother — erm, Lily — she looked like she was ready to kill them after finding out what they had done. Even Molly was cross with the twins, and you know how loyal Molly is to her family.”

Oh, Harry knows.

And Hermione knows it all too well.

“Others call us evil, conniving and cruel, Harry,” You tell him grimly, “But I will protect my own, no matter what I have to do.”

At that moment, Harry thinks he understands why some people come to fear Slytherin.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1978; ORIGINAL TIMELINE.)

“LOOK, LILY-PAD, the princess is drooling again.”

You open your eyes to glare at Sirius. “I don’t drool, idiot.”

Lily chortles as she presses a kiss to your shoulder. “Of course you don’t, princess.”

Currently, you’re lying on a shabby loveseat that is too small to hold the three of you; it’s the only furniture in the new cottage you call home, where Potter Manor was right across the street. (Euphemia was ecstatic to have you all nearby — the lovely woman was sprite for her age, but you notice the way she stops to sit and catch her breath, Sirius and James hovering over her attentively; you’re good at pretending, so you pretend that the Potters will be around forever.) Some rooms are dusty with cobwebs, walls unfinished, with the floors creak under your feet, and there’s no other place you’d rather call home.

You’re in between Sirius and Lily; your lips swollen from their kisses, cheeks flushed and the column of your throat graced with love marks. It’s the most beautiful set of jewelry you’ve ever worn, not even burmese rubies could compare. Lily’s hand rests under your jumper, Sirius’s thigh wedged between your own. While peace blankets the three of you, James and Remus have yet to come home from their task given by the Order.

“You need a haircut, my love,” You mumble drowsily, pulling at one of the dark ringlets — it’s gone past his shoulders now. He captures your hand and leaves a delicate kiss on your fingertips.

Lily buries her nose in your hair. “She’s right, Siri.”

“I’m always right.” You pout.

Sirius, love-sick fool that he is, smiles as he tilts your chin with his finger and ensnares you in a kiss that leaves you breathless. “Course you are — our girl’s bloody brilliant, isn’t she, Lily-pad?”

“Without a doubt.”

You roll your eyes at their antics, rolling around so that your back is pressed to Sirius’s chest — they’re not fooled, however; Lily sees the way your eyes flicker in amusement and the way your lips threaten to curve up into a smile. She traces the swell of your lips with her thumb, to the dip of your nose, and to the apples of your cheek. Sea-green eyes beam at you.

“I love you,” says Lily, committing every inch of you to her memory as she wears a melancholic smile. “I don’t know who told you that you don’t deserve to be loved, but they were wrong. You are so precious to us, dove, you don’t even know how much. This right here is real — and nothing could ever change that.”

As it turns out, you did have more smiles to give — only the happy ones; not the fake, courteous smiles that you had given to your mother’s friends in the past. You come to intertwine your hand with Lily’s, the one that had been resting on your cheek, tenderly wiping the tears that pooled within your eyes. Your heart could burst from your chest. They had a habit of wringing every emotion out of you; of making love feel real, not just a myth from a Muggle storybook. And you find, that you didn’t mind this particular habit of theirs. In the comforts of the place you call home, where you irrefutably belong, you are free to seek their arms and fall into their love, and the best part is where you get to love them right back.

How lucky you are.

“Let’s get married,” You blurt out, holding your breath, feeling Sirius’s hand on your waist stiffen.

“What?” Lily gasps breathlessly.

You smile up at Lily. “Let’s get married. All of us. I don’t care where, o–or about the rings, let’s just get married. With the war going on, we deserve s–something good.”

Lily sobs as she nods excitedly. “Yes. Oh my Gods—we’re getting married!”

Sirius stares at you in wonder. “Bloody hell, dove, give a guy some warning, would you?”

You grin. “Is that a yes?”

“It’s a yes — forever.” Sirius dives in to kiss you senseless. “Couldn’t get rid of us now even if you tried.”

“I don’t think I’d want to, anyway.”

Right then, the rickety door slams open, and you hear the loves of your life calling out for the three of you. Followed by the heavy thud of Dragonhide boots plunking down onto the floor

“We’re home!” James announces in the entryway.

Lily wastes no time in shooting up from the sofa and welcoming them home with quite a unique greeting:

“We’re all getting married!”

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1976; CURRENTLY, IN THE PAST.)

“That ring is an heirloom passed down to the children in our family,” You tell Harry, pointing to the band around his finger. “It’s meant to symbolize our loyalty and duty to our House. My mother said I would have earned it only when I became a wife to Ferguson Bulstrode.” You chuckle at Harry’s perturbed grimace. “No, I didn’t marry him — thankfully. After Allegra. . . I—I. . . I couldn’t bear it. If I was going to marry, it would be on my own terms, and it would be for love, nothing less. Then, if my child wanted it, I’d give them this ring. I want to leave behind a legacy that I created. When I was younger, I’d resigned to a fate that was forcefully carved by someone else’s hand.”

You shake your head. “I want to die being remembered by those who loved me. Otherwise, I was never truly alive.”

Harry won’t let that happen, he won’t ever let your name be forgotten. He’ll share of your kindness to his friends, of your bravery and loyalty. Hermione will love your fondness of Muggle musicals and how you stood up to Lily’s defense in a world that ostracized her for being different. He’ll remind Remus of your love for him, that he had brought you hope in times of despair. Harry is going to make sure the world knows you had been so full of life with endless love to give. You are going to be remembered in the way Voldemort never will.

“What do the words mean?” He stares at the writing: Tempus Edax Rerum.

You smile. “Time, devourer of all things.”

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1978; ORIGINAL TIMELINE.)

“REMUS—THE MUGGLES ARE stuck in the telly again!”

Remus snickers as he takes the vacant space beside you on the loveseat, now sewn up with care and spattered with knitted quilts and throw pillows — still too small to carry three people but hasn’t given out yet, anyway. He takes Lily’s legs over his lap, swiftly stealing a kiss from your lips. “It’s a film, dove, they’re acting.”

You purse your lips. “They’re trapped inside, then?”

Lily snorts into her tub of chocolate fudge ice cream. “Not quite, princess, it’s recorded. Movies are like moving photographs — but they’re an hour long with sounds.”

“Oh.” You turn your attention back to the screen, back to the film Lily had been watching. You had to admit — the story of Sandy and Danny was an interesting one. “Lily-pad, she’s singing — again.”

Sirius hushes you from where he was cuddling James on the other couch. “She’s supposed to sing, dove, it’s a musical.”

“Well, yes,” You begin, and James groans into Sirius’s chest, “But they should just talk instead of singing all the time — Sandy’s got a lovely voice, though. I just don’t understand why Danny’s treating her like that! Truthfully, I don’t like any of Sandy’s new friends, other than Frenchy — she’s harmless. If I was Sandy I’d move on from Danny — but then again, that hair and those muscles, and his leather jacket! I can’t blame her.”

Sirius glowers at you. “You like his leather jacket?”

“His hair?” James exclaims in horror.

Remus chuckles as he tucks you in his side, kissing your temple. “If I were you, dove, I’d be quiet and just watch the film.”

“Oh, no, no.” Sirius barely glances at the television as he pauses the film and stands up to point an accusatory finger at you. “Since when were you into leather jackets? Do you think those are cool? Since when? Jamie, should I get one? Let’s unpack this, right now. And his muscles, really?”

Your eyes roll to the back of your head. “Play the film, Black, I want to see the end of their love story.”

“I’m telling Euphemia on you!”

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1976; CURRENTLY, IN THE PAST.)

“—and then we realized that we accidentally locked Hermione in with the troll.” Harry’s arms flail about as he shares some of his adventures with you — it had only been fair. He felt like a young boy again, entering Hogwarts for the first time as he watched you listen to him intently, gasping at tale of the vanishing glass and scolding him when he says he and Ron had decided to go searching for Hermione, and by extension, the troll.

Your eyes grow wide. “A troll? In Hogwarts? They can’t have, not unless—”

“Someone let it in—I know!” Harry grins. “You’re not going to believe who let the troll in the castle.”

You snap your fingers, “Malfoy, the older one. I know that lump’s got something to do with this. Can’t have been Snape or Quirrell.”

“Just you wait.” Harry’s eyes twinkle with mischief. “—and so, Professor McGonagall finds us, and can you believe it? She awards us for dumb luck! Then. . .”

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1979; ORIGINAL TIMELINE.)

IT HAD COME AS A surprise when you volunteered to join the Order of the Phoenix. You wanted to scoff at their shocked faces — was it so surprising that you wanted to protect your family? They let Severus Snape join their ranks, and you’re fairly certain that you’re a better fighter and survivalist than him — not the better liar, however, he can have that one. The week before, you and the others had an argument that lasted for the whole day. They did not want you in harm’s way, and you would rather die than stay at home, waiting idly for them to return, when you could be out there alongside them.

(“It’s not some game out there!” Remus runs through his hair in frustration — he had always been so careful to never raise his voice at you, but this one time, he needed you to back down. “Every time you step into a raid, there’s a possibility of you dying, don’t you understand that? And even if you survive — you’ll have blood on your hands, and it does not wash away no matter how many times you try, trust me, we know.”

“So what?” You throw your hands up in the air, equally aggravated. “I just stay here like some. . . some pet waiting for their owners to come home?”

“Yes!” Lily angrily replies. “That is the whole point of us joining the Order — so you get to live another day. So we all have a chance at this new world without a war. Let us protect you!”

You grind down on your jaw. “You have got another thing coming, if you think I’m not going to fight tooth and nail for my future.”

James slams a fist onto the kitchen counter. “There are horrors out there you can’t even imagine. I-It’s worse than we thought. It’s our every nightmare come to life.”

You raise your chin defiantly. “Then we face it together.”)

Each day, you survive, and each day the five of you return home — scarred and bruised, but safe within the arms of one another. When you collapse and crumble, it is only for the walls of your home to witness.

Now a month into autumn, you are on your first task without Sirius, James, Lily or even Remus. Instead, you are assigned by Dumbledore to Knockturn Alley along with Peter Pettigrew and Gideon Prewett. How strange time was, years ago you’d never associate with the proud Gryffindors, and now you had to trust them to guard your back. Everyone had to grow up quickly during war, even pranksters.

The alley was quiet — too quiet for your liking. You had been on alert since the moment you apparated into the area, wand at your ready. The back of your neck prickled with goosebumps as you kept an ear out for any sign of movement.

Peter shivers and you glance at him — he’s become far too skinny, constantly shrinking into himself out of fear. And while you want to comfort him, you keep your eyes up ahead. Still, there's a nagging feeling that you can’t quite make out. It’s different from all the other times you’ve been asked to search and rescue.

“Don’t you feel like there’s something wrong?” You ask Gideon, eyes snapping to the flock of crows flying overhead.

“Dunno, kid,” Gideon says, nudging your shoulder with pressed lips. “Everything about this is freaking me out. The place is too empty.”

“I get what you mean,” You reply, swallowing your own nervousness. Without waiting for the rest, you speed up your pace. “I’ll scout ahead, who knows what’s been here before us. I don’t want to risk any of our lives, so let’s be careful. Gideon, ward the area while I check for any cursed objects, last time you almost got your arm cut off by a newspaper of all things. And Peter, could you. . . Peter?”

When you turn to check behind you, it all happens so fast.

“Avada Kedavra!”

You scream as Gideon’s deathly pale body falls to the floor.

“No!”

You aren’t given a moment to rush to his side — someone digs their wand in the side of your neck, and you stiffen in their hold. It’s not until they hiss in your ear that you recognize the voice.

“Rosier.” You spit, biting down on your lip when he presses the tip of his wand further into your flesh.

“Stupid witch,” He taunts, eyes dilating with vengeance. “Where are your lovers now?”

“Jealous?” You claw at his arms, chest heaving up and down. “We don’t have room for one more, sorry.”

“Shut up!” He pushes you to the ground in blind rage, and that’s all the opening you need.

“Expulso!”

Each curse you send his way lands on his cloaked body, sending him staggering backwards. With ease, you deflect each spell he counters with. You’re winning, he is growing tired, and perhaps that is why you let your guard down.

“Accio wand!”

The magic fizzles out, and the spell dies on your lips. As you swivel your head to find out who’s stolen your wand, you expect to find another Death Eater — except it’s Peter. Just Peter Pettigrew, quivering in his boots with tears and snot dripping down his face, your wand in his free hand. You furrow your brows — it doesn’t make sense.

“Peter?” You call out.

“Crucio!”

The curse finds its home in your body — and it sinks deep into your flesh, grinding your bones until you slump to the ground, wriggling as you draw blood from your lips, refusing to let them hear an ounce of your pain. Blood trickles down your nose as you hear Evan Rosier dancing around you in glee. You know this curse well; the sound of your father condemning you gleefully echo in your head. You crawl over to Gideon — hand desperately reaching for his shirt.

“Crucio!” Rosier grabs you by the hair and howls with laughter. “Scream for me again—Crucio!”

It’s as though someone had begun to rip you in half. Your bones shift and crack with every uttered curse. The veins in your eyes have popped and through bloody vision, you see Peter cowering away from you.

“You—fucking—traitor,” You gurgle, throat welling up with blood that’s risen from your stomach. “They’ll—never—forgive you—never.”

“Crucio! Crucio! Crucio! Come on, witch — SCREAM! Look at her go, Pettigrew, crawling like some pathetic worm.”

You lay in your owl pool of blood, wearing a body that is marred and lacerated. But you see something in Gideon’s hand. I’m sorry, you want to tell him. I’ll get you home to Molly, you promise, please lend me your magic this once. With every last bit of your strength, just as Rosier directs another curse at you — one you know you won’t survive — you snatch the wand from Gideon’s hand and tear the last of your magic from your throat.

“Defodio!”

You wait with a bated breath as silence fills the alley; lucky to have remembered Professor Flitwick’s quick remark as to how the slight difference in pronouncing a charm could alter its effect. Rosier stands on shaky legs, a stream of blood leaking from the corner of his mouth. You watch as he looks down to his chest, where a gaping hole now lies instead of where his ribcage and heart should be. As Gideon had done before him, Evan Rosier crashes to the ground.

That just leaves one more problem.

Peter scurries to your side the moment Rosier can hurt him no longer. “I-I’m sorry—I’m sorry. I had to. . . T–They killed my mum, they killed M–Mary, and t–they said I would die too if I d–didn’t do this. I’m sorry. Y–Your father was there, too. He said he would take you in, let you l–live if you joined us. W–We can live, t–there’s still a chance for us to survive.”

Your fingers are bent at unsightly angles, the remnants of the Torture Curse still flowing through your veins, but your face contorts in anger as you let your hand curl around his neck. He sobs louder, and though your grip is weakening — you make sure he looks into your eyes, that he feels your touch.

“I’d rather—die.” You say through gritted teeth, nails drawing blood from his grimy skin. “You’ll die too—you’ll feel my blood on your skin—everywhere you go, Peter.”

Peter shakes his head, now clumsily pushing his wand down to the center of your chest. “Y–You were the only o–one who d–didn’t laugh at me. N–Not like the others.”

“When they find out—you’re dead, Pettigrew.” You laugh darkly as more blood exits your body through your lips. “There’s nowhere you can hide—you’re a dead man.”

“P-Please die,” Peter cries out, each killing spell coming out as a garbled whisper. “Please die, s–so I can live. I c–can’t fight anymore, I’m tired.”

Your vision goes a hazy shade of white, Peter’s silhouette fading away to the familiar scenery of your cottage in Godric’s Hollow.

Oh.

Dying is less painful than you had expected it to be. It’s like coming home after a day’s work.

You just wanted to rest now.

The world caves in on you, and you barely hear Peter’s next words.

“Avada Kedavra.”

(It’s past midnight when Peter Pettigrew arrives at Grimmauld Place, where it’s been altered to host the members of the Order, Lily sobs in relief and gathers him in her arms.

You’ll feel my blood on your skin.

You’re a dead man.

Dead, dead, dead, dead, dead, dead.

“Oh, I’m so glad you’re home safe — welcome home — thank the Gods you’re alive,” Lily blabbers through her tears, checking his face for any major injuries. “Merlin, what happened? There’s too much blood on you. It’s on your shirt and your face.”

“It’s not mine,” says Peter hoarsely.

Sirius’s gaze darkens, arms crossed over his jacket as he leaned against the wall. “Where is she?”

Lily nods, standing on her tiptoes to search for any sign of you. “Peter? I–Is she alright? Has something happened to her?”

Peter stays silent for a moment too long, and he finds himself slammed against the wall behind him, Sirius snarling in his face as he seizes the front of Peter’s soiled shirt. “Where the fuck is she, Pettigrew?”

Peter begins to weep. “I–It was an ambush. None of us saw it coming. Gideon r–ran. She was taking on two Death-Eaters at once and I–I was too far away.”

Lily collapses to the ground with a heart-wrenching scream.

Sirius growls as he drives his fist to the wall, inches away from Peter’s face. “Where is her body?”

“It was a disintegration spell.” With Severus Snape — brought to the Malfoy Manor to be made as an example of what happens to blood-traitors.

James pushes Sirius out of the way and grabs a hold of Peter, knocking his head against the concrete. “It should have been you—” James snaps at Peter. “If it came down to you or her—you should have saved her!”

“W-What?” Peter stammers, eyes wide. “She chose to save m–me.”

James sneers at him. “You should have just died.”)

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1996; CURRENTLY, IN THE PRESENT.)

ST. JEROME’S GRAVEYARD had exactly one visitor. Remus Lupin sits in between James and Lily’s graves, a bottle of firewhiskey in his hand — four empty at his side. He must be going crazy. There’s no funeral for Sirius as there’s no body to actually bury, Harry is presumed missing after an attack in Diagon Alley, and your name stares back at him mockingly. He tries not to dwell on your passing — there have been too many holes, too many details left unsaid; and he knows just the rat who has all the answers. Unfortunately, Wormtail won’t come out of whatever hole he’s crawled into. Either him, or Severus.

He sighs, rubbing the temples of his head to ease the growing pains.

You are the first to be buried of the five. Like Sirius, there had been no recovered body to lay to rest, but they asked for a compromise instead. Your name is engraved under Euphemia’s in her tombstone, and Remus figures it’s the fitting place to leave you be — with your mother, welcoming you home with open arms. He hopes you’re at peace, wherever you are. (Because, honestly, at this point, he might just fucking follow you.)

Remus takes another swig of his alcohol, laughing bitterly to himself. He glances at James’s headstone and raises his bottle to him. “Not even in death, huh?”

He downs the last of the drink, rising to his tremulous legs. Remus gathers the flower bouquets he had bought earlier this morning; lilies-of-the-valley for Lily, white carnations for Euphemia, forget-me-nots for you, and for James — Remus leaves a moving photograph of him and Sirius; it’s a snapshot taken by Lily during the wedding as James dips his head low to kiss Sirius. Remus thinks it’s a wonderful memory to remember them by.

“Take care of them for me, Jamie.”

And that is all the goodbyes Remus has the strength for.

end note. i think i was crying the whole time i was writing this part, LMAO. i should be able to wrap things up in the next one. important!! there is actually a scene i was hesitant to include, but i ended up writing anyway. it's the whole part where allegra greengrass breaks down, and it was difficult for me to decide because i knew the implications; that i had a strong underlying message in that part, and i don't want it to be misconstrued or anything. pls pls tell me if it comes off as offensive, i definitely don't want to hurt anyone. nevertheless, thank you again so so so much for reading!! if you spot a plot hole, no you didnt!! i hope the time-jumps weren't too confusing! again, thank you so so much for reading!!

#hp angst #hp fluff #hp imagine #hp x reader #james potter x reader #lily evans x reader #marauders angst #marauders fluff #marauders imagine #marauders x reader #sirius black x reader #poly!marauders x reader #poly!marauders fluff #remus lupin x reader #sunny's hp fics

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yeonzzzn · 8 months ago

Note

I'm in a spooky vibe rn and I've been thinking about one of the enha members (hyung line) with a scream mask ( y'know from the movie sjshsj) about to m*rder reader but idk they get turned on and both got freaky 🫦

fffuuuuccccckkkk anon your brain is 😍 love this idea so much (fun fact scream is my favorite slasher movie and I even have a ghost face tattoo) I hope this is exactly what you’re looking for🤭 it’s funny because I also main ghost face in dead by daylight so when I saw this request I got SOOOO happy ~ I also made this a lot longer than I expected to but oops🤭🤭

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chill & kill: sim jaeyun

part one of chilling & killing 🔪 | spotify playlist

pairing: jake x afab!reader word count: 6.4k

You sit up on the couch, eyes widening as you grab the TV remote and turn up the volume.

“The mysterious ghost face kill strikes again, killing two more college students in the library this morning. The bodies were discovered by…”

You quickly shot to your feet, grabbing your jacket and camera and slipping your feet into your boots tying them quickly as you slipped out your dorm door.

You never were so happy to live on campus as you ran from the dorm building and across campus to the library. Students surrounded the main entrance and you pushed your way through finally seeing the inside of the library.

“Hey!” a police officer yelled at you when you slipped under the caution tape, “You can’t be back here!”

You eyed him, pulling out your student journaling ID, “I have every right to be here.”

The officer tried to protest, but you kept your stride, making your way to the bodies ignoring the yelling officer behind you.

The closer you got, the more the smell of blood filled your senses, making your skin crawl. Your journaling partner was already on the scene, standing at the edge of the other caution tape marking off the two bodies.

You stood beside him, your heart sinking as you took in the bodies of the two females lying dead in front of you. They were just freshmen. Barely made it into college and fully started their lives.

From what you could see, they were stabbed multiple times in the chest and abdomen. One of their necks was slit, and the other looked like they were stabbed through their throat. They suffered, for sure.

“Who found them?” you asked him, taking your eyes off the dead bodies and turning to your partner. He had one arm crossed over his chest and gripped his elbow as his other arm was reached up and fingers gripping his chin.

He slowly tilted his head to look at you, streaks of his black hair fell into his eyes, “Funny enough,” he sighs, “Sunghoon and myself.”

You completely turned your whole body to him, “That’s why you’re here before me?! Jake, what happened?!”

Jake chucked, “You're more worried that I was here before you?” you narrowed your eyes at him, and he sighed again, completely wrapping his arms over his chest, looking back at the bodies. You could have sworn you saw a sparkle glint in his eyes. Jake has always been excited to be on the scene, same as you. But he enjoyed it a little bit more than you. He’ll make one damn good detective one day for sure, “Wanted to check out a book and saw the door already unlocked for the campus not even fully being opened yet. And that's when we found the bodies.”

“Where is Sunghoon now?” you asked, looking around the library, spotting him with the librarian and being questioned by a detective.

You went to walk over, to ask him questions, but Jake stopped you, putting a hand on your shoulder and pulling you towards him, his arm wrapping around over your chest, “Don’t question him, he’s really shaken up,” You wanted to protest, only for Jake to squeeze you tightly against him, your back pressing further into his chest, “Please, YN, he’s my best friend. I’ll take care of it. I promise.”

You sigh and nod. Letting Jake take the lead with this one.

But you still had a job to do. So you pulled out your camera, taking a few photos. Once you finished with the photos, you pulled your journal from your back pocket, asked Jake a few questions, and took his account down then turned back to the bodies and took your own notes.

You circled the area, taking in every inch and piece of information you could. Jotting down everything in your little notebook.

Jake kept his eyes on you, watching you do your thing. His eyes sparkled more the longer his eyes lingered on you. He eventually dropped his gaze and went back to looking at his best friend, watching as he sat at one of the tables, knees pressed to his chest and hands curled into his hair. The small smile Jake had fell at the sight of his best friend and—

“Jake!” You called for him, bringing his attention back to you, “I think I found something.”

“Oh?” He walks over to you and kneels down on the floor beside you, your camera resting on your knees as you point your finger toward one of the dead girls, “What am I looking at honey?”

You groaned and rolled your eyes, “Under her body, there’s a black glove,” you looked at Jake. His jaw clenched tightly, “The killer must have accidentally lost it, dropped it, or whatever. Maybe she fought them or something. I don’t know. But I want to figure it out.”

