#for this year. trying not to let that fact alone drag us even further under lol

[philosopherking1887]

Apparently Madeline Miller, of Song of Achilles fame, also still has Long Covid 3 years after catching Covid-19 in early 2020. Her op-ed is copied below (mostly under a Keep Reading link) for those who can't get past WaPo's paywall.

https://www.washingtonpost.com/opinions/2023/08/09/madeline-miller-long-covid-post-pandemic/

In 2019, I was in high gear. I had two young children, a busy social life, a book tour and a novel in progress. I spent my days racing between airports, juggling to-do lists and child care. Yes, I felt tired, but I come from a family of high-energy women. I was proud to be keeping the sacred flame of Productivity burning. Then I got covid. I didn’t know it was covid at the time. This was early February 2020, before the government was acknowledging SARS-CoV-2’s spread in the United States. In the weeks after infection, my body went haywire. My ears rang. My heart would start galloping at random times. I developed violent new food allergies overnight. When I walked upstairs, I gasped alarmingly.

I reached out to doctors. One told me I was “deconditioned” and needed to exercise more. But my usual jog left me doubled over, and when I tried to lift weights, I ended up in the ER with chest pains and tachycardia. My tests were normal, which alarmed me further. How could they be normal? Every morning, I woke breathless, leaden, utterly depleted. Worst of all, I couldn’t concentrate enough to compose sentences. Writing had been my haven since I was 6. Now, it was my family’s livelihood. I kept looking through my pre-covid novel drafts, desperately trying to prod my sticky, limp brain forward. But I was too tired to answer email, let alone grapple with my book. When people asked how I was, I gave an airy answer. Inside, I was in a cold sweat. My whole future was dropping away. Looking at old photos, I was overwhelmed with grief and bitterness. I didn’t recognize myself. On my best days, I was 30 percent of that person. I turned to the internet and discovered others with similar experiences. In fact, my symptoms were textbook — a textbook being written in real time by “first wavers” like me, comparing notes and giving our condition a name: long covid.

In those communities, everyone had stories like mine — life-altering symptoms, demoralizing doctor visits, loss of jobs, loss of identity. The virus can produce a bewildering buffet of long-term conditions, including cognitive impairment and cardiac failure, tinnitus, loss of taste, immune dysfunction, migraines and stroke, any one of which could tank quality of life. For me, one of the worst was post-exertional malaise (PEM), a Victorian-sounding name for a very real and debilitating condition in which exertion causes your body to crash. In my new post-covid life, exertion could include washing dishes, carrying my children, even just talking with too much animation. Whenever I exceeded my invisible allowance, I would pay for it with hours, or days, of migraines and misery. There was no more worshiping productivity. I gave my best hours to my children, but it was crushing to realize just how few hours there were. Nothing was more painful than hearing my kids delightedly laughing and being too sick to join them. Doctors looked at me askance. They offered me antidepressants and pointed anecdotes about their friends who’d just had covid and were running marathons again. I didn’t say I’d love to be able to run. I didn’t say what really made me depressed was dragging myself to appointments to be patronized. I didn’t say that post-viral illness was nothing new, nor was PEM — which for decades had been documented by people with myalgic encephalomyelitis/chronic fatigue syndrome — so if they didn’t know what I was talking about, they should stop sneering and get caught up. I was too sick for that, and too worried.

I began scouring medical journals the way I used to close-read ancient Greek poetry. I burned through horrifying amounts of money on vitamins and supplements. At night, my fears chased themselves. Would I ever get relief? Would I ever finish another book? Was long covid progressive? It was a bad moment when I realized that any answer to that last question would come from my own body. I was in the first cohort of an unwilling experiment. When vaccines rolled out, many people rushed back to “normal.” My world, already small, constricted further. Friends who invited me out to eat were surprised when I declined. I couldn’t risk reinfection, I said, and suggested a masked, outdoor stroll. Sure, they said, we’ll be in touch. Zoom events dried up. Masks began disappearing. I tried to warn the people I loved. Covid is airborne. Keep wearing an N95. Vaccines protect you but don’t stop transmission. Few wanted to listen. During the omicron wave, politicians tweeted about how quickly they’d recovered. I was glad for everyone who was fine, but a nasty implication hovered over those of us who weren’t: What’s your problem?

Friends who did struggle often seemed embarrassed by their symptoms. I’m just tired. My memory’s never been good. I gave them the resources I had, but there were few to give. There is no cure for long covid. Two of my friends went on to have strokes. A third developed diabetes, a fourth dementia. One died. I’ve watched in horror as our public institutions have turned their back on containment. The virus is still very much with us, but the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention has stopped reporting on cases. States have shut down testing. Corporations, rather than improving ventilation in their buildings, have pushed for shield laws indemnifying them against lawsuits. Despite the crystal-clear science on the damage covid-19 does to our bodies, medical settings have dropped mask requirements, so patients now gamble their health to receive care. Those of us who are high-risk or immunocompromised, or who just don’t want to roll the dice on death and misery, have not only been left behind — we’re being actively mocked and pathologized. I’ve personally been ridiculed, heckled and coughed on for wearing my N95. Acquaintances who were understanding in the beginning are now irritated, even offended. One demanded: How long are you going to do this? As if trying to avoid covid was an attack on her, rather than an attempt to keep myself from sliding further into an abyss that threatens to swallow my family.

The United States has always been a terrible place to be sick and disabled. Ableism is baked into our myths of bootstrapping and self-reliance, in which health is virtue and illness is degeneracy. It is long past time for a bedrock shift, for all of us. We desperately need access to informed care, new treatments, fast-tracked research, safe spaces and disability protections. We also need a basic grasp of the facts of long covid. How it can follow anywhere from 10 to 30 percent of infections. How infections accumulate risk. How it’s not anxiety or depression, though its punishing nature can contribute to both those things. How children can get it; a recent review puts it at 12 to 16 percent of cases. How long-haulers who are reinfected usually get worse. How as many as 23 million Americans have post-covid symptoms, with that number increasing daily. Over three years later, I still have long covid. I still give my best hours to my children, and I still wear my N95. Thanks to relentless experimentation with treatments, I can write again, but my fatigue is worse. I recognize how fortunate I am: to have a caring partner and community, health insurance, good doctors (at last), a job I can do from home, a supportive publishing team, and wonderful readers who recommend my books. I’m grateful to all those who have accepted the new me without making me beg.

Some days, long covid feels manageable. Others, it feels like a crushing mountain on my chest. I yearn for the casual spontaneity and scope of my old life. I miss the friends and family who have moved on. I grieve those lost forever. So how long am I going to do this? Until indoor air is safe for all, until vaccines prevent transmission, until there’s a cure for long covid. Until I’m not risking my family’s future on a grocery run. Because the truth is that however immortal we feel, we are all just one infection away from a new life.

[h20]

hallowed be thy ween

[kikixreverie]

Hi- may I ask for an angst-mix with Bucky x reader: she had her share of abusive/toxic relationships in her past, but it was nothing she spoke of, and not now when she had James. It wasnt like she thought she was gonna be triggered again, not by him, any other guy- buy not her Bucky! Some tiny bickering evolved to a large dispute, and before she knew what was happening, she shied away from him, making herself small, awaiting the blow - that never came... And instead she was overcome by shame...

Pasts and Apologies

Bucky x Fem!reader

Word count - 3k

Warnings - Mentions of domestic abuse from ex, some descriptions of abuse, angst, trauma

A/n - Okay I definitely went hard on the angst for this one. I kinda just went off on one so not so much bickering and more just a full blown argument but I've been feeling kinda angsty lately so I kinda accidentally made this darker than I expected. Please read the warnings and do not read if you think this could trigger you.

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Love had not been kind to you before Bucky. Every decent memory of your ex was clouded with uncertainty, you would walk on eggshells around him, terrified that saying the wrong thing would set him off and you'd be calling Sam again, sobbing down the phone, cradling another bruise at the hands of your 'partner'.

You were together for years, devoted to and unconditionally in love with the man that you had met in high school. Childhood sweethearts.

He always was quick to anger and he wasn't shy about that. He never had any issues with shouting at you when you pissed him off, just as he never had issues with shouting at his mother or younger brother, but at the time, you had always stood up for yourself and defended the poor woman, making him apologise, and he let you, he always let you clean up his messes.

The first few years were spent in ignorant bliss, you constantly ignored the fear that would creep up your spine when he got angry, but you could manage a screaming match or two, you could manage it all because you loved him, you depended on him despite that he wasn't at all dependable.

The arguments were tough, but you never expected it to go further than that, but eventually, it did.

The first time he was physically aggressive was on his 22nd birthday. He had insisted that he spend his birthday with his friends, calling it a guys night, and you were fine with that, you knew how handsy he got when he was with his friends anyway, so you spent the day with him instead, making sure to keep him happy and spoilt rotten.

As the night crept on, you had tried to wait up for him to return, just as he had asked, but as it passed 3am you decided that he wouldn't mind you going to bed since you had work the next day, so you crawled into bed and fell asleep, a mistake, at the time, you didn't know you had made.

When he returned half an hour later to see you unconscious, he woke you up with his shouting, angry that you hadn't stayed up for him, convinced that you were ruining his night on purpose. The loud awakening was enough alone to trigger your fight or flight but when he threw the duvet off you and grabbed your ankle so tightly you knew a bruise would form, you were terrified. He dragged you off the bed and pushed you towards the door, telling you to fuck off, and you did, tears streaming down your face as you laid awake on the couch till morning.

It only got worse from there, when he realised that he could hurt you and get away with it, it became his favourite past time, he'd look for reasons to shout at you, make you do things that would piss him off just so he'd have a reason to be cruel.

When Sam started noticing dark bruises on your skin, he was livid, and despite how often you'd try to convince him that it's just clumsiness, Sam knew better.

There were rare days that you would have long conversations with Sam, you'd talk about how you'd lost all your friends and distanced yourself from your family but you didn't blame your abuser, you blamed only yourself, and Sam would beg you to leave him but you'd be sobbing in his arms, telling him that you still loved the man who hurt you, that he didn't really mean to hurt you and you'd feel even more guilt if you ever got him in trouble for it.

It was a long and hard journey, but the moment you told Sam that you wanted out, he was there for you, offering you to stay at his place and helping you call the cops. He gave you all the resources he could possibly find through the VA and set you up with an amazing therapist and eventually you were living in your own place, talking to old friends again, and filing a restraining order against your ex.

It was nearly two years later when you met him. Introduced through Sam, you met the love of your life on a Sunday. He was quiet and focused, with hard eyes scanning the room, looking for escape routes, analysing people's faces.

You smiled gently at him when you met, opting for a small nod in greeting instead of a handshake. You stayed near him for the remainder of the gathering, not pressuring him to speak to you, just sitting in silence. You were drawn to him, his behaviour was so similar to yours.

You knew what it felt like to want to just blend into the corner, to stay unnoticed, you understood the need to know how to escape a room, and you saw the way he hesitantly returned your smile and then struggled to chase his smile away once you had sat down beside him.

You and Bucky soon became each other's rocks, always there for the other on the hard days, days that you would spend just walking or reading together in calm silence. There was no doubt that the two of you loved each other, and after months and months of trying to hide longing glances and blushing cheeks, you finally confessed to each other, and the rest was history. You trusted him like you had never trusted anyone before.

As your relationship progressed, Bucky started to notice some strange things in your behaviour, how you'd always ask his permission for you to go out with friends, how you were always quick to apologise in any situation and distanced yourself from him when he was the slightest bit irritated.

He had tried to ask you about it, but you always changed the subject as soon as it was mentioned, ensuring him that it was nothing to worry about.

To tell the truth, you were embarrassed, you were ashamed that your ex still had this effect on you, and no matter how many times you told yourself that he would never, that your Bucky would never, your brain refused to allow you to believe it and you continued with the odd behaviour that you used as a defence mechanism when in the abusive relationship.

You never spoke out of line, you never asked him where or who he was going out with, and you never let small bickering escalate.

It was only after you had overheard Sam and Bucky in a heated conversation, Sam scolding Buck for being reckless and stupid during a mission, that you had your first argument with him.

You had called Sam while Bucky was at the store, convincing him to tell you what had happened and after a few minutes of guilt-tripping, Sam finally confessed that Bucky had practically ran into open fire, endangering himself in an attempt to shut down a Hydra base, it could've very easily been fatal, and it wasn't the first time something like this had happened.

You knew it was wrong, you knew you should've just asked Bucky about it, but you couldn't help yourself, and you knew that Bucky would've downplayed the whole situation.

When he returned home you were pacing up and down in the living room, chewing the inside of your cheeks and your nails to pieces because you could've lost him, Bucky could've died and he was acting as if it were nothing.

"Doll?" You could hear the worry in his voice as he placed the shopping bags on the kitchen counter and walked over to you, standing in front of you to stop your movement, pulling your hand from your mouth and kissing your knuckles.

It was supposed to calm you, and it almost did, but as his soft lips grazed your hand, and his eyes met yours, your mind kept wandering to the fact that he could've died.

This moment could've never happened, instead, you'd have Sam or Steve at your door, trying to deliver the news of their best friend's death, your lover.

"Honey speak to me" He looked utterly confused, but the look only made you feel angry.

How could he be so reckless?

"I just got off the phone with Sam."

He froze, eyebrows furrowing and taking a step away from you, waiting for you to explain.

Your gaze didn't move from the floor, trying to even out the anger and worry rushing through you, settling like a heavy rock in your stomach.

"He told me about the missions, about how you've been acting."

"What do you mean, how I've been acting?" He scoffed, sounding offended, and you sighed.

"How reckless you've been acting. Sam said that Tony's considering pulling you out of missions! How many times have you endangered yourself like this? How many times is it gonna take for you to realise that you could fucking die out there, James."

Your voice was stern, and the tone felt foreign against your tongue. Bucky's kept his face hard, refusing to show any emotion, but you could see the way his jaw clenched harshly, eyes glued to the corner of the room, ignoring your fiery glare.

"Were you ever going to tell me? I thought that all the injuries you got were fairly normal for the jobs you do, but when I hear that you run into open fire, that you make decisions on your own before talking to your team, that you've gotten fucking stabbed in the past, and you never told me, how do you expect me to react?"

He sighed heavily through his nose, jaw ticking in annoyance towards his friend, angry that he had told you even though it wasn't his place.

"I told him not to tell you." His voice was gruff, the words spoken harshly under his breath and you felt your anger flair again.

"What and you think that's okay?!"

His gaze shot to yours, looking at you incredulously.

"Bucky we're partners! You're supposed to tell me this shit, you're supposed to tell me when you've nearly died on a mission, you're supposed to trust me."

"You think I don't trust you?!" His voice was slightly raised and you felt your annoyance spike, "I didn't tell you because I didn't want you to worry."

"Of course I'm gonna worry, James. This is a big deal, I can't believe you've been getting seriously injured and not telling me."

"Well, I don't think it's that big of a deal, Sam shouldn't have fucking told you. This wouldn't be happening if he had just kept his mouth shut, but no! Of course not!" Bucky's eyebrows were drawn in tight with annoyance, wishing you'd just drop the subject, "I'm not stupid, I know what I'm doing."

"What the hell do you mean 'You know what you're doing?' You know that you're not supposed to endanger yourself to complete a mission, yet you do it anyway. I'm glad Sam told me because otherwise, I doubt I'd ever find out!."

"I don't see how what I do on missions is anything to do with you. Sam is exaggerating. I'm fine!"

As Bucky's voice raised, you started to lose focus, flashbacks of your past echoing in your mind and in his annoyance, Bucky didn't notice the way your eyes had gone distant, losing sight of the man in front of you, the man you loved, and forming the image of the man you still see in nightmares, the man you're so terrified of seeing in the street that you haven't stepped foot in Queens since leaving him.

You could almost feel the sting of his palm against your cheek, the burn of his hand, tight around your wrist, and you tried to remind yourself that it wasn't real. It had been months since you'd had an episode, and your steps to control them were hard to find with the false image of your abuser so clear in front of you.