You took a few close-up photos of the glove and turned back around to show Jake, noticing a scratch mark sliding down the left side of his neck. You hadn’t seen it before since you were standing on his right side, but it looked deep and irritated, “What happened there?” You reached up to touch it, but he grabbed your hand quickly and set it down at your side.

“Hoon and I were wrestling earlier at our apartment and I hit the side of our entertainment center, I am fine.”

You thinned your lips into a line, boys will be boys you guess. Their apartment was a lot smaller than the dorms on campus, they must have been fucking around at a good spot to have knocked Jake into their entertainment center.

Eventually, the police shooed you and Jake off the scene. Forcing you two to head to the journaling office. You printed off the photos you took and made copies of your notes, passing them to Jake.

You glanced at the clock, it was now ten thirty am and classes would be resuming like normal, so you and Jake went your separate ways.

Jake was still new to being a journalist. You were a club of two, consisting of just you and another girl who helped write the articles for you while you took care of the rest. She wrote her own things, mostly on the sports or other small crimes that happen on campus, but with the ghost face killer making his rounds, you took up the role of this case with her helping on the side. At first, you took it all on yourself, but as the body count started piling up, you needed the help. So you let her help and put out an application for an extra set of hands, which Jake answered.

You’ve seen him around campus before he joined you. Was born and raised in this town. Being the town's sweetheart and golden puppy boy. You did some research on him before allowing him into your club, can’t have the killer join you, right?

He was the captain of his soccer team in middle and high school. Has taken his school’s team to the championships multiple times and was the heartthrob of the school. He donated to charity when he could and volunteered at the police station on the weekends in hopes of landing a good detective job there after graduation. He was the whole definition of a straight-A good boy student. Perfect for your team. He became your partner and you taught him everything you knew. When Jake joined, the body count from this ghost face killer was only three. But with the two bodies that were found today, it was now at fifteen.

In between your classes, you found yourself back at the club office, pinning the new photos to the corkboard in the back of the room, wrapping red string between the pushpins and possible suspects. After staring at the corkboard for what felt like hours, the other female club member came in and you helped her write the article. Give her your notes and advising as she writes.

Jake popped in and out of the office as well, brainstorming with you about the suspects and the time of events that happened. You both spun in circles that led to nowhere. You ask Jake again about speaking to Sunghoon, and he shoots you down, “Give him some time. I’ll get the police report soon and it’ll help, I am sure.”

A week has gone by since the murder in the library. You ended up shifting the corkboard from the office and into the corner of your kitchen, using the fluorescent light of the kitchen bulbs to light the board more. You leaned against the back of your couch, it being the furthest you could step away from the board. Biting at your nails as your eyes scanned every murder case. Every newspaper article and police report on the board.

Nothing made sense. Nothing connected. Whoever this killer was, they were good. Covered their tracks without so much as a piece of hair at any scene of their crimes. Until the glove.

You ran your hands into your long hair, scratching at the back of your head. You needed that police report that Jake still has yet to give you. Needed to speak to Sunghoon. There were missing pieces and those two things were important. You looked over to the clock above the kitchen sink. It was almost one thirty in the morning. But you still got up and slid into your sneakers, pulled your jacket on, and bounced out the door.

Finding yourself in front of Jake and Sunghoon’s front door, knocking loudly. There was no answer. So you did the next best thing and called Jake’s cell phone.

There was some shuffling on the other end of the door and a groan. The door opened and you find a half-awake Jake before you, his hair a mess and spreading in every direction, wearing a plain white tee shirt and a pair of black and blue checkered boxers, “YN,” he sleepily growled and then yawned, “It’s almost two am, what is it?”

“Can I have the police report?”

Jake blinked at you, “Huh?”

You crossed your arms, “The police report. Can I have it?”

Jake let out another yawn, “It’s at the school, in the office.”

Of course, it was. And the campus is closed and if you get caught sneaking in just to get a piece of paper…You sigh, “Thanks anyway,” you softly say, and turn around to walk down the stairs but stop, “Can I talk to Sunghoon?”

Jake scoffs, leaning against the doorframe, “It’s almost two am,” he repeats, “Why are you out here so late? There’s a literal killer running around here.”

You knew that. And still took that risk to come out here. The killer had to be a student at your college. Every murder had been college kids. It had to be another student. That’s what made being out here so dangerous.

“I know,” you shrugged, “But I can’t stand by and do nothing.”

Jake frowned, “You know you’re allowed to actually be a college student right? Live a normal life too?” you shrugged again, and he just scoffed again, “YN, go home and rest. Let the detectives with actual badges handle it. We can only do so much.”

You narrow your eyes at him, “Let me speak to Sunghoon.”

Jake stands his ground, “No. Go. Home. Before you get yourself killed.”

You roll your eyes, “See you tomorrow then.”

Jake mimicked your words and watched as you walked down the steps before walking back inside and going back to sleep.

You didn’t understand why Jake was so against you speaking to Sunghoon. Maybe he was being protective? Sunghoon didn’t look the best after finding the bodies. He was probably so shaken up. But it only made you want to speak to him more. And that need only grew more when you noticed Sunghoon’s car wasn’t in its normal parking spot beside Jake’s.

Meaning he wasn’t home.

You’ve respected Jake’s wishes on not to talk to Sunghoon, but this matter was getting serious and Sunghoon just might be the big break you needed. So you quickly walked off the apartment complex, glancing back to make sure Jake was outside, and pulled your phone from your pocket as you kept walking and dialed a number.

“Hello?”

“Sunghoon, where are you right now?”

—

You found him atop the bleachers of the soccer field just like he said he would be. A soccer ball sat between his feet, grass scuff marks were at the ends of his jeans, and sleeves of his hoodie rolled up to his elbows and sweat dripped down the side of his face. It didn’t take a genius to figure out he came here to kick the ball around. Probably as a distraction.

You sat down beside him, “How are you holding up?”

Sunghoon scoffs, “Holding up as in a week ago I found two dead bodies in the middle of the library or holding up because I’ve been questioned left and right by everyone or my best friend/roommate has smothered me to stay home and take time.”

You felt bad for him, mostly for what you’re about to ask him. He wanted to obviously forget what he saw, who could blame him? It takes special people to see a dead body and not be fazed by it.

“I’m sorry for asking you to do this again…”

Sunghoon just shrugs, “If I am being honest, I’ve wanted to talk to you for a while now.”

You raised your brow, “Yeah?”

He nodded, “Jake was against it,” he took a deep breath, “Something was off that day…with him.”

“What do you mean?” You placed a hand on his knee, “You can tell me anything. Start with the beginning.”

Sunghoon looked you in your eyes, then looked off into the distance at the field, “He told me that morning he was meeting our coach, for a one-on-one coaching session. At first, I didn’t think anything about it, being he was a soccer prodigy or whatever.” You nodded, remembering how much of the soccer star Jake was back in high school, “So you could probably understand my surprise when I got a call from our coach saying he tried to get ahold of Jake and then he confirmed with me that they did in fact not have a meeting that day.”

You sat back against the bleacher seat behind you, staring off onto the field, letting the gears in your brain slowly turn, waiting for Sunghoon to continue.

“I got scared, rushing out of the apartment and searching everywhere for him. Scared and thinking I was going to find my best friend murdered somewhere, ya know?” You understood, with this killer on the loose everyone was watching their backs and afraid. Who would be next? Who is next? “But I found him, lingering around the library building, digging through his soccer duffle bag. My heart almost stopped when I saw him…alive,” he took a deep breath, “So I confronted him, and he played it off that he did have a practice, but was with his coach from high school.”

You looked back at him, to read his face. Seeing how pale his skin was becoming, “I believed him at first, thinking maybe I misheard that morning. So we started walking back, but he kept digging through the duffle bag, looking frantic. He wasn’t acting himself. Said something about needing to go to the library, about finding a book or something, and then took off. But I followed after him. I didn’t want to leave him alone, not with ghost face running around. But when I got to the library, I…couldn’t find him. I saw him go through the back door instead of the front. But once I walked in and noticed all the doors were already unlocked…then I found the bodies.”

You squeezed his knee, “It’s okay.”

He nodded, swallowing and looking down at the soccer ball, “I smelt the blood first and then noticed their bodies. And then…then there were footsteps behind me and I knew that I was next. But the library walked in through the front entrance and started screaming, her eyes darting to me, saying we did it. I turned around to see Jake standing behind me. His skin was pale and sweaty. Eyes wide as he stared back at me and then at the bodies and the librarian. He’s never been surprised to see the bodies. He’s been working with you for over half a year. So when I saw the look on his face…the surprise that was there.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but Sunghoon kept going, “The weirdest thing is his duffle bag was missing from his shoulder,” Sunghoon scoffs, “How did it just disappear.” It was a good question. A very good one. “He hasn’t been the same since then.”

You tried to lighten the mood, “Maybe you knocked something loose in his head when the two of you wrestled the other day.” Sunghoon gave you a confused look, “You know? He said you two got too close to your TV stand and he got scuffed up by the edge of it. Making a scratch on his neck,” you pointed to the right side, tracing a finger down the side of your neck to mimic where Jake has his slowly fading scar now, “It’s right here.”

Sunghoon raised a brow, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. We haven’t wrestled inside the apartment.” Your smile faded. Sunghoon’s phone started vibrating and he pulled it from his pocket, seeing Jake’s caller ID on the screen, “Guess he noticed I wasn’t home.” Sunghoon locked his phone, ignoring the call, “I haven’t been telling him when I’ve left the apartment. So I better prepare myself with a talk when I get back.” He stood up and started walking down the bleachers, “Thank you for listening to me, I don’t want to suspect my best friend, and it probably isn’t even him. He’s just weird, I guess.”

You watched as he disappeared before standing up and finally finding yourself back at your dorm and in bed. Replaying Sunghoon’s story over and over, trying to piece it all together. It still didn’t make sense. None of it did. Nevertheless, it didn’t stop you from texting Jake, asking him to meet you at your dorm as soon as he could tomorrow, and him responding he had soccer practice but would be here right after.

—

“You should really keep your front door locked, YN, there’s a killer out there.” Jake teased you as he made himself at home, dropping his duffle bag into a chair at your kitchen table, his eyes going to the corkboard, “Make any progress yet?”

You stared down at the duffle bag quickly before looking up at him, then back to the board, “No I haven’t. I left my door unlocked on purpose. Knew you’d be coming here.”

Jake smiled at you and stood beside you at the back of your couch, looking at the board, “We’ll catch him, don’t worry honey.”

You glanced at him slightly, your heart winced at the nickname he’d given you. You looked to his neck, seeing the scratch still healing but faded, being nothing more than a pink line.

Jake looked down at you, giving a smile, “Can I freshen up in your bathroom? I bet I don’t smell the greatest from practice.”

You scrunch your nose, “Yes, please. You smell.”

Jake just rolls his eyes playfully and slides his hand up and down your back quickly before leaving your side, “I’m stealing your deodorant.”

You waited until you saw him turn the corner and heard the bathroom door close and lock before slowly walking to his duffle bag.

You didn’t want to suspect Jake anymore than Sunghoon did. But his story last night didn’t add up. No part of it did. Jake’s actions didn’t add up. Jake’s story he gave you didn’t match Sunghoon’s or the librarian's. None of the pieces were adding up no matter how much you tried to force the pieces together.

You looked down the hallway, then back at the bag, and slowly unzipped it, your hand flying to your mouth quickly to stop any noise from coming out. You took a couple of deep breaths and continued looking into the bag.

The police report you asked for along with the glove from the scene of the crime was in the bag in a ziplock bag. Along with the other matching glove and the ghost face mask and the black suit. You pulled the mask out of the bag with shaky hands. Why did Jake have these items? You knew. You knew why and still tried to find another explanation. But after seeing the contents of his bag…the pieces of the puzzle fit. Everything clicked and made sense.

“Don’t you know it’s rude to go through people’s things, honey?” before you could move, a knife was pressed to your neck and his other arm was wrapped around your waist, “I expected better from you than to snoop around.”

Jake’s hot breath was hitting your ear, sending chills down your spine. Any doubts you had were now out the window. Jake is ghost face. Jake is the killer.

“Keeping secrets is very rude too,” you retorted back, dropping the mask back into his bag, “But I figured you already knew that I found out, hint why you leave your bag so easily for me to look through.”

Jake chuckles, squeezing his arm around you and pressing the knife further against your skin, “Can’t get anything past you, can I?”

“Why?” you asked, tilting your head at the movement of him brushing the side of his face to yours.

“Why did I do it?” he nuzzled his nose on the shell of your ear, “You’ll need to be specific, honey.”

You swallowed, “Everything.”

Jake chuckles again, “Because it’s fun.” It was such a simple yet spine-chilling answer, “You think I played this fucking good boy persona because I actually wanted to? No, no. I had to play that persona. To hide my secret. This is all a game to me, YN.”

“It’s why you joined our club,” you swallowed again, “To make it harder for us to figure you out.”

Jake shrugs, gently biting at the shell of your ear then rubbing his nose against it again, “I thought it would add to the fun, honestly. Yeah having an inside made it so much easier. It covered my tracks well. Until you started picking up on every. Fucking. Thing.” he hissed, tightening his grip, “You made it harder to cover up my tracks. Picking apart every smallest thing with each murder. I was lucky you didn’t suspect me, that was until you started poking your nose more into my business, you don’t think I didn’t know you tore the office apart looking for the police report before coming to my apartment? That you talked to Sunghoon even after I told you not to?”

“You have our phones and the office bugged,” this should surprise you, but it doesn’t. It made sense.

He pressed his lips to your ear, “Smart girl. Think I wouldn’t bug your phone? Or my best friends?”

“Jake, you were going to kill him, weren’t you.”

Another low chuckle, “Yes,” your body stilled, feeling cold, “It would have been a pity, really, to kill off my best friend all because he also stuck his nose where he shouldn’t have.”

You looked down at his bag, seeing the bag gloved, “You went back to the library for the glove, you fucked up.”

He growled in your ear, “Shut up! That bitch fought me instead of taking it. I didn’t even realize my glove was gone until after I murdered them both and fled the scene. That’s when Sunghoon showed up. I knew I had to go back and find where the fuck my glove went before someone else did. I didn’t know he was following me until I went to go back and check the bodies after tearing apart the other side of the library and saw him standing there. I quietly set my bag in one of the reading rooms and locked the door, slipping my knife into the back of my jeans. Preparing myself to kill my best friend.”

“All to keep your fucking secret,” you snapped at him, his hands on your body getting tighter.

“Watch it, honey,” he hissed, “You do have a knife to your throat right now.”

“She fought you right? Probably knocked off your mask too. She saw your face, and you acted quickly and sliced her throat. Not before she left her own scratch on your neck.”

Jake nodded, a wide smile on his face, “Nothing gets past you. You’d make a great detective someday, honey.”

You needed to turn him in. Needed to get out of here and turn him in before he could kill anyone else. Fifteen. He’s murdered fifteen people. Probably more before he took up the ghost face mantle.

Jake pressed his chest to your back, “You know,” he whispers, “I’ve dreamed about doing this with you, my knife to your throat,” he rocked his hips against your ass, “It’s so fucking hot.”

It was now or never. You tilted your head to the side, taking the skin of his forearm between your teeth and biting hard.

“Fuck!” he shouted, his hand flexing and dropping the knife to the floor and his grip on you loosening.

You pushed him back with your back and sent him falling to his ass. You barely made it two steps away from him before both of his hands were on your ankles, tripping you to the floor and pulling you towards him.

You kicked your legs but not getting out of his strong grip. Jake worked fast to flip you over onto your back, his hands now at your wrists and holding them up and above your hand, pinning them to the floor. He straddled you, locking his legs around yours to keep you from wiggling them.

“Stop fighting me!” he growled, using all his weight to pin you to the floor.

You stopped, chest rising and falling as you stared up at his beautiful killing face.

He held your wrists down with one hand and reached for his knife with the other, chuckling as he once again held the knife to your throat, “You look so pretty like this baby, all underneath me like this.”

Jake was so turned on by this. He’s only dreamed of having you pinned underneath him with his favorite weapon against your skin. Dreamed what you’d sound and look like. This passed his expectations. It went even further than that. His cock twitched in his pants seeing the look of anger all over your face.

“You get horny every time you kill someone?” you spat out at him, the fire in your eyes burning.

Jake cocked his head, “You’re not afraid of me?”

“Why would I be afraid of a horn dog who likes killing people?”

Jake laughs, adjusting his legs from yours, using his knees to spread your legs apart, sliding himself between them, “Baby, you’re the only one I’ve ever got horny over. The others were just killings to kill. But you? You do something to me.”

From the moment Jake first saw you on campus he wanted to be buried balls deep in your cunt. Wanted to fuck you so hard as he softly made cuts on your arms to watch you bleed as your moans of pain and pleasure filled his ear holes. Wanted to cum so deep within you and make you his.

He had more than just joined the club to hide his killings as his reason. He wanted to get closer to you, get to know you. Then kill you after he got his dick wet. But what he didn’t expect was you figuring him out so soon. His plans got pushed up. He wanted you afraid of him as he killed you. He didn’t expect you to look at him with fury, so unafraid.

Jake leaned down, being inches away from your face, the knife pressing harder against your neck, “You get me so hard,” he rocked his hips between you, his hard cock rubbing against your clothed cunt. You tried to not whimper, to keep your firm face, but the effect he was having on you down south was obvious. He wasn’t stupid, you knew that.

You’d be lying if you said you haven’t been crushing on Jake since he walked into the club for the first time. How couldn’t you? He was perfect. Still was as he sat atop you with a knife to your neck.

You relaxed your body, “If you’re going to kill me, then do it.”

Jake smiled, “Want me to?” He released your hands from his grip and slid the knife from your neck and down to your shirt, his free hand looping his fingers at the collar, using the knife to cut a line, tearing the fabric and exposing your laced bra and skin. Jake tucked his lip between his teeth. Fuck you looked so much better than what you did in his dreams. So much better than he imagined. He slid the tip of the knife down your chest, rounding it around your breast and down your sternum, “Where should I start?” He placed both hands at the sides of your head and bent down, lips brushing against yours, “Tell me, baby.”

You lifted your head, connecting your lips to his. Taking in the taste of his cherry chapstick and the softness of his lips. He rocked his hips against yours, moaning into your mouth, “Start by taking the rest of my clothes off.”

He laughs against your lips and then pulls away, setting the knife down at your side to pull his famous white tee shirt off his body, “Yeah?” you nodded, eyes darting to his bare chest and abs, “So fucking dirty,” he cooed, “Should have known you were into killers.”

You sat up on your elbows, ready to reach for the button of his jeans, but found the knife back in his hand and the tip pointing at your chest, “Lay back down, baby, no need to be so impatient.”

His free hand touched your shoulder and gently pressed you back to the floor. You kept your eyes on him as he unbuttoned his jeans, the knife still in hand as he wiggled out of his jeans and boxers, leaving him bare to you.

You watched as he took his length between his fingers, slowly pumping himself, him biting his lips. You were growing too impatient. Needing to feel him against you, in you, “Jake,”

“Shhh, honey,” he whispers, dropping his hands to your shorts, “I know.”

The cool metal of the knife brushed your skin as he pulled your shorts and panties down your thighs. Goosebumps formed on your skin and making Jake chuckle, enjoying this more than he’d thought, “You love the way my knife feels against you?” He tossed your clothing somewhere off into the void of the room, settling himself back between your legs, his tip prodding your entrance, “love the way it feels to glide against your skin?” He sent the knife sliding up your tummy, his hips pushing his cock in your pussy, slowly stretching you.

Jake bottomed out, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix. He hissed out in pure pleasure of finally being buried so deep inside you, the pleasure of how fucking good you felt wrapped around him, “fuck baby,” he smiles, sliding the knife to your waist, wanting to cut open your skin and see how pretty your blood would look pooling out, “feel so good and I’m not even moving.”

You bucked your hips up against him, wanting to feel any kind of friction. Jake drops the knife to the floor, his hands pinning your arms above your head again, “I told you to stop being so impatient.”

“Jae, please,” you begged, wrapping your legs around his waist, “I need you.”

Hearing you beg for him had him gone and all he cared about now was fucking you. To make you feel so good until you’re cumming around his dick.

Jake started out slow, burying his face in your neck, “Why aren’t you afraid, hmm? I could kill you right now.”

You leaned into him, squeezing your legs tighter on him to push him even further into you, “Because I have secrets of my own.”

Jake chuckled, bucking his hips harder and faster into yours, his lips pressing to yours. Tongue sliding down your throat and exploring your mouth. One hand leaving yours to cup your breast, his thumb and index finger pinching your nipple, “Tell me your secrets.”

“You already seem to know them all, stalker,” you hissed, throwing your head back against the floor at him pinching your nipple harder in the same movement of him pushing his dick hard against your cervix, pressing so hard to break whatever barrier that was stopping him from completely filling you whole as his hip bones knocked against yours.

“Tell me anyway,” he whispers between kisses, now sliding his mouth down to your ear, licking the shell of it, “I don’t know what you haven’t texted or physically talked about.”

“I have feelings for you,” you felt insane saying it out loud. Felt crazy that you even admitted it to him. To the person who was fucking you into pure bliss. To a murderer, “I’m obsessed with you, Jake.”

Jake bit down into your neck, both of his hands sliding underneath you to wrap at your shoulders, fucking his hips against you faster. His teeth sank into your skin tearing it slightly, a small sprinkle of blood escaping.

“Fuckkkk,” he moans, tasting the brassy liquid on his tongue, “Even your blood tastes good.”

He was fucking crazy. You knew he was. But everything about him drew you to him. Made you want him more.

And him hearing how obsessed you were with him made him even crazier about you.

“Such a good girl,” he cooed, “Letting me fuck you like this, looking so pretty for me this way.” He bucked his hips faster, adjusting his legs on the floor to spread yours even wider, giving him more access to hit your weak spots and to hit them just right.

You pulled at his hair, “Jake!” you moaned out his name, the knot in your stomach threatening to snap, “I’m going…fuck…I’m going to cum.”

“Please,” he groaned, “Cum for me baby,” he sticks his tongue out, flattening it against the bite he left on your shoulder, licking up the new blood that pooled out, “fucking cum around my cock for me, honey.”

A few more thrusts and you came around him. Tingles spread throughout your body at the feeling of your release. Jake moans at feeling the mess you’ve made on his cock, him working his dick faster in your cunt to chase out the release he wants. The one he’s dreamed about having with you. His hand only did so much for him with his thoughts while back at his apartment. But now he was balls deep in your sweet pussy, having you right where he wanted you.

“Gonna cum soon,” he panted, hands squeezing your shoulders, “fuck I want to cum in this cunt so bad.”

You pulled at his hair harder, the overstimulation hitting you hard, “Jae, I can’t—“

“I know, baby,” he pressed his forehead against yours, his brows furrowing and eyes shut tightly, “Going to fill this pussy to the brim, understand? This pussy is mine.”

Jake pressed a kiss to your lips and lifted up, taking your legs and pressing them to your chest, pistoning into you faster but sloppy, “Shit,” he hissed, “Fixing to cum—fuck—I’m cumming, honey, I’m cum—“ one final thrust, and his white ropes spilled into you. He pressed his hips against you and held them there, making sure every last drop of his cum made it deep within, none to be wasted.

“Fuck,” he cursed, slowly lifting himself back up and dropping your legs back to the floor, “Sex with you was so much better than in my head. I only dreamt how good this pussy would feel. How good it’d feel to cum in you.”

Jake was definitely more obsessed with you than you were with him. And he honestly didn’t care how obvious it was.

“Fuck I am in love with you.” he chuckles, his hands rubbing up and down your thighs.

You tilted your head to the side, seeing the knife sitting there idle. Jake clocked where your eyes landed, but he wasn’t fast enough as you quickly grabbed it, being the one who now held the knife to his throat, the fire in your eyes back.

Jake might have just came, but his dick twitched and hardened again between the walls of your fuck hole. His crazy smile is so wide and his eyes so lustful. Seeing you so ready to end him right here and now made him crazier. Made him crave you even more.

He wouldn’t kill you now. No, no. How could he kill the love of his life? How could he slide that knife into your skin and cut you open? You were precious to him, more than what he thought before. Maybe the sex drew him in, but you weren’t getting away from him that easily.