"Are you even listening to me?" The statement dragged you back to reality and you felt yourself calm when your eyes focused in on Bucky, reminding yourself that your ex wasn't here, that Bucky wasn't like that, he would never, but as he raised his arm to push his hair out of his face, everything flew out the window and in the moment, you were 21 again and you were sure he was going to hit you, your exes face flashing behind your eyes again.

You flinched, a gasp falling from your lips as your eyes squeezed shut and your head ducked down, breathing heavily through your nose as you awaited the hit.

Time slowed.

Bucky froze completely, his eyes wide and frantic as he quickly stumbled away from you, shaking his head as self-hatred ran through his veins, disgusted at himself for making you think even in the slightest, that he would ever hurt you.

"Doll?" He sounded absolutely broken.

Your head shot up, panic flooding through you when you realised what you had done and pain replacing the feeling when you saw the agony on Bucky's face.

"Y/n, I- I would never-" He kept his voice at a pained whisper, not wanting to scare you further as he stayed at a distance.

You collapsed to the floor, sitting on your knees as the weight of the situation pulled you down. Your hands raised to cover your mouth as a sob threatened to tear through you, so fucking ashamed of what had just happened, so fucking ashamed that your ex had done this to you, and you had let him for so long, ashamed that he still haunted you.

"Babydoll I-" He struggled to find the words, terrified that he had just lost you, wanting to reach out and hold you but scared shitless of hurting you more than he already had, "I don't know what- I'm so fucking sorry y/n, I can't- I can't even fathom the thought of-"

His voice trailed off, unable to even say the words and you felt your guilt tenfold.

"N-No Bucky, I'm sorry I thought-" You struggled to speak through your crying, hot tears flowing down your cheeks as you rocked yourself gently in an attempt to self-soothe.

"Why are you apologising honey? This is on me, this is-"

"No, it isn't, I promise Buck this isn't you, it's.." You couldn't get the words out, you couldn't tell him, "Just come here, please."

You wanted him to wrap his arms around you, you needed him to know that it wasn't him, you know the way his mind works and you knew that by now he would already be drowning in guilt and self-hatred.

"I don't think that I should. I don't want to hurt you, I can't- I can't hurt you" You smiled at him gently through your tears and your chin wobbled as you saw the tears running down his cheeks too.

"It's okay. I'm okay Bucky, I just- I-I need you over here, I need you - I need you to touch me. I need you."

He was over in an instant, falling to the floor beside you and letting out a huge sigh of relief when you instantly wrapped yourself around him, tucking your head into the crook of his neck and crawling into his lap, needing to be as close to him as possible, to rid the memories of the pain, to remind yourself that his touch is good, his touch is safe.

Arms enveloped you and he held you as tight as possible, the both of you crying.

After the two of you had calmed down and a comfortable silence enveloped you, Bucky knew he would have to break it.

"Why did you think that I would hit you?" He asked, his voice tentative and gentle and you sighed, knowing that it was time for you to tell him.

"I didn't, I don't, I promise."

You lifted your head from his shoulder but still stayed on his lap, instead, resting your forehead against his.

"Then why-?"

"I thought I was better, I-I thought it was all over but I just- I lost myself again. Everything got all foggy and I lost where I was and I just, I thought I was there but-" The floodgates opened again and you knew that Bucky had no clue what you were talking about but the words just kept coming.

Bucky's eyebrows were furrowed tightly and when your vague, confusing explanation only made his worry grow, he felt himself pulling you even tighter against him.

"Doll, Did someone hurt you? Is that why you're always walking on eggshells around me? Is that what the nightmares are about?" He struggled against the words, not wanting to say them because he didn't want to believe them and he watched in agony as you swallowed hard and nodded slowly, your hands coming to rest on the back of his neck as you continued to hold your forehead against his.

He refused to let his anger show, he wouldn't do that to you, especially with you so fragile, but he couldn't hide the pained shaky breath he let out at your confession, "Fuck, I'm so sorry. God, I'm so sorry that that happened to you. Was it your ex? Did he hurt you?"

You nodded again, doing your breathing exercises, and calming yourself so that you could explain your situation fully to your partner.

"I should've told you, I know, I just, I'm so angry that I'm still like this, I just wish it would all go away and I could forget about what he did. I thought I was better. I can't stand that I'm still so haunted by that asshole" Bucky nodded along as you spoke, brushing his fingers up and down your back to help calm you.

"It's okay, Doll. Things like that don't just go away. Believe me, I wish they did too, but things will get better, I promise you that. Thank you for telling me."

You scoffed in self-deprecation, "I should've told you ages ago."

"That doesn't matter, you've told me now, and I'm sure it wasn't easy, so thank you for sharing" His voice was so gentle, his hands caressing your back almost making you feel sleepy.

"And Buck?" He hummed in response, letting you know that he was listening, "About the mission thing, I'm just worried about you. I can't lose you, I need you, and I need you alive."

A gentle smile lifted his frown and he nodded in understanding, feeling bad for getting mad in the first place, and you leaned back, looking down at him, your hands playing with his hair.

"I know. I'm sorry for being an idiot, It's just so hard to look at them and remember what they did to me and know what they've done to so many innocent people and I just lose it, all rationality out the window" You nodded at him, understanding how painful some of the missions must be.

"I'm sorry I got so upset with you, and I'm sorry I went to Sam instead of talking to you. Don't be mad at him, I kinda forced him to tell me" You gave him a sheepish look and he breathed out a small laugh, his nose crinkling like you always loved.

"It's okay doll, I'm sorry for being so careless and hiding the stuff about the missions, I promise I'll be more careful, I gotta make sure I always come home to my sweet girl. And don't worry about Sam, you deserved to know and I know what you're like."

You tutted at him and he smiled in response, the adorable, loving look on his face making you pull him into the sweetest, softest kiss which he instantly returned.

After sitting together in each others embrace for a while, the yawns eventually started. You were both positively exhausted from all the emotions you had both just experienced so Bucky wrapped your legs around his waist and lifted you both from the floor, discarding the groceries still left in bags in the kitchen and carrying you to bed, holding you as close as physically possible as you both drifted off to sleep.

[tteokdoroki]

waves that hurt | k.bakugou + i.midoriya.

♡ pairing: katsuki bakugou x gn!reader x izuku midoriya.

♡ word count: 3.04K

♡ rating: everyone.

♡ genre: pro hero!au, hurt, angst and comfort.

♡ summary: dark days mean dark waves that crash across your mind, intrusive and mean the waves pull you under— but they are the helping hands that pull you up and let you breathe.

♡ warning(s): please read ! heavy tw for depression, intrusive thoughts and self depreciation, self doubt and low self-worth. this fic is written mostly from personal experiences and may not be accurate to how everyone feels! mentions of therapy.

♡ author’s note(s):  this is my contribution to @doinmybesthere​ ‘s mental health awareness collab, this is kinda personal to me and something i experienced recently!! i hope it can provide some comfort to anyone out there, please don’t forget to check out everyone else’s works and i hope you’re all safe ‘n well <3

♡ masterlist | requests | kofi

“kacchan, it’s much worse this time, i really think you should come home early tonight.”

deku whispers into the phone, his marred hands rub slow and soothing circles into your back from over the duvet— you can feel his warmth, light and airy through it but he feels and sounds much further away. a million miles across a dark ocean that trickles through your thoughts, intrusive and mean, keeping you under and away from clear air.

you wouldn’t want to pull him into this, bother him with the way you drown in dark thoughts— so you pull away from your boyfriend and tuck yourself away into the sheets.

izuku doesn’t retract his hand even as you pull away, listening to katsuki grunt orders down the phone— make sure yn’s eaten, make sure yn’s had water. basic things you should be able to do on your own but can’t, paralysed by the anxiety and depression that clamps down on you like a vice and refuses to let you up so you can just breathe. you want to breathe and not feel like the world is crashing down on you, to have a second to yourself where everything seems like it’s okay.

brushing fingers over the nape of your neck, toying with the coils of your baby hairs, your boyfriend speaks, only gently. “baby,” says quietly, his weight causing the bed to dip. “katsuki will be home soon, do you want to come with me to let him in?” you shrug, a sick feeling twisting in your gut. you see the black tendrils and waves in the back of your mind, bringing forth a new batch of ugly words that force you down. are you really that much of a burden these days that katsuki has to call it quits on work for you? “how are you feeling?”

you don’t know, you don’t know how to tell him that every thought you have hurts and there’s a pain in your chest with every breath you take. “i don’t know, it’s just...bad izu…” you want to explain how you feel deep inside, but the words are trapped like balls of tar in your throat— fear that if you say something he’ll walk away.

“you don’t have to say anything, don’t force yourself to…” he speaks with a soft voice, cotton to your ears in an attempt to soothe you. you can just about feel the clean air flowing through your lungs at the sound— it tells you he loves you, no matter what and you almost believe it before sinking back under. “let’s get you some water okay? wouldn’t want kacchan scolding us would we?”

the joke hangs in the murky and heavy air for a few seconds before you muster a small smile— your green haired boyfriend lets out a tiny sigh of relief and pressed a kiss into your hairline, the affection simmers under your skin and briefly brings light to your dark mind as izuku starts leading you to the kitchen.

you’re curled up in izuku’s lap when the front door pops open with a click— signifying your other boyfriend had arrived home. you flinch, hiding yourself in the blankets keeping you warm and locking away the dark thoughts from the eyes of your lovers.

part of you hated them seeing you this way, that’s why you forced yourself to keep everything away from them— but they knew, they always did and always came to your rescue. you didn’t want them to feel like they had to look after you when the days were bad and draining and your mind took hold of everything that you felt. you didn’t need the weight of your own problems on the shoulders of two pro heroes who had enough to deal with.

in the end, you would destroy them like you did with yourself.

you can hear katsuki shedding his gear by the door, feeling his intense and heated presence flood the room and barely penetrate the barrier you created for yourself even while you lay in izuku’s arms. for as long as you’d known the two— even from back in your U.A days, bakugou had hated self-pity, of course in recent years he’d cooled down a little and spoke less on the actions of others but even still, you weren’t sure if you could handle him looking down on you for looking down on yourself and for feeling this way.

the blanket is suddenly lifted from your head, momentarily blinding you with the overwhelming light that is your boyfriend, katsuki bakugou. a twinkle of concern lines his ruby eyes and you can see traces of his charcoal eyeliner that he usually smudges underneath his mask— he’s so beautiful but you’re afraid of the twitches of worry, afraid that he’s mad at you for being the way you are.

“hey honey,” bakugou hums, crouching to your level to cup your cheeks, stress bleeding from his body when you nuzzle into him.

izuku gives you a squeeze, an encouraging one and you nod. “hi,” is all you can muster, afraid of blurting the intrusive words that crackle across your brain.

katsuki sits back on his haunches, looking between you and his boyfriend before he attempts to kick off his shoes. the room is full of a thick, ugly quietness that you know you’re responsible for— they don’t have to say anything, you know that it’s you. because when you’re like this it’s hard for bakugou and midoriya to talk, afraid that they’ll say something to set you off and you afraid that they’ll leave if they knew how you really felt. how trapped and alone you felt inside, how the twisted darkness added tones to your vibes and dragged you down with every step that you took.

they don’t need to say it because it flows from your body like a rushing river and drowns them, fills their lungs and it’s your fault for infecting them with your own bitter taste of life.

“have you eaten?” the blonde of the two boys asks, looking you dead in the eye. you want to answer, but again the viscous back from earlier starts to flood through your body. you try to take care of yourself of these days where you feel it the hardest, but it’s difficult to move and to breathe— and the drive to complete even the simplest of tasks is barely ever there.

you move to speak, caught up in the thick smog of your own brain when izuku gives your body a squeeze and shakes his head, the forest of his hair brushing against your cheek. “you’ve had water, right?” izuku has no problem answering for you. “but nothing to eat,” he whispers, keeping his voice low as if to hide his worry from you— it’s light in his tone but tremors throughout the number one’s body. you feel sick for making him feel that way.

katsuki’s gaze shifts back from his boyfriend to you, his expression unreadable because he knows how you get if they worry too much about you. you’re thankful, partly for that at least, his blank face prevents your mind from reading too deep into things and blaming yourself for things out of your own control.

“‘m makin’ your favourite for dinner. you’ll eat it, no questions asked.” the explosive pro hero states firmly, rising from his place crouched down by your side, obviously not before thumbing over your cheeks to wipe away evidence of your dried tears. “gonna run you a bath too, damn nerd better get you upstairs and ready by the time it’s done.” deku’s chest rumbles with a light hearted chuckle beneath you, lifting the heavy weight of the air within the room— bakugou had always loved brashly, with a fiery intensity that hardly left room for the answer ‘no’, and while izuku was more tame, they balanced one another out in a way that felt more like a warm hug than a battle. they grounded you, in the best of ways.

true to his disgruntled words, your blonde headed boyfriend runs you a hot bath. you don’t miss the addition of lavender oil to the perfectly warm water, the baking soda which you’re sure he only knew to add because his mother had said it would remove the demon spawn toxins in his body. izuku is the one to help you strip, holds your hands as you kick off gross comfort clothes and folds them away, after pressing kisses to your groggy face and chin.

it’s almost funny to see the two biggest and beefiest pro heroes sit on your bathroom floor crossed legged and beside the tub— both of them taking up the majority of the room. you know for a fact that no one would believe the sight unless they saw it, but they’re there. both of them, izuku midoriya and bakugou katsuki are with you encompassed in the silence while you wash away the ugly words that plague your mind and fill the pores of your skin.

they’re still there.

even as sweet lavender water moves in soft waves over your bare body, while black ink moves in the same way across your brain— tattooing self-depreciating thoughts into every inch. you’re not worth their time, they say, you’re wasting it. because how could their precious time be put to good use if you’re taking it up, they could be saving people but instead your boyfriends are here, drowning in your own darkness.

they’re still fucking here.

when they could be out there saving the people who needed it, who were suffering out there in the world outside of your home.

and the suds against your body, the warm water sloshing over your thighs isn’t enough to get rid of the burning sensation of vile phrases printing themselves against your body and clouding every thought that you think. toxic, mean and nasty things you can’t scrub away— none of it is enough to make you feel like you deserve bakugou tenderly lathering you up with the rose scented soap his mother had sent you for christmas or the sips of cool water midoriya brings to your lips in order to prevent you from overheating in the steam of the bathroom.

deku catches the painful twist in your face, pausing his movements to study you. “whaddya need?” you need it to stop, to find something to replace the pain and doubts that fill you.

“water, hotter,” you croak quietly, tears building up in the base of your throat as katsuki catches on and flicks the tap for a stream of hot water to fill the tub. “please,”

they tell you to let them know when to stop if the heat gets too much, but the scalding water burns away any reminders of the self loathing you feel across every inch of your mind, your body and your soul. it stings at the darkness in a way that’s painfully soothing and maybe if you sink under— it could stop hurting completely. if you could slide deeper into the water, would the waves of darkness not crash so hard?

and then the damn breaks, like a tsunami the guilt and anguish you feel crashes over your body and takes control, leaving you fighting for oxygen in the form of your happiness.

everything that you’d been holding back flows freely in salty tears from tired eyes, scorching a path down the apples of your cheeks and mingling with the contents of the tub below. your boys, they don’t notice at first, how you cry and curl in on yourself until you think the world won’t notice you anymore but then just as they always do, they’re pulling you into their warmth and bubble of light— freeing you from black intrusive tendrils even if it means they have to crawl into the tub and wade their through the ocean you’ve made to set yourselves apart.

“don’t—!” you heave with an uneven voice, signs of you falling apart evident in every way. bakugou and deku pull away from you slowly, with dripping shirts and worry written across freckled faces and red eyes. they’re scared for you, hate seeing you force your feelings down and away from them. “please don’t touch me—you’ll—“

the water in the bathtub sloshes from where you retract from their touch, backing yourself up against the wall and away from your boys. “we’ll what?” izuku presses but only gently, keeping you afloat, stopping you from sinking and bakugou stays put in his place, letting the latter talk you down.

you shake your head, trying to think of the right words but it’s hard to, with the crashing waves heavy against your ears. how do you tell your lovers that everything hurts, to think and to feel, to live day by day. you don’t want to bother them with and an extra stress to their busy lives. but you can’t keep it in any longer, bursting at the seams. “you’ll drown. i-if i touch you, i’ll pull you under, you’ll drown with me and you won’t be able to breathe and all those horrible things that i think about will burn in your lungs until you give up fighting like me,” your tears and hiccups interrupt your words, but they listen. bakugou and deku, they listen and they stay.

“yn—“

“because if you do, then all that i feel will be a burden to you— i’ll break in ways that can’t be fixed and you’ll be forced to pick up the pieces and i’ll just be a burden,” you continue, not even pausing to take a breath while you continue to cry. “if you stay to pick up the pieces, you’ll be taken away from people who need you, who are worth saving, and can be helped and—“

you can’t recount how many nights, similar to this in which you wondered why and how two pro heroes could want and love you, why they dealt with your down days that sometimes outnumbered the ups— even if they’d shown you how much they cared, you couldn’t help but feel guilty as if your sadness took up their time to save someone else.

“you can be helped, yn. you don’t have to go what you’re going through alone, you’re worth the time and the effort of helping, no one deserves to suffer,” the green haired of your two boyfriends cuts through the tail ends of your words, still keeping distance until he knows it’s safe to touch you again. there is no look of condescending pity on his face, no sign to show you’ve pulled him into the dark of your mind. it’s just izuku, trying to help you pull through.

you look to katsuki hesitantly, he hasn’t said a word. “but i don’t want to be seen as...as weak, or to worry you because i can’t get out of my own head—“

“y’not fuckin’ weak, we’d never think that of you. we see you try to hide your pain, pretend things don’t get to you when they do. but fuckin’ handlin’ things on ya own can make y’stronger than any two heroes combined,” a look of anger flashes across his features, finer with age and tired with work. but bakugou isn’t angry with you, but with himself for leading you to believe that you were an extra weight on his shoulders. both of their shoulders. “yer not gonna get rid of us or scare us away, we love ya, we’re here for ya ‘n if it’s help that you need or think yer not worthy of, we’ll find some. it’s okay t’ask for help.”

maybe it’s hearing it from someone else, that your pain and your depression is valid, that you’re not an extra weight on the people you love that allows you to come up from a tar-like ocean for fresh air in your lungs, for the waves to calm and the storm raging in your mind to soothe. maybe it’s the two of your boyfriends being there for you despite the fear that you’d scare them away with not being okay that washes away some of the awful things you think.

you know that their support won’t make things go away over night, that it will take time for you to heal but for now you can keep your head above the water just long enough to breathe.

“can i touch you now? is it okay?” deku asks, feeling less distant from you than at the start of the day, but as your body shakes with the last of your tears all you manage is a nod before the number one hero is pulling you into his chest from the tub and the number two is wrapping a towel and his arms around you.

you sit sandwiched between the two, they keep you at the surface— holding you tight while you let out what you’ve been holding back. “we can get some help if y’want it, the doctors...therapy might be nerve wrackin’...scary even, but it can help and we’ll be there every single step of the fuckin’ way,” katsuki reasures you with pets to your head, rocking you back and forth on your bathroom floor, steam clinging to the air that you can finally breathe.

izuku nods along in agreement, pressing kisses to your wet hairline. “we’ll be here. you won’t be alone.”

the murkiness of the water in your mind starts to clear, but only just— their warmth starts to push through the clouds like sunshine brushing against your skin. a light to the dark that's plagued your every waking moment, the waves no longer crash and destroy but instead lap comfortingly at your painful thoughts and tame them just enough for you to have a moment of clarity.

you don’t have to be alone or millions of miles away, you deserve the hands of your loved ones that offer you help instead of pushing them away. the process of healing and things like therapy or meds will be hard sometimes, but katsuki and izuku will be here by your side, to help you manage days where darkness rolls in waves that hurt and help you breathe once again.

[imthebadguyyy]

Loved your first fic of Lewis!💛

Can you make one where Lewis Hamilton and Y/N have a fight and have been living separately and then Lewis comes to meet Y/N one evening and makes an excuse that his toothbrush is with Y/N? And then Lewis confronts Y/N that he knows Y/N still love him but won't admit?

..

* I know this is a very specific prompt. Bare with me. I just wanted more Angst/ Fluff with Longing for each other and Deep feelings and keep it Non-explicit. *

A/N - I'm so glad you liked the fic 😊

We're Meant To Be

Pairing - Lewis Hamilton x Reader (female)

Fandom - F1

Summary - After a messy fight, you don't know where your relationship stands. But when love is that strong, an argument can't stand in the way.

Warnings - Angst, fighting, swearing

Angered shouts. Tears of frustration. White noise. Desperate pleads. And then silence. That's what your neighbours would describe if they were asked to describe what they had heard from your house. An argument that seemed to have started over nothing, had blown up into a full scale fight. When had it become this bad? Only yesterday, you two had had a date night at home, with movies and wine. Everything was perfect. But then, suddenly everything seemed to go down a downward spiral.

Your relationship with your boyfriend had always been calm, it had been the type of love where you just loved each other with all your hearts, where fights were an incredibly rare appearance. You were both working, and he was away at races most of the time, so usually, you didn't waste time fighting, something that was an unnecessary waste of time in your opinion. But then, something had just switched for a second. It was after the race in Baku, and it hadn't gone well. Lewis had been heartbroken, after coming P15, and had heavily berated himself for it. To make him feel better, you had taken a couple of days off work. to just be with him and give him company to feel better.

It had been on the third day of you spending time with him that he had made an offhand comment that had struck a nerve with you. "I wish you could be there at race weekends more often. It's like you don't care enough about the races" The comment had pissed you off, to put it lightly. "What do you mean, I don't care about the races? I watch all of them Lewis, I'm always supporting you" you had practically seethed at him. "Don't get all huffy, darling, all I'm saying is that the other girlfriends and wives come quite often, but you only come to like three races a year" he had said, already regretting his words. "Maybe that's because I have a job?! I work for my living, and I love my job. I don't have time to fly around the world to accompany you to your races, and its damn hard to get leave off of work anyway, I was lucky to even get a week off of work, and you want me to be there every weekend? It's not possible for a working person, Lewis" you had said, anger bubbling in your voice, pulling away from him to sit up straight. "I know, I just meant-" "No, I know what you meant. I'm sorry I can't always be there, and don't you think I feel bad when I can't be there for you ?" "I know you do, I shouldn't have brought this up. But can you come for the next race?" He had asked, not looking at your eyes, regretting the answer. "I... can't. I have a really big meeting coming up and-" "And you can't come I get it"

And he had just left. You had felt your heart shatter, hating yourself for being so harsh with him. But it was true, you were a very hardworking person, and you had worked damn hard to get to where you were, successful at your job, one of the best in your field. It took years of hard work and perseverance and you were proud of it. But a part of you also knew that Lewis didn't deserve any of the crap you had given him, and you also knew that he was right, the other guys had their partners to support them during various race weekends, and you only showed up to one or two of them. He was well in his rights to tell you that. And you hated how it had ended.

You all alone, in your house, in a cold and empty bed, in a quiet house with silence that was much, much more deafening than words ever could be. It was heartbreaking, to see a future you had dreamed of just shattering in front of your eyes, dreams of having a family of your own with him fluttering away like wisps of smoke, the burning flames leaving only a heartbroken mess of a human being behind. Was that what it felt like? To be burned and left to turn to ashes, when a person that knew exactly how to ignite your flame just left you to burn away? To have someone who could ignite your all consuming passion, and turn you to putty in his hands, who could mould you back into shape, leave you to melt into a liquid through his fingers to just lay on the ground, a sad, broken, person.

And here you were, lying on your bed, the sheets that had warmed the both of you on cold nights, or been home to your pleasure laced activities now offering only some of the warmth it used to, cold and unforgiving, as you turned your pillow for the fifteenth time, neither side cool anymore. Even the pillow didn't want to forgive you, the sweat settling in on your neck again, beads of sweat running down your forehead again. The pulled curtains shielded you from the over bright sunshine, your damp hair sticking to your shoulders and neck. Your eyes, red rimmed and tired, shut to protect them from the faint light in the room, the tiredness not permitting you to even open them to look in the dim light of your room.

Somewhere near you, your phone buzzed again, for what felt like the hundredth time in three days. It had been three days, three long, painful days since you and Lewis had fought and not seen each other, and those 72 hours had ripped a part of your soul out. You had spent those three days in bed, your leave days still saving you from getting out of bed and dragging your body to office. Was your relationship over? Were you never going to meet the love of your life, the man you were destined to be with again? Sighing, you rolled over, pushing the damp strands of hair away from your face. Using strength you didn't know you had, you pulled yourself up, feeling your head spin.

Slowly, you made yourself walk into the kitchen, grabbing a piece of bread and popping it into the toaster. Then you splashed some water on your tired face, shuffling over to the bathroom to brush your teeth. After finishing your toast, you peeled off the sweaty shirt you had pulled on when he had left, realising with a pang that it was Lewis's nightshirt you were wearing, a purple one he loved. Dropping it into the laundry basket, you turned on the shower, stepping under the warm shower. The warm spray untangled the knots in your matted hair, as you soaped your body and hair, fresh tears rolling down your cheeks as memories of your showers together with Lewis came flooding back, as heartbroken sobs wracked your form again.

An hour after the not so great shower, you found yourself in another shirt belonging to Lewis, the bed in fresh sheets and covers, your pillow finally cool on both sides. You were clean and refreshed, albeit heartbroken, waiting on your takeout Chinese food and ice cream. Just as you lay there, scrolling through your Netflix account to watch some episode of FRIENDS to help you keep your spirits up, the doorbell rang. The thought of flavourful Chinese food and ice cream was enough to lure you out of your bed again, bare feet padding across the wooden floor to go to the door. You grabbed your wallet, opening the door, to find not your dinner, but Lewis, at the door, in one of your favourite sweatshirts on him. Did the clothes make you feel better? No. In fact, it just shattered your heart further.

"What are you doing here?" was the predictable line that left your lips. "I um, I left my toothbrush at your place. Can I have it back?"

"I beg your pardon? You left your toothbrush? You came back for a toothbrush, but not for me? Is that all I mean to you?!" you said, anger and a hint of sadness creeping into your tone. "You do mean a lot to me" he replied in a sigh. "Look, I didn't actually leave my toothbrush. That was a lie, and wow, I'm just realising how stupid that sounded, I'm sorry" His words were met with silence. The sadness in your eyes said it all. You were upset. Of course you were. "I don't have any toothbrushes except mine, so please leave" Before you could shut the door in his face, he pushed it back open, stepping into the house on his own.

"No do not come in here, please just get out!"

"No" was his frustrating reply. "What do you mean no? I said get out of my house!" "Not until we stop fighting and talk about what the hell happened!" Lewis yelled back, matching your tone. "Why the hell do you care?!" "Because I still love you damn it, I always have, and this stupid fight cannot, and should not break us apart!"

Your burst into tears. Sliding down against the wall, you buried your face in your hands, the sweatshirt arms covering your face as you sobbed. In an instant, Lewis was walking across to you, strong muscled arms wrapping around your shaking frame. "I'm sorry" you managed to blubber out, "I thought it over, and I don't go to support as often as I feel I should, and I'm sorry"

"No my darling, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said all that to you. You work so hard baby, and I'm so proud of you. And I know that you try to come whenever you can, and I love you so much for that. I'm sorry, and I never shouldv'e asked you to prioritize my passion over yours" rubbing your shoulders softly, he let his chin rest on top of yours. Sniffling, you let your head rest on his shoulder. The soft hiccups that left your lips broke his heart even further, something he hadn't thought possible.

The last 3 days had been pure hell for him. He had missed you, God, he had missed you. He had missed having you in his bed in the morning, tracing patterns on your bare skin. He had missed leaving kisses on your soft cheeks and hands and on your cute nose, missed smiling against your skin as you giggled. He had missed you playing with Roscoe, the doggo following the both of you around the house. Even Roscoe had missed you, sniffing around the house for your familiar smell, cocking his ears up and looking at his dad questioningly.

He had missed your perfume, the scent filling his senses, intoxicating him in the best way possible. He missed you curling up to him, playing with his hair or tracing his tattoos, leaving little kisses around the compass tattoo, tracing his 'Still I Rise' tattoo, missing the goosebumps that would rise on his skin when you traced Michelangelo's Pieta on his skin, and kissed the family and faith tattoos on his sternum. He missed you everywhere, and it had taken three days for him to realize that your presence grounded him. Your presence was something he needed, not to survive, he had done that before, he needed you for his happiness.

And having you in his arms, crying over what he had said? It shattered his heart. And he wanted to just fix everything, to bring everything back to normal. Stroking your hair softly, he kept his lips pressed to your ear, whispering soft "I love you's" and "I'm so sorry baby's" and "I'm here for you's" into your ear, feeling his heart lighten ever so softly when your sniffles decreased and your grip on yourself relaxed.

Moving up to meet his eyes, you moved so you were at eye level with him. "So we're both idiots who are sorry?" You murmured, running your hand up to his collarbone. With a soft laugh, he nodded taking your hand into his, rubbing his thumb over yours. "Fighting sucks" he mumbled pushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear. "It really does" your replied, moving so you were straddling his waist. "Let's never do that again, and let's just make a schedule. We can figure out when you can come and visit me, and I'll just deal with the fact that my ethereal girlfriend won't grace the race tracks every race weekend-" "It all sounds lovely but all I want right now is your lips on mine" you interrupted, bringing a smirk to his lips.

Leaning forward, he pressed his lips to yours, hand moving to maneuver your head closer to his, your hands moving up to cup his cheek, as your traced his jawline, his thumb running over your waist. Breaking apart softly, he let his forehead rest on yours. "I love you" he whispered softly. "I love you too" you mumbled back. Before he could lean back in, the doorbell rang again.

"Damn it. That's my chinese food and ice cream" you sighed, smiling when he laughed. "Was it that bad?" He asked, letting you get up to open the door. "Like you wouldn't believe it"

After getting the food and paying for it, you set two plates on the table and put enough on your plates. "You know what the worst part was about fighting?" "What was?" "Not waking up to you tracing my tattoos" "Aww that's what you missed?" You giggled, walking up to kiss the tattoos on his hands. "I really did. You're cute and adorable and you're all mine. That's why I don't wanna fight. Let's keep it that way" "I love you so much" "I love you too"

***

A/N - I'm so, so sorry I took so long to write this, I really suck at angst, and I hope this is what you wanted, the last thing I want to do is give you subpar work 😭😭

Anyways, have a great day 💙

[nejibaby]

Small Details

Pairings: Neji x Y/N

Summary: Neji was a man of few words, even more so with you, and when he sees you with Naruto in a compromising position, he has troubles expressing himself.

Word Count: 3.2k

A/N: And I finally managed to finish this! It took me so long! Today, I offer you a flustered Neji... 👀 I hope y’all enjoy it because I may or may not have melted after writing this 😚

✨Photo taken from this post by @yul-is-sparkling ✨

Naruto was finally back after two years of training with Jiraiya. Being one of his closest friends, you were excited to meet him and to see for yourself how much he’s grown.

Naturally, you challenged him to a duel the first time you saw him again. It was kind of your thing with Naruto — competing with each other on who’s faster, stronger, better in ninjutsu, anything really. Mainly because Sasuke, who he often referred to as his rival, would rarely indulge him with such things, and you did. You were both competitive like that.

In no time, you were both alone on the training grounds. You could already tell how drastic his improvements were within the start of the battle.

You were in awe at how the Legendary Sannins could bring out the best in their apprentices. But despite not being trained by them, that didn’t mean you were lagging behind.