“Awe, babe,” he cooed, taking your wrist in his hand and slowly removing the knife from your hand, “This is how this will go now,” he tossed the knife across the room and out of reach, pinning your arms back to the floor, slowly rocking his hips, “You will keep your fucking mouth shut, got it? Close this ghost face case and if anyone asks you don’t know anything about it. Give it up. All for me, okay baby?”

You nodded, not being able to say no to those brown eyes. It was toxic, whatever relationship you just found yourself in. You became that girl in books and movies who fell for the killer. It surprises you at how fast you were willing to drop everything for him. To keep his secret.

He kisses you gently and fucked you on the floor until you both came again and again and again.

What did you get yourself into?

— perm taglist: @alvojake @ikeuverse @woniebae @shawnyle @kangnina @jwnghyuns @in-somnias-world @zyvlxqht @aaa-sia @wonniethepoo @addictedtohobi @eneiyri @sparklovespink @skzenhalove @fakeuwus @cherry-park @vousty @ladyartemesia @psh9 @cmoundiamante @enhaverse713586 @wondipity @lhsvibez

#yeonzzzn asks #— 🔪 anon #jake bby #jake sim #sim jake #sim jaeyun #sim jake smut #sim jaeyun smut #enhypen #enhypen fanfic #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios #enhypen smut #enhypen hard thoughts #ghostface au #enhypen hard hours #yeonzzzn writing #ghostface!jake

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sooniebby · 8 months ago

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Thinking…. (Bottom male reader). Feminization is the main kink. Lemme know if I should expand this into a full fic!

Playboy reader who’s known for sleeping with everyone and their mama (literally). You have a girlfriend or boyfriend every two weeks, dropping them like flies when you get bored.

But you end up finding your new target for the week, the student council president. Much to your shock, you didn’t have to ware him down at all. You asked him out once and he said yes.

So you’re excited. You mostly get girlfriends and while they’re cool, boyfriends are your favorite! They always act so shy when you ride them for the first time. The more inexperienced, the more fun.

So imagine your shock when you’re over at your new “boyfriend’s” house and he has you dressed in a girly dress with knee high socks. At first, you just push past it… you don’t judge…

Until when you try to take over after foreplay, doing your usually riding when he doesn’t even react…? You’re about damn near pissed off, your legs are aching, you’re embarrassed about this damn outfit.

Doesn’t help he starts fucking yawning?!?!

It’s not until you straight up tell him, “what the hell man?! If I’m boring you so damn much, then you take over!”

Though it hurts your pride to not be the dominate player. He took your words to heart because suddenly your pressed against his wall, balancing on one leg while he holds the other up and slams his cock deep into your slicked hole.

He’s harsh and unpredictable. Even after you cum, your body heaving, you notice he’s not even close to tired.

You find yourself ass up and face pressed against the bed as he takes you like a bitch. Your riding was nothing compared to this. His large hands grip your ass before a smack is delivered to it, causing you to squeal in shock.

“You’re so cute, (Name)-Chan…Make that sound again…”

Chan?! You don’t even get to ask what’s with all this feminization when he’s fucking you like a slut in heat. It takes longer than you thought possible for him to finally reach his first orgasm of the night (your fourth).

You’re collapsed against the bed, struggling to breathe when he manhandled you onto your back, legs pushed to your chest. He grins at you, his glasses foggy as he leans down.

“You’re going to enjoy being my slut, (Name)-Chan. I’ve been waiting to make you mine. I’m going to ruin you so bad you’ll only want my cock in this tight cunt of yours.”

huh…. Guess you were no longer the playboy of your school anymore.

Tag list: @flurrina @mello-life69 @chill-guy-but-cooler @rhetorical-conscience @iwishtobeacrow @kiiyoooo @remdayz @tomoeroi @the-ultimate-librarian @love-kha1 @ofclyde @smellwell @star-3214 @tehyunnie

#bottom male reader #x male reader #mlm ns/fw #smut drabble #smut ideas #uke male reader

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headkiss · 1 year ago

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you’ll always know me

part 1, part 2

pairing: rockstar!eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: even as the crowds at his shows get bigger and bigger, eddie munson still has you, his very best friend. or, (for my swifties) eddie munson is your dorothea.

word count: 8.6k

warnings: fluff, a little angst, childhood best friends to lovers (sort of), weed and smoking, librarian!reader, first kiss, so many uses of the words “i miss you,” and some idiots in love !!!

a/n: hiiiii!!! this one took so long but i really love rockstar!eddie and i hope you do too!!! this is inspired by tis the damn season and especially dorothea by taylor swift <3 thank you to my love @inkluvs for encouraging me on this one ily!!!

♫♩♪♬

It’s surreal to watch someone close to you grow so much bigger than the town you live in.

To know that the person you see on the news, at award shows on your TV screen, is the same one who used to push you on the swings at the playground, who used to walk with you to and from school, who grew up beside you, closer than anyone else ever could have.

Closer than anyone ever would, still.

To most people, he’s Eddie Munson, lead singer and guitarist of Corroded Coffin. To you, he’s Eddie, the best friend you’ve ever had.

You can go back years and years, and Eddie’s woven into your life for so much of it. So is his music. You can pick out the points: watching Corroded Coffin play for the first time in middle school, watching their first gig at the Hideout, being in the front row for it all wearing the widest smile, having the loudest cheers.

Even the late night phone calls you’d get when he’d be stuck on lyrics, when he wanted someone’s opinion and chose to dial your number instead of his bandmates’.

(“Hello?”

“I can’t get this line to sound right.”

“Let’s hear it, Munson.”)

You’re often in disbelief of where he is now. Not because you ever doubted him, but because even after so long, it’s strange not to see him every day. You’re insanely proud of him, but that doesn’t mean you don’t miss him.

Because you do. You miss him so much.

A box sits on the top shelf of your closet, one filled with newspaper and magazine clippings, articles about the band’s success, positive reviews about their shows and their albums. Things to show that Eddie’s dream came true, and that’s a rare thing.

There’s only one kind of tabloid you choose not to keep: the ones booming with rumors you selfishly hope aren’t true.

‘Lead singer of Corroded Coffin has a new spark? Read more to find out who’s caught famous bad boy Eddie Munson’s eye.’

You see him constantly in pictures, through a screen, but you only really ever see him on holidays, when he’s able to come home. When he comes bursting back into your life in vibrant fireworks with his stupid, pretty smile and stupid, shining brown eyes. When he comes back only to leave all over again.

You only have yourself to blame, really, for letting it tear you up. Because more than anything, you’re happy for him, so happy you could never express it properly, but still, there’s an ache in you when he crosses your mind, when the feelings linger.

Life in Hawkins for you consists of working at the library, reading your days and thoughts away, hanging out with the gang when you’re up to it, and that’s about it.

Eddie always knows where to find you when he does come home, usually barging into the library with his arms open for a hug, one you rush into easily. You always spend the couple days he has in Hawkins together, being the you and him you’ve been since you were kids. But the lingering reminder doesn’t fade, the reminder of him having to leave looming over you like a storm cloud.

Eddie Munson comes home sporadically, unknowingly taking your heart with him wherever he goes. And when his inevitable departure takes place, you’re forced to regrow what’s missing from your chest. Every single time.

Besides his uncle Wayne, who could only ever see him as a troublemaking kid, you’re the only person who’s never treated Eddie any differently.

Not in high school when he was labeled a freak, not even when the fame rose so suddenly it felt like a tidal wave. You kept him afloat. You keep him afloat.

He knows he should call more often, he knows that even if the phone works both ways, you really don’t have a way of keeping track of which hotel he’s in, which state, which country, even. He knows that falls on him.

Your phone number’s burned into Eddie’s memory. He could never forget it, and still, he can’t seem to find the time to dial it. He’ll get called away, or he’ll just be getting back from a show and barely have the energy to shower before getting in bed. Worse, he’ll get the panicked sense that you won’t pick up anymore.

At least he’s never missed your birthday. That, he’ll always make time for, usually phoning you at the same time that a bouquet of flowers arrives at your door. And somehow, even when he’s away, you don’t miss his birthday, either.

Eddie’s sitting on the small couch in his dressing room, waiting to go on stage, thinking of you the way he often does.

He wonders if you think of him, too. If you miss him or if you’re angry that he’s gone so often, that he can barely even manage a fucking phone call. Though, you were never the type to be angry. Never with him, at least.

He wants to hear your voice, wants to hear you tell him ‘good luck’ before going on stage like you used to. He peeks at the table next to the couch. Eddie’s not sure how much time he has before he needs to go, but he figures it’s worth a try.

Just as he’s about to pick up the phone in his dressing room, there’s a knock on the door.

“Munson! You’re on in five!”

He’ll call you later, then.

“Beginning descent to the Indianapolis International Airport.”

The muffled sound through the airplane’s speakers is followed by the ding of the seatbelt signs being turned on. Eddie shifts in his seat to look out the window. He’s got his own little cubicle in first class, and though this is how he always flies now (other than when he finds himself on a private jet, which is even more unbelievable), he’s still not used to it.

He’s itching to get out of this seat, then he remembers that he’s still got the trek through the airport and the drive back to Hawkins. It’ll be worth it to see Wayne, who he doesn’t see nearly as often as he should, and get his classic hug with a slap on his shoulder.

It’ll be worth it to see you, who makes Hawkins feel more like home. You, who reminds him of the person he’s always been, the parts that get lost on the road. You, who hugs him tighter than anyone else ever has.

His hands clench into fits in his lap.

As soon as Eddie steps off the plane, his security team finds him. He’d assured them that he’d be fine, really, but this is how it is for him now. Through baggage claim and all the way to the car that’s waiting for him outside, security takes a step whenever he does.

Shutting the car door as he slides into the backseat, Eddie tips his head back and sighs.

The car ride feels shorter than usual, the city fading into trees and fields until the ‘Welcome to Hawkins’ sign comes into view. The gravel crunches under the car’s tires as it pulls into the trailer park. Wayne’s got enough to get a better place now, Eddie made sure of it, but he never did. He’d never admit it but Wayne’s sentimental, and the trailer houses too many memories to let go of it.

After all, it was home.

Stepping through the front door there’s the smell that he’d never noticed until he’d been gone for weeks at a time. The settled dust, the faint smoke of cigarettes, coffee, and the room spray Wayne inevitably uses to try and cover it all up.

Eddie drags his bags inside, waves to his driver, and shuts the door behind him.

Then, Wayne’s warm rasp, “my boy. Get in okay?”

He’s wrapped in his uncle’s classic hug quickly, the pats on his shoulder and all. Eddie closes his eyes and soaks it in, just for a second, “yeah. It was fine.”

“Good, good,” Wayne says, pulling back and grasping Eddie’s shoulders, getting a good look at him. “Take a shower.”

“Is that your way of telling me I look like shit?”

“Nah, that’s me telling you that you smell like airport, boy.”

“It’s great to see you, too,” Eddie says, smiling.

He and Wayne have the kind of relationship that time doesn’t really affect all that much. Whether Eddie’s away for a week or a month, or two, or three, they fall back into things like he’d never even left.

He knows Wayne’s probably lonely, probably hiding more than he could imagine, but he also knows that he loves him, and that’s always a good thing to know, to feel. Loved.

“Shut up, you know I missed you,” Wayne shakes Eddie’s shoulders and lets go, “now go wash up and you can tell me about your last show over some coffee, sound good?”

“Sounds good. I missed you too, Wayne.”

Eddie carries his bags into his room, leaving them open on the ground rather than unpacking. He’ll just have to pack them all over again, anyways.

Before long, the trailer’s small bathroom is filling with steam as Eddie steps into the shower, dropping his neck back and letting the water run over his shoulders, his back. He stands like that for a bit, simply letting the heat melt away at the tension in his muscles.

By the time he steps out, the mirror is completely fogged with steam, and Eddie wipes away at a section to look at himself. The bags under his eyes, the mess of his hair that he doesn’t bother taming, the small scratch on his chin from one of his rings. He shakes his head and heads into his room with his towel around his waist.

He throws on a pair of plaid pajama pants and a faded band tee, his hair soaking the back of it drop by drop.

In the kitchen, Wayne’s got two mugs of coffee sitting on the small table, a seat already pulled out for Eddie to take.

“Thanks.”

He nods, sipping from his mug as Eddie does the same.

In the silence, he can’t help but think of you, of how close he is to you now. Mere minutes away. He wonders what you’re doing, if you’re reading in bed after your shift, if you’d just showered like him, if you’re thinking of him, too.

“I saw her the other day,” Wayne says.

They both know he means you.

“How’s she doing?”

“Well, I’m sure you’ll ask her that when you see her tomorrow, but she seemed good.”

“How'd you know I’m gonna see her tomorrow?”

“Come on, kid. You go to the library the day after you get in every time and think I don’t notice?”

Eddie looks down at the mug in his hands, his face warm. It shouldn’t matter, shouldn’t have him feeling all shy and nervous, like he’d been caught, but it does.

“She misses you,” Wayne adds.

“She tell you that?”

“Doesn’t have to. I’ve known that girl since she was little and running after you on the playground. I can tell.”

Wayne has always said that you’re as good as family, after all. Eddie used to joke that his uncle liked you more than him, and you used to laugh and joke back that he was right.

Eddie’s suddenly very excited to sleep, only to get to tomorrow quicker.

“I miss her, too.”

“Yeah, kid. I know,” Wayne leaves it there, switching things over, “I saw you almost eat shit on TV the other day.”

“Come on!” Eddie groans. He’d tripped over a fucking wire on stage. “It wasn’t that bad.”

“It was still fuckin’ funny.”

“Of all the shows, you just had to tune in for that one.”

Wayne asks about the tour, about how Eddie’s liking it this time around, about whether or not there’s anything new he’s working on.

In return, Eddie asks about the mechanic’s, about whether or not Wayne’s back has been acting up (which earns him a light slap on the back of the head), about what’s changed in Hawkins since the last time he’d been home.

Even through the smiles he shares with his uncle, Eddie’s wondering how you’ll react when you see him tomorrow, picturing how it’ll feel to be near you again. He gets that feeling in his gut, the butterflies that are nerves and excitement and questions and feelings rolled into one.

He’s pretty sure he dreams about you, too.

Your shifts at the library are always long; full days of scanning and shelving books. You’re lucky to say that you actually like your job. The smell of worn pages, the peacefulness (save for when Dustin comes barging in with his stack of overdue books that you let him off the hook for every time), the interactions that are almost always short and sweet since it’s meant to be a quiet place.

Your eight or nine or however many hour days go by much quicker now than they did during your high school job at the grocery store, that’s for sure.

You’re pushing the put-back cart between shelves, humming a random song quietly as you place the books where they belong, sometimes pausing to straighten things out. It’s the middle of a weekday and you’re the only person in there anyway. That is, until the small bell on the front desk dings.

“Just a second!” You call, squeezing between the cart and the self beside it to walk over to the front desk. You think your heart stops altogether.

You’d recognize that head of hair anywhere, the dark, frizzy curls. Hell, you’d recognize that damn denim vest anywhere, even the stance of the person wearing it. “Eddie?”

He turns around at the sound of your voice, and something lifts from his chest when he sees you. A grin spreads wide on his face, splitting his cheeks and crinkling his eyes in the corners, “there she is.”

Usually, when he comes home, it’s on a holiday and you’re expecting him, watching the door and waiting for him to walk through it. This time, you had no idea he’d be coming home. It’s the best surprise you could get.

You’re practically running into his arms, and he wraps them around your waist easily, yours tossed around his shoulders. Your face is buried in his neck, breathing him in, making sure this is real. “What the hell are you doing here?”

His hands clutch at the fabric over your sides, his head twisting so he can place a kiss over your hair, “had a break from tour. Missed home.”

And sure, Eddie hadn’t really realized just how much he missed it until he came back, it’s crystal clear now, with you hugging him. He really, really missed home.

You want to say something stupid and emotional like it hasn’t felt as much like home until now, or I missed the sound of your voice and the smell of your shampoo, but that would probably reveal a little too much.

“Just home you missed or…” you tease, pulling back to look at his face, his brown eyes that sort of sparkle. Your hands stay on his shoulders, his on your waist.

“I missed Wayne, obviously,” Eddie replies, acting oblivious and smiling at the small furrow in your brow.

“Eddie!”

“Aw, come on.” He tugs you in for another hug, his cheek squished against the side of your head. “‘Course I missed you, trouble.”

Trouble. You never knew you could miss a single word so much.

Eddie started calling you ‘trouble’ when you were kids, sometime in middle school when you’d stolen a bunch of his mixtapes and only returned them weeks later, when he finally noticed. He’d snatched them out of your hands and muttered ‘you’re trouble’ and it just stuck.

“Thank you,” you say, laughing when Eddie pulls back frowning at you. “And I missed you, too. Duh.”

“Duh.” He mocks. He lets go of you fully but doesn’t go far, leaning an elbow against the desk, “you’re doing okay?”

“I’m good. Things don’t change all that much around here, you know that.”

“I’m not asking about around here, I’m asking ‘bout you.”

You tug at the hair tie on your wrist. “I’m fine, Eddie. Promise.”

He nods, and there’s a small lull in the conversation that pinches at your chest for some reason. The sort of silence that never used to be there when it came to you and Eddie, always filling it with conversation or letting it be comfortable. Now, there’s something like awkwardness stretching and it stings.

Because it shouldn’t be there, because he’s Eddie and you’re you and you’re best friends and that’s all there should be to it. But it isn’t. You’re the same people, but so much is different.

“You working late?” He asks.

“Until we close.”

“Care for some company?”

You tilt your head at him, “you really wanna hang around the library for the last four hours of my shift?”

“Sounds like fun to me. I’ll even push the cart for you, and you can tell me what I’ve missed while I was away.”

It’s funny that he thinks he’d ever have to convince you to spend time with him, when you’re practically pulling at any thread of him that you can, when you’re taking anything he has to give you. Two days, a week, a couple of phone calls.

It’s all better than not having him at all.

“Only if you tell me what I’ve missed, too. Like all the cool celebrities you’ve met.”

“Not as cool as you, trouble.” Eddie taps your nose, smiling at the way you scrunch it in response.

“Shut up and start pushing the cart, Munson.”

He stands straight and salutes, “yes ma’am.”

You’re still smiling when you shake your head, “idiot.”

Eddie really does spend the rest of the day with you, pushing the cart while you re-shelf books, sitting in the extra chair behind the counter while you file returns, ducking when someone else walks in.

He asks you about Robin and Steve, Dustin and Lucas, how the kids are finding school, whether Nancy’s been hired at a big paper yet. He asks you about your family, and most of all, about you.

He hangs onto every word you say. And not once do you say anything to make him feel bad for being away, if anything, you can’t stop telling him how proud you are, especially when he talks to you about what’s in the works.

“I always told you you’d make it, Munson.”

“Wouldn’t have done it without you, trouble.”

The next morning, you’re sitting across from him in the corner booth by the window at Benny’s for breakfast. The same way you did every Friday in high school, at the same table.

Whenever you wind up at Benny’s when Eddie’s away, you tend to avoid that booth. It’s pathetic. Like his absence is clearer than ever sitting there when he isn’t. When he’s not putting whipped cream on your nose or stealing food off your plate.

Now, it’s his presence that surrounds you, his smile and his laugh, his foot nudging yours under the table.

The menu is sticky under your fingertips where you hold it, faded from sunlight and discolored from coffee spills that stain the page. You don’t really need to be looking at it—after years of coming here, you’ve probably got the thing memorized—but you need the time to collect yourself. To remember that this is Eddie, and there’s nothing to be nervous about.

You need the time to stuff down that flutter in your gut and in your chest.

On the other side of the booth, Eddie takes your distraction as a chance to really look at you. The details he can’t seem to picture when he’s away like the flecks in your eyes or the exact shade of your lips.

He never realizes just how much he misses you until he’s home. Until he’s sitting across from you and listening to the sound of your voice clearly instead of through a crackling phone’s speaker, until he gets to see the way your eyes light up slightly when you laugh.

It sort of hits him all at once, and he’s thinking, God, I should call more often. I should visit more often.

After a couple of minutes, you look back at Eddie, “you know what you want?”

“I’ve been getting the same thing since high school, trouble. Don’t need the menu.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll go order,” you say, placing your menu back in the holder by the window.

When you start sliding your way out of the booth, Eddie places a hand over yours on the table, “I can get it.”

You look down at your hands, his skin on yours, like you’d expected to see something there. A spark, a burn scorching your skin in the best way.

“I know you can,” you say, smiling at him. “But it’s my treat, okay? I want to get it.”

Eddie always feels sort of guilty when he’s not buying, because he has more than enough money to take care of it, more than he knows what to do with. Sometimes (often), people expect him to pay, even. And just like you’d known how he was feeling, you shut it down with a flash of your smile.

You shift to squeeze his hand before getting up and heading over to the counter, leaning on your elbows as you wait your turn.

Still, Eddie’s looking at you, his hand in the same spot on the table.

He knows that, despite it not being a busy morning at Benny’s, people are looking at him, whispering the way they did even in school. Only now, they’re saying they can’t believe it, look at him now, instead of calling him a freak. And just like in school, having you around makes the talk bearable. Hell, it makes it disappear, if only for a little while.

When the waiter finally comes over to take your order, you send him a kind smile, rattling off yours and Eddie’s orders.

Eddie watches the entire interaction. He tells himself it’s because he doesn’t want to make eye contact with anyone else, that it’s because he’s just making sure you’re alright. It’s certainly not because of how pretty he thinks you look today, not because of how hard it is to keep his eyes off of you.

The waiter is a younger guy, probably around your age. Someone Eddie doesn’t know. He seems to tell you a joke because you laugh, bright and sunny, and Eddie suddenly wishes that Benny was the one taking orders.

Because he should be the one to make you laugh like that, to be on the receiving end of your grin and crinkled eyes. Because there’s this weight in his stomach that feels a little too much like jealousy. Because you’re his best friend and he fucking misses you.

Eddie looks down at his hands and twists his rings around and around until you come back, the old booth squeaking as you sit down.

“You okay?” You ask, always noticing his nervous habit of fiddling with his rings.

She’s my friend, he reminds himself. My best friend, that’s all.

“‘Course I am.”

“The guy at the counter, Dan, wanted me to tell you he’s a fan.”

He shakes his head, “I can't believe I have those. Especially in this town.”

“Excuse me? Your biggest fan is sitting right here, in this town, Munson.”

He probably thinks you’re joking with the way he chuckles, chest rumbling. But, you’re not. The shoebox full of clippings says enough, and you don’t think he’d ever let you live it down if he knew about it.

“She want an autograph?” He teases, the heaviness in his stomach melting away. Your biggest fan.

“In your chicken scratch? Yeah right.”

It’s not long before your food arrives, plates of waffles and fruit, sides of bacon and hashbrowns. Of course, you inevitably end up with whipped cream on your nose and food missing from your plate.

It’s your favorite kind of breakfast.

You’re sitting in the passenger seat of Eddie’s van—the same van he’s had since high school, that he refuses to replace—heading towards Steve’s place. It’s not unusual for either of you to be meeting up with the gang, but Eddie’s still nervous.

“Are you sure about this?” He asks you.

They don’t know he’s in town, and as sure as you are that they’ll be thrilled to see him, Eddie isn’t convinced. You place a hand on his shoulder and squeeze lightly as he drives.

“Everyone’s gonna be so happy to see you. Don’t you trust me?”

“‘Course I do,” he says easily, without thinking, “just haven’t seen anyone in a while, you know?”

“We all miss you, Eddie. It’ll be fun!”

Logically, he knows nobody’s gonna kick him out, or treat him any differently, but it doesn’t stop him from getting nervous. You wanted to surprise everyone, and how could he say no to you? So, here he is, gripping the steering wheel too tight and worrying too much.

Pulling into the driveway, he nods, “here we go.”

You hop out of the van before he has it shut off, but he catches up quickly. He follows you to the side gate of the house, watches you unlatch it and stroll into the yard. The sound of voices mingling hits his ears as you walk around the house and find your group of friends sitting around in lounge chairs.

“Look who I brought,” You announce.

Your shout is followed by eyes flicking towards you, then Eddie who stands beside you. Then, a chorus of his name, plus Argyle’s “rockstar!”

“Hey guys,” he says, waving shyly.

It’s odd to feel this way around these people that he’s known for years. Robin and Steve who’ve rented him way too many movies for free, Nancy and Johnathan who are probably why he graduated high school, and Argyle who was always his most loyal customer.

All of these memories and he feels a little too much like a stranger. At least he’s got you, who feels like one of the only sure things in his life. No matter how long goes by, you’re there, and he hopes you always will be.

“You want a drink?” Steve asks, leaning to reach into the cooler beside him.

“I’ll take one, thanks,” you say, catching the can Steve throws to you.

“I’m driving,” Eddie says, jingling his keys.

“Eddie Munson being responsible,” Robin teases, “they grow up so fast.”

And just like that, he feels a little better. These are his friends, and even though he’s not around all of the time, and even though he may not be as close to everyone anymore, they’ll still be his friends.

You sit down on the empty lounge chair and pat the space beside you for Eddie, sending him a smile that says both ‘told you so,’ in your snark he can practically hear, and ‘everything’s okay,’ in your kind way.

He plops down beside you.

“How’s everything going?” Johnathan asks him.

Not wanting all of the attention on him, Eddie keeps his answer short, “busy, but it’s a ton of fun.”

“Everything you ever dreamed of?” Robin adds.

“You could definitely say that.”

Though, Eddie has this strange feeling that he’s missing something whenever he’s gone. It’ll go away, but somehow, it always finds him again, when he’s debating on calling or not, when he’s hit with a memory of you in the front row at the Hideout when he’s on stage.

He looks over at you and finds you smiling softly at him, eyes fond. He can’t believe he’s the one you’re looking at like that.

Eddie blinks and turns back to the group, “how about you guys? How’re the jobs?”

The chatter picks up and surrounds him, but Eddie can’t stop thinking about the way you were looking at him just then. He’s never had someone look at him like that, like there’s nothing but affection there.

It’s platonic, he tells himself. She’s my best friend.

You feel happier now than you have in a while. Things feel more complete when Eddie’s around. Things feel right. It’s all of your favorite people with no empty chair, it’s falling back into a friendship that’s existed for years.

When conversations split off into smaller ones, you lean your head on his shoulder, and the words sort of slip out of you, “it’s really nice to have you here.”

His heart beats louder, he leans his head on top of yours, “it’s nice to be home.”

And it is. Eddie loves touring, he loves playing his music, and he loves his job, but at the end of the day, he’ll always be this boy from Hawkins, and he’ll always be happy to be home, to be with you.

Catching the moment, Argyle—always sharing his thoughts—says, “sick, you guys are finally together.”

You and Eddie both sit up, like you’d been caught doing something you shouldn’t, even when you’ve sat like that countless times before.

Everyone’s eyes seem to be on the both of you now, and you have a tiny panic inside. Have you really been that obvious with how you feel? Does Eddie know and he hasn’t said anything because he doesn’t want to hurt you?

You laugh awkwardly, “what?”

“Like, dating,” Argyle explains.

“Me and Eddie?”

He’d been frozen for a second there, surprised that Argyle thought that. Was he seeing something Eddie couldn’t? No, no way.

“Just friends, guys,” Eddie says. “Come on.”

You swallow, forcing out a word, “exactly.”

“They’ve always been like this,” Nancy says, which explains enough but also sort of nothing at all.

Just friends. It’s something you know, you remind yourself constantly. It’s all it’ll ever be, and still, hearing Eddie say it out loud has your stomach feeling heavy. Just friends, get over it.

Even as conversation picks up again, as you laugh with everyone, the two words play in your head over and over. Then, after saying your goodbyes, once you’re in the van with Eddie again, it fades, because if you can’t be in love with him, you can be his best friend, and you’d much rather have that than nothing at all.

Once he drops you off, Eddie thinks and thinks about what Argyle had said. He goes over memories, over how he feels around you, and it hits him like a huge punch to the gut.

He thinks he has feelings for you. Big, huge feelings.

It’s the same day, a different sky, the sun sunk behind the horizon to give way to a sky full of stars and a bright moon.

Eddie’s van is parked by Lover’s Lake, the back full of blankets where you both sit, the doors open to look at the sky and the way the moonlight reflects on the water.

There’s practically an indent in the ground in the spot he’s parked, the one that’s been your go-to for ages. From day picnics to nighttime smoke sessions, it’s another place on the list of the ones that are filled with memories of Eddie.

Beside you, he’s got a joint in hand, the flick of his lighter catching your ears over the crickets and the breeze. You watch him inhale, his chest expanding, the smoke slipping from his lips. You turn back to the water.

“Your turn,” he says, handing you the joint.

You grab it between your fingertips and bring it to your mouth, feeling the smoke trail down your throat, further, then you’re breathing it out, clearing your throat at the tickle.

“Out of practice?” Eddie teases at your small cough.

“My favorite weed dealer went out of business,” you say, nudging his shoulder with yours, “so, yeah.”

He takes the joint back from you, “you don’t smoke when I’m not around? You know Argyle’s gotta have some stock.”

“Oh, he definitely does. A little too exotic for my taste. Besides, he won’t give it to me for free.”

“Getting cheap, trouble?”

You shrug, shoulder to your cheek, and give him an innocent smile.

It feels easy, the joint being passed back and forth between sentences until it’s done and stubbed out, the flow of conversation, the comfort that’s there. It’s always been easy with him, even when it hurts a little.

Eddie’s got on his worn denim vest, still full of pins, and you tug at it, “think this thing has a permanent weed smell by now.”

“I think that’s just part of my natural scent,” he replies, playfully flipping his hair over his shoulder.

His curls graze your cheek—that’s how close you’re sitting, thighs touching—and you giggle. You’ve had so many nights just like this one with Eddie, and it feels like some kind of reward that you get to have them still, even when they’re far less regular now.

“Doesn’t this make you think of high school?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely,” Eddie’s hand is on his knee, his pinky twitches, reaching for your leg, “hell, I’m even wearing the same clothes as in high school.”

“How does it feel like yesterday and also a lifetime ago?”

Eddie looks over at you, the warm glow of moonlight and stars on your skin, the way your sweater hangs off your shoulder, the shine in your eyes that’s part weed and part nostalgia.

“A lot’s changed since then,” he says. “I’m not a loser anymore.”

“You’re still my loser.”

How is it that even when you’re calling him a loser, the idea of being yours in any sense of the word is enough to have Eddie’s heart swell in his chest, a balloon floating up and up and he has to swallow to push it back down.

“Stop being cheesy,” he plays it off, ruffling your hair.

You shove his arm away, “I just miss you!”

Eddie looks at his arm, your hand still holding onto it, he follows your arm with his gaze until it lands on your face. He thinks you’re beautiful, the prettiest girl he’s ever seen and no groupie could change that.

“I miss you, too, trouble.”

Something shifts, the air growing thicker, a sort of understanding between the two of you. There’s something here, something that could be a disaster but could also be so, so good. Could be everything.

“No way you think about me when you’ve got crowds and fans and-“

“I think about you a lot, honey.”

Honey. He’s probably called you that before, but never like this. Never dripping sweet and sincere, never looking at you like he wants to do something you can’t even let yourself imagine in fear of being let down, of hoping too much.

Eddie’s hand shifts from his own leg to yours, thumb running back and forth, burning you even through the fabric of your pants.

“You do?”

“All the time. You’re my best friend.”

Right. Friend.

“You’re mine, too, Eddie.”

And suddenly you can feel his breath fan across your cheek, your lips. His face is close to yours and the hair that falls over his forehead tickles yours. Just a second ago he’d been saying the word ‘friend,’ and now it feels like he’s going to do something to contradict that.

Against all odds, he does.

Eddie couldn’t help himself. Maybe he’ll blame the weed, or maybe he won’t, but before he knows it he’s reaching up with the hand that isn’t on his leg to cup your cheek and tilt your head. And he’s kissing you.

He’s kissing you.

It’s so delicate, so much you’re afraid to even breathe, like it’ll break in an instant. Eddie’s fingers squeeze your leg, urge you to kiss him back and there’s no way that you wouldn’t. Not when his lips are actually on yours, not when he tastes like weed and mint gum and something perfect.

It could be seconds or minutes that you’re kissing, tilting your head even more to feel him, clutching his sleeve tightly. It never deepens, but it doesn’t have to, it says enough.

When you pull away, it’s not one or the other who does it, it’s natural, like it’s been rehearsed time and time again. Eddie leans his forehead against yours, his hand still on your cheek.

“Was that a bad idea?” He asks you, voice low and quiet.

“Maybe. I don’t know.” And you don’t, because there’s no way of knowing what’s gonna happen next, if things will be ruined, if this will fade away like it never happened, or, maybe, just maybe, if it’ll start something.

“Was it okay?”

“More than okay.”

You don’t talk about it that night, and you don’t want to just yet. You’re fine with enjoying the pink-tinted haze at least until tomorrow.

Eddie’s barely been gone for two days and you’re not sure what to do with yourself. After that night, neither of you brought it up, and as much as you wanted to, you couldn’t. You were scared. And anyway, it was probably just the weed for him.

You’d never kissed before. Sure, you’ve come close, faces inches apart when you’d share a bed, whispers away, but nothing ever happened. Until now.

Now, sitting on your bed, chin resting on your knees, you’re reeling from knowing what Eddie’s lips feel like and missing him all over again. Rebuilding that piece in your chest.

Somewhere else in the country, in the world, Eddie’s position isn’t so different from yours. He’s sitting on the edge of his hotel bed, forearms on his knees, head bent. He wants to call you, and he’s figuring out what he’ll say when he does.

He misses you every time he isn’t home, but it’s never felt like this. There’s never been this ache in his stomach that won’t go away because of it. Fuck, he misses you more than ever.

The last trip back to Hawkins was different than anything else, because he brought back these feelings with him and he keeps reaching up to press his fingertips to his lips, like the memory of your own lingers there.

Sure, he’s had silly, sticky thoughts like waking up with his arms around you after a nap and thinking he could wake up that way forever, but he’s always pushed them down. Now, it seems, he can’t, the images too buoyant to ignore, floating back up every time.

Sucking in a deep breath, he sits up and reaches for the phone, dialing your number that’s stored in his memory. His leg bounces as the phone rings.

You’re startled by the screech of your phone on your bedside table, head lifting to look at it shake on the receiver. You reach over and pick it up.

“Hello?”

“Hey, trouble. It’s not a bad time, is it?”

Eddie. His voice crackling through the phone sends a spike down your spine. You clutch the phone a little tighter.

You’d expected Robin, or Nancy, even Steve. Because there’d been a time, earlier in Corroded Coffin’s career, when Eddie would call you at least three times a week, and then the calls grew less frequent until they sort of died out to holidays and birthdays.

So, maybe a couple of years ago, you’d have expected Eddie’s voice, but not today.

“Eddie, hi. Not at all.”

“I- um, I just wanted to call,” a small pause, he clears his throat, “how are you?”

“It’s only been two days, you know how I am.”

“I mean right now.”

You twist to lay on your side, legs curling in towards your chest. You smile to yourself like an idiot. “Right now, I’m good. It’s lame, I already miss you.”

“I miss you, too.”

The reply comes easily to him. There’s no thought to it, because in the past 48 hours, he hasn’t been able to stop missing you for a second. The warmth of your hand in his, the sunshine sound of your laughter.

He’s not sure why everything’s so big now, his feelings amplified, only quieted now, by the sound of your voice.

“Did you have a show today?”

You have a way of asking that makes it sound like you really care, Eddie thinks. He loves his music and he knows you know that. It means the world to him to do what he does, confusing feelings or not.

“Not today. We spent the day on the bus. Show’s tomorrow.”

“Nervous or excited?”

It’s something that you used to ask him before every small show in Hawkins, and the memory has a grin spreading on Eddie’s face. “It’s always both. More excited, though.”

“You should be,” you say. “You guys are really great.”

“Yeah? Who’s your favorite band member?”

He’s fishing, and you tease him rather than bite, “hmmm. Gareth.”

“Fuckin’ trouble. You liar.”

“You asked!”

“You answered the question wrong, honey.”

There it is again. Honey. You’re sort of glad he can’t see you right now because you probably look way too happy, burying your face in your pillow for a second before replying.

“You know you’re my favorite, Munson.”

“Yeah I am,” he sounds far too proud. And then, he’s softer, “I’m not keeping you up, am I? Time zones fuck me up.”

“No, no.” Even if he was, you wouldn’t tell him. This is better than trying and failing to sleep the way you so often do. “It’s not that late. What time is it for you?”

“Not that late,” he says, even though the clock on the nightstand reads 1:14AM. “So, what’s happening in Hawkins right now?”

“Mmm, it’s getting warmer. My window’s open and the crickets are loud as fuck.” You twist the phone cord around your fingers, “it’s donation week at the library, so I’ve been shelving new books for a change.”

Eddie listens to every word you say, asks you questions like if you’d kept any books for yourself (you had, but swore you’d give them to the library when you were done) and hums between your sentences.

Somewhere along the way, he’d laid down while listening to you, eyes shut as he tried to picture what you might look like right at this second. If you’re in your pajamas or not, whether your hair would be a little messy, baby hairs a halo around your face.

Then his eyes grew heavier, your voice putting him at ease even with the sounds of his bandmates laughing from somewhere in the hotel.

“Eddie?” You ask after he’d been silent for a bit.

“Hm?” He hums sleepily.

“I lost you for a second there.”

If he wasn’t half asleep, he’d feel worse. “Sorry, getting sleepy.”

“You wanna hang up?”

“No, uh- keep talking to me? You have a nice voice.”

You smile, cheeks pinching with the size of it.

“Yeah, okay. I’ll keep talking.”

And you do, you keep talking and talking until you can hear the sound of Eddie’s tiny snores on the other side of the line. You’re smiling again at that.

Even after you’re sure he’s asleep, you don’t hang up right away, not until your own eyes are growing heavy. You put the phone back quietly, like you’ll wake him if you’re not careful. You whisper a soft ‘goodnight, Eddie,’ as you do.

There’s a small stiffness in your fingers from how tightly you’d been holding the phone, and still, you’d let your hand cramp for hours to talk to him.

The next morning, Eddie wakes up with the pattern of the phone pressed to his cheek where he’d left it last night.

The TV sends flashes of color flickering across your living room and over your face. Usually, you’d be in bed by now, but it’s the night of the MTV awards and Corroded Coffin is nominated. You couldn’t miss it.

You’re not really paying attention to most of it, the sounds of performances and hosts and thank-you speeches filling your ears as you read your latest book. At least, you’re not paying attention until Eddie’s category is announced.

That has you shutting your book and sitting up, grabbing the remote to turn the volume higher.

They show the nominees, give far too long of an introduction before tearing open the envelope holding the winner’s names. You don’t know it, but you’re practically white knuckling the blanket on your lap.

“And the MTV award goes to… Corroded Coffin!”

You stand and place a hand on your chest, feeling your heart beating—racing—for the band, for Eddie. This is huge, it’s a dream, and it’s his. If you could, you’d give him a suffocating hug right now.

Eddie’s voice taking over, thanking his fans and Wayne, the boys and their team, then, thanking Hawkins and the people there, even when they gave him hell.

If you knew the right number to call to talk to him, you’d dial it in an instant.

Lucky for you, your phone rings the next night, late enough that you can only assume it’s Eddie given you don’t know anyone else who’s probably in a different time zone right now. You pick up quickly, fumbling with the phone a little before bringing it up to your ear.

“Eddie?”

“How’d you know it was me?”

“Ummm, my amazing intuition? Telepathy?”

“Telepathy, she says.” There’s a soft chuckle on his end, you close your eyes and lean your head back to thump against the wall behind you. “How’re things, trouble?”

“I feel like I should be asking you that, mister MTV winner.”

Eddie’s been calling more often again, whenever he gets the chance, really. Even so, he never thought you’d be keeping up with him that way, that you’d care enough to watch an award show and remember what he’d achieved.

“You were watching?” He asks, heart thudding.

“Of course I was. I’m your biggest fan, remember?” You’re sitting with your back against your headboard, knees bent, hand absentmindedly pulling at a loose thread in your pajama pants. “I’ve got cheerleader pom-poms and everything.”

“You do not.”

“Do too. They’re super metal, all black.”

“Yeah, cause pom-poms are super metal, babe.”

Another pet name in the rotation, uttered like it’s easy, natural. You bite back a smile.

“Whatever. Mine would be,” you say. “I’m glad you called.”

“Me, too.”

“I wanted to call you yesterday,” you admit, twisting that loose thread in your fingers, “after I saw you won. I’m really proud of you, Eddie.”

They’re words he hadn’t been expecting, but ones he’ll be thinking about over and over. He wants to keep making you proud, he thinks, and he’ll pour that into everything he does whether he means to or not.

“Thank you,” his voice is quieter, almost shy. “I wouldn’t be here without you, you know?”

“You would. You’re talented, and there’s no way that could stay hidden in this town, you’re bigger than it.”

Somehow, it’s easier to be so open with him on the phone. You don’t have to look at him, get distracted by his tongue running over his lips or the way his bangs get caught in his eyelashes sometimes. This way, all you have to do is speak, nothing more.

“Trouble-” he can’t even find the words to say, because there’s affection laced in your tone, seeping through the phone and into his head and, fuck, he wants to kiss you for it and he can’t. “I really miss you.”

“I miss you, too.” There’s some silence, and the overthinker in you worries that you’ve said too much even though you meant it with every part of you, that you’ve given yourself away. “Anyways, I should go, let you celebrate your win.”

It’s what he would be doing if Eddie’s thoughts hadn’t been so full of you and your mouth and your voice. It’s what his bandmates and friends are surely doing in some club around here.

“You don’t need to. I’m not doing anything.”

“No?” You try to lighten your tone, to joke the way you usually do, “don’t have groupies knocking on your hotel room door right now?”

Instead of playing along, Eddie’s voice is serious, still soft in the way he speaks to you, but serious nonetheless, “I don’t entertain them, honey.”

“You don’t?”

He’s tried. But ever since you kissed him, probably since before that, too, Eddie can’t seem to look at anyone else, let alone have someone else kiss him and tarnish the memory of your lips on his. He’s only ever thinking of you, it seems. So no, he hasn’t fooled around lately.

“Not in a while. I’m trying to write for the next album. No distractions.”

No distractions. He says it like that’s true, even though he can’t seem to fully focus, like there’s a piece he’s missing. Like every lyric he’s written since he’s been back isn’t somehow about you.

He’s so, so fucked.

“Look at you, Munson. Squeaky clean.”

You hope he can’t tell that you’re sort of a mess, a stupid blossom of hope planting itself where it shouldn’t. He’s your friend, he’s always been just your friend. But you kissed and it felt like something changed, and you can’t seem to let go of that.

“You sound surprised,” he teases, gathering his wits the best he can.

“Can you blame me? You used to have multiple lunchboxes reserved for your weed.”

“You loved those lunchboxes and you know it.”

“Yeah, I did.”

And then, like that moment was simply a blip, easily brushed over, your conversation turns back to your normal. Jokes with underlying affections, teasing while picturing what kind of smile the other wears when you laugh lightly into the phone.

Time runs away from you, and by the time you hang up it’s well into the early hours of the morning, but you can’t bring yourself to care.

After hanging up, Eddie’s got this sinking, aching pull in his stomach. He knows what it is, has had bouts of it before where he misses Wayne’s hand patting his back or the way his mattress is worn-in just the right amount back at the trailer, when he thinks about what his friends might be doing or what science project Dustin’s got going on.

But it’s never felt this heavy. Eddie’s the most homesick he’s ever been.

He’d listen to your voice forever, but in that moment, he’d give anything to see your face, to see the shake of your shoulders when you laugh, the curve of your smile.

What the hell is wrong with him?

Eddie wipes his palms on his thighs before standing and walking out into the living room of his band’s suite hotel room. The guys are still up, and they’re all staring at him like weirdos.

“What?” He pauses in the doorway.

“Did you tell her you’re in love with her yet, or what?” Jeff, the electric guitarist, asks him.

“What?” Eddie says again because there’s no way he heard that right. He’d only just come to terms that he had feelings. This is much bigger.

“You’re joking,” Gareth pipes in, “you don’t even know it? Dude, you’re all ‘I miss you, trouble, you’re my favorite person ever.’” He does a knowingly terrible impression of Eddie.

“I do not sound like that.”

“You kinda do,” Jeff says.

“Why else would you be spending hours in that room on the phone, man? Come on,” Gareth sing songs the next bit: “you’re in loooove.”

Then Eddie thinks and thinks and thinks. The warmth that blooms when he hugs you, the jealousy he felt when he thought that server at Benny’s was flirting with you, the difficulty to say goodbye, the way your kiss haunts him in his sleep.

These idiots aren’t usually right about things, but just this once, maybe they are. Eddie Munson is probably, very likely, definitely in love with you.

Yeah, he’s so fucked.

♫♩♪♬

thank you so so much for reading!!! if you enjoyed please please please consider reblogging and letting me know what you think! it helps and means so much <333 i have plans for a part two, and if you’d like to see it, some support would help a bunch! ily!

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hanglimi · 5 months ago

Text

opposite - yu jimin

jimin is sick and tired of the stupid, good for nothing student who keeps throwing parties in the dorm room above hers. but woah, she's the complete opposite of what jimin imagined, and really hot too.

TAGS - jimin x f! reader, fluff, college au

WORDCOUNT - 2100~

WARNINGS - substance use, swearing, suggestiveness,

A/N - this is really dialogue heavy, and i can't tell if that's a bad or good thing.

“oh my god, does this ever fucking stop?” ningning whined as she sat atop jimin’s bed, her feet crossed over each other, laptop thrown onto one of the multiple pillows.

jimin threw her friend a questioning look over her shoulder. the girl was acting crazy, and she had no time to engage if she wanted to finish the paper her professor had given her weeks before. the longer she left ning alone, the better chance of there being no continuation to the conversation.

“seriously, jimin! this is driving me insane.”

“what the hell do you mean, ning,” she groaned, laying her head down on her table.

“the dorm above you! i can genuinely feel the ceiling shaking with how loud the music is, and it’s been like this everyday this week!” ningning was practically hyperventilating at this point, and sure, while jimin thought she was being a tad bit dramatic, she also had a point.

but unfortunately, jimin had gotten so used to the girl above her, and her endless parties, that she barely noticed it anymore.

“here.” she reached down into her backpack by the base of her desk, grasping around in the pockets for what she was looking for. she finally felt it’s wire as she pulled it out of the bag and threw it over to her friend, glancing back down at her respective laptop.

“earbuds? really?”

jimin ignored her question, getting back to work. If she wanted to pass this class before the end of the semester, she had no time to idly chat with her friend, no matter how much she loved her.

“jimin!” ningning screamed again a couple seconds later, her head in her hands. “how the fuck do you live with this?” she curled into herself on the bed, as if that would help with the walls literally bouncing with each bass hit from upstairs.

“remind me to never come to your dorm again. from now on, we're studying in the library,”

jimin simply giggled at the comment, tuning out the bass boosted audio and her best friend’s whining.

“damn, jimin!” aeri said, snatching the girl’s phone from her, pausing her music so she could hear what was happening, “how loud do you need your music to be to actually hear it?”

jimin gave her a sneer, and reached back for her phone, but it was just so far across the table, and minjeong was faster than her, grabbing it, and pocketing it. aeri chuckled at her struggles before slapping a hand over her mouth, slowly turning her head towards the front of the library, hoping she wouldn’t get a third warning from the librarian just today.

“her eardrums are probably nonexistent because of the bitch above her,” ning noted as she scrolled on her phone, obviously distracted from what they actually came here for.

“you’re still on about that?” jimin drawled, dropping her head and leaning down in her seat, giving up on trying to retrieve her device. “and was i the only one still on task? it’s literally only been thirty minutes, guys.”

“on about what?” minjeong asked, leaning into the gossip, “who lives above jimin?”