In those two years when Sasuke seeked Orochimaru for power, Naruto trained under Jiraiya, and Sakura learned from Tsunade, you were the only one in Team 7 who remained under the supervision of Kakashi sensei.

Kakashi sensei may not be a Legendary Sannin, but he was a formidable shinobi — one of the best during his generation even. However, truthfully, he infuriated you at first, not because of how late he always was — you were pretty used to it to the point that you don’t question him anymore about his whereabouts and he stopped coming up with excuses as to why he was late — but because there were times when he was too laidback.

Sure, there were moments when he was hands-on: teaching you different jutsus, lecturing you about certain concepts, informing you on what you should always look out for, drilling your body past exhaustion, and the like. But more often than not he would be saying something like, “Find it out yourself” or “I can’t exactly tell you how” as he leisurely sits on a tree branch while reading the stupid Icha Icha books.

You were dumbfounded and furious at first but when your initial annoyance subsided and you had adjusted to his teaching style, you flourished.

That’s why you could take on Naruto even after his training with Jiraiya.

What started as a serious duel between you and Naruto was reduced to playful banter the longer the fight dragged on. At one point, both of you would just tease each other while throwing kicks and punches halfheartedly.

Both of you had your guards down. That was a mistake on your part, because just as Naruto aimed to kick your face and you bent over backwards to dodge it, you slipped. You lost your footing all because of a rock situated near your right foot.

It was a rookie mistake.

Naruto was quick to notice that you were falling so he immediately grabbed ahold of your hand. The problem was he failed to pull you back up. So you ended up falling down with him. And somehow, he ended up with his arms on the sides of your head so he wouldn’t crush you as you were underneath him.

You were both shocked. You were just blinking at each other. It took awhile for the two of you to gather your bearings. When you did, you both immediately laughed out loud. Naruto moved his body so he was lying next to you as you both continued laughing your hearts out.

“What the hell was that, Naruto?!” You feigned exasperation. “You wouldn’t be able to save a fly if you tried.”

“At least I wasn’t the one making rookie mistakes like that,” Naruto shot back. “Plus I tried to help, that’s what matters.”

You snorted. “Yeah, right. You could’ve at least focused your chakra on your soles so we didn’t fall!”

“And you could’ve paid attention to your surroundings, Y/N!”

You bickered with each other as you stood up and helped Naruto get up. What the two of you didn’t know was that your boyfriend Neji had watched the whole incident.

Neji wasn’t really the type to get jealous. He’s a very understanding boyfriend. He’s aware that you and Naruto have been best friends even before he met you. He even knew about Naruto’s feelings for Sakura. However, any sane person wouldn’t want to see his significant other beneath someone else, right? Granted, it was an accident, but still… It was such a compromising position to find you in.

He made his appearance as you playfully punched Naruto in the gut.

You instantly noticed him approaching. Your smile widened even more at the sight of your boyfriend. “Neji!” You called, skipping your way towards him. You would’ve tackled him in a hug if Naruto wasn’t around.

He maintained his stoic expression as he greeted, “Y/N. Naruto.”

“Oi Neji, it’s been a while,” Naruto waved.

Neji only gave a curt nod in response.

You asked, “What are you doing here, Neji?” but just as you ended your question, the answer immediately clicked on your mind. “Oh my god, I’m sorry I forgot!”

Over your excitement of Naruto’s arrival, you forgot that it was a Tuesday. Tuesdays were your lunch dates and sparring sessions with Neji.

“It’s okay.”

“Hold on.” you told him and then faced Naruto. “Gotta go, Naruto! Bye!” you said as you grabbed Neji’s hand out of habit.

Neji flushed, not exactly expecting your action, but you didn’t notice because it was something that you’re used to doing, although not in the presence of someone else.

“See you later!” Naruto waved.

When Naruto was out of sight, you dropped Neji’s hand unconsciously. “Sorry, I forgot about lunch. What time is it? Have you eaten?” You asked Neji.

He quickly responded and told you he hasn’t eaten anything yet.

“Well then, let’s go. I’m starving.”

Neji and you walked side by side out of the training grounds.

“So…” you started saying.

Neji stared at you. “Hm?”

“How was your day, baby?”

He cleared his throat and looked away almost instantly. Very rarely would one find Neji flustered, but calling him “baby” always worked. He wasn’t quite used to the endearment and every time you addressed him as such with tenderness laced in your voice, he would blush. You use it all the time just to see his cheeks tinted pink. It was a cute sight.

“What’s wrong?” You playfully asked while trying to get into his line of vision.

He refused to meet your gaze until he regained his composure. When he did, he told you — in an impassive manner — what he had done in the morning before he went out looking for you.

Despite his expressionless face and his rather hushed tone, you listened intently to the words he was saying, the smile on your lips never leaving your face. Neji was a man of few words even until now that you were together so you made sure you paid attention every time he spoke, not wanting his words to go to waste.

He wouldn’t admit it to you but he loved that about you. You would remember even the little details of his stories, which in itself was a big deal considering you tend to forget a lot of things. You treasured his words, sentences, thoughts, ideas and plans, and kept them enclosed in your memory.

Neji loved that you focused on him. You made him feel like he was important and worthy, and that he mattered, in a completely different way than the others’ view of him.

The others only saw him as important because he was an asset both to the Hyuga clan and to Konoha. He only mattered to them because he has the strength and ability to protect them.

But you didn’t see him that way. You saw him as his own person — a man with a brilliant mind, a great moral compass, and a heart of gold. This was further confirmed when you told him that if his circumstances were different — if he was not a Hyuga or even a shinobi — you’d still fall in love with him as long as his character remained the same.

He knew you love him, there was no doubt about that. It was known; it was an irrefutable truth, an indisputable fact. But why did seeing you with Naruto trigger his insecurities that you had previously put to rest?

His mind was reeling, but he tried his hardest to be in the moment with you.

The thing was, he might have misread you a little. Because the attention that you gave him wasn’t solely focused on his words. In actuality, it extended to his actions and mannerisms as well.

This was how you knew that there was something that was bothering Neji today.

Unwelcome thoughts swarmed his mind, leading him to absentmindedly reach out to you. He was walking beside you closer than usual, with his hand on your lower back. While there was no doubt that he was listening to you when it was your turn to tell him about your day with Naruto, he had a faraway, vacant look on his face.

You may have missed the presence of a rock a while ago, but you certainly wouldn’t miss these small details about Neji.

These might come across as something normal for other people, but for someone like you who dedicated a lot of time admiring and memorizing every little detail of the certain Hyuga boy, it was easy to tell that something was on his mind from the way he was taking up a portion of your personal space. Almost as if his own restrictions were non-existent.

Normally, it would’ve been easier to confront him about it, but you were a shinobi, and if there’s something you learned from Kakashi sensei, it was that you have to gather more intel before actually making a move.

But you could only think of one way to confirm if there was something bothering your partner, and it was through his hair.

On regular days, Neji wouldn’t allow anyone to touch his hair, including you. But when there was something that was bothering him, or if he had a particularly rough day, he wouldn’t mind it if you threaded your fingers through his hair. In fact, he wouldn’t admit it, but he preferred it if you did that. It was something that calmed him down.

So while you continued telling him how your day went, you subtly angled your body towards him. Then you tentatively reached for the tips of his hair with your hand that was closest to him. You managed to grab a few strands of his hair between your thumb and index finger. You twisted them between your fingers.

You looked up to him to check if he was bothered by it, but it seemed like he didn’t mind at all. This certainly meant that his mind was elsewhere, despite the fact that he was nodding in the right parts of your speech and even correcting you when you used the wrong word to describe something.

You retracted your hand after coming up with your conclusion. You even stopped talking as you were thinking of what could’ve happened for him to be this distracted. Neji didn’t even notice you stopped talking mid sentence.

Somehow this just felt different from the times he was frustrated or anxious before, and quite frankly, you were worried.

By the time you had both placed orders and seated in a random restaurant, you decided to confront your partner. “So, Neji, baby, are you going to tell me what’s bothering you?”

He choked on nothing after hearing your question. Was he really that easy to read? Or was it easy just because it was you reading him?

He cleared his throat and feigned ignorance, “What are y-you talking about?”

You opted to give him a pointed look instead of a verbal response.

He didn’t stare back, looking anywhere but you. Most times, Neji would face you head on until you conceded; with you, he was comfortable being stubborn and unyielding because it came without repercussions. But today, he wasn’t up for the challenge. And if you looked more closely, he was once again sporting a faint color on his cheeks.

You waited a moment for him to answer, or at least to look back, but it was to no avail. With a sigh, you said, with the softest tone you could muster partnered with a reassuring smile, “Would you let me know when you’re ready, at least?”

Surprisingly, Neji looked at you then. “It’s nothing… It’s just… something silly.”

You gently grabbed a hold of his hand. “Don’t tell me it’s silly, I know it isn’t if it bothers you, baby. You don’t have to tell me now if you aren’t comfortable yet, hmm? Just know I’ll be here to listen to you.” You gave him a genuine smile and a small squeeze to his hand before letting go.

Neji’s eyes hadn’t strayed from then onwards. He had to admit sometimes he would forget how incredibly kindhearted you were, even more so when it came to him. You always made sure he was comfortable. You never forced him into doing or saying things that he wasn’t ready to do or say. You allowed him to make his own decisions and respected them, something that rarely came from being a subordinate of Konoha and a member of the branch family of the Hyuga clan.

Life as a shinobi was sometimes constricting, but you were his breather from all that.

It was your turn to be bashful from his stare. You could feel your face warming up from the unexpected, scrutinizing gaze. “Neji, stop it.”

“What?”

“Stop looking at me like that.”

“Stop being beautiful, then.”

The words that came out of Neji’s lips startled you. It wasn’t everyday he would actually use words to tell you you’re beautiful. The way he expressed his appreciation to your beauty would come in the form of fluttering kisses or gentle brushes on your body parts — coincidentally, or not, on parts where you feel the most insecure about.

Fortunately for you, the food came at the right moment, since you weren’t exactly sure how to respond to his unexpected compliment. You both ate in silence then, occasionally peeking at each other  — almost like how it was when you first started dating each other.

When you were done with lunch, you expected to take the route towards the training grounds like you both usually did, but Neji’s hand has taken solace on your back once again and this time with intent to guide you to a different direction.

You were confused but you followed anyway. “Where are we going?”

“To my place.” A pause. “Is that fine with you?”

“Sure” was all you could say. Admittedly, you were quite tired from the duel you had with Naruto earlier and you didn’t really have enough energy to spar with Neji, considering he never went easy on you.

By the time you had entered his place, he graciously offered his couch to you, as if sensing your exhaustion. You immediately plopped down on his couch after setting aside your footwear by his front door.

“Tired?”

“Very,” you mumbled.

He handed you a glass of water, knowing you weren’t quite fond of tea. He sat down beside you just as you thanked him and sipped on your drink.

Setting aside the glass, you leaned back on the couch, only to be welcomed by Neji’s arms. A small smile automatically crept into your lips from the gesture. You snuggled into him as a reflex.

It was moments like this with Neji that you treasured most. While you enjoyed tagging around with him and the rest of Team Guy on missions, you preferred spending time with him peacefully like this, without the imminent threat of danger looming over your heads. It was rather a rare occurrence, after all, for two shinobis like you both were.

Neji was first to break the comfortable silence. “I saw you with Naruto a while ago.”

“You did? When?” You excitedly asked while trying to pull away from his embrace to look directly to his face. But for some reason, he kept you in place, your cheek pressed to his neck. “Did you see me kick his ass? Like literally.”

“Yes,” he answered flatly. It was a response that sounded so… dry. Usually when you both talked about Naruto, there would be a fondness from his tone. “But… I also saw something else…” he trailed off.

You raked your mind, trying to remember what had happened earlier. Then the memory of falling down flashed on your mind, and suddenly you felt embarrassed for Neji having to witness such a mistake. “Oh no!” You jumped out of his grasp, startling him in the process. “You saw me fall down! That’s so embarrassing!” You covered your face with your palms.

“Well, yes… but—”

You snapped your head at the tone he used. He didn’t sound like he was going to tease you for your mistake, in fact, it kind of sounded like he was worried.

“I’m fine though, if you’re worried,” you offered, assuming he thought you got hurt from the fall.

“I’m glad you are not hurt,” he said. Not long after you noticed him visibly gulping.

You could tell there was something else in his mind, and whatever it was, you had a feeling it might’ve been the thing that was bothering him a while ago. You tried to come up with guesses as to what it could’ve been. As you recalled how the conversation started and considered how he was acting, a plausible answer popped into your mind.

“Are you perhaps… jealous?” You hesitantly asked. He was the first one to initiate this conversation so you were assuming he was ready to talk about it. Despite that though, you didn’t want to force him to talk so you carefully and reluctantly asked him. He was always allowed to drop the topic if he wasn’t comfortable and he knew that.

Neji cleared his throat as soon as the words left your mouth all the while avoiding to meet your eyes once again. “Maybe,” he almost inaudibly said.

You were surprised by his answer. It wasn’t always that Neji got jealous. The only time he was was when a stranger was blatantly hitting on you in front of him while you were on a mission together.

“It did not sit right with me seeing you in an… inappropriate position with someone else.” He explained. The tone he used sounded like the one he used with the Hokage when he was taking responsibility for something that went horribly wrong on a mission.

“Don’t make it sound like it’s wrong,” you said softly as you cupped his face. “You don’t have to feel guilty about feeling jealous. Your feelings are valid.”

The gentleness and warmth in your voice made his heart flutter. If this was a conversation with someone else, he was sure he was going to get teased for feeling this way, but it was with you, and you had always been different.

“I love you, Neji,” you said before you kissed his lips.

It was amazing how the three words you used that preceded his name could easily wipe out the jealousy that had brewed inside him. This was another testament of how well you knew Neji — not only did you know the small details about him, but you also know the right words to ease his worries.

[beels-burger-babe]

With You Always

***So I really really really love this idea, but I'm going to tweak it just a little bit so rather than only seeing them in mirrors, MC can just always see them when the brothers aren't around. This one is going to take place after they return to the human realm. I'm also going to be using he/him pronouns for the crush that'll be mentioned. I figured since all the dateables in the game identify as male, it'd be a safe bet. Thank you so so much for this creative request @gender-less-lemon (also I freaking love your profile picture. Monster Camp/Prom is hilarious)***

Summary: An average day of high school with MC...and the seven pact manifestations that haunt their vision.

TW: Bullying You were awoken not by an alarm, or your guardian, or even some random noise from outside, but rather a phantom gnawing on your arm. With a groan, you blinked open your eyes and saw just your regular old room, with one minor difference; a spectral red bear was happily teething on your elbow. You chuckled and pet the manifestation, noting the brightly glowing symbol of gluttony resting in its stomach. "Okay, Beel," you mumbled to yourself as you dragged yourself out of bed, pushing the purple translucent calf sleeping on your stomach, in the process. "I hear you." Ever since you had returned to the human realm, you had been followed around by spectral manifestations of the seven pacts that you owned. By the looks of things, no one else could see them, and they only appeared when the connected sin was active or needed, but it helped you feel less alone. You missed the brothers more than you had anticipated. It was more than a little bit of a culture shock to go from being loved and spoiled every day to being the misfit in your high school. Speaking of which, you needed to get going if you weren't going to be late. As you rushed around our room frantically grabbing the things you needed to get ready, the calf-like manifestation of sloth sat on your bed mooing in complaint. You sent a glare over to it as you finished collecting your belongings. "Trust me, I rather stay home and sleep too, buddy. But I have to go." Grabbing some fruit on your way out the door, you just managed to make it to school on time. Now it was simply a matter of surviving the day.

In all honesty, you preferred RAD to high school. In RAD, the subjects were interesting and grasped your attention without any problems at all. You had friends, even outside of the brothers. Sure there were always demons that would talk down about the kid human that clung to the demon lords, but you had the brothers to protect you. It was nice.

Now that you were back in the human world, you had none of that. In fact, you were even more of a misfit than when you were before. The teenager that vanished for a year and came back weirder than before; that was you. At first, you couldn't get people to leave you alone, but once they realized you weren't going to give them answers they backed off. You would occasionally laugh or whisper to the manifestations, which would earn you some more than weird looks, but you didn't care. These weird little ghost-like creatures were one of the only things you had connecting you to the Devildom. They meant more to you than anything else. As you entered your classroom, you had to bite back a laugh at the sight of one of your classmates looking around in confusion as, unknown to them, a golden yellow crow flapped around their head and pecked at the shiny earrings they were wearing. You took your seat in the back of the classroom and watch in amusement as the crow continued pecking at the various belongings of students, causing subtle chaos and confusion. Leave it to Mammon to make your day even when he wasn't actually there. Your teacher walked in and sat down in his chair. "Alright, class. Today we're going to continue with our history presentations. Remember these were subjects of your choice, so I do hope that you can at least pretend to be interested," he sighed and pulled out a clipboard. "Looks like the next person presenting is...MC." You winced and looked down at your notes. The topic was definitely one you were confident in, but to present it in front of your class. What if no one liked it? What if people laughed? What if- You felt a nudge on your arm. You glanced over to see a dazzling blue peacock, straightening its long neck out high as it puffed out its chest. The pride manifestation gestured forward with its head and almost seemed to smile at you. You smiled gently as you felt warmth grow from his pact mark on your inner wrist and stood up beside the peacock. It cawed and began to strut forward, leading the way to the front of the class. The mental image of Lucifer doing the same almost caused you to burst out laughing. You finally turned to the class and held your head up proudly as you began to speak. "My presentation today will be on biblical demonology and the way it has evolved throughout the eons of its existence." It was the best presentation you had ever given in your life. Riding off of the high from history class, the day seemed to fly by. Before you knew it was time for lunch. The bear was back, this time just softly moaning it continued butting your back with its head in an attempt to get you to go to the cafeteria faster. With one particularly heard shove, you were sent stumbling forward, directly into the chest of someone. "I'm so sorry! I'm a total clutz. I just tripped, I hadn't meant to-" you cut yourself off as you looked up and noticed you were looking at your crush. Your jaw snapped shut as you felt your face suddenly become uncomfortably hot. He smiled and waved off the apology. "It's alright. Just an accident right?" Your face became even hotter as you noticed a bright pink rabbit jumping up and down happily behind him. "I- Uh...Ehm...Y-Yeah! Yeah, t-totally an accident. I'm seat so I should go find my hungry. I-I mean!" He chuckled and nodded. "No worries, I get what you're trying to say. Enjoy your seat, MC," he gave you a wink, causing you to squeak as he walked off. You glared down at the rabbit running happy circles around your feet and the red bear that was sulking guiltily in a corner. "I blame you two for this." With an embarrassed huff, you entered the cafeteria and found yourself instantly wanting to walk back out. Everyone was laughing and talking with one another in their friend groups at their tables. Some gossiped eagerly over a magazine. Others sat silently with one another while they gamed or read books. There was even a table where a group of theatre kids were drumming out a soundtrack beat on the table while singing their favourite

songs. You ducked your head down and grabbed a tray of food before moving to the lonely table in the back, doing your best to ignore the giant orange snake that slithered between the tables, occasionally hissing and tripping students. You tried not to think of how you could be just like those groups of laughing friends, if only you were still at RAD. Your heart ached as you thought about the brothers. Maybe you could call them tonight. You let out a heavy sigh as you stood up and went to leave. You had almost made it to the door when a familiar face stopped you. Standing just a couple inches taller than you, surrounded by their groupies, was your tormentor, Taylor. You weren't entirely sure why they hated you so much. You just knew that they did, and that it got even worse when you came back from the Devildom. Taylor smirked with their arms crossed over their chest. "Where do you think your going? You haven't come to say hello yet." You scoffed and tried to walk past them. "Leave me alone, Taylor. I'm not in the mood for this today," before you could get very far, you were harshly onto the floor, stealing the breath from your lungs. You gasped and glared up at them. "What the fuck?!" The bully just sneered down at you. "You may not be in the mood for this, but I am. You know I heard about your weirdo presentation. Demons? Really? What are you, a satanist?" Their word choice was really ironic, for at that moment you noticed the large, white unicorn with flaming green hair and eyes appear behind them. The beast stomped its hooves and whinnied dangerously. You gulped nervously and looked up at Taylor. "Even if I was, it's not your business. I just find the topic interesting is all." You went to stand up, and therefore force the angry horse with a horn away from Taylor, but were stopped as they placed their foot on top of your chest. "I bet that's why you have all those weird tattoos, huh? What did you run away and join a cult for a year? Freak!" You could feel Satan's pact mark on the back of your neck grow hotter and hotter to the point that you were concerned the manifestation may be trying to summon him. Your eyes widen as you noticed it back up a few steps and point its horn at Taylor. You knew that the creatures normally could do small interactions with others, such as tripping or pushing, but you had never seen them attempt anything so violent. You couldn't just let it kill someone. "STOP!" The cafeteria fell quiet, but you weren't looking at them or even Taylor, you were looking at the unicorn. The manifestation neighed in frustration and jumped around, but obeyed your command. You slumped in relief. Looking back over to Taylor, you found them glaring down at you like you were nothing but a bug. They opened their mouth to degrade you even further when a teacher finally stepped forward. "What is happening here?" You walked over to the unicorn while Taylor fed the teacher a handful of lies. You leaned over to the manifestation and whispered under your breath. "Thank you for trying to protect me, but you can't hurt people. Just leave it be." The creature snorted and nuzzled your shoulder. In comparison to the hectic lunch hour, the rest of the day passed by with ease. In no time at all, you were back home in your room. You had just plopped onto your bed, when you heard a familiar ringtone. You smiled brightly and quickly grabbed your D.D.D. before immediately answering the phone. "Hello?" "Oh, you answered that quite quickly," you grinned at the surprise in Satan's tone. "I was just calling to-" "IS THAT MC?! GIMME!!!" You laughed as the sounds of Satan yelling and running from Mammon came through the other end. There was a yelp, a bang, and a victorious whoop before you could hear the device get picked up by someone. "'Hey MC! How was your day? I hope you didn't miss the great Mammon too badly. N-Not that I've missed you or anything just wanted to know how you're doin' is all." Belphie's purple calf climbed its way into your lap once more as you gently patted its head.

"I miss you too, Mammon. And today wasn't bad. I'd say it was pretty average overall." You could hear Satan growl in the background before there was a loud thud followed by a scream from Mammon. Satan took the phone back. "Just average you say? Nothing special?" You frowned and narrowed your eyebrows in confusion. "No, why?" To your right, the unicorn neighed softly and plopped down beside your bed. "Well, I could've sworn I felt our pact become triggered at some point today and...Well in all honesty I was concerned. We worry about you getting hurt without us there with you, MC." You couldn't help but smile softly as one by one each of the manifestations of your pacts made their way to your bed and laid down. "I know," you replied affectionately. "Though I'm never completely alone. So long as I have my pacts, you guys will always be with me." ***This was such an interesting concept to toy around with. I hope this wasn't too confusing and actually makes sense 😅😅 Thanks again for the amazing request @gender-less-lemon!***

Taglist @thegrimgrinningghost

@henry-and-the-seven-lords

@satans-beloved-riv

@cosmixbun

@sufzku

[nightwishesworld]

hello! do you think you could do a chapter with fem!reader whose afraid of thunderstorms and wakes up in the middle of the night because of it but doesn’t wanna wake alcina so she just stays awake but the storm goes on for like a week and this keeps happening until she notices and comforts you through it by like cuddles or talking you to sleep to distract you from it :)

Oh my god I hate the way this came out. My brain just could not process this for some reason. I also couldn't make it as long as a week, my apologies.

**************

One dark evening at Castle Dimitrescu a storm rolled in. Relatively speaking, it was quite harmless and most of the inhabitants of the castle were unbothered by the storm.

Except you.

Late into the evening, whilst most were asleep, the storm was at its strongest - the crackle of thunder rolling through the halls as flashes of lightning illuminated the darkest corners of the room. You were trying to sleep, honest, but just as you felt the drowsiness of rest come to take you - a loud crack of thunder would jolt you awake and paralyze you with fear.

You sat with your back against the headboard, your breathing rapid.

You pulled the covers up to your chest and hugged your pillow close to your chest. Resisting the urge to run and hide in the closet like you used to do as a kid was becoming more and more difficult.

Another flash, another boom.

You knew it wasn’t logical, but you couldn’t stop yourself from flinching or jumping as the sounds of the storm roared outside. It was just so loud and you could swear the castle was shaking with it.

You squeezed your eyes shut, white-knuckling the pillow held tight against your chest and humming a song to yourself in order to distract your brain.

The sound of constant rain was suddenly accompanied by heavy hail falling, and that’s when the thoughts started charging at you full force.

What if the lightning strikes the castle? What if the castle collapsed? Did it have the right infrastructure? What if-

“Stop it, God. Stop it!” You begged your brain but to no avail. Your mind kept generously providing you with possibilities and images you did not ask for.

Another loud boom and this time you couldn’t help the cry let out before clapping a hand over your mouth and diving under the blankets.

When you didn’t hear anything for a few minutes you felt it safe enough to come out of hiding. Thankfully the vampire slumbering next to you wasn’t disturbed by your pathetic cries and whimpers. She had a rough day dealing with a very pissed off Mother Miranda and needed rest and relaxation as much as she could possibly get.

You forced yourself to lay still on your back and focus all your energy on controlling your breathing. That was the key to saving yourself a panic attack. You don’t know how long you were staring up at the ceiling, but dawn eventually came and your partner stirred from her sleep.

She would have been happy to see you if not for the redness in your eyes and puffiness surrounding them, obvious signs of lack of sleep.

“Are you alright, draga mea?” She wrapped her arms around your midsection and rested her head on your shoulder, kissing your cheek.

You didn’t answer, even though you knew Alcina wouldn’t just drop the question. She was sweet and caring like that, which is probably why you never had the heart to tell her how much of a coward you actually are.

“You didn’t sleep very well, did you?”

“Nightmares,” you rasped, trying to focus on Alcina more than the low rumbling outside. “I’ll be fine after a cup of coffee.”

She looked as though she didn’t accept that answer but quickly hid any doubts behind a warm smile. “If you’re sure.”

It felt wrong lying to her. You had never felt the need to hide anything from Alcina before, but this was just embarrassing. She’d probably laugh at you told her you were still afraid of thunderstorms.

The day progressed with relative normalcy despite the occasional sounds of rumbling. Alcina busied herself dealing with the mountain of paperwork on her desk for Mother Miranda and the girls were running amuck in the basement. Depending on which room you were in you could hear their laughter below you. Their mischief down there has always been a mystery to you, even now after living in the castle a couple of years. You knew what they were doing, but couldn't fathom the idea of enjoying it so much. You did find it rather disturbing that their torturing frightened you less than a stupid thunderstorm.

You huddled in the back section of the library behind the bookshelves so you couldn’t see the lightning out the windows. The loud rumbling still had you on edge, but a good book is always a welcome distraction. It worked so well, that you didn't hear Daniela approaching. You practically jumped three feet in the air when she was stood in front of you.

“What’s wrong with you?” Daniela asked, her voice was stern, but it also had a concerning tone to it. She had dropped her bag, keeping the knife at her side. Your breathing was heavier than usual as you tried to think of what to say. It was more than embarrassing to tell Daniela the truth. You knew for a fact she out of everyone in the castle would laugh at you. "You scared me,"

She rolled her eyes. "No, Dummy, I mean what's really wrong?"

You shrug and turn the page of your book. “Nothing.”

Another boom. You couldn’t fight off flinched.

“Oh, I think I get it. You’re afraid of-”

“Don’t tell anyone.” You clenched your fists, shutting your eyes tightly. Daniela wanted to laugh, but she didn’t. You watched as she cautiously sat back down. The redhead sat in front of you, the rain somehow sounding even louder than it had before. You looked over at Daniela, feeling the embarrassment creep upon you.

Daniela started at you with a rather confused expression, resting her arms on her knees. “Out of everything we’ve been through,” she began, “everything you’ve seen us do. Everything that goes on in this castle just below your feet,” she paused. “And you’re scared of thunder?”

You sat silently and twiddled your thumbs.

“Why?”

“Doesn’t matter,” you whisper. “It’s not important. You’re only going to run off and tell everyone.”

Daniela rolled her eyes and picked up her bag, headed once again for the basement. “Whatever, y/n, have it your way.”

You spent the rest of the afternoon and early evening shuffling around the library hiding from the white flashes. It was only when Daniela came to fetch you for dinner that you left. Luckily you were eating in the kitchen instead of the larger Dining Hall. The kitchen is much more manageable; marginally fewer windows to see the lightning. The meal carried on as it normally would; the girls boasted about their successes in the basement, Alcina discusses all the work she got done today and complains about the work she put off for tomorrow. It was almost enough to take your mind off the chaos happening just outside the windows. Almost.

The storm carried on just as confidently throughout the evening and into the night. It showed no signs of relenting, which in turn meant another sleepless night.

You wasted no time stripping your clothes and crawling into bed, back to the open windows. Alcina didn’t think much of it, simply chalking it up to being exhausted from the previous night’s lack of sleep. She wasn’t completely wrong, you did feel like you were ready to sleep for the next 24 hours. But you knew the storm wouldn’t allow you that luxury.

Pressure against your back and an arm wrapping around your midsection snapped you out of your thoughts.

“I hope you sleep tonight, my love.”

“Me too.”

An hour later and you were still wide awake listening to the rain being pelted against the windows. An anxious voice whispered impossible scenarios of the rain breaking through the windows and lightning striking you down in the safety of your bed. You tried your hardest to not toss and turn as to not disturb the woman next to you. She's not asleep yet, you can tell by the lack of snoring, but her breathing is starting to even out. You were curled up on your side, back to Alcina. She wrapped you in her arms, her chest against your back and arm across your waist. "Dove..." she whispered in your ear. "Y/n... "

"I'm sleeping, Al." You murmured snuggling further into the vampire’s arms, your eyes still closed.

"No, you're not." She stroked your side absently. “Are you sure you’re ok? You aren’t falling ill are you?”

You sigh. “No, I’m not getting sick. My body is just too exhausted to relax.”

Alcina hummed, burrowing her face in the crook of your neck. “I’ll stay up with you for a while.”

“You will not. Go to sleep Al, I’ll be fine. You had a long day yourself, one of us should be able to sleep."

"Why don't we go sit in the Drawing Room or the Library? I'll hold you in my lap and read to you." God no. Way too many windows. "Goodnight, Alcina." You feel her sigh against your skin, pushing a few stray hairs around. "Can I do anything?" "Stop worrying, it's just insomnia." "I'll stay up with you then. You shouldn't be up all by yourself staring at the ceiling." "I'm not alone, Love, you're right here with me. Asleep or not I'm still in your arms, and that helps a lot." You feel her smile against your neck and pull you closer against her front. "wake me if you need anything."

You actually slept fairly well; only waking up a few times to have Alcina soothe you back to sleep. Being tucked away in her embrace did a world of help, but you still woke up hours before Alcina did. Her eyes fluttered open and focus on your groggy face. She frowns.

"Did you sleep at all?"

You smile and kiss her lips. "Yes, I actually slept a lot better last night than before."

"Good," she pulls you back to kiss you again.

*******************************************************************************************

Later in the afternoon Bela and Cassandra invited (dragged you really) into the Drawing Room to play a game of cards.

Everything was going really well. You were laughing and playing with the girls like everything was as it should be in Castle Dimitrescu.

You were made astutely aware of the situation outside again when a loud crack of thunder shook the castle. There was another flash and clap of thunder, this time loud enough to make Cassandra flinch.