“dude, if i knew what her name was i'd tell you.” ningning sat up, getting ready to entertain her. “all i know is that she throws a party like every other day, and plays overly obnoxious bass boosted music. and the RA of their floor just doesn't care.”

“jimin’s on the fourth floor, right?”

jimin nodded at aeri’s question. she just wanted to finish the discussion, and get back to studying, but her friends obviously felt otherwise.

“oh my god, jimin, i fucking know who that is! it’s that y/n chick,” aeri said, laughing, but her eyes widened as she heard the loud shush of the librarian.

“as i was saying, everyone on the fifth floor despises y/n, like genuinely hates,” she said.

jimin groaned as the three of them continued to talk about every single rumour y/n was involved in, and she pressed at her eyes with the palms of her hands until she started seeing dots.

“i’m literally the one who lives below her, and i don’t care this much,” jimin complained, adjusting her body so she was sat in the chair properly. “unlike you guys, i actually have things to do, so give me back my phone, minjeong”

they all groaned at her words, minjeong muttering as she handed the device to the girl’s outreached hand.

“you’re such a buzzkill, jimin,” aeri let out a sigh, shaking her head.

“yeah, fucking buzz killer,” ning followed up.

“buzz kill~.” minjeong sang, giggling a bit with the other two girls at the end.

“shut up!”

the librarian near the main entrance lowered her glasses down her nose at the outburst, glaring at their table. “you four girls over there! out!”

jimin made sure to flip her friends off as she snatched her things away from the table, walking back to her dreaded dorm, with a huge headache caused from the three.

it was never this bad.

like sure, jimin would often notice how loud y/n’s music was, but she never really got this mad about it. it was only a passing thought usually, but today, she couldn’t ignore it. and somehow, her body betrayed her, leading jimin out of her dorm, into the elevator, and facing the perpetrators door.

she knocked once, letting precious seconds pass as she stood in front of the dorm room, tapping her foot against the floor, slipping into the beat of the drums that was in the song playing from inside the room. no one answered, even though she could tell from the yelling that there were at least ten people in there. she let out a deep exhale through her nose, and raised her fist to knock, hitting the door again.

jimin waited there a little bit longer, still tapping her foot to the song as her mind wandered to how she would deal with the infamous y/n. she waited for what she thought was eternity before she got impatient, and raised her fist to knock again, but before she could make contact, the door swung open.

“who are you?” the girl who opened the door asked, while jimin strained to hear her over her overbearing chewing of gum. the stench of liquor infiltrated her nose from the open door, and there was a light fog covering the room, hazing up her vision of any furniture in the dorm. the loud music was piercing her brain now, closer than ever, and it was making her headache stronger.

“is y/n here?” she asked in response, but the girl only stared blankly at her, continuing to chew. jimin’s jaw clenched at the lack of reaction, but assumed y/n's friend couldn’t hear her over the music.

“is y/n here!” she repeated much louder, leaning closer to the girl’s ear, but the girl shoved her backwards immediately, and sneered at her.

“i’m not deaf yet, bitch. i was just trying to figure out if you were one of her exes,” the girl scolded, leaning an arm on the doorframe and turning her body to face the inside of the dorm.

“y/n! did you invite one of your flings to our party again?” the girl screamed into the fog while jimin scowled at the back of her head. apparently, y/n responded, because she turned back around to face her after a couple of seconds. “y/n will be here in a few,” and she shut the door.

jimin already hated the girl, and she didn’t even know her name.

the door reopened after a few moments to who jimin assumed was y/n, and her heart leapt out of her chest at the sight. the girl was the complete opposite of how jimin thought she would appear, and she couldn’t believe she fell for what aeri had said before. the clothes she wore leaned to the pink, feminine side–her tank top a cute combination of red, pink and yellow–and she wore a pearl necklace to accompany the soft vibe. the look was coupled with a pink cardigan over top, which was falling down to reveal one of her shoulders.

jimin was definitely gawking at her too long, because the girl cleared her throat in annoyance.

“what do you need?” the girl’s voice was also the complete opposite of her look, siding more with what jimin had thought y/n would be like originally. the deep, rough tones of it scratched her brain in a way she never imagined before, and she almost melted right there on the spot.

“oh yeah! i’m so sorry about that. my name is jimin, and i live on the floor below you, right under your room, which is actually pretty cool, huh.” jimin stuttered through her introduction, her face heating up at the intense staring contest y/n had her locked in.

she quickly averted her eyes, wanting to look anywhere else but the student's face, “anyways, it usually hasn’t been a problem but-”

the girl cut her off, rolling her eyes at the long winded explanation. “i get it, you want us to lower the volume of the music, right?” she drawled, and her tone grated against the headache jimin had, further enhancing it.

jimin nodded her head rapidly.

“well we can’t.” y/n started, lifting her hand up to take a look at her nails which were–once again a contrast to her voice–painted a mix of pink and yellow. “not that we can’t, just that we won’t.”

jimin cocked her head in confusion, “you… won’t?”

y/n stood there, still observing her fingers, “you heard me the first time, cutie,”

even though she was slightly infuriated, she felt her heart jump at the pet name, and warmth rushed up to her cheeks once again, but she quickly shook away the feeling, steeling her face in anger.

“what do you mean by ‘you won’t’” jimin said, crossing her arms over her chest.

“exactly what it means, babe. we’re having fun, and if it’s really bothering you that much, you can leave the complex for a couple hours.” y/n finally looked away from her nails to stare up at jimin, giving her a smile, as if she was trying to soften the words.

“uh, no the fuck not.”

the girl’s eyes flashed with something jimin couldn't recognise, and y/n stood up straighter, a smirk playing on her lips at the words.

“so you stand your ground, huh?” y/n noted aloud, eyeing jimin from head to toe. “how about you come in here, and we can party together?”

“fuck you.” jimin said.

“that’s what i’m asking for,” the girl replied in a dull tone, rolling her eyes.

the girl was annoying her, and the constant flirty jokes weren’t helping jimin’s case either. she couldn’t tell if she wanted to feel flustered, angry, or perhaps a mix of both.

“i’m gonna get the RA on you. you’ll be kicked out of the dorms, or probably even the school considering the amount of weed i smell off of you right now.”

“you wanna talk to the RA about me?” y/n laughed loudly at the statement, covering her mouth with her hand, as she turned around to face the fog.

“hey, chaewon! come here,” y/n screamed over the music that was still playing, and she stood aside after a bit, letting chaewon pop her head through the door.

“meet the fifth floor’s RA!” the annoying girl cackled, doubling over at the look on jimin’s face.

the girl was wasted–jimin could tell by the dazed look in her eyes, and how she had to lean against y/n to stabilise herself.

“don’t tell anyone i’m here.” chaewon slurred, and hiccupped, slowly raising her pointer finger to press it against jimin’s lips, but she missed, and ended up poking her in the eye. “or we’ll all end up in trouble.”

“shit!” jimin exclaimed, pressing a hand to her eye trying to soothe the pain.

y/n’s mouth curved into a smile, and jimin couldn’t tell if it was from her pain or chaewon’s actions. she lightly pushed chaewon back into the room while telling her to ease up on the drinks, and came back to face jimin straight on.

“see what I mean?” y/n said, shaking her head at jimin’s poor attempts, further belittling her.

jimin scrunched her forehead up in thought. she wasn’t going to accept defeat, and let this go–that wasn’t who she was–and she didn’t want to see y/n’s stupid hot smirk again anyways.

“if you lower the volume of your music, and keep it there” she gulped, “i’ll do anything that you want me to.”

“really?” y/n eyes widened, “if so-”

“nothing sexual, of course.” jimin cut her off before she had the chance.

y/n giggled in response, “well then.”

#hanglimi #kpop gg #kpop x reader #kpop fanfic #aespa x reader #yu jimin x reader #karina x reader #karina imagines #aespa imagines

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mochinomnoms · 3 months ago

Note

Shut UUPPP now I need a little scenario with PTM jade and the reader where they're actually in a very risky place while they're doing the Ole tango lol.... In the very back of the library or in the damn janitor closet even, courtesy of yuu's knowledge during their short occupation as a janitor ehehehe

so like i just got super tempted and gave in cause i love the idea of ptm jade and yuu exploiting the fuck out of their telepathy to get 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂 cause i was gonna save this as a fuller bit in the future cause im weak

Being a telepath has its benefits, especially in these little escapades of yours. You'd have never thought Jade of all people would be so insatiable (a trait more suited for Floyd as most would agree), but you also never thought he'd be so enamored by you, so he was just full of surprises.

“Uuugah~”

Though perhaps you should take just a teeny, tiny, itty-bitty bit of responsibility. Just this once, you decided to be impulsive and bring Jade with you to a corner of the library to fulfill one of his many fantasies he'd dreamt up before you two got together.

“Mmh~”

And, well, you wanted to fluster Jade like he did to you much too often. Though that definitely wasn't the feeling running through either of your veins at the moment.

“Aah, pearl—”

Besides, Jade made the loveliest of gasps, sounds in general really, when you got him like this.

“Seven help me—oooh~ Just like that, so good, my sweet pearl~”

As soft as those sounds were, if someone were to listen closely, they could make out very soft, quiet breaths and slurping sounds.

Now where are the rest of those students? I want to close up and go home!

Which was not ideal, especially regarding the librarian with an especially acute sense of hearing.

An icy cold shock ran through your body, making you bolt straight up, though you hand a very obvious 'mess' on your lips.

“Oh shit! What time is it?” You tried scrambling up, only to be met with Jade's hand grabbing the back of your neck to pull you into a hot, wet lip lock, sharp teeth just scraping your tongue.

Just for a moment, you melted into the kiss in bliss, a loud, wanton moan leaving you.

Hmmp? Did I hear something?

“W-wait, Jade!” In an urgent, but panicked tone, you whispered. “Professor Murine! He's coming!”

You think you felt Jade huff against your lips, but he calmed your growing anxiety as he cleaned up his appearance, watching as you did the same.

Neither of you really undressed as much as you did just expose bare skin for the other's access, so it was rather quick. Shuffling from your spots on the floor and back up to your seats, your knees feeling particularly sore, the two of you did your best to make it look like you'd been studying all this time.

You did anyway, Jade seemed that he still needed to get out a bit more energy. As the footsteps grew louder, let out a surprise squeak at Jade, grabbing your chin to pull you in for a kiss.

The sound of the door opening was nothing to Jade licking the corner of your lips before deepening the kiss. The salty taste from the white beads made you hot as you both heard the door open.

“Why I—” Murine cringed and sputtered. “You—you—you two! Don't you have better places to do this? We're closing, get out!”

Jade let out an 'embarrassed' chuckle as he helped clean up the mess of notebooks and pens.

“Of course, my apologies. We will be out shortly.”

Murine scoffed as he turned around to finish patrolling the library for any further stragglers, leaving you two alone once again.

Quickly heading for the exit, you felt Jade move a hand to curl on your hip and pull you in close, letting him lean down to whisper in your ear.

“We should indeed head to somewhere much more suited for our needs. Perhaps in the privacy of my room?”

#mochi asks #twst #twisted wonderland #jade leech #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #jade leech x reader #ptm #twst smut #twisted wonderland smut #jade leech smut #!nsfw #my apology for the shitty angst in the last post laksjdlkjsd

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vampiresbloodx · 7 months ago

Text

pairings: Wanda maximoff x Reader

warnings(18+ ONLY): legal age gap, Wanda's in her forties and reader is in their twenties, I try not to use specific gender for reader as I want everyone to enjoy but for smut I will use proper tag, oral s*x (r!receiving), top!Wanda, jealous Wanda, weird creepy guy(ew).

part 1, part 2, part 3.

Older!Librarian!Wanda getting jealous when anyone flirts with you, has their hands on you a bit too long for her liking.

She knows she's possessive, maybe even a little bit obsessive. Everyone should know you're hers and only hers. Even if she has to put a collar on it with her name.

Wanda wasn't always the jealous type, as she claims. Ever since you officially called her your girlfriend, she's been more protective, something changed in her that she couldn't quite understand.

She's still getting used to all this, it's way different than how she's used to it being, back in her day. Now she's got you by her side, you were just so damn pretty, she couldn't believe she's lucky enough to have you.

When she takes you out for your weekly dates, of course, shed not too surprised when someone comes up and tries to ask you for your number or compliments you, she doesn't blame them. She too would be in their shoes if she saw you.

A guy comes up to you, immediately, her grip tightens around your hand, pulling you in closer to her body, she can't help it. She needs you close. He's a waitress at the restaurant she's taken you too, he's being a bit too friendly, you didn't seem to notice, you're sweet, but Wanda has noticed you can be naive.

Naive to the point where you think the waitress was just being nice.

No.

Wanda wasn't stupid.

She glared daggers at him the entire time he was taking forever to take both of your orders, purposely ignoring her presence just to talk to you, when his hand touched yours, she saw you flinch away, laughing awkwardly, Wanda raised an eyebrow at him, daring him to continue, if he knew what's best for him.

He got the message as soon as she placed her hand on top of yours, and brought it to her lips, kissing your knuckles, enjoying how flustered you got.

She had already lost her appetite. The only thing she wanted was you.

She abruptly got up, ignoring the waitress as she was too annoyed to acknowledge anyone else but you. She grabbed your hand, forcing you to follow her as she pulled you into the bathrooms, locking the door behind you.

"Wanda? What's wrong? Are you-"

She cut you off by pressing your body against the wall, staring at you as her eyes go dark, you seem to get the message, not backing away as the aching in between your legs grew, more desperate for her.

She smirked, lips meeting yours to shut out the noises, though as much as she'd love for everyone to hear you scream her name as she makes you come, this is for her only.

Wanda got on her knees, staring at you the entire time she did so, making sure you were looking only at her, her heart hammering in her chest. She wasn't sure what overcame, why this feeling was so intense. She knew she was going to have to bring it up later.

But for now, she wanted to taste you, it would be better than anything this restaurant could ever provide anyways.

She has your mouth stuffed with your panties, wanting to know just how soaking wet you are for her and she's just started. Wanda expertly licks up your cunt, inserting a finger inside your tight hole, god, no matter how many times she fucks it she still can't get over how it clenches around her.

She feels you squirming, she loves it. Wanda doesn't look away and neither do you. It's a lot. She can feel it.

You come into her mouth, wetness pooling in, some of it dripping onto her chin, your cheeks burned at the sight as she pulls your panties out of your mouth, leaving you breathless.

"fucking hell" you muttered, slumping against the wall.

She grinned, pleased, licking her lips.

Then you say the words she was looking to hear.

"can we skip dinner please? I want you."

#librarian!wanda #wanda x reader #wanda x you #wanda x y/n #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff smut #stuff i wrote

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syntheticavenger · 2 months ago

Text

Mr. March - Two

So the teaser has now turned into something else. Thank you for the ones who have enjoyed this story, I hope you like this next part!

Alpha! Bucky Barnes x Omega! Female Reader

Word Count: 2.3K

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, language and that's about it.

Summary | Making fun of a friend for his new found fame is one thing, falling for a rule following librarian while balancing his own rise of attention is another.

Dinner for one never really bothers you.

Usually treating yourself to one indulgent night a week, you’ve almost forgotten the feel of the curious and sometimes sad stares, as if you were possibly stood up on a date. You’re free to order a bottle of wine and dessert, without any snide comments, paying your own check before you’re well on your way back home.

Tonight though, between the clink of wine glasses and utensils on expensive plates, you feel it – a weird sort of curiosity if this is sustainable. If you’re able to continue this narrative you’ve drawn out for yourself, having solo dinner dates and getting home by eighty on the dot, enough for you to unwind before bed, before you have to wake up to a new day of responsibility.

A slight push of the half empty wine glass and you’re ready to go, your dinner paid for and the looks of other patrons now fading from your purview, shrugging on your coat and checking your phone for the time.

You’ve ignored the last two texts from Janet, who sent you a picture of the books on hold, asking about why you’ve held books for Mr. March.

Mr. March.

You’ve seen the calendar that Janet had purchased at the beginning of the year, hidden in her desk because hanging it up would be a scandal. How a charity calendar got so famous is beyond you, dodging it every first of the month because people have never seen a good-looking man wearing next to nothing before. You didn’t need to purchase it. Why would you? What a waste of money that you could be spending on something else.

Like the houseplant that is barely hanging on by a thread that you seem to forget to water until you’re at work, silently cursing that you forgot, only to set a reminder on your phone that you silence when you stay at work too long.

You remember now, padding down the hallway of your apartment once you kick off your heels, picking up the plant to inspect it.

“Please don’t wither away and die,” you whisper to it, hoping it will take your impassioned plea to heart and thrive.

Maybe you’re not just talking to your plant.

“Why didn’ t you tell me he was here?”

Under the harsh white light of her office, Janet gives a pout, her voice in a near whimper when she asks the question. She sighs dramatically, leaning back in her chair while she pulls up a picture of James – Bucky – half his face obscured with a camera as he lies shirtless and in a pair of jeans with two buttons undone, his sculpted physique on display.

Impressive for people who are into that sort of beefcake lust. She even bought you one for your birthday that you had slipped to another co-worker.

“You know, I loved Mr. December but there’s something about a former military man,” Janet continues, placing her phone back on the desk. “I’ve met him a few times, you know.”

“Mr. December?” you ask, wondering why she asked to see you in her office so quickly the minute you had walked in.

Clearly, judging by the way Janet moves back and forth in her chair, waiting for you to give her a play by play of your interaction with him, this isn’t any sort of serious business by your standard.

“No, silly. Mr. March. He was with Mr. July when they were signing calendars. Hotter in person and he comes to the library a lot.”

“Ah.”

There’s not much else you can say, Janet continuing on with her quick meet and greet. You like having her as a boss most of the time. She’s damn good at her job when she wants to be and makes long days bearable because she watches reality television and can recite pop culture facts when you need a distraction.

“So he’s coming back today,” Janet asks, her blue eyes wide with curiosity. “Did he tell you what time?”

“No.”

You know why she’s invested but it still makes no sense as to why she’s asking. For all it’s worth, she can give him the books – as long as he’s made good on his word to bring the other one back.

“I still can’t believe you didn’t give him the books.”

“It’s policy,” you protest, frowning at her response. “In section twenty-four, it states -”

Janet waves her hand in the air to brush away the rest of your statement.

“I know what it says. It’s a guideline, sort of. I guess it worked out in our favor, since he agreed to come back. Damn it,” Janet says with a disappointed sigh. “I wish I was an Omega. Leave it to my Beta parents to birth yet another Beta.”

“There’s nothing wrong with being a Beta. Trust me,” you counter, seeing her shrug. If anything, it doesn’t seem to bother her in the slightest, seeing her straighten her posture when her office phone rings.

It rarely does and that’s your cue to leave, getting up as she answers it nervously, grasping the receiver while mouthing that she’ll continue the conversation later. It’s a reprieve that you take, closing the door behind you and exhaling a breath.

“Next in line?” you ask, breaking away from cataloging a new set of books that arrived. Your co-worker Lily is on her break, leaving you to man the desk.

The sound of a book plopped onto the counter gets your attention, peeling your attention away from the monitor to see him again, straightening your shoulders at the sight of the missing book in front of you.

He raises an eyebrow at you, his scent hitting your nose before you clear your throat. You aren’t going to be swayed by some Alpha, no matter how good he may look or smell.

“Library card?” you ask.

He hands it to you without hesitation, swiping the card through the reader before scanning the book back in.

“Thank you for bringing back the book, Mr. Barnes.”

“Thank you for keeping your word and holding my books for me.”

You know he can see them on the counter, taking the book and dropping it in the bin.

“We had an agreement,” you remind him, turning to get the books from the counter. When you lift the sticky note, he clears his throat.

“What name did you use to hold them?”

Pausing, you don’t answer, wondering why he would ask such a question.

“The name you told me.”

“Really?” he questions. “James or Bucky?”

“Does it matter?”

“It does in case I accidentally hold onto a book for another three years. Someone else could come in here and request my books I place on hold. Or rather, that you place on hold. What if you aren’t here? Someone could give my books away.”

“I would place it under any name you choose.”

“Then what was the name you put?”

Like a dog after a bone, you think, saying nothing in response to him, placing the books onto the counter without the note that is crumpled into your closed fist.

“Barnes,” you lie, keeping a straight face as he looks disappointed.

“That’s very formal.”

“This is a library,” you recite, scanning the books one by one. “And I also would write down your library card number so they could look it up.”

“You did that this time too?”

Your back stiffens at his inquiry.

“No.”

“Why not?

“Because I’m here today,” you explain to him slowly, like you would with someone understanding this for the first time.

“Fair. I mean, I do like the individual service.”

You clear your throat, pushing the books over to him.

“Individual service is something we strive for at the library. Books are due within thirty days of today’s date. As you remember from our last conversation, you will be unable to borrow any books if these are not returned in a timely manner.”

He nods in understanding, still watching you before you frown.

“Did you need anything else? You have your books,” you remind him.

“No, I guess not. Sorry, I…” he trails off. “I think we got off on the wrong foot. I’m sorry that I didn’t return the book I borrowed in a timely manner and I really appreciate the grace you’ve given me to hold the books I can’t wait to read.”

For a moment, you relax at his soft tone. Alphas scare you – always have – but this one showing you a little grace gives you a slight hesitation of whether or not you can allow this proverbial olive branch.

“You picked some great choices,” you compliment, seeing the hint of a smile on his lips. “And it was my pleasure.”

There’s a sound of a table squeaking loudly, two children shouting over what appears to be a teddy bear that the library allows for reading in groups, sending you on high alert to check on them.

“Sorry, I need to see what’s going on,” you murmur, moving away from the desk and toward the commotion, your co-worker rushing toward the deafening screams, passing you by.

You slow your steps when the meltdown is solved – another teddy bear to the rescue as everyone quiets down.

“Hey, you dropped this,” he says behind you, leaning down to pick up the crumpled sticky note as the horror of what he will see sinks in.

“I can take it,” you say quickly, Bucky reading the note before he smiles right in your face.

“You’re a good liar,” he says with a nod, handing you the note that you take from his hand. Embarrassment floods your entire being, your face hot with anxiety when he nods.

“I guess that’s my claim to fame. Wouldn’t have pegged you as someone who has one of those calendars though. Janet on the other hand…”

“I don’t,” you snap, shoving the note into the pocket of your skirt. “It was a little inside joke.”

“For who?”

“I have to go on break,” you rush out, head down as you head toward the back of the library. “Have a good day, Mr. Barnes.”

“I will,” he says behind you, his voice full of amusement. “You too.”

Two bags of take out are on the kitchen counter, Steve giving a sheepish smile at his roommate.

“I know, I know. It’s my turn to make dinner but I got caught up with -”

“The Omega in 7C?” Bucky asks, picking at the plastic ties of the bag, his mouth watering at the scent of what Steve bought for dinner.

“It’s not like that,” Steve refutes with a shake of his head. “She’s… you know that apartment is run down. She won’t move because she said she gets a discount on her rent and…”

Steve trails off, noticing Bucky looking at him with a raise of his eyebrow.

“Stop looking at me like that,” Steve continues, Bucky doling out their dinner onto two paper plates. “She’s just a nice girl who happens to have a… not great apartment.”

“Steve, you know it’s okay if you like her. I think she likes you too.”

That does it, Steve’s cheeks burning bright when he digs into his dinner.

“It’s not like that, Buck.”

“I didn’t say it was. Attraction is attraction.”

“It’s our designation,” Steve points out. “It’s natural, pretty textbook.”

“Yeah? Then why did you stomp around the house the other day when 7A insulted her?”

“Because Peter Quill is a complete asshole. Can you believe he mentioned wanting to help her through her heat? Who says that to a complete stranger? He’s also a complete idiot, by the way,” Steve fumes, taking an angry bite of his dinner, chewing quickly as Bucky nods and waits for him to finish. “He put dishwashing liquid into his dishwasher and wanted to know why there were suds everywhere, he called me Super Maintenance Bro and I am not his bro, Bucky, there is no way he should even be allowed near 7C, let alone any Omega.”

Steve lets out a short exhale, shaking his head in disbelief when Bucky decides to poke around.