You abruptly shot up from the table. “Sorry. I need a minute.” You rushed down the hall into one of the guest rooms. Cassandra and Bela shared a confused glance and watched as you hurried away. They’d never seen you so flighty and nervous before. Neither could tell what was wrong.

They laid on the carpet and silently counted to sixty before following you to down the corridor.

“Y/n?” Bela softly knocked on the door. “It’s been a minute.”

There was no response. More thunder. Bela frowned. “We’re coming in, okay?”

She opened the door a crack and poked her head inside. You were nowhere to be seen. “Y/n?” Cassandra called, stepping further inside and glancing around the room. The sisters checked under the bed, then under the covers, even under the shade of the bedside lamp. Then Bela peered out of the rain-soaked window for good measure. Where else could you be?

Just as Cassandra decided she was stumped, she heard a rustling from behind her and a muffled, “I’m in here.” She turned around in confusion because the only place they hadn’t checked in that direction was…

They crept over to the closet and carefully slid open the door. The girls smiled when they found you sitting on the ground, curled up with your head between your knees. “Playing hide and seek now, are we?” Bela said. “Next round I call being the— um, y/n?”

“I’m fine,” you mumbled, staying right where you were. “Sorry.”

“S-Sorry for what…?” Cassandra crouched down beside you. The closet almost had enough space for the three of you to fit.

“Y/n, please. Something’s obviously bothering you, can’t you tell us?”

All three of you startled as another flash of lightning cut into the room, followed by another growl of thunder. You tightened your grip around your legs. Bela’s jaw dropped.

“It’s the storm,” she said, half a question, half a statement. “You’re scared of thunder?”

“It’s childish.”

“Oh, y/n…”

“I’m weak. Something as dumb and simple as loud noises shouldn’t make me so—”

“Y/n. Look at me.” Cassandra’s gently stern tone convinced you to move your head so your chin rested on your knees. You side-eyed the girls, trying to imitate your usual stoicism. It was difficult with red-rimmed eyes.

“A phobia doesn’t make you childish, or weak— do you know how many people have a fear of thunder, y/n? A lot of humans.”

“A lot of Uncle Heisenberg’s lycans as well,” Bela chimed in.

“And are you going to go around insulting them? No, Y/n, because that’s not nice. So don’t insult yourself for the same thing.” Cassandra waved around her index finger as she spoke. Your eyes widened and followed the movement. Both girls laughed.

“Is that what’s been giving you nightmares?”

You shake your head. “I just haven’t been sleeping; too tense.”

Cassandra giggled. “Just ask mother for extra cuddles, not like she’ll say no.”

“Or a more intimate distraction,” Bela winked.

Both sisters giggle at the blush creeping on your cheeks.

“Can we sit here with you?” Bela asked, already taking the vacant spot on your right.

You shrugged— as much as you could in this balled-up position. “You don’t have to.”

“It’s ok y/n, we don’t mind.”

They sat on either side of you, Bela holding your hand, enjoying the comfortable silence that cast over you.

*******************************************************************************************

A loud crack of thunder jolted Alcina awake. Cursing to herself she eyed the clock across the room–2:06 am. Raking a hand down her face, she jolted again when another crack of thunder echoed through the castle. It wasn’t a minute later that an insistent downpour of rain started pelting the roof and windows followed by an angry howling of the wind. You stirred next to her in the bed. You were mumbling in what sounded like a mix of Romanian and English. Alcina swallowed thickly because she knew what that meant; another night terror. She laid back down and curled herself against you, cocooning herself against your back. Alcina placed a few stray kisses on your shoulders and the nape of your neck, smoothing her hands along your hipbone in the process. You calmed after a few minutes, your mumbling returning to the steadying breaths of deep sleep. Alcina sighed in relief and closed her eyes in hopes that she could drift back to sleep.

KRAK-OOOOOM!

Alcina sat up on the bed and saw you still appeared to be sleeping, though you looked somewhat agitated. She reached over and attempted to run her fingers through your hair but all that succeeded in doing was causing you to jolt awake.

You woke up with a strangled yell and starting crawling out from underneath the sheets. You sat with your back against the headboard, your breathing and heart rate rapid. Alcina crawled over and realized you were having a panic attack. “Y/n, can you hear me?” You nodded, your eyes squeezed shut as tears started leaking from the corners. You clamped a hand over your mouth, and Alcina realized you were trying to silence your breathing. “Honey no, don’t do that, just focus on me,” she pulled your hand away from your mouth slowly. You shook your head and tried to take your hand back. “No no no... I can’t- I-I-I can’t wake Al-Alcina,” you gasped. “It’s alright, Dove, just follow my breathing.” Alcina took exaggerated breaths to demonstrate. You started calming down slightly. “That’s it, everything is alright, just keep breathing.” You seemed to calm down more with the breathing exercises. “I’m going to get you a glass of water“ Alcina started to say, but was cut off by you grabbing her arm. “No! Don’t-don’t lea- don’t leave, please, don’t- don’t” you closed her eyes, her breath quickening again. “Sweetheart, breathe with me. In, out. In, out.” Alcina took your hand and put it on her chest. “Breathe with me. In, out. In, out.” Your breathing returned to normal. After sitting in silence for a bit, Alcina turned to her.

“Another night terror?” She asked. You looked away for a minute, ashamed of yourself.

“No.”

God, you probably woke her up, good job.

Alcina couldn’t keep an amused smile from forming. “Can my little dove not sleep because of the thunderstorm?”

As if on cue, a blinding bolt of lightning crackled down from the sky. The following rumble of thunder seemed to shake the castle. You let out a whimper and shielded yourself from the sky. “How could I possibly sleep when it sounds like the sky is falling?!”

Alcina hums and pulls you close against her. “There’s nothing wrong with a healthy fear, Dove. It brings out the human in you.”

“UGH! Just-!”

KRAK-OOOOOM!

Another shriek, barely muffled by Alcina’s shoulder, had you violently trembling. You were barely holding yourself together.

Wracked with terror, eyes shut tightly, you found yourself unable to prevent the reflexive compulsion to cling to something nearby.

Which, in this case, was Alcina, who was left staring in shocked silence at the violently trembling form with arms wrapped tightly around her midsection. She immediately wrapped her arms around you again and began rubbing soothing circles on your back.

“Calm down. You’re fine,” She spoke softly, ignoring the buzz under her skin as she soaked in the unwitting embrace like a dry sponge in water. Soothingly, she rubbed up to your shoulder blades. “There we are, my love,” Alcina chuckled. “I’ve got you. Listen to my voice,” She rumbled, speaking soft but firm as the thunder forced smaller tremors through the floor. “You’re going to relax. I’m going to help you. Just lay here with me and close your eyes. I’ll hold you all night if you want me to.”

Gradually, the sound faded and petered off back into the loud patter of rain against the windows but Alcina held you tightly still. She could feel the flutter of your heartbeat against her own, almost impressed that you hadn’t passed out from fear alone.

“Why didn’t you say anything? The storm’s been going on for days now you must have been petrified.”

“I didn’t want you to know,” you mumbled into her neck. “It’s a pathetic fear I’ve had since I was a kid. I don’t want you to think less of me.”

“You think something as trivial as a phobia would make me think less of you?” She pulled you even tighter against her. You melted into her embrace. “Clearly I haven’t been a very good partner to you.”

“No Al, it’s not like that. Gods, you’re an amazing partner. It’s just my stupid insecurities. You’re all so fearless and brave. You’re not afraid of anything, and then there’s me; tiny, inferior, afraid of a little thunderstorm.”

She sighed and continued rubbing circles on your back. “I’m not fearless.”

“Yeah right,” you scoff. “What could the great and powerful Alcina Dimitrescu possibly be afraid of?”

“Death.”

You wriggled out of her arms just enough to turn and face her. “What? But, you’re immortal. Death isn’t really something you have to worry about.”

She gave a small smile and brought a hand to cup your face. “I never said my death, sweet one.”

Oh...OH

“The girls are clever, they can get themselves out of most situations unscathed, but still, we can be slain. And there have been some pretty close calls in the past. And you,” she rubbed gentle circles on your cheek. “Your death is inevitable. It gnaws at the back of my mind every time I look at you. Every time morning I have to untangle myself from your embrace I remember that one day I’ll wake up alone and wish I cuddled with you for just a bit longer."

"Al, I didn't-"

"I can't always be there to protect you, including the girls. If I could take the brunt of all conflict for you I would gladly do so, but that's unfortunately not how life works. I'm just left worrying until I know for sure you're all safe."

She hummed into your neck and kissed your pulse point. "How selfish of me, I'm supposed to be comforting you, not the other way around. If I paid more attention I would have known, I’m sorry, my love.”

“Don’t apologize, just hold me.”

Alcina kissed the top of your head. “With pleasure.”

Soon enough you did fall asleep again, your arms still clinging tight around the vampire’s upper midsection. Alcina found a comfortable enough position and allowed herself to drift away as well.

[barnes-dameron]

Balance

*gif not mine

The Mandalorian x Jedi!Reader

Summary: Upon arriving on Corvus, you realize you won’t be able to hide your secret from your Mandalorian traveling partner forever, especially since the Jedi you encounter asks a lot of questions...

Word Count: 4.1k 

A/N: Spoilers for Chapter 13 so read at your own risk! I think we all need a little something after the tragedy in Chapter 14. By the way, this is a gender-neutral reader ;)

***

The closer you got to Corvus, the further down your stomach sank to the floor. Your heart beat faster against your rib cage as anticipation rose inside you. The day that the Mandalorian came to you saying that he knows where to find a Jedi for the Child, you were shocked. Of course you were happy that the kid will finally get a teacher, but you were shocked that there were still Jedi around. 

Your leg bounced up and down as the landscape of Corvus came to view in the windshield. You took a deep breath, and left the cockpit, trying to avoid any questions that the Mandalorian might ask. The Child was asleep in his little hammock, and your heart ached for the little guy. From the first moment you saw him, you knew something was special about him. Well, you sensed it, really. And you hoped that the Child wouldn’t say anything, and thankfully, he didn’t.

You reached over, and picked up the tiny creature, his black eyes revealing themselves as his green lids pulled back. 

“Listen,” you whispered, bringing his face close to yours. “When we find that Jedi, you don’t say anything, got it? Do not blow this for us.” 

Of course, he didn’t repsond to your warning, but instead cocked his head and cooed. You rolled your eyes and shifted him so he was sitting on your hip. 

“We’re here,” the Mandalorian announced as he climbed down the ladder and opened the hatch door. 

You took another deep breath, and straightened your back before following the Mandalorian out.

***

You’ve been wandering around the forest on Corvus for a while now, your stomach turning with every step. After visiting the seemingly enslaved village and meeting the Magistrate, you followed the Mandalorian into the wilderness to find the Jedi named Ahsoka Tano. 

You constantly turned your head in search for the Jedi, dreading the impending moment of your meeting. You rested your hand on your blaster, your heart beating rapidly. 

“So you’re not really gonna kill this Jedi, right?” you asked, looking at your beskar clad companion with wide eyes. 

“No,” he simply replied.

You nodded, looking about your surroundings again. The Mandalorian set the Child down on a nearby rock, bringing his binoculars to his visor. You were so in depth in your own thoughts and anxieties that you didn’t even hear him talking. Sweat was collecting on your brow as you thought about what this Jedi will be like. You have heard stories of her bravery and her part in the Clone Wars, but that was years ago. Was she a different person now? Would she try to kill the Mandalorian? A crack from a tree drew you out of your thoughts, and a person descended from above. 

You moved over to the Child, reaching for your blaster as the Mandalorian struggled with the intruder. But the sight of the white lightsabers didn’t do anything to relax you. You could feel the heat from the Mandalorian’s flame thrower as he set her cloak on fire. You thought she was contained once he tied her, but never under estimate a Jedi. She gave him a smirk before jumping up, back bending over a branch, dragging the Mandalorian with her. Once on the ground, she ignited her lightsabers, freeing herself from the restraints, and preparing herself in a battle stance.  

“Ahsoka Tano,” the Mandalorian yelled. “Bo-Katan sent me. We need to talk.” 

You watched as she straightened herself from her fighting stance, pulling back her sabers to her sides. She was as intimidating as you imagined. 

“I hope it’s about him,” she said, looking over to the spot where you and the Child were.  

***

Your leg once again was bouncing as you settled yourself on rock. The Mandalorian’s pacing was no help to you at all, only increasing your nerves. You looked over at the campfire, with Ahsoka and the Child just staring at each other in silence. You have heard about this technique, in fact it was how you were found out years ago on Tatooine. 

Mando’s pacing wouldn’t cease, much to your annoyance. You never done what you were about to do, but you needed to know what was going on in his head. You were always so careful to hide your true identity from the man, in fear of what he would do to you if he uncovered the truth. However, something didn’t rub you right. You closed your eyes, concentrating and reaching out into the darkness. You could sense his own anxiety about the situation, but you left it there. If you lingered too long, he could catch wind. Ever since you came across him and the kid on his first trip to Tatooine, you could sense the bond between the two. When he mentioned about finding the Child a teacher, you knew it would be difficult for him. 

The Mandalorian stopped and began to make his way towards Ahsoka who was holding the Child. You got up from where you were perched and followed your companion. You listened carefully to everything that Ahsoka said, from the time of Child’s training up to the present. Plus, you were pleasantly surprised to find his name was Grogu. Ahsoka ended the conversation on a hopeful note of Grogu’s training in the morning. You nodded, getting up from your spot as Mando grabbed the Child, Grogu, to prepare a place to make for camp. 

“Wait,” Ahsoka spoke up, getting your attention. “Can you stay here for a minute?” You nodded to her, sitting on a nearby log before waving off Mando, who nodded and continued to make his way. You pressed your lips into a thin line while clearing your head from any impending thoughts. Your heart was pounding once again. You rubbed your hands over your thighs. “You know a blaster isn’t a Jedi weapon.” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you lied, gripping your thighs in defense. 

“Really?” Ahsoka replied. “Because Grogu said something very interesting-”

“Dammit,” you whispered, dropping your head while letting out a sigh. “What did he say?” 

“He mentioned that you knew the Force,” Ahsoka began. “But you were hiding it.”

“Yeah,” you nodded. “That sounds about right.” 

Ahsoka was quiet for a moment, and you felt her eyes peering into you despite your steady gaze on the forest floor. 

“Where are you from?” she asked. 

“Tatooine,” you mumbled, before meeting her eyes. 

She nodded, shifting in her seat a bit. 

“Have you practiced with a lightsaber?” she questioned, quirking up an eyebrow. 

“Once,” you revealed. “But my master thought it would be too dangerous to have one with the Empire and all so-”

“Wait,” Ahsoka interjected, holding up a hand. “Who was your master?” 

You realized your mistake. The air escaped your lungs as your heart sank to your stomach. You got up from your seat abruptly. What you needed to keep a secret, you almost let out. 

“No one important,” you said. “It’s late, so I’m going to go get some rest.”

You didn’t wait to hear her reply. You practically ran back to the Mandalorian, who was resting his head on a log as he laid on the ground. Grogu was nestled in one of arms, fast asleep. 

You tiptoed to where they were at on the ground, and moved to lay beside Mando, with your back to him and an inch or two between your bodies. You tried to even out your breathing, and put aside the questions that Ahsoka was asking. You had one job, and you almost blew it from the slight excitement that maybe you weren’t alone in the galaxy.

“What did she want?” Mando asked, his voice tinged with sleepiness and gruff through the modulator. 

“Nothing important,” you lied, turning over to face him. “Just some stuff about the Child.” 

Mando hummed, then out-stretched his arm as an invitation. You moved closer to him, placing your head on the clothed part of his bicep. Mando’s hand rested on your hip, and began to draw shapes with his thumb. 

“Do you think she will be a good teacher for him?” he asked, uncertainty laced in his voice. 

“I do,” you answered. 

You closed your eyes and started to drift into sleep, trying in vain to forget about Ahsoka for now. 