“She has you,” Bucky points out, Steve not replying as he eats. “You told me you made sure she locked her door because she always forgets. If you didn’t care about her, you wouldn’t do that. Nor would she send you pizza or whatever the hell else she gives us when you fix something of hers. And it’s always your favorite comfort foods, Steve.”

“We’re just tenants and I happen to be the maintenance man.”

Bucky snorts in response, Steve rolling his eyes.

“And what about you? Two trips to the library in two days? That’s unusual,” Steve quips. “Who is she?”

“Who is who?”

Steve gives Bucky a deadpan stare, Bucky picking around his plate with his fork.

“You came home with three new books today and I haven’t seen you smile that much since you got your new job. What gives?”

“Just like reading.”

“Uh huh,” Steve agrees sarcastically. “I wonder if there’s a new librarian there. Or maybe you’ve let your guard down and decided to give Janet a chance.”

Bucky does laugh then, Steve breaking into a smile as they fall into a comfortable silence.

He’s not ready to talk about you yet. Mostly because there’s nothing to talk about in this current moment and there’s nothing else he can say without Steve getting more ammunition to tease him.

Truthfully, he half expected you to back down when he was asking you questions but you kept up with him. For a moment, while Steve launches into a story about work and his co-worker Scott, he zones out thinking of the slight nose scrunch you gave him when you were displeased with his questions, the wide-eyed gaze of surprise when he picked up the paper that you had dropped.

A napkin hits him square in the forehead, breaking his concentration.

“What was that for?”

“Daydreaming about the library,” Steve replies with a sly smile. “Looks like I’m not the only one with someone on their mind, am I?”

Bucky looks down at his empty plate and shrugs, knowing that Steve probably won't buy his next line.

“I have no idea what you are talking about.”

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x female reader #a/b/o fic #alpha bucky barnes

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secretswiftymarvelfan · 19 days ago

Text

Between the Lines - Professor!Ari Levinson x Librarian!Reader

A/N: Massive shout out to @precious1610 who essentially was my co-author for this oneshot, you came up with some brilliant lines and ideas for this and I can't thank you enough!

Word Count: 6.3k

Warnings: Fluff! Professor Ari (he needs a warning because damn)! Sexual Harassment and Assult (not by Ari!)! Language! SMUT! 18+ ONLY! Minors DNI!

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Masterlist

Between the Lines

You always looked forward to the new academic year. After weeks of the campus being quiet with only researching staff around, the liveliness of the new and returning cohorts of students always brought the campus back to life.

Another reason you enjoyed the new academic year was that Professor Levinson would be back. He often spent most of his summer in various different countries volunteering at refugee camps, providing aid during humanitarian crises.

You’d look forward to the stories of his days off, the people he’d met and the landmarks he'd seen. He’d often bring back a little souvenir for you too, last time it was a pair of velvet slippers because ‘the library can get cold’ he said.

You missed him dearly over the summer break, which was somewhat ridiculous because he was just the professor that you had a helpless crush on. At least the gifts he brought you said he thought of you at least for just a moment while he was away.

Even if it was a hopeless crush that didn’t stop you from putting in a bit more effort on Thursdays. The day he’d always come in after lunchtime to return any books and take out more for the next week's lectures.

You were sat at your desk, scanning through the returned books when he finally walked in. You couldn’t help but smile when he walked over, he looked incredible in his blue sweater and brown suit. The look completed with a pair of glasses which were a recent addition over the last year. It was no surprise almost every girl on campus had a thing for him. His international politics class was one of the most popular.

“Hi, did you have a nice summer?” He asked as he reached your desk.

“Very good, how was yours?” You smiled up at him.

“Rewarding” he smiled before nodding down to your book “How many of those did you read?”

You could feel the heat rising to your cheeks “Lots” you admitted with a bashful smile “lots of free time during the summer break, while you were travelling the world I was travelling the universe”

Ari gave you a lopsided smile “Sounds incredible, speaking of travelling” he reached into his pocket “I got you a little something” he held out a tiny pouch.

“Professor Levinson you didn’t have to” your voice soft as you took the small pouch.

“I’ve told you many times to call me Ari” he reminded you “and I wanted to”

You smiled as you opened up the pouch and gently tipped out its contents, a small silver token falling out into your palm.

“It’s a medallion that wards off evil” Ari explained as he leaned against your desk with a lopsided smile.

“It’s incredible, there’s so much detail” you muttered in amazement, admiring the small medallion.

“I thought you could use it to ward off people who talk too loud or eat loud snacks” Ari smirked making you chuckle.

“I love it thank you” You smiled, if you could you’d get up and cup his cheek and kiss him, you’d just have to settle with your imagination.

“It’s nothing, anything for my favourite librarian” he winked “Need a hand putting any of these away?” he nodded over to the large collection of returned books.

“I think a few of these are top-shelf books,” you said pointing to the trolley to which you had been adding books too.

“On it” Ari smiled, moving to grab the trolley.

“Thank you Ari” you said as you got up to follow him.

“Do you not trust me to put them back in the right places?” he smirked over his shoulder at you as you both walked through the bookcases.

“no…I trust you” you said slowly.

Ari snorted “That means no” he chuckled “After all the times I’ve helped you do this, you’d think you’d trust me by now”

“I do trust you” you laughed “I just…” you trailed off trying to find a reason you could actually say out loud. In truth, you just wanted to make the most of any time together.

“You’re just protective of your library, I get it” Ari smiled reassuringly as he lifted a heavy book onto the top shelf.

“Yes… protective” you muttered unable to take your eyes off his biceps, even underneath the suit you could see how impressive they were.

Ari smiled back at you breaking you from your trance. You cleared your throat before grabbing a book from the trolley and turning to put it away, subtly fanning yourself as you did so.

For the next half an hour Ari helped you put the books back on the shelves, he even reorganised an entire shelf when you complained that it was all out of order. You were just walking back to the desk when Ari paused and turned to face you.

“What are you doing Saturday afternoon?” He asked.

“Oh um, nothing I think” you stuttered trying to recall if you had any plans, which was pretty pointless because you rarely did.

“How about we go grab coffee?” He suggested a lopsided smile on his face.

“What like a-“ you squeaked blinking in surprise.

Ari grinned “Yes like a date” he finished for you.

You couldn’t stop stuttering, your mind short-circuiting as you tried to comprehend what was happening.

“Did a book fall on my head” you muttered to yourself, only realising you’d done so when Ari barked out a loud laugh “Shhh” you chastised on instinct.

Ari covered his mouth with his hand, delight clear in his eyes as he continued to laugh but quietly this time. You covered your face with your hands feeling utterly embarrassed at your outburst.

“Oh god,” you groaned quietly.

Ari chuckled as he wrapped his hands around your wrists and pulled your hands from your face, his smile widening when he saw you were pouting. He shifted his hold on your wrists so he was holding your hands, his thumbs stroking your palms.

“No you haven’t hit your head, this is really happening,” he said softly “is that really so hard to believe?”

You quietly scoffed “Yes, I mean you’re you and I’m me” you admitted shaking your head.

“I’ll let you in on a secret,” he said before leaning in to whisper “If you weren’t you, I wouldn’t be asking you out”

“Ari” you whispered in disbelief.

“And if you’ll join me for coffee I’ll tell you all the other reasons I’ve wanted to ask you out” he grinned.

You smiled bashfully, looking down at the floor “If I say yes, will you tell me one of the reasons now?” You asked looking back up at him.

Ari smirked “That pencil skirt and those knee-high boots to start” he said nodding down to your boots “So is that a yes?”

“It’s a yes” you grinned.

“Great” he smiled leaning in to kiss your cheek “I have to go teach now but I’ll see you Saturday”

“See you Saturday” you smiled watching him go.

You were frozen to the spot for a few moments still not entirely convinced that he’d actually asked you out and your crush wasn’t so hopeless. You eventually managed to get back to your desk, a smile on your face as you got back to work.

It was about an hour later when a shadow covered you. You were excited thinking that Ari had come back to talk to you again after his lecture but your smile faltered when you saw who it was.

“Hey sunshine,” Coach Hansen said as he leaned against the desk, lollipop in his mouth “How was your summer?”

“Nice,” you said forcing a smile “How about you Coach Hansen?” You asked to be polite.

“Call my Lloyd” he grinned “great, looking forward to the season, you’ll come and watch the games right? You can be my good luck charm” he winked.

You tried your hardest not to shudder in disgust “Oh um I’m not sure I’ll have to check my diary, I think I’m usually busy on game days” you lied.

“I’m sure I could convince you to find the time” he grinned leaning in closer.

You laughed awkwardly as you pushed your chair back and stood up to try and put some distance between the two of you “Guess we’ll see” you chuckled “Um do excuse me but I have some repairs to do in the office, you’d think college students would know how to treat books” you said stepping away “see you around” you added as you slipped into your office, shut and locked the door behind you.

You leaned against the door and let out the shudder that you had been holding in. Coach Hansen was the most disgusting man you’d ever met, Assistant Coach Pete Brennan coming in a close second. You’d heard rumours that Hansen had slept with multiple cheerleaders throughout the years. Why some of the most popular girls would sleep with him was beyond you.

You grabbed the hand sanitiser that was on your desk, squeezing a decent amount onto your hands. Lloyd hadn’t touched you but it made you feel cleaner. Just an encounter with Lloyd made you feel gross.

You sat down at your desk with a heavy sigh, it had been a rollercoaster of a day. But on the plus side, you had a date with Ari. The thought of that alone was enough to bring a smile back to your face. You had to think about what to wear, something that went well with your boots you thought.

It had been a couple of weeks since his date with you and Ari felt incredible. He hadn’t realised his feelings for you until the summer. He’d been walking through the market with one of his volunteer friends, Sam, he’d just found the small medallion when Sam snorted and shook his head.

“For your librarian friend?” Sam had chuckled.

“She would love it” Ari explained as he paid for it.

“Have you asked her out yet?” Sam asked as they walked to the next stall.

Ari frowned “No, she’s a friend” he’d said even if it felt wrong to call you just a friend.

Sam had laughed and shook his head “Who knew a college professor could be so stupid” he said as he walked away leaving Ari dumbfounded.

For the rest of the day, Ari had replayed that conversation before he finally came to the realisation that he had feelings for you. That he’d had feelings for you for a while now. If he wasn’t halfway across the world he would have gone straight to you and asked you out.

He was so glad you’d said yes, he’d found it so adorable how flustered you got. You were a little flustered on the date but Ari made sure to put you at ease and soon enough the side he absolutely loved about you. The sweet and a little cheeky side.

His favourite part was when you both left the coffee shop. It had been unseasonably cold for a September afternoon and he could see you shivering. So he took off the blue jacket he wore and draped it over your shoulders. You smiled up at him, the jacket almost swallowing you up as you wrapped it around yourself more. It was the cutest sight ever.

He now found any opportunity to visit you in the library. When he walked in you weren’t at the front desk, he checked your office but you weren’t in there either. He noticed that the book return trolley was missing meaning you were out putting books back on shelves.

He started walking through the library trying to find you. He eventually found you in a far corner, his blood boiling at the sight. You had your back pressed against the bookcase as the sleazeball Coach Hansen crowded against you. Ari couldn’t instantly see how uncomfortable you were even though you were forcing a smile.

He cleared his throat loudly to interrupt. Lloyd looked over and rose to his full height allowing you to sidestep away from him.

“Professor Levinson” Lloyd greeted him with a lopsided smirk.

“Coach Hansen, are you lost? The picture books are at the public library across town, I think they have sticker books too” Ari said as he walked over, fists clenched down by his sides, he then turned his attention to you “Are the books I requested ready to collect, I need them for my lecture in half an hour” he didn’t have any more lectures today, he knew you’d know that and hopefully took the out he was giving you.

You blinked a couple of times “Oh, not quite I’ll um go get the last of them now” you muttered before shuffling past him and back towards the front desk.

“I think you have somewhere else to be don’t you Coach Hansen?” He asked turning his attention back to the sleaze ball.

Lloyd ran his tongue over his teeth as he studied Ari “Somewhere more interesting that’s for sure” he said before turning and leaving.

Ari followed behind him just to make sure that Lloyd actually left the library. You weren’t at the front desk but he spotted you peaking through the blinds in your office.

Once he was satisfied that Lloyd had gone he walked over to the office door and gently rapped his knuckles against the wood. He pushed the door open slowly when he heard you answer. He found you perched on the edge of your desk rubbing your hands, the faint smell of hand sanitiser lingering in the air.

He closed the distance between you, his hand moving to brush hair out of your face and cup your cheek but he stopped himself short. You might not want anyone to touch you right now.

“Hey, are you okay?” He asked softly.

You took in a deep breath before nodding as you breathed back out “Fine, just feel a little grossed out, nothing out of the ordinary” you admitted.

Ari’s brows furrowed “This has happened before?”

You gave him a weak shrug of your shoulders “Kinda, usually, I’m at the front desk so I have that barrier” you said gesturing in front of you “Today was the first time he’s found me between the cases”

Ari shook his head in disbelief “Why didn’t you say? Why didn’t you tell him to back off?”

You scoffed and stepped away from him, crossing your arms as you moved to the far corner of the office. When you turned back to face him you hit him with a hard look.

“Seriously? That’s the worst thing I could do with a man like him, you think he’ll take my no as an answer?” You scoffed “The safest thing I can do is be nice and polite and hope to god that nothing happens, that he gets bored and moves on” you exclaimed gesturing with a clenched fist towards the door “And if he doesn’t I just have to pray that I can find not only the ability to fight back but win… and I know it’s wrong but that’s just reality!”

Silence fell in the room. Ari stood there and watched as you breathed heavily. He’d fucked up and he knew that, even if part of him was pretty impressed at how you put him in his place.

“You’re right, I’m sorry” he apologised holding his hands up in surrender as he took a couple of steps closer “That was very male of me to say that” he added with the smallest of smirks.

You pursed your lips before letting out a small chuckle “Yes it was”

Ari smiled softly as he walked closer to you again “I’m sorry, I’m sorry this is the reality you have to live in” he said before his brows furrowed in concern “You’ve never felt like that with me have you?”

You quickly shook your head, stepping closer to close the distance your hands resting on his biceps “No, god no” you told him “You’ve never made me uncomfortable”

“Good, and if I ever do just put me back in my place like you just did” he smirked.

You bit your lower lip “I’m sorry” you said with a slight wince.

“No don’t apologise, it was actually kinda sexy” Ari whispered as he leant in

Your smile turned bashful as you looked up at him. He smiled back down at you as he moved to cup your cheeks with both hands, his thumb gently stroking the apples of your cheeks. Your head tilted into his touch, your eyes shining as you looked up at him.

“How do you feel now?” he asked softly.

“Much better thank you”

“Good, and I promise nothing like that is gonna happen again, I’ll make sure of it” he swore “I’ll be here when you finish tonight to walk you to your car and text me if he comes back before then”

“Okay I will, thank you Ari,” you said with a grateful sigh.

“It's nothing, sweetheart” he smiled before leaning down to capture your lips in his.

He started gently just to make sure you were okay with it but as soon he felt you melt into his touch he let go of his restraint and deepened the kiss. From the moment he finally got to kiss you on your first coffee date he knew he was a goner. With every kiss since, every time he got to hold you, be close with you he fell harder and deeper for you.

If he could, he’d stay here with you forever but he had something he needed to do “I have office hours soon so I need to head off” he said softly as he rested his forehead against yours.

“That’s okay, I’ll see you later” you smiled, running your hands over his biceps.

“See you later” he smiled, pecking your lips once more before making his way out of your office.

When he stepped out of the library instead of turning towards his building, he turned in the opposite direction. Towards the football field and training facilities. He found Lloyd in his office talking to his assistant coach, Pete Brenner, lollipop in his mouth as he chuckled.

“Professor Levinson” Lloyd smirked when Ari walked in “Are you a little lost?” he asked with a condescending tone, throwing Ari’s words back at him.

Ari instantly saw red. He surged forward, pinning Lloyd to the nearest wall, fist gripping the mustard polo collar Hansen wore.

“What the shit!” Pete exclaimed, shooting up from his seat, while Lloyd just laughed.

“Sit” Ari hissed over his shoulder at Pete who instantly did what he said like an obedient dog.

“It’s cool Brenner” Lloyd smirked “Let him have his moment”

Ari growled in response, shoving him back against the wall again “Don’t push me”

Lloyds just laughed “Oh c’mon pumpkin,” he said shaking his head “What are you gonna do? Strangle me with boredom? Talk me to death? You academic lot are so funny” he tilted his head with a condescending look.

“You go near her again and you’ll find out exactly what I can do to you” Ari warned.

“Aw, you got a little crush on my little librarian?” Lloyd grinned.

Ari shifted his grip, his fingers wrapping around Lloyd's throat. Lloyd only looked more excited, a wolfish grin growing.

“She’s not your property and never will be” Ari said, squeezing his grip slightly for good measure.

Lloyd didn’t say anything for a moment, his eyes studying Ari “Warning taken” he finally said.

Ari wasn’t entirely convinced but took a couple of steps back, letting go of Lloyd. Lloyd shrugged and straightened out his polo before regarding Ari with a look.

“What are you still doing here?” he asked “trying to cause more of a scene? I don’t think Y/N would like that”

Ari clenched his fists and resisted the urge to punch Lloyd right there and then but the sick bastard was right. If you knew Ari had caused this scene you would hate it. You probably wouldn’t want to see him anymore and he’d lose the best thing he’s ever had.

“Stay away from her” he reiterated harshly, pointing over to Lloyd who held his hands up in surrender a smirk playing on his lips.

Ari turned, shooting a glare at Pete who shifted uncomfortably in his chair. He stormed out of the office, the door slamming so hard that it rattled behind him.

The past couple of months had been the best of your life and it was all thanks to Ari. As the weather got colder you got excited to celebrate the holiday season with him. You’d already had a lot of fun with him at Halloween and Thanksgiving, he’d dressed up as Indiana Jones and you went as Marion. He looked incredible as Indy, you really had to try hard to keep your hands to yourself at the faculty party. You did have a lot of fun with the whip afterwards though.

Much to your relief too, Lloyd had kept away from the library and you. That short interaction between him and Ari in the library had clearly sent enough of a message that you were taken.

Ari had been the sweetest too, he’d meet you whenever you finished work to walk you to your car or pick you up to take you back to his place. He visited the library more and helped out whenever he could. You joked that you should get him an assistant librarian badge.

It was Friday evening and you were working late. A large delivery had arrived ready for the new semester in January and you wanted to get them all sorted before the Christmas break. Ari had agreed to help out, bringing snacks and keeping you company.

It was taking a little longer than you expected because you kept getting distracted by Ari. he was wearing a deep green button-up sweater which hugged his arms deliciously, especially when pushed the sleeves up to his elbows.

He’d definitely caught you checking him out if the smirk on his lips was anything to go by. But when he’d lift heavy books up onto the top shelves you couldn’t help but stare, you were only human after all.

You shook your head to try and clear it so you could focus on the job at hand. You turned away from him and crouched down to put away some books on the lower shelves. When you stood back up you were surprised to find Ari stood behind you, his hands resting on your hips.

“Ari” you muttered as you looked over your shoulder at him.

“Y/N” he smirked as he pressed a kiss to your neck, pulling your hips back so you could feel that it wasn’t just you who was getting distracted.

“Ari” you sighed as you melted back onto him “We can’t, not here” you muttered as he continued to kiss your neck, one hand moving up to your breast.

“Sure we can” he murmured “It's late, no one else is here”

You could feel your resolve weakening “We should at least go to my office then” you suggested.

“No we don’t” he smirked as his other hand moved from your hip to your covered core, tugging you back towards him “This sort of thing is in the books you read and I know how much you love them”

You blinked a couple of times in surprise as you turned around to face him “How did you know that?”

Ari gives you a lopsided grin “I’ve read them” he answered.

“You read them” you repeated in disbelief.

“Of course, they’re something you love” he explained with a casual shrug of his shoulders “I want to know as much as I can about you… get some ideas… make sure you’re satisfied” he smirked.

“Ari,” you said softly, shaking your head in disbelief, you couldn’t believe how incredible he was.

“So what do you say?” he smirked, “are you gonna let me worship you in your temple?”

You nibbled your lower lip and nodded, you could never say no to him.

“Good, now make sure you stay quiet” he smirked as he sunk down to his knees “We are in a library after all”

You let out a shuddered breath of anticipation when his hands slipped under your skirt to pull down your underwear. Once he tucked them into his back pocket his hand wrapped around the back of your knee and lifted it. He pressed a kiss to the exposed skin just above your knee-high boots. He hooked your leg over his shoulder as he pressed kisses up your thighs, his head disappearing underneath your skirt.

You cupped a hand over your mouth to silence yourself when his lips finally found your core, his quiet moan vibrating against you when he discovered how wet you were for him already. Your other hand found the back of his head, your fingers weaving through his long, soft locks.

His beard scratched against your thighs as he feasted. He knew your body so well now that not even the perfect world of fiction could compare. He made your legs so weak that if he wasn’t propping you up, you’d be on the floor.

The feeling of him between your legs was like heaven, especially when he’d tease your clit. You wanted to stay in this moment forever, you also wanted him inside you, and you wanted to reach your peak.

“Ari” you whimpered, your fingers gripping his hair tightly.

You felt him smirk against you before diving back in. Except this time his lips wrapped around your clit and he slipped two thick fingers inside you. You had to bite your fist to stop yourself from screaming, especially when his fingers curled against that golden spot and fireworks exploded as you hit your peak.

Ari worked you through the waves of your orgasm, prolonging to the point that the entire world melted away. You hadn’t even noticed him rising to his full height until he cupped your cheeks and kissed you deeply, the taste of you on his lips.

“You’re doing so well keeping quiet” he murmured against your lips.

The kiss brought you back to life, energy surging through like electricity. Your hands quickly found his belt buckle and pushed down his deep green trousers enough to free him. You wrapped your fingers around him and pumped him a couple of times. Just the weight and feel of him in your hands made your core ache for him.

It was like Ari had read your mind because he hooked his hands under your thighs at the same time that you wrapped your arms around his shoulders to climb him like a tree. You buried your face into the crook of his neck to muffle your moan when he entered you.

Neither of you moved once he was fully seated inside you. You only breathed deeply as you took in the feeling of him filling you up completely. It was a feeling you never wanted to get used to and one you hoped you’d always have.

Soon enough you felt the overwhelming urge for movement, you turned your head to press kisses to his neck just below the ear “Move” you whispered pleadingly.

Ari chuckled softly “Anything for you” he said before thrusting up into you.

He started slowly but soon worked up to a fiercer pace. You clung onto him tightly, rolling your hips to meet his. You bit your lower lip to hold back your loud moan but you couldn’t stop the small gasps that escaped. It would be impossible for anyone to be silent when with Ari.

Your head tilted back against the bookcase, which Ari took advantage of as he pressed wet kisses to your neck and collarbone. You felt and heard books tumble to the floor but you didn’t care, you couldn’t care about anything except how great you felt.

You could feel your orgasm building and before you could even say anything it crashed over you and you couldn’t even think let alone speak. It felt like you ascended to a whole new plane of existence, Ari joining you shortly after as he hit his own peak.

Ari held you close as you came down from your mind-blowing high. His large hand cradled the back of your head as you nuzzled your head back into the crook of his neck.

“Can you stand?” Ari asked softly after a few moments.

You nodded “I think so” you muttered, still catching your breath.

Ari gave you a lopsided smile before pressing a soft kiss to your lips. He held onto you as he pulled out of you, a whimper falling from your lips at the emptiness. You leant back against the bookcase, feeling his spend slowly spreading down your thighs.

You watched as Ari picked up the fallen books with his clean hand and returned them to the nearby trolley to be reorganised later. When he returned to you he slipped his other hand back under your skirt. He smirked down at you as he collected the combined juices of your and his release, spreading it back up to your core.

“Let’s get you back to your office to get cleaned up” he murmured as he kissed you.

A couple of hours later you and Ari called it a night. There were still lots of books to sort through but you were both tired and just wanted to head back to his place to relax.

You were walking into the parking lot when Ari paused and cursed under his breath “I forgot to grab something from my office” he muttered glancing over his shoulder in the direction of his building.