***

You were awoken from your sleep when a hard object was dropped on your stomach, the air from your lungs escaping. Your eyes flew open as you went to cradled your abdomen. A gasp nearly escaped your lips if it wasn’t for a hand covering your mouth. You looked up to see Ahsoka crouched above you, pressing a finger to her lips before motioning her head to follow her. She retracted her hand, and walked off. You took a deep breath, and looked over to Mando. For being a well trained Mandalorian, he can sleep like the dead when he wanted to. 

You slipped out from his arm, grabbing at the object that Ahsoka dropped on you. On closer inspection, you realized it was one of her lightsabers. Anger rose in you for her lack of dropping a topic. You marched over to where she stood, a good distance away from the Mandalorian and Child. 

“What the hell!” you whispered yelled, waving your arms. 

“A Jedi needs to practice,” she replied, shrugging her shoulders before igniting her lightsaber, illuminating her features in the darkness. 

“I’m not a Jedi,” you said through gritted teeth. “I’m just Force-sensitive.” 

“Oh really?” Ahsoka said in unbelief. Ahsoka reached her hand out, lifting up a rock that was a bit bigger than the Child’s size, and threw it at you. Panic arose at first, but by instinct, you rose your hand out in response. The rock was suspended in mid air right before your face. “I usually wouldn’t do that unless I knew for certain. That was just to show you that I didn’t believe you.”

You dropped your hand, the rock falling in front of you. You tightened your grip on Ahsoka’s lightsaber. If this is what she wants, then it’s what she’s going to get. You ignited the lightsaber in your hand, shifting your feet to a fighting stance that your Master once taught you. You saw the slight smirk that appeared on Ahsoka’s face as she too brought her lightsaber up with her backhand. 

 Ahsoka was the first to lunge forward, bringing down her saber onto yours as you rose it in a defense. You kept your feet planted to the ground as you pushed forward, then swung at Ahsoka, who blocked your advance. It was like a choreograph dance as you and Ahsoka sparred around the open space. The sound of the colliding beams filled the air along with your grunts. The lights of the clashing sabers nearly blinded you several times, but you didn’t let that stop you. You were taught better. You pushed Ahsoka aside one more time, before she looked at you, straightening her back. 

“Who was your Master?” Ahsoka asked through deep breaths. 

You ignored her question, and lunged forward again, bringing your lightsaber down on Ahsoka who blocked it last second. She pushed against the collided sabers, using more strength than before, causing you to stumble back. While caught off guard, Ahsoka bent down, swiping a leg against yours, making you fall down on the ground. The lightsaber flew out of your hand, switching off before Ahsoka grabbed it. She once again stood above you, but this time her lightsaber hovered over your face. 

“I’m going to ask you this one more time,” she reiterated. “Who was your Master?” 

You gave her a smirk, before reaching out your hand. The unlit lightsaber flew out of Ahsoka’s hand, returning once again to yours. You ignited the saber, clashing it against hers so it was away from you. You lifted your leg, and pushed Ahsoka with your foot. She fell backwards, but quickly got up, however you were faster. You scrambled to your feet, lightsaber in hand, and jumped onto a nearby boulder. You looked down at Ahsoka, switching off your lightsaber. 

“Obi Wan Kenobi,” you revealed. 

Ahsoka stumbled back, turning off her saber as her eyes widen down at you. You moved down from the boulder to a sitting position on the floor, watching Ahsoka’s reaction while trying to catch your breath from your bout. She let out a little laugh before sitting down across from you. 

“Obi Wan trained you?” she asked. 

You nodded.

“It seems like a forever ago, but yes,” you began. “I was living on Tatooine, and he found me. He only taught me little stuff like using the Force, and had me mess around with a lightsaber once. He was afraid that if I grew too much that the Empire will notice, so he ended our training.” 

You looked down at the forest floor, admiring the tangled roots from the nearby trees. So different from the sands of Tatooine. You remembered Obi Wan’s kind face and smooth instruction. He was always so patient with you even if you doubted yourself. You remembered the time when you went to visit him, but found his hermit’s hole empty. You waited for so long, but he never returned. You thought back to the time where you sat in his place, reaching out through the Force to feel him. But emptiness filled you when you couldn’t feel him. Looking up at Ahsoka’s sad eyes, you sensed that she knew about his absence in the galaxy as well. 

“I can see some of him in you when you fight,” Ahsoka said, fingering her lightsaber. “But I sense some fear in you.” You gulped, looking down again at the ground. “What are you afraid of?” 

You took a deep breath, thinking about your beskar clad warrior who you temporarily left behind. There was no way that you could hide anything from the Jedi before you. 

“I don’t know,” you started, rubbing your hands over your forearms.

Ahsoka smirked again, putting her hands behind her to lean back. 

“It’s the Mandalorian isn’t it?” she inquired, cocking up an eyebrow. 

“Yeah,” you sighed. “I try to conceal my identity from him because I’m afraid how he would react. Everyone knows that Mandalorians and Jedi aren’t on the friendliest of terms-”

“That’s an understatement,” Ahsoka snorted. 

“And,” you continued. “I don’t want him to hate me. I mean the kid-”

“Grogu,” Ahsoka corrected.

“Knew about who I am,” you continued, once again. “He used the Force multiple times in front of the Mandalorian but he’s only a child. And he was given the task to help him find a teacher. I’m not a kid, and if he finds out, I’m just scared that he’ll leave.” 

Ahsoka sat there, absorbing everything while nodding. She tilted her head. 

“You love him don’t you?” Ahsoka asked, already knowing the answer. 

“Yes,” you replied. 

***

You listened to the villagers’ joyous noises as they celebrated the victory over the Magistrate. Their outfits changed from dreary gray and brown to green and blue. You assisted Ahsoka and Mando in freeing the city, shooting down droids and defending the villagers. Despite all the fighting and blaster shots, you were impressed to see how well you all worked together, especially Mando and Ahsoka. If anything, it gave you hope for your situation. But was it different for them compared to you? Does he rather work with a Jedi who he has never met before to one who was hiding their identity to him? You shook the question aside, choosing to instead watch the people. Ahsoka smiled in pride, and gave over the pure beskar staff to the Mandalorian before he set off to retrieve the Child. 

You waited alongside the Jedi, admiring the people’s celebration as they reinstated their original leader before the Empire took over. But some time has passed, and the Mandalorian was no where in sight. After much silent deliberation, you and Ahsoka decided to head over to the Razor Crest instead. 

You navigated through the foliage, dodging roots and rocks here and there. It was silent between the two of you until Ahsoka broke it. 

“You know I can’t train him,” she said, repeating her conclusion from yesterday morning. 

You let out a sigh, remembering how Grogu proved himself with moving his favorite metal ball from Mando’s hand to his. You were so proud with him, but that was instantly crushed when Ahsoka gave her verdict. You glanced down at the forest floor, reevaluating your options for the little guy, but it was slim to none. 

“What if I trained him?” you asked, looking up to see her reaction only to be met with a blank expression. “I don’t know much, but I could teach him how to control it and when to use it. Plus, Master Obi Wan taught me about meditation so-”

“Y/N,” Ahsoka interrupted holding up a hand, and stopping in her tracks. You ceased your walking in return, looking at her. Ahsoka shook her head, her eyebrows coming together as she looked down before meeting your gaze. “You can’t train him either.”

“Why not?” you demanded, disbelief creeping in your voice. “He needs someone to help him, he’s just a child-”

“You have an attachment as well,” Ahsoka interjected. You felt like she just punched you in the stomach. It was true, but knowing that she could tell and hearing her say it out loud made it sound so real. You stared at her in a loss of words. “Jedi cannot have any attachments, it could lead you down a dark path. Like Grogu, you were in hiding too, in a way. It’s just not wise.”

Ahsoka returned to her walking, leaving you standing there. Obi Wan did tell you the stories and lore of the Jedi, and everything about the Light and Dark side. He instilled the principles of the Light side, and you always planned to uphold them, despite your slight attachment to the Mandalorian. You jogged to catch up with Ahsoka. 

“You’re wrong,” you said, holding up an air of confidence. “I won’t let my attachment lead me anywhere near the Dark side.”

“Funny,” Ahsoka replied. “I knew someone who thought the same.”

“Unlike that person,” you defended. “I will succeed.” 

“A Mandalorian and a Jedi,” Ahsoka hummed, looking up at the gray sky above you two. “Quite a combination.”

You shrugged your shoulders, before looking over at her. She met your gaze as she raised an eyebrow at you. 

“It’s all about balance,” you said. 

***

The hull in the Razor Crest was quiet except for the little noises coming from Grogu. The Mandalorian resided in the cockpit as he set the coordinates to your next destination. You could tell how lost he was when Ahsoka reaffirmed her previous conclusion to him, but she didn’t leave you totally in the dark. She provided you some instructions to find Grogu a teacher and to decide his fate, but you yourself were uneasy in the whole matter. You knew you could train him. Hell, you even came across him, and you’re a Jedi. 

You looked down at the little green creature who was sitting in your lap, his dark eyes staring up at you. You bounced him a little, while he giggled. 

“What are we going to do with you, Grogu?” you asked, meaning for it to be rhetorical, but he tilted his head at you at the mention of his name. “By the way, I didn’t forget what you did. You really had to tell Ahsoka about me, traitor? We had a deal.” 

You knew he wouldn’t say anything, but you still smiled at him. You pet his ears, and he cooed with content. 

“I can’t be mad at you,” you sighed. 

Your attention was pulled away from Grogu when the sound of boots hitting the metal rungs of the ladder echoed throughout the haul. The Mandalorian approached you, his figure towering over you while casting a shadow. He bent down, and picked up the Child, before returning him to his hammock in the bunk. Mando shut the door before turning to you, his gaze burning a hole into you despite the beskar helmet. 

“We need to talk,” he said, stepping closer to where you were seated in the haul. 

“About what?” you questioned, blood roaring in your ears as fear gripped your heart. What if he knew?

“I saw you,” Mando began, his voice even and steady. “That night on Corvus, you left with Ahsoka. I followed you. I saw you. You have the same power as the kid. You used a lightsaber like Ahsoka.” With every sentence, the Mandalorian took a step forward until he was right before you. Your heart hammered in your chest, tears brimming the rims of your eyes as you tried to keep your emotions in check. What if this was it? You couldn’t bear to leave him and the Child, but now it seems like you have no choice. You took a deep breath, watching him carefully. He gave off no inclination on what he’s about to do. His hands were steady by his sides, his breathing was even, and his voice was unwavering. “Are you a Jedi?” 

“Yes,” you whispered, looking at the floor instead of his visor. You gripped your  own arms with a vice, reminding you to stay grounded before getting overwhelmed. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked, his features unchanging. 

You swallowed a lump in your throat before standing up. You needed to face your fear, and not let it overcome you. You straightened your back, staring into the expressionless helmet. 

“Because I was scared,” you started. “I was scared that you wouldn’t want to take me on as a crew mate. I was scared that you would desert me on a planet all by myself. I was scared that I would lose you. The Mandalorians’ enemy is the Jedi, and I was scared that if you found out you wouldn’t want anything to do with me-”

You were cut off when Mando grabbed your biceps, pulling you forward until you were wrapped in his arms. Your cheek was pressed against his chest plate, his hands pressing into your back. You were silenced by his sudden actions. You wound your arms around him, before letting the tears fall from your eyes to run down the beskar. He didn’t want to kill you, or leave you. He wasn’t disgraced by taking in the enemy of his people. Instead, he was embracing one. 

“Listen to me,” he said. “I would never do that to you. After everything we’ve been through, I could never do that to you. I care about you, Y/N.” He pulled you back a bit, while keeping his hands on you. You stared up at the helmet, but if you looked closely, you could see the outline of his eyes. He caressed your cheek, the leather of his gloves soft against your cheek. “Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum,” he said, his voice softening. 

You didn’t know what he meant, but from his tender caresses and gentle voice, you knew he was speaking from his heart. 

“So you don’t mind having a Jedi on board with you?” you asked, humor hinted in your voice. 

“No,” he replied. “Now two Jedi, I might have to think about it.”

You gave him a playful punch to his bicep, a laugh coming from his modulator. His hands came to rest on your hips, before he reached in one of your pockets, and pulling out a small object. 

“What’s this?” Mando asked, holding the object up in the light. 

You grabbed the object from his hand, and held it up higher. 

“It’s a kyber crystal,” you answered, admiring the gift from Ahsoka. Before departing from Corvus, she pulled you aside once again, handing you the crystal. You were a Jedi after all, and she thought you should have a Jedi weapon instead of carrying around a blaster. Though Obi Wan is gone, she wanted you to know that there are more Jedi out there. “They power lightsabers. Ahsoka gave it to me so I can construct my own lightsaber when I’m ready. But I don’t think I’m going to do it.”

“Why not?” Mando questioned. 

“Well, our focus is the Child. We don’t exactly have time to stop everything to build one,” you tried to reason.

“Not now,” he said. “But maybe in the near future.” 

“Really?” you asked, excitement in your voice. “You would help me?”

“Of course, cyar’ika,” he affirmed. “A Mandalorian and a Jedi, they’ll never see it coming.”

Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum- I love you 

Mando Taglist: @absurdthirst @tangledlove27

[hargrove-mayfields]

It’s the 30th, which means it’s already the final day of @harringroveweek! I had such a fun time writing a new piece for every day! Thank you to everyone who participated in, engaged with, and organized this event!!

Today I chose the song of the day prompt: I Think We’re Alone Now by Tiffany!

trigger warning for detailed depictions of blood/injury and general violence. Basically, monster hunting.

If he lived to see another day, Steve was going to murder those kids.

Sending him out there with no back up, no plan, no fucking way out. Just watching as he was dragged under and didn’t resurface. What a real group of geniuses they are.

He doesn’t even know how long it’s been since then. If maybe they’ve forgotten about him. He’d prefer to think that they just think he found his way out and skipped town or something. Not that they probably had given up all hope.

To be fair, he would’ve too, pretty early on actually since after only about a few minutes of the portal sealing itself behind him, he’d been jumped by some new flesh eating thing.

Yet another obstacle he’d come unprepared for, without even a weapon.

Laying on the ground, being eaten alive by those things, that was when everything changed though.

Because Billy Hargrove, looking only a little worse for wear, had been the one to bash the monsters in, and toss Steve his own bat to finish the job.

Time moves differently down here, so he doesn’t know how long it’s been since then either, but one thing Steve is perfectly certain of is the fact that they’ve fought through another three hordes of those things, and spent even longer hiding from more.

They haven’t even had a chance to talk about much, like what happened before Billy died. Dynamic wise, things seem unchanged from last year, but as far as Steve remembered, Billy had died heartbroken by him and his stupid inability to not be jealous all the time. They fought and broke up and then Billy went missing.

But now he’s alive again, in better shape than Steve even, and they’re too busy fighting for their lives to fight for themselves. They just sort of accept that they’re together again.

Feeling like he can’t walk any further, Steve leans against the siding of a crumpled metal shed. They’d searched it for more weapons, then promptly broke most of them when another pack of demobats showed. His mouth tastes like blood, and not because he bit one this time. He needs a break.

“Hey. I think we lost them..”

Billy turns his head to look at him sharply, “Just like you’ve lost your damned mind if you think that means I’m just going to stand here and wait for them to come back.”

“I’m not stopping, I just need a breath. Not all of us have had this shit in our lungs for as long as you have.” Steve is doubled over now, panting a little. Blood and spit drip past his lips. Not a good sign.

The harshness drops from Billy’s tone instantly, moving to trying to encourage him, “Can’t let it get in your head or you’ll suffocate. You’re fine, Steve. Gotta keep going.”

Wheezing, Steve emphasizes his point, “So a little break isn’t going to kill us. I seriously think we’re alone now..”

“Fine. But if those things catch up to us again, with you in this state, we’re goners.” Billy sounds stern, but his heart isn’t in it.