“That’s fine,” you said wrapping your jacket around your tighter, it was a pretty cold December night, as you turned to go with him.

“It’s fine, you go get in the car,” he said passing you the keys “Get the heater going and lock the doors, I won’t be long” he promised.

“Okay see you in a second” you said as you started to make your way towards the car. Ari jogged off in the opposite direction towards his office.

Ari had parked under a street lamp but it was barely working. Flicking on and off periodically. You weren’t worried about it though, Ari had already seen to the campus sleaze.

You reached the car with no problem but as you reached for the handle you heard someone and your blood ran cold.

“Hey sugarplum what you doing out so late?” Lloyd said.

You quickly turned around to find him stood much closer than you thought. It was like he materialised out of the shadows and just the mere thought of him had summoned him like a demon.

“Large delivery, but heading home now,” you said gesturing to the car behind you.

“So soon? I’ve not seen you around in a while, maybe we should catch up” he smiled as he closed the distance between you, backing you against the car.

“Oh um well it’s late, uh maybe another time? I’m pretty tired” you stuttered as you leaned back to create some distance.

An evil smirk grew on his face “Tired or bored? I bet you’re bored to tears hanging out with that dull professor” he said “but don’t you worry, I can show you a good time”

His hands gripped your hips and you stopped breathing. Ari had kept hold of your underwear after cleaning you up, it was something that excited you at the time but now you regretted it. You didn’t want to think what Lloyd would do if he discovered you weren’t wearing underwear.

“Oh no thanks, I’m very happy as I am,” you said, your voice wobbling.

Lloyd smirked as he leant in to whisper in your ear “I don’t think that’s true”

Your entire body froze, eyes screwed shut when he pressed a disgustingly wet kiss below your ear. You whimpered but he just took that as a sign to carry on. He gripped you tighter, forcing his growing bulge against your stomach and kept kissing your neck.

“You like that now don’t-“ he started but he didn’t finish as suddenly he was gone.

You opened your eyes to discover Lloyd on the floor, Ari stood between the two of you “I told you to stay away” Ari growled, his fists clenched down by his sides.

Lloyd just laughed as he pushed himself to his feet “Please, she doesn’t want you, she wants me even if she doesn’t know it yet, I can read between the lines” he said before glancing around Ari to look at you “isn’t that right sugarplum?”

Ari snapped and surged forward, his fist connecting with Lloyd’s jaw. Lloyd stumbled back, the smirk disappearing and replaced by fury as Lloyd swung back and punched Ari.

You gasped in shock, hands covering your mouth as the two men brawled in front of you. It was a blur of punches and for a moment you couldn’t work out who was winning. This was a side of Ari you had never seen before. To your relief Ari got the upper hand, landing a hard punch to the side of Lloyd’s head causing him to stumble. Ari took advantage of his disorientation and grabbed his shoulders and threw him to the floor, pinning him down and shoving Lloyd’s face into the asphalt.

At that exact moment campus security finally appeared and rushed over “What’s going on here?” One of them demanded.

“Coach Hansen was sexually assaulting Miss Y/L/N“ Ari said keeping Lloyd pinned down even though he wasn’t fighting anymore.

“Is that correct miss?” The security guard said, you tore your eyes away from Ari and Lloyd and looked over to the guards, barely being able to bring yourself to nod in response “Okay, we’ll take it from here” he said.

Ari finally climbed off of Lloyd to let the security cuff him and pull him to his feet. You gasped quietly when you saw just how beaten and bloodied he was, how much Ari had beaten the crap out of him.

“Would you like us to report this to the police on your behalf?” The other guard asked you.

“I uh yes please” you muttered weakly.

“We’ll be in my office when they arrive” Ari told them before finally turning to face you.

Your heart stopped for a moment when you saw his split lip and brow. He didn’t look as bad as Lloyd but it was still difficult to see.

“Let’s go sweetheart” he said softly as he wrapped his arm around you to guide you away from Lloyd and to his office.

The entire walk to your office all you could hear was buzzing in your ears, your entire body felt numb. You hadn’t even realised you were in his office until he sat you down in his brown leather office chair. You blinked a couple of times and looked over at him as grabbed a first aid box from the far corner.

The sudden urge to take care of him took precedence over how you were feeling “Let me” you said standing up and taking the kit from him.

“Sweetheart-“ Ari protested.

“Ari please” you pleaded.

You needed this right now, you needed to look after him, you needed the distraction.

“Okay” he relented softly, he moved to perch on the edge of his desk.

You grabbed what you needed before standing in between his legs to clean up his cuts. He didn’t even wince as you did so, he just looked defeated as he watched you work.

“Are you okay?” He asked quietly drawing your eyes to his.

You took a deep breath “I don’t know” you admitted.

Ari sighed “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have- I just saw him crowding you and I-I snapped” he apologised.

“No, don’t apologise I’m glad you did that, if you hadn’t been there I…” you trailed off, you didn’t need to think too hard about what would have happened.

“It’s my fault I shouldn’t have left you alone, I should have known that he wouldn’t have left you alone after I-“ he said before silencing himself.

“After you what?” You asked, brows furrowing.

“Threatened him and told him to stay away” he sighed dropping his head.

“Ari” you muttered in disbelief.

“I know it’s stupid I know but after I caught him in the library and saw how upset it made you I knew I had to say and do something,” he said shaking his head “Nobody gets away with making the people I love uncom-“

“Love?” You interrupted, your jaw dropping in shock.

The corners of his lips twitch upwards “Yeah” he said softly “it may have taken me far too long to realise my feelings for you but once I did I fell hard. I love you Y/N”

You let out a watery chuckle and smiled at him “I love you too” you said pressing a gentle kiss to his lips.

Ari smiled into the kiss as he cupped the back of your head to keep you there “How do you feel now?” He asked after a moment.

“Better” you smiled softly “I know I probably haven’t processed what happened yet and I don’t know how I’ll feel when I do” you sighed “but I know I have you so that doesn’t scare me”

“Good, and I’ll be right there beside you I won’t let anything like this happen again” Ari promised as he cupped your cheeks.

“Thank you Ari” you smiled.

“Anything for you sweetheart” he smiled before kissing you deeply once more.

The feeling of his protection enveloped you. You knew that difficult days were ahead of you but with Ari by your side, you knew you could not only face it, but survive it.

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Masterlist

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#Niamhwrites #Ari Levinson #Professor!Ari Levinson #Professor!Ari #Professor!AU #librarian au #Librarian!Reader #ari levison x reader #Ari levinson x you #Ari Levinson x Y/N

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lizard-on-a-window-pane · 7 months ago

Note

sunlight ☀️

hii it’s me againn. could you also do tasm peter who is nerdy and nerdy reader? and it’s kind of like a meet cute at the library? that’s literally my dream 😔 (you can tell i’m in my spiderman kick again)

-🎀

love a good spiderman kick ☺️ hope you like it!

pairing: TASM!Peter Parker x reader word count: 1.4k tags: just fluff

The exam was next week, and Peter still hadn’t gotten a chance to so much as glance at the most helpful textbook. The only copy the library carried had been way over due for ages, and the damn things were way too expensive to buy. He hoped it would be back by today because the late fees would be so much worse after today’s cut off. So, into the library he strode to look for it for what felt like the millionth time.

He was sure the librarian remembered him, and which book he was after, after so many attempts, so he went straight up to the desk. Peter raised his eyebrows in question, in hope. He wrung his hands together as the librarian gave him a look he couldn’t quite decipher. “So?” he finally couldn’t help.

“You just missed it,” the librarian deadpanned. How could she be so damn calm? She must know his life depended on getting his hands on this book! Well, maybe not his life, but definitely his grade… important enough.

“What?! And you didn’t hold it for me or something?” “Hold it for you? What do you think this is, kid? We don’t take reservations.”

After a moment, though, she sighed in slight defeat, something akin to pity entering her hardened features. She gave a sideways nod toward the person standing at the other end of the desk.

“Maybe she’ll share,” she whispered.

Peter followed her look. His eyes landed on a girl. She looked mortified. Given the books lying next to her open backpack on the desk, she’d clearly been packing them up. At the top of the pile lay the coveted textbook. And she’d clearly overheard his whole exchange with the librarian.

You lock your gaze onto the books in front of you. You could feel your cheeks warming, and the last thing you wanted was to accidentally make eye contact with this stranger. This ridiculously attractive stranger you’d noticed in class before… Peter Parker… who had clearly had the same idea about the book being returned today…

You feel terrible at having snatched it up just before him. You hadn’t known someone else was after it, too, but you could’ve guessed, and it felt like pure luck that you got it first. You have no idea how to react, and before you can come up with any idea at all, you sense him stepping toward you and freeze in panic.

“Um, hey,” Peter whisper-says. God, why didn’t he just speak at a normal volume? He was in the library, sure, but just the entrance. He’s sure he sounded weird, and that’s the last thing he wanted after his little outburst clearly made you uncomfortable. It wasn’t your fault you’d gotten the book before him.

Your eyes dart up to meet his at his words, and when they do, his nerves increase tenfold. Your eyes are so damn pretty. All of you is. And you look half way to an anxiety attack at his approach. “Hey, sorry,” he tries. “Sorry, I know we don’t know each other, but I just… Um, well… Sorry about that,” he ends lamely, gesturing back to where his exchange with the librarian just occurred. “It’s okay,” you whisper, smiling awkwardly and tucking your hair behind your ears. You look back down at your hands, pulling at the too-long sleeves of your shirt.

Peter’s hand comes up to his head, messing with his hair in a typical nervous tick. He can’t stop staring at you, and you can’t stop avoiding his stare. He had to say something else before the mounting awkwardness blew up. Why couldn’t he think of anything? God, why was his heart racing faster than it ever did when he had to fight giant, scary monsters? Somehow you were scarier.

“Um,” he starts again. “You in, uh, you in Vidal’s biology class?” he ventures, guessing you need the book to study for the same exam as he. It blows his mind he hasn’t noticed you before if you are.

“Mmhmm,” you nod softly.

“Me too,” he says and cringes. “I don’t recognize you.” “Oh, I don’t know. I tend to sit in the back.” You finally look up at him as you say this. Your eyes meet, and it’s too much to handle. After what feels like an eternal instant, you both look away chuckling.

Peter’s just nodding like an idiot, chewing his bottom lip, reeling for something else to say but failing miserably. At this point, the thought of getting the book has totally vanished from his mind. The fear of failing next week has been completely replaced with the fear of failing right now. The idea of your walking away and his not getting to talk to you again makes his stomach sink.

You’re just staring at your hands, unsure what you’re supposed to do in this kind of situation. How do people just know what they’re supposed to do when other people are involved?

You still feel really bad that you got the book first, and you figure he’s only still talking to you to ask when you’ll be done with it. The exam is so soon, you hadn’t really been planning to return it till after. But keeping it to yourself when he needed it too made your stomach twist. You didn’t even know him, but you wanted to help him. So, you mustered the courage to do something you know, from experience, you otherwise wouldn’t do.

You say softly, “If you want… um, I don’t know… maybe, we could share it?”

“What?” he responds, too quickly, confused, his voice nervously airy.

You’re not sure if he didn’t hear what you said — possible with how softly you’re speaking — or didn’t understand what you meant, so you don’t know what to say. Words are too hard, so you just grab the book — your hands grateful for something to do — and hold it up to him like an offering.

“Oh!” he hiccups. Then, “Oh,” he says more quietly, chuckling lightly. “I mean, I don’t want to bother you. You got it first fair and square.” “Yeah,” you shrug. “But you need it, too, right?”

“Yeah…” His mind begins stirring up images of the two of you studying together… maybe laughing together eventually… sitting closer together to both get a good look at the book…

It’s making his heart beat faster, and he realizes he’d be an idiot to not seize the opportunity. It’s the perfect excuse to spend more time with you, and he doesn’t even have to ask you out. Yet.

So, he quickly says, “Yeah, um, sharing would be great. If you don’t mind. I can just meet up with you whenever you were going to study anyway… Wherever is good for you; I don’t mind; you choose; whatever you prefer is good with me —” Having started, he can’t stop talking now, his nerves morphing into words, eager to leave his body.

You giggle at his garrulousness, and he knows he’s in trouble when the sound of it makes his breath hitch.

“Well,” you say. “I was planning to get started now… you know, since I’d been waiting to get my hands on the book. If you wanted to, um, maybe go to the café maybe?”

You hadn’t in fact been planning to start right away. If you were honest with yourself, you’d been planning to put it off till you couldn’t not… like you always did no matter how hard you tried to get an early start. Note to self: the only cure you’ve found to procrastination so far: ridiculously pretty boys with warm eyes and a voice you could listen to forever.

“Yeah, that’d be great. That’d be great,” he nods, smiling. It’s the first time you’ve seen him fully smile. You’d be happy to just hand him the book as long as you could watch him study, the exam be damned.

“Great,” you repeat, grabbing your things and turning toward the café. Your eyes widen in panicked disbelief at what just happened. You glance slightly back just to make sure you hadn’t imagined it, and sure enough: Peter Parker is taking a quick step to follow you. He falls in step with you as you walk, and it’s terrifying and invigorating just how much you like the feeling of him close beside you.

#peter parker #tasm!peter parker #tasm!peter x reader #tasm!peter x you #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #tasm!peter fluff #tasm!peter imagine #tasm! peter oneshot #tasm!peter fanfic #spiderman fanfiction #ria1k

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sweetieviktor · 2 months ago

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viktor x librarian! reader (headcanons + tiny scenarios) part 1

summary: how you've meet each other, when you feel in love and your first exchange of "i love you"s.

content warning: just tooth rotting fluff and cuteness between those two. :D

author notes: i know that sooo many people writed this same idea but i can't help it, it's just so cute and so good to write!! when i was writing, the words came almost instantly and gods, i love to write fluff so much!! oh, and today, when i was re-reading this with my friend i was thinking the whole time "damn i love him" ((and i was awoken until 3am yesterday trying to finish this one but i feel sleep and couldn't end it, but i finished it this morning and now, at night time, im posting in here! anyways, hope you guys like it. :) (there is more of this concept if you want to see it too! heres the link for part 2!)

» the moment the doors hang open, you turn to see who it is, and as you do so, the whole world stops.

» the prettiest man you've ever seen in your life just came into the library you work in. literally, the prettiest man.

» the way his fluffy hair falls around his face and his curious eyes keep looking at everything, scanning all corners of the room, every little thing he can, shining whenever he sees something he likes.

» and his boyish little smile, barely showing his teeth, that he was giving while talking to a furry someone just by his side.

“oh hi, dear friend!” waving, heimerdinger spoke, walking with tiny, fast steps in your direction, pausing when he was close to you. meanwhile the boy beside him was walking a little slower, his cane thudding softly against the floor.

he stopped near the yordle and looked at your face, giving a polite smile, offering to you his non-occupied hand, and you shaked it, giving him a smile of yours. “i’m viktor, heimerdinger's assistant. he said you could help me with some resources i might need, and i would very much appreciate any help your books could provide.”

“i hope you don't mind him coming here to do some researches, friend. he may come here often!” the yordle laughed, looking between the two of you and then walking away.

“ehhh.. so, do you have any books about-”

» basically, this is how you and viktor knew each other, through a friend in common. and, from this day on, he came to the library more and more often.

» at first, he just showed up, asked for a book you could provide and got out of the establishment. then, he tried to strike up a small talk with you whenever he was waiting for you to look up said books. now, he just straight up rants about any experiment he may be doing at the time.

» and if you're genuinely interested in his rant, he could go for hours just explaining every little detail to you, and he would love every second of it.

» because now he is a regular, you just analyze what he is up to in the most recent days and choose some books that might be useful to him, putting them in the drawer, below the reception desk. and when this happened for the first time he was almost flustered, because you cared enough to look up, sort and search for things that he didn't even asked for.

when you heard the door swing open, you looked at it's direction, smiling as you realized who it was. “hey, viktor! welcome again!” it was the third time this week he got to the library, looking for the same type of books, so you just worked a bit ahead this time. “i don't know if it is exactly what you need but i think that you could use these ones, they have some information you might like.”

“but i still didn't ask for anything..?” he stared at you with a puzzled face, trying to understand why you were giving him those.

“i just think it goes along with your research. also, i wanted to help.” you shrugged, smiling brightly at him.

and maybe this was when he thought for the first time “damn.. i might be in love.”

» after this, he always tried to stay closer to you, to say things you might like, to show you that he cared for you just as much as you cared for him.

» he even brought coffee (he got sweet milk for himself) and pastries for you both to share one day. and this was for sure one of the best excuses to transform a boring afternoon with no clients, into a lazy reading session, this, of course, until a client came and ruined the cutesy atmosphere between the two of you.

» of course he thought about asking you out before, but it was hard. he wasn't used to the feeling of love, of liking someone so deeply like this. so what could he do besides admire you everyday he was in your library? look at you with pure adoration, chuckle lightly whenever you said something that wasn't even that funny, and after it all just show you the most beautiful, bright and in love smile.

» he didn't like to belittle himself, but he really think you would be better with someone that wasn't him. you were so different, yet so alike him, it almost felt like it was meant to be.

» then, in one of his “oh, i will stay here for 15 more minutes and then i'll go home” times (that never lasted 15 minutes, to be honest), it was almost closing time, all of your coworkers were in their homes, no more clients in, simply, not a soul in there. only you both.

» you kept looking in his direction from afar, thinking to yourself how could you get someone so intelligent, so brilliant, so beautiful, so... him. you knew what you wanted, but again, it was hard. and, if saying your feelings out loud was way too scary, writing it all down seemed easier. so, you picked up a pen and a paper, writing in it everything that was inside your chest, your heart. you poured all your feelings into every word that you scribbled down.

» until you heard him packing up his stuff. you started to panic, and now there was only two options, leave the paper as it was and try to act neutral, or try to hide it and look even more nervous? well, there's no time to think! he was already in front of you while your head was spiraling nonstop.

“hey... you are fine? you look stressed.” he examined your face, tilting his head to the side, admiring every little feature of yours. your pretty eyes, your nose, your kissable lips...

“yes! i'm completely fine, no need to worry!” you put your hands on top of the little confession, smiling anxiously, hoping that he don't notice the sweet words you wrote down just for him.

“oh, what did you got there?” he looked at the paper, then at you, and back to paper. on a common day you would like to have his focus only on you, but it was making you even more nervous now, your stomach was turning itself, your hands were cold and trembling. and when he noticed it, he took your hand in his, and you could feel that he was shaking too. “hey... look,” he took a deep breath, almost like he didn't want to continue, like he was still choosing the right words to say. “i understand that some things we just want to keep them personal, only for ourselves. so, ehh, you don't have to show me what you wrote.”, he said with a nervous smile displayed on his lips, while caressing your knuckles with an almost feather-like touch, too afraid to ruin the moment and lose you right now.

and you didn't want to lose him too. even with your brain telling you that you shouldn't tell him, your heart knew you needed to say it, breaking itself or not. so it was now or never. “well... recently i've been thinking about our friendship, about what it could possibly be, about you.” you averted your gaze to the ground, wishing that you came up with fancier words and a better way to confess to him before it all, but you couldn't turn back now. “honestly i can't stop thinking about you, it's like you consumed every logical thought in my brain, everything that wasn't... you.” finally you looked at his eyes, just to see he already looking at you, eyes finally shining for you, because of you. “i love you, viktor. with everything in me, i really love you.” it seemed so right to say these three little words to him, to let him know how you felt since the first time you've seen him.

“and i love you too.” he came closer to you, still with his hand on yours, but now holding it gently, intertwining your fingers together, pressing quickly his lips in yours, smiling in pure awe, completely lovestruck after it. “i love you more than anything, my little star.”

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friendly-neighborhood-boricua · 9 months ago

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[1] Parent-Teacher Conferences

Summary: James meets his favorite student's mother for the first time.

Notes: Marauders modern elementary school AU, kindergarten teacher!James Potter x nurse!reader, mom!reader x son!OC (Liam), inspired by this post by @ravishinglavishingluvr

Next Part: Seeing Each Other Around Town Series Masterlist here

teacher!james teacher!james teacher!james teacher!james teacher!james teacher!james teacher!james teacher!james teacher!james teacher!james teacher!james teacher!james teacher!james teacher!james teacher!james te—

specifically james as a kindergarten teacher

(see inspiration post)

(just kindergarten instead of preschool)

(yaknow, for the plot)

Okok lets get started :D:D:D

You’ve got a sweet baby boy of a son (I’m sorry if you don’t!! I also don’t but idk my stepmom is pregnant with a boy and I’m super excited and this mess is what came out so here you go)

And he’s five and in James’ kindergarten class

Baby boy is just the sweetest little thing

James loves him to death

He’s smart and nice and helpful and just an absolute gem

Like seriously tho James goes to the library during his lunch break to hang out with school librarian!Remus and school secretary!Sirius and just can’t shut up about how much he loves your son like James just talks about him the whole lunch period

And Remus and Sirius are like

“That’s great, James 😐"

But James doesn’t care he’s just too excited to have such a bright young boy in his class

And also (because James is nosy af) he’s super curious to see what kind of parents this kid has

So parent-teacher conferences roll around and he’s like “What kind of geniuses are raising this kid?? Let’s see em????”

And then nurse!reader rolls up to the 7:30 PM meeting, still in her hospital scrubs and profusely apologizing for being like three minutes late

And James is like

What.

Not at ALLLLLL what he was expecting

(not that he’s complaining, you’re fucking adorable and a great break from all the stuffy parents he’s had to deal with all day)

So you and him sit down and talk about your son’s work at school

And James just gushes about him to you practically the whole time

Like legit James fell for him before he even met you

Meanwhile you’re like

1) damn i didn’t know my kid’s teacher was so pretty

(Not like that’s important ofc because you have priorities and your son always comes first.)

And 2) but like can my son read?? Can he do math?? Are you teaching him science sir????

And James is like “yeah but he’s NICE and KIND and EMPATHETIC

“DO YOU KNOW HOW HARD IT IS TO GET FIVE YEAR OLDS TO SAY THEY’RE SORRY

“AND HE JUST DOES IT”

And you’re like

“……yeah…… bc that’s an important part of learning to be a good person … ofc I showed him how to be kind?? Like what????”

And James

(poor baby’s bar is on the floor from all the Karens who’s kids he teaches)

He’s just so enamored about how you’re just like naturally kind and caring??

And you imparted that onto your kid????

Your conference time is the last one on James’ schedule, and he absolutely irritates the fuck out of Remus and Sirius as he drives them back to their flat

Like he can’t shut up about you

And your kid

Like he just loves your son

And has a little puppy-love crush on you

Remus pretends to be annoyed and Sirius teases him

But when James drops them off they’re already planning your wedding

(Remus: “You know, we haven’t actually even met her …” Sirius: “So? Have you ever seen James this smitten??? It’ll happen, love. Trust the process.”

Next Part: Seeing Each Other Around Town

#teacher!james potter #teacher!james potter x reader #james potter x reader #teacher!james potter x you #james potter x you #nurse!reader #james potter x nurse!reader #teacher!james potter x nurse!reader #james potter x mom!reader #mom!reader #librarian!remus #librarian!remus lupin #school librarian!remus #school librarian!remus lupin #secretary!sirius #secretary!sirius black #kindergarten teacher!james potter

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freakshowtwopointoh · 1 year ago

Note

Hi!! Can I request jealous Jordan li where reader is spending a lot of time with someone else, maybe for a school project or something and Jordan notices and is like, nope, not happening, this one's mine bc they're so in love with reader and want all of the attention

Whew, that was a lot, haha,

Thank you!!!!

*not sure if u want established partners or situationship w feelings or something else, but i think imma go with situationship bc thats always the vibe for jordan lol if u want more established relationship lmk*

Debate club was a sensible extracurricular, and you had been doing it since your school stopped having model UN in 9th grade. It wasn't your favorite thing in the world, but you liked to argue, so it worked out. This week, you were arguing the "for" case with your teammate for the semester, Blake Mathers. He's a grating sophomore with floppy hair, and telekinesis powers you've only seen him use to enable his own laziness. The head of the club was nice enough, but he was insistent on "teamwork" when you'd much rather write alone. It was exhausting, trying to filter your thoughts and opinions, and allowing others to shine was not your style.

You try to pay attention to what Blake was saying about the topic, but all you were thinking about was Jordan Li. Ever since you made out at one of Dusty's infamous parties, they had invaded your senses and your thoughts. They'd catch you staring during class, or you'd wear a tiny skirt to a party, and you'd end up in a closet, or a car, or a bedroom, all limbs and heavy breathing.

"Um, hello? Did you hear me?" You shake your head.

"Sorry. Say that again?"

"The argument we wrote yesterday. It's gone - my computer got fucked." Ah, crap. This is the second time Blake's stupidity has made you re-do work. You'd done some research at the start of the week, and he'd forgotten to mention the topic had been changed. You sigh.

"Well, fuck. Alright, let's go back to the library then." You turn around and start walking, trying not to show your disappointment. You'd been hoping to "run into" Jordan at the JitterBean - hence the tight-ass skinny jeans.

Waste of an outfit, you think bitterly, pushing open the glass doors and setting up at the table that you and Blake had been using to do your assignments. Thankfully you'd saved your notes from yesterday, so you began reconstructing your argument while Blake screwed off.

You weren't paying much attention to what he was doing until you saw him fucking with Justine. Now there's some bullying you can get behind. You giggle, and watch as he makes another paper airplane fly around her head. She glares over at him and storms out, which makes you laugh out loud. The librarian glares, and you exchange a guilty look with Blake before getting back into writing.

The afternoon goes by easily after that. You were vaguely aware of other students milling about or studying nearby, but you were in the zone. Finally, at almost 8, the argument was done, and you saved it in multiple places just in case.

You wave goodbye to Blake, happy that the session went reasonably ok and the work was done. Saturday's debate was going to be a blast.

"Have fun on your little date with Mathers?" Jordan was leaning against the outside wall of the library, expression unreadable.

"Is the infamous Jordan Li jealous?" Their eyes harden slightly.

"Not jealous, just lookin out for you. He's a moron." They begin walking beside you, not acknowledging how unhinged they were behaving. Just looking out for you? If they weren't so damn hot, you might slap them. But the fact that they were asking meant.... something, right? You ignored how that made your heart swoop and just kept walking.

"We have debate club together, and he keeps fucking shit up, that's all." You say, in spite of yourself. If you were smarter, you'd let them wonder what you were doing with him. But you couldn't keep from looking at them, and feeling disappointed you can't make out any relief in their eyes. But then, their arm is snaked around your waist and their lips are at your ear.

"You wear those skin fucking tight jeans to just study with him?" You grit your teeth, forcing your mouth to not say what you wanted so desperately to say: 'No, I wore them for you, and you're clearly the idiot if you can't tell that I am so wrapped around your finger that I will dress up just in case I see you.' and just roll your eyes instead. They let their hand slide from your waist to your back pocket, daring you to stop them. And of course you don't. With every inch their hand travels, your heart skips another beat. When they squeeze your ass ever so slightly, a whimper sneaks out before you can stop it.

And with that, you're being pressed against a tree and their lips are on your neck.

"Fuck, J." You curse as their teeth sink into your skin.

"You're mine, baby. Only mine." They murmur in your ear.

"Always have been." You say back, almost moaning as they continue their assault on your neck. They pull away at this.

"Yeah? That why you're spending all your time with Mathers and co instead of me, in such," They pause to run their hands on your hips, pulling you tight against them. "delicious clothes."

"I thought you weren't jealous." You murmur, sliding your hand up their back. "But I wore these, and what's underneath, for you and you alone. He's just a moron who's forced me to re-do my work twice this week alone."

"Oh, you poor baby. Let me take you up and make everyone hear who really owns you." You barely hold back a moan as they drag you up to your dorm to fulfill their promise.

#jordan li #gen v #gen v prime #jordan li x reader #gen v smut #gen v fic #jordan li imagine #request #reqs open

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stariekis · 9 months ago

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love novels.

pairing : non idol! jungwon + librarian!reader . genre : fluff . cw : none ! let me know if i should add smt . wc : 2.6k not proofread

— synopsis : who said that you can't live those things you always read in your romance novels ?

— note : long ass hiatus damn ... sorry for being so inactive babies but i've been pretty busy with uni and resting too ngl but i promise i'll repay u🤞🏻 <3 n e wayyys here u have a lil woni one shot :D hope u guys enjoy it! all kinds of feedback and reposts are always appreciated as u know 🤲🏻⭐

This new semester you decided on working for your college's library. You loved reading and you go there pretty frequently so you thought that this was the perfect job for you and you can also have some extra credits

The first days there you notice a particular student entering the library at the same time every day, five o'clock to be precise. At firts you didn't pay much attention to him, he was like every other students after all.

But as the time passes by you find yourself looking for him every afternoon, hoping to see him again at the same time.

He was pretty - a pretty handsome guy to be fair - so it was obvious that he would eventually catch your attention. He also has a unique and calm aura, making him more interesting to you.

This is how we ended up in this exact day. The day was pretty boring, not many people entered the library and you spent most of your shift seating behind the desk and organizing the shelfs.

The sound of the door opening caught you attention. It was him, the boy with pretty eyes. Looking at the clock you smiled, five o'clock, right on time.

He, as usual, when straight up to the 'romance novel' shelft. You wanted to talk to him so bad, but how he will react if you just approached him out of the blue ?. So, when you saw him grabbing one of your favorite books you knew you couldn't let this opportunity slide away.

— 'That's one of my favorites books' you said, standing behind his back. He turned around as soon as he heard your voice, smiling at you. He was tall, his frame almost towering you, and he was even prettier up close.

— 'Really? i didn't know that you were into this type of books' actually he knew it perfectly, he saw the same exact book on you desk the other day that's why he choose it.

You didn't notice but since the first time he entered the library he was enchanted by you. Images of you behind your desk with your glasses on and you hair up in a messy bun keep repeating on his mind since that day, he then started frequenting your workplace more.

— 'I actually love romance novels but this one is amazing really, the characters are so well written that you empathize a lot with them and the plot is like strangers to loves and-' you looked at him for the first time and you were shocked to say the least when you found him looking directly at you, totally hypnotized while listening to you. — 'I talk too much don't i?' you look at you feets trying to avoid his gaze.

Jungwon giggled, putting on of his hand under your chin and lifting your face until your eyes met again. You almost melt under his touch. — 'Not at all, i love hearing you talk' he said almost whispering, you didn't realize how closr both of you eere until he backed up a bit.

He handled you the book — 'Sadly I have to go now i have some things to do but i will come back to rent this book okey?'. You nodded, you were completely out of words and your heart was beating fastly. — 'See you around pretty librarian'.

Then he made his way towards the door and, before closing it, he gave your the sweetest smile ever showing his pretty dimple.

You stood there with the book in your hands. When you were about to put it back on the shelf you saw a piece of paper sticking out tje side.

You picked it up and opened it. You put your back against the shelf and slid down until you were sitting on the floor smiling at the note.

i've always wanted to talk to you so, if you want too, text me :)

+ xxx xx xx xx

pd. you are really pretty btw <3

att. jungwon

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roosterforme · 2 years ago

Text

Old Habits Die Hard Part 17 | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Summary: As graduation comes and goes, you and Bradley share some firsts and some lasts.

Warnings: Angst, swears, fluff and smut

Length: 4000 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader (fuckboy college student Bradley)

Check out my masterlist

Bradley held your hand while you waited in the long line to get fitted for caps and gowns. You kept reaching up to turn his hat to the side, and he kept turning it backwards. But he finally gave up and let it stay crooked.

"Damn," you muttered as you inched along through the gymnasium. "How many people are in our graduating class?"

"No idea, Sugar. You're the math whiz. Not me."

You rolled your eyes and looked up at him. "You know how our classes are kind of just a formality right now?"

"Yeah," he responded a bit skeptically.

"And how we'll probably ace all of our finals next week without even studying very much?"

"Mmhmm," he hummed, wrapping his arm around your waist.

"And you know how pretty soon we'll be almost a thousand miles apart?"

Bradley leaned in close and kissed your nose. "What are you getting at, Sugar?"

You stood on your tiptoes and kissed his nose in retaliation, earning you a laugh. "Well, what if we just skip all of our classes after this and do something fun?"

As you both inched closer to the front of the line, Bradley asked, "What did you have in mind?"

"Anything. I just want to spend time with you."

Bradley smirked at you while you got measured side by side, and then he finally said, "How about we hang out in the study room?"

You smirked right back at him. "I know what that means, Beer Boy."

"I know you know what that means, Sugar."

With navy blue caps and gowns wrapped up in plastic, you and Bradley raced down the sidewalk to the library. The librarian greeted both of you by name, something that still made Bradley marvel since he had never visited the library prior to January.

Bradley followed you as quietly as possible through the stacks and toward the study rooms. But every so often, you turned back to look at him, and he couldn't help laughing.

When the door was gently closed, and Bradley had wedged a chair under the doorknob, he pressed you back against the wooden surface.

"I heard you're graduating at the top of your major," he whispered, gently running his fingers down the front of your leggings.

"You heard right," you replied with pride in your voice as you tipped your head to the side and let him kiss your neck.

"Hmm, you must be pretty smart then." Bradley basked in the sound of you moaning as he teased you.

You gasped as he sucked on your neck hard enough to leave a mark. "Yeah...you could say that." You tossed his hat to the floor, and your fingers threaded through his hair, tugging softly and sending a thrill through him.

"I love smart girls," he murmured, and now he was working one hand down inside your leggings and pressing you back against the door with the other. "I love kissing them until they sound stupid. And I love touching them until they sound so fucking dumb."

"Bradley," you groaned as his fingers found your sweet spot. "Feels good."

"You want a little more?" he asked, pressing his hardness against your thigh. He felt your hands scrambling for the front of his jeans as you nodded, and your lips parted for him to devour your mouth as he slipped a finger into your pussy. "Don't worry about me. I'm going to get you off first."

Slowly your hands drifted up the front of his shirt until you were grasping his shoulders. Bradley finger fucked you against the door until your legs were shaking and you started gettting loud.

"Shh," he whispered, but he had to cover your mouth with his hand when you came. "Sugar, you're so loud for me." He rammed his fingers into you so hard, you were squeezing your eyes shut as you shook. "It's okay."

Bradley watched your eyes open and flutter closed again as he removed his hand from inside you. "Fuck me," you whispered as your fingers languidly unzipped his jeans, and Bradley scrambled to get a condom out of his wallet.

"Shit!" he groaned as your fingers wrapped around his cock. "We used the last one yesterday, and I never replaced it."

But you were easing him back toward one of the chairs. "That's okay. I think we could recreate the first time you got me off in here."

Bradley sat down with his jeans and boxers around his thighs, and he watched intently as you removed your shoes and leggings. You kept on the tiny scrap of purple fabric that was supposedly your underwear, and you straddled Bradley's lap. When you held his cock in your hand and started grinding against him through your underwear, his head tipped back.

"Oh yeah, Sugar." He tipped his head forward to look at you working yourself against him. You were soaking your underwear with your wetness, and Bradley ran his hands along your hips, guiding you a little slower. He wanted to make this last. "Easy," he growled, but that seemed to push you over some sort of edge.

Your lips crashed against his, and both of your hands were all over his hair. You were grinding up and down his length, wiggling your clit against his balls each time you reached them.

"Fuck, Sugar," he said, practically panting. When you pulled away from his mouth, you looked as far gone as he felt.

Bradley watched you yank your underwear to one side and slide down around him, and once again, fucking you without a condom had to be one of the best things he had ever felt.

Then he shook his head and said, "Sugar, is this a good idea?" But he had his hands wrapped around your hips, fingers digging into your ass as you rode him.

"Mmhmm. My period is due today or tomorrow," you whispered against his scarred cheek. "Just tell me when you're going to cum, Beer Boy." Your voice was soft and breathless, and your pussy was fucking tight. And Bradley wanted to live in this study room with you for the rest of his life.

Your lips and hands were everywhere as you rolled your hips and moaned his name. And when Bradley was tracing the column of your neck with his tongue, he knew he was close.

"Sugar. I'm going to cum." You kept riding him, kept rolling your perfect hips, and he was too close now. "Sugar!"

You withdrew him just in time, sinking to your knees in between his thighs. You wrapped your lips around him, pumped one time with your hand, and he was cumming hard in your mouth.

Bradley watched you sputter for a second before you swallowed all of him down. He was still thrusting a bit in your hand as you kissed his tip and licked him clean.

The words were on the tip of his tongue now, but he knew this wasn't the right time to say them. He just hauled you up onto his lap and said, "I love this study room," instead.

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

After you and Bradley managed to pull your clothing back on, he removed the chair from underneath the doorknob, and you curled up on his lap just like you'd been doing for months.

"I'm going to miss this," you whispered so softly, you weren't sure he would even be able to hear you.

"Me too," he told you with his chest pressed against yours, and you didn't know how to tell him that you had agreed to move into your dormitory in Chicago early. You had already started packing up your clothing, boxes stacked up in your closet. You'd be leaving Virginia the day after graduation, a full two weeks before Bradley. But leaving early was better than the alternative: staying without him from late May until your term started in August.

Right now, you just wanted as much time with him now as you could possibly get. Getting your PhD had been your dream before you met Bradley, but that didn't make this any easier.

"Sugar?" he asked, face buried against your shoulder.

"Hmm?"

"How am I supposed to go months with you?"

Your heart clenched at his words. "I'm not sure. I'm trying not to think about it."

He rubbed your back, soothing you so well, you could have fallen asleep if it didn't feel like your heart was about to break.

"You know," he started, pausing for a few beats before continuing. "I thought I would be a lot more excited about leaving for flight school. But all I can think about is how much I'll miss you."

You nodded against him, trying to block out his words. This was his dream. It had been his dream his entire life! You felt like a roadblock. Bradley should have been allowed to feel excited for this opportunity, because he earned it. You thought he was smart and sweet, even if he would never agree with you. And now he was going to live his dream.

"Wish I was going to Chicago with you."

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

Finals were over. Bradley ended up with such a high GPA, even he was shocked. But you weren't, apparently. You just told him you knew he had it in him.

He had started to pack up his stuff. He needed to sell or donate most of it, because he would barely need any of it. When he took his favorite tie dyed shirt out of his dresser, he smiled. He'd be sending you to Chicago with that one. He associated it with you now anyway. And he figured he'd get a lot of selfies of you wearing it around.

For some reason your differential equations notebook always seemed to be on his desk. He figured you might want to take that one with you, so he set it aside as well.

There was a soft knock on his door, and then you were opening it and rushing toward him for a hug. "Hi, Beer Boy," you said while you kissed him. But when Bradley got a good look at your face, he saw that it looked like you had been crying.

"What's wrong, Sugar?" he asked, gently tipping your chin up when you tried to hide your face from him.

"Nothing."

"Seriously? You're crying. Tell me what's wrong." He took both of your hands and guided you to sit on his bed with him. "We graduate in a few days, and then we have two weeks together before I leave for Rhode Island. That's like two spring breaks!"

You laughed a little bit through your tears before your frown returned. "I have to tell you something."

"So tell me," he whispered, placing a kiss to your lips.

You sucked in a deep breath and swallowed hard. "I'm leaving early. For Chicago. I'm leaving the day after graduation."

Bradley's jaw dropped open, and he stared at you. "Why?" he finally asked. Why, Sugar?"

You wrapped your arms around his neck and sniffed. "I can't wait around here until August without you. I can't. So when they invited me to go early, I told them I would."

He just nodded against you and said, "Okay. Okay." But it wasn't okay! Now he only had a few days with you! He wouldn't be able to do all of the things he wanted to do before you left. But he kind of did get it, because he would be miserable waiting here all summer without you. "I understand."

You seemed to sigh in relief as you hugged him, and soon Bradley was tugging off your clothing and pulling his tie dyed shirt over your head, kissing your tattoo in the process. "Let's snuggle?" he suggested, and you held him all night.

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

Maybe it made you petty, but perhaps the best part of your graduation ceremony was ending with a higher GPA than Jeff. You got to walk across the stage right before him, and it was announced that you had top marks for your major.

You kind of wanted to turn around and give him the finger from the end of the stage, but you were too distracted. You had already watched Bradley walk across the stage in his cap and gown, and now you were looking for him in the crowd.

When you spotted him, you ran up to his row, squeezing in between him and Tyson.

"I'm proud of you," Bradley whispered, lacing his fingers with yours. "And I'm so happy you're smarter than Jeff, because you can tell that it really irritates him."

You stifled a laugh as some students were still walking across the stage and accepting their diplomas. You looked up at Bradley, and it felt like it always did now. Like someone was trying to suffocate you. The same sadness was reflected in his eyes.

You were flying to Chicago tomorrow. This was it. Your big day was here, and you were going off to actually have a chance to live out the plans you had made. But none of it felt right.

"Will you come over tonight?" Bradley asked you softly. "One last night, Sugar? It'll be awhile before I get to hold you again."

You just nodded and did your best to hold back your tears. "I'll be there."

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

It was late when Bradley guided you into the Beta house with his arm draped around your waist. He was ready to take you upstairs and spend the night showing you how much he was going to miss you. But you stopped Bradley with your hand on his chest when you reached the kitchen door. "One more time, Beer Boy?" you asked with a smile.

He led you inside and told you, "Go ahead, Sugar. Grab two of the good beers." You got two of the beers that you and he drank together the night you met, and he opened them. You and he took a few sips together in silence.

"Hey, I thought you told me that nothing in here is off limits to me," you murmured.

"That's right. Girlfriends are allowed whatever they want."

"You're in here, and I want you," you whispered, biting your lip.

Bradley laughed and downed half of his beer. "You've had me since the moment I saw you. Maybe it took me a little while to get it together so I could have you, but I was yours."

You were in his arms so fast, Bradley almost dropped his beer bottle.

"Don't say things like that," you begged him as you kissed his cheek and chin.

"Like what?" he asked you softly as he carried you toward the stairs.

You sighed and your voice was breathy. "Things that make sense."

Bradley set you down gently on his bed and you wrapped your hands around his neck, pulling him down until his lips were on yours. You were working your mouth softly, slowly against his. But he could still tell how much you needed him.

The brush of your eyelashes against his cheek, and the feel of your fingers in his hair were making him go crazy for you. Just like he always did.

You eased yourself up onto your elbows, and Bradley carefully removed your shirt and bra. His mouth found your tattoo and tasted it immediately. The undersides of your soft breasts felt like heaven on his tongue. He was trying to memorize every sound you were making and everything he was feeling for you.

"Bradley," you moaned, lifting your hips so he could remove your shorts and underwear. And now he was the one taking his time, kissing your legs as he went.

"I'll miss you," he said, licking all the way up your slit before wrapping his lips around your clit. "I'll be thinking about this. A lot."

You were moaning his name, legs spread wide for him while he ate your pussy. When you started reaching for his jeans, Bradley eased his body over yours.

"Tell me what you want, Sugar."

"I just want you."

Bradley kissed you for a long time before he stood to take his clothes off. You watched him tonight just like you did the first night you spent with him. And as soon as he was rolling a condom on, you were reaching for his hand, pulling him back to you.

As Bradley pushed himself inside you, he knew that as good as he felt in this moment, he was going to feel just as bad after tomorrow. So he listened to every sigh and moan you made. He let his hands explore your whole body. He fucked you like he needed to. He went slow.

"You want to take your time," you gasped, caressing his necks and cheeks as he eased himself deep inside you.

"Make this last," he confirmed. And he didn't stop until you came, crying out while your body squeezed him as a few tears slid down your cheeks.

"You're so sweet, Sugar," he whispered against your skin. "I don't want to leave you. I'd rather go with you."

"Bradley," you whispered, keeping your arms around him for a long time.

When he was finally soft inside you, and you started to move like you wanted to get up, Bradley grabbed his tee shirt and helped you put it on. "Will you take that to Chicago with you? It belongs with you."

"I'll wear it all the time," you promised.

Bradley watched you wipe your tears away, and you both got ready to try to sleep. Wordlessly, you pulled him against you in bed, your lips and breath on his neck as he held you. Bradley rubbed your back until he thought your breathing had evened out in sleep.

"You don't know how easy it is to love you."

He sang softly to you, and you pulled him impossibly closer as he fell asleep.

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

Bradley woke to his alarm going off. You needed time to get your things and head to the airport, and he wanted to make sure he had time to help you.

"Beer Boy," you murmured, your voice sleepy as you looked at him.

Bradley pushed your hair out of your face and rubbed your cheek with his thumb. "You're beautiful."

You sucked in a shaky breath and he kissed you. But now you were holding back, and it was killing him. He ran his nose along yours and let his hands drift down over your body. You were grabbing at his back as he kissed along your neck, and you finally whispered, "One last time."

"One last time," he agreed with a soft smile. This was going to have to hold him over.

You were more frantic now as you guided your body up and down his length. He wanted to look at you, but you were holding him so tight it was hard to even kiss you.

"Sugar, take it easy. Slow down, smart girl."

"No," you muttered, and he could hear the tears in your voice. "I can't."

So Bradley held you and made love to you the way you needed it. And it still felt heavenly when you both came.

You tried to get up, but Bradley pulled you down against him with a kiss. He hopped up quickly to take care of the condom, and then he was back in bed next to you.

Your gaze was distant as he pulled you close. "Sugar, I don't have any money yet, but when I get my first big Navy paycheck, I'll fly out to Chicago for the weekend. We don't have to wait until the September, okay? You can take me to the bean."

But you were sitting up now and shaking your head. "No."

Bradley sat up too, and pushed your hair back from your face.

"No?"

You started sobbing. "No. You can't come see me in Chicago."

"Why not?" he asked, but his throat was tight with the words. Then he recognized everything for what it was. "Sugar. That was goodbye sex. Wasn't it?"

You nodded your head a few times, your eyes pleading with his. And now he felt tears in his as well.

"We need to break up," you said, your voice catching on the words. "I can't hold you back."

Bradley's arms were around you in an instant. "No, Sugar. Don't do this. You'll go to Chicago, and I'll go to Rhode Island, but it's just temporary!"

"Bradley," you pleaded, pulling away so he could see your face again.

"You don't trust me." He had really hoped he was never going to have to say those words to you. Not now.

But you shook your head right away and took his face in your hands. "That's not it, Bradley! I trust you. You've been the best boyfriend I've ever had. But you worked too hard for this, and you need to focus on flight training. Missing me and thinking about me isn't going to help you. This is your dream."

"Why can't I have two dreams?" he asked softly. Your eyes drifted closed, and he could see the tears leaking down your cheeks now.

"I'm so proud of you. You're going to be amazing," you told him.

"Please."

But you just kept shaking your head as you got to your feet and pulled on your shorts and shoes.

Bradley was sitting on the edge of his bed, with his face in his hands. He only looked up when you said his name so softly, he thought he had imagined it. You had your phone in one hand and you were wearing his shirt, and he didn't think he would ever be the same again after this.

You bent down and brushed your lips softly against his. "I love you, Beer Boy."

And then you turned and ran your fingers along his door, glancing back at him one time before you left.

"Sugar."

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

Bradley spent the next two weeks in a state of numbness. His fingers no longer seemed to be able to type out text messages to you; he had sent so many and received none in return. His voice didn't work right anymore, which was fine, because you weren't answering his calls either. You had most certainly blocked his number.

He knew why you did it. He understood. He would never blame you for it. But that didn't mean that he had to agree with it. The only thing Bradley wanted at the moment was you, and he didn't think that feeling was going to change for a very long time.

When he was cleaning out his room for the last time, he stood in front of his bedroom door. You made him a better person. You made him work for what he wanted. You made him fall in love with you.

But you wouldn't even let him tell you that.

Bradley took a photo of his door, and promised himself he would use it as a reminder that he was different and better than he used to be. Then he uncapped the black marker in his hand. He slowly scribbled out your phone number and let himself feel everything.

But he left the rest for the next guy to deal with.

SUGAR

what's your number?

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

THE END.

Beer Boy and Sugar seem to have some unfinished business.... please stay tuned for Right Girl, Wrong Time!!!!

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