Tired of leaning on hard metal, Steve sinks to the ground to catch his breath, “What happened to not letting it get to your head?”

Billy moves closer, drawing his weapon of choice, which is a shotgun for now. A silent agreement to stand guard for Steve while he’s down. He mutters bitterly, despite his willingness to help, “There’s a difference between being cautious and driving yourself crazy.”

“I think being trapped down here with you is enough to drive me crazy.”

“Good crazy or bad crazy?” Billy scoffs a laugh, and Steve returns it with a crooked, pained smile, “Both.”

“Aw, you’re just flattering me.”

“See? I can’t even get a word out without you being all sarcastic and snarky about it.”

“You like it.” Billy hums confidently, so, instead of disputing it, Steve decides to catch Billy’s ego off guard, “I guess I do. That’s why we’re going to make it out of here, Billy.”

Everything about him softens, his face, his posture, his voice, “Well if we’re going to do that, you’re gonna need patched up again. You’ve bled through again.”

“I’m fine.” Steve tries to resist, just so he doesn’t become a burden. His feelings towards Billy are too complicated right now, caught between that old summer fling and a sense of inferiority, for how quickly he succumbed to a bite when Billy’s been here for twice as long.

“Sure, thing. Just watch my back.” Billy hands off the gun and kneels in front of Steve, digging through the bag of supplies he’d been able to accrue during his time down here until he finds more bandage rolls, the cleanest material he can.

Shifting forward on his knees, Billy rolls up the sticky, tattered shirt they threw on Steve to cover his bandaging the last time. He grimaces, and Steve takes that as his cue to look straight up at the sky instead of assessing the damage for himself, “Damn it, Stevie. This is getting bad.”

He swallows hard, bracing himself by asking, “How bad?”

“Not worse than I’ve seen it. Just.. not good.” Billy pokes at it, assessing the damage. Even the lightest prod feels like fire in Steve’s abdomen, the pain flaring as far up as his chest.

He starts to panic, seeing the expression in the other boy's face combined with the intense feeling, “Oh god..”

Pulling his hands away to look for something else, bandages apparently not cutting it anymore, Billy warns, firm but sort of sweet sounding, “Panicking’s not going to do anything but shorten your air intake and attract those things to the sound. If you’d like to savor this tranquility, I suggest you cut the freaking out.”

Steve closes his eyes and tries to follow his advice. The first thing that comes to mind, he starts talking about it to get his mind off of the irritating ache, “You always just call the monsters ‘things.’ You haven’t named them yet?”

Billy snort-laughs, half-heartedly sarcastic, “Uh, no? Why the hell would I? They’re trying to eat me, they’re not my pets.”

Something wet touches him, and he reacts so fast, but so uncoordinatedly that he smacks his head off of the surface he was leaning on. It’s just a rag with bottled water, Billy’s attempt at washing away some of the dried blood to asses the damage further, but it felt suspiciously like a bat tail. Billy smiles apologetically. Steve rolls his eyes pathetically slow and and keeps talking,

“We call the big ones demogorgons. And the little ones are just demo whatevers: demodogs, demobats, now..”

Periodically checking in with Steve on what he’s doing after that little scare, Billy glances up at him, waiting for a small nod to keep pressing harder, wiping away more blood and dirt and monster spit than Steve knew was possible to have on him. He keeps him engaged as well, asking, amused, “Those losers named the interdimensional face-eating monsters after dungeons and dragons?”

“You recognized it.”

“Shit. You got me.”

A particularly painful movement has Steve wincing, demanding despite the nice back and forth they had going, “Are you done yet?”

“Almost. This last parts gonna hurt..” Billy warns, and Steve tries to understand but,

“Why? What are you- Fuck!”

Too late. There’s a stinging pain so intense his vision goes blurry, and if Steve didn’t want to throw up so bad he’d be cursing at Billy for it.

Knowing that just from Steve’s posture and his clenched fists, Billy explains himself, “Sorry, H. Pretty sure that was a tooth or something in there. I couldn’t bandage you back up like that.”

Steve lets his head fall back, suddenly feeling more exhausted with all this, his pain levels admittedly somewhat improving with that thing out of him, even if it sucked to get to that point, “Just please tell me that was it.”

Finally wrapping the bandage around, watching Steve’s face to make sure it isn’t too tight and making him feel weirdly vulnerable under his gaze, Billy remarks, proud of his work, “It’s your lucky day. All done.”

Finally Steve relaxes, exhaling out some of the tension he kept in his muscles to make Billy's job easier. It helps, but not much. “Christ.. How did you survive down here for so long? I’ve been here what, a few hours? And I’m barely hanging on.”

“One, don’t say that kind of shit. You’re fine. Two, I don’t really know why I was able to fight for so long.”

Billy looks away, whether he’s hiding his feelings or checking the tree line, Steve isn’t sure, “I mean, I guess that’s what I’ve done all my life, is fight against some big scary monster. Except now instead of worrying about school and my social life and watching Max, it’s just about surviving now. My troubles are between me and the monster and nobody else for once. So it’s almost easier.”

Steve opens his mouth to say something in response and validate his willingness to share his feelings, his breath sort of crackling in his throat, but Billy cuts him off quickly and stiffly, “I’m not done.”

“When all I have to do is fight, and not try to balance all these problems on top of an already broken foundation, I got to thinking. About how shitty I’d been to everyone, just because I was too busy fighting the monsters to notice. You and Max and Sinclair, mostly. Susan too. Everyone really though.”

Billy pauses to clear his throat. Steve can tell it's to hide the strained sound of a tearful voice, but he also coughs, pretending it was something to do with the air. In exchange for how open he’s being, Steve is willing to let him have that, “I dunno. I just felt kinda shitty knowing that if I died here and never made it back, everyone would always think of me like that, and I would have done nothing with my life but make other people feel like they were running from a monster. Running away from me and all my shittiness like I had done for so long.”

“So pretty much, I guess I survive now ‘cause I want to do better than that monster. And I want to get back so I can make things right.”

“You’ll get that chance, Billy. I promise. We’re getting out of here.” It’s not much compared to that massive emotional speech Billy had just given, but Steve doesn’t know what else to say, what else to believe in.

Billy only mutters, all his passion drained out and just sounding tired now, “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

“I mean it. Because unlike before, we’re not alone. We aren’t fighting these monsters by ourselves the way you had to. There are so many people behind us, those kids and their families, your family, that are looking for us right now.”

Steve assures him, making himself feel better if he’s being honest, “They don’t care who hurt who in the past. Our friends are going to do what’s right no matter what and they’re going to save our sorry asses. I know it.”

But Billy just sounds broken, defeated. “Steve. It’s been days. Maybe even weeks, and nobody’s come for you.”

He’s speechless. There’s no way it’s been that long. Bracing himself, he tries, “Well it was months before I found you. I never gave up on you.”

“Why?”

“You know why.”

“So say it.” Billy demands, and Steve does with equal intensity, “Because I love you.”

“Right. Do you think anyone up there feels that way about either of us?” He hadn’t been expecting him to weaponize that. Steve bites his tongue as Billy rants, “I shot down any chance of Max feeling that way a long time ago. Wheeler definitely doesn’t love your bullshit anymore. Our parents hate us. Half of those kids are strangers, and the other half just think you’re their expendable babysitter to send away on suicide missions to fix their problems.

“They don’t care, Steve. Not the way you do. With your stupid stubbornness and your stupidly big heart. They’re not coming for us now.” This isn’t something that’s coming out of nowhere. It’s obvious Billy has put a lot of thought into this, probably long before Steve found his way down here.

At least Steve knows where they stand relationship wise now. It’s not much of a silver lining.

Matching in his desperation and fear, Steve asks, “What do you mean?”

“You said it yourself earlier, babe. I think we’re alone now.”

A beat. Steve makes up his mind, “That’s not going to stop me.”

“Who said it should?”

“Alright, then. What’s next?”

The fight still seems to have drained out of Billy entirely. He shrugs, “You tell me. You’ve done this before.”

“We follow those things and see where they’re hunting. We’ll probably find another portal there if we’re fast enough.” Steve details. That’s how they found the portal on the other side, anyways. It’s the only theory they’ve got.

Billy buys it, seeming slightly less defeated to see that Steve actually might know a little bit what he’s doing, “If you’re sure, then lead the way.”

A hot spot for monster activity is usually near flat ground. Clearings and fields and places where the dead grass is tall enough they wouldn’t dare go near it unprotected.

Their hideout is on top of a hill for a reason.

Gathering all they need, weapons and such, they set out, waiting at the bottom behind trees and vines for a monster to step out. They’re hard to find down here, that bluish tint making everything look the same. It’s easier to listen. Rustling steps ahead, accompanied with growls and chitters, tell them they’ve got what they need.

Billy leads, peering around to check that the demodog is indeed walking away from them, and signaling for Steve to follow.

It leads them unknowingly for a good several miles until they lose track of it in a separate clearing. Exposed like this, they’re on high alert now, Steve’s got enough adrenaline pumping in his system now he can barely feel the bites. That’s for the best, he thinks. To be afraid of anything.

Up ahead, there’s a faint reddish glow emanating from exactly what they’re looking for, a hole large enough to fit them both through at once in the wall of what looks like the remnants of an old barn. A portal. Intimidating as the sight is, Steve is relieved, “There it is.”

Billy is too, as he jokes, “Are those things always that gross looking?”

“Who cares? Let’s just get out of here.”

Steve steps forward towards it, but is quickly caught by Billy, a strong hand on his shoulder freezing him to the spot.

Billy holds up a hand, a sign to stop and listen, “Wait..”

As expected, Steve hears it before he sees it, a demodog lurking just beyond the edge of the clearing where the old barn is. It chirps, calling for backup. Eventually Steve’s eyes adjust, and from yards away he can see rows upon rows of hungry teeth.

They hardly have time to prepare after that initial moment, Billy having just enough to make sure there’s still bullets in his gun before it pounces with a sickening snarl.

There’s a half dozen of them, two smaller ones taken out instantly with blasts from the shotgun as they opened their mouths to bite. For someone who never held a gun before, Billy’s become a damn good shot.

Then the gun clicks. It’s empty. He hadn’t had time to reload it before, so he certainly doesn’t now.

But he doesn’t falter for even a second, when the next one comes he uses the butt of the gun in the same way Steve is using his bat, swinging it and sending the demodog skidding across the wooded ground.

He chases it and bashes its skull in. That makes another angry and it pounces at him, taking his gun between it’s jaws.

More dogs swarm them, and they get turned around then, separated when a bigger dog runs between them, rearing to tear apart whatever it can get its teeth into. Steve calls it out and bolts, finishing off the one that initially ran with him with a side swing of his bat. It stumbles, already bleeding, and doesn’t get back up.

Now the larger one is after him, because Billy must not have killed the one he was fighting yet. Steve wishes he could stop and find him, make sure he was holding up. Right now, he let that get in his head. He focuses, and waits for the dog to pounce to jam the bat in its jaws.

The nails stop it from splintering the wood with its teeth, and give him a way to shove it through the things skull. He hates that part, feeling it pierce flesh, feeling the fight fade from what’s left of the monster. Not out of sympathy for it, just because it feels gross, to take a life.

It sounds like the fight has died down. He looks around, counting the bodies and coming up with six. There’s no more left from this wave. He withdraws the bat from the corpse and kicks it just to make sure it's not going to get back up and bite him.

Out of breath and sweating from the fight, Steve checks in with Billy after he’s sure that last one is dead, “Looks like we’re alone again. You good?”

“Uh..” When he looks over, Billy is pulling his hand away from his side, uncovering their worst fear. There’s blood on his hand up to his elbow, soaking completely through his shirt, which has been partially torn away to reveal giant gash marks in his side. A missing chunk of flesh near his ribs. It looks like Steve’s injury, but much worse, which makes sense considering this one’s a dog bite, instead of from those mole rats on wings. Rationality doesn’t make it less terrifying.

“Billy!” Steve drops his bat completely and rushes over to him, using his hand to press Billy’s back against the wound, applying pressure despite the way it makes Billy wince. He walks him backwards like that for a few steps to sit down on an old turned up tree stump.

“You know how I said it was only a little bad before?” Billy snarks through gritted teeth, voice straining with tension.

“Don’t. You’re going to be fine. We just have to go through the..” Steve glances over his shoulder at first, referring to the portal they had found. The portal that he doesn’t see even a trace of. He knows they hadn’t gone that far in the midst of the battle. His heart drops, his spins around, cranes his neck, desperate to find it.

But it’s not there, “Where’s the portal? I saw it, where’d it go?”

“Looks like we missed our chance.” Billy grunts in pain, forcing himself to sit up straighter, a sorry mistake that has him doubling over, barely able to speak, “Listen, Stevie, I don’t think-“

“Shut up. You’re fine. You have to be. I can’t do this on my own.” Steve kneels down to his level, tending to him in the only way he knows how, shaking out of his jacket and bundling it up, pressing it into his side. It makes him sick how quickly Billy’s blood seeps through the fabric onto his hands. He keeps talking, to keep them both sane, “We might be alone, but we’re alone together. You’re all I have. You have to keep fighting, for us.”

“Don't be such a sap. Just, get me some alcohol or something and I’ll be right as rain.” Billy smiles weakly, half-heartedly, trying to be snarky like usual.

Another snarl interrupts the mood, telling them more of those monsters are coming to where they are, probably to finish the fight.

“And maybe get me out of here first.”

“Can you walk?” Helping him back up to his feet, Steve wraps one arm sturdily around Billy’s middle, letting him press the wound on his own, carrying all their discarded weapons under his arm. They’re vulnerable like this. Too vulnerable.

Billy knows it, because he insists, “I’m fine.”

“You just said-“ Steve starts, but Billy cuts him off, the urgency of there being more dogs nearby outweighing his caution over the injury. Which is fair, because if more came after them like this, they wouldn’t stand a chance this time.

“I’m fine. Let’s go.” His insistence weighs out, and Steve begrudgingly walks him back through the long expanse of woods they traveled through in the first place, all the way to their shelter that way.

By the time they make it there, Billy’s barely conscious. It makes it easier for Steve to tend to him when he’s fading in and out like that, too in shock to argue or fight, but it does nothing to soothe his worries.

It’s at least a few more hours of bandage changes and shots of vodka before Billy’s fully with him again. Steve has taken the time to clean up most of the blood off of them, if not just to make the target on their backs smaller. He also found the least decomposed pillows and blankets he could find in their hideout and made a comfortable little corner to prop Billy up. It’s not ideal, but he thinks it might be nice to regain awareness in a slightly better state than when he went out.

The first thing he says when Billy is fully conscious is, “Hey. We’ll get another chance.. It’s not over.”

“I know.” With assistance, Steve ready to help as soon as he sees him move even an inch, Billy sits up on his elbows, “It’s just.. hard to keep hoping for something that seems like it’s never going to happen.”

“We were so close. Don’t quit on me now.”

“I told you I’m not I just.. I need a break.”

A reference to their earlier conversation. It hurts, realizing how long ago that felt, when really it only took them less than a day to fail so miserably. Steve pretends it’s okay, “Is this the part where you tell me I was right?”

“Sure. You were right Steve, stopping isn’t what’s going to kill us.” A slow smile spreads over pale lips, making him look more like himself, and certainly sounding more like Billy as he says sarcastically, “Just the gradual buildup of this floaty shit in our lungs from not doing anything. When we suffocate in a few hours, well, at least we got to rest right?”

Steve loses what he’s saying about halfway through though, because another sound catches his attention. He can’t be sure what it is, but after what happened, he’s on high alert. He warns, “Be quiet.”

Billy scoffs, “Damn. Won’t even entertain a wounded man.”

Steve shakes his head, listening and finally understanding. It’s surface noises that are distracting him, the distant sound of people talking and car horns and dogs barking that carry over in the dead of the night, so he explains, “No I.. thought I heard something. Voices.”

Billy looks hesitant to remind him, “Hate to say it, Stevie, but..”

“I know, I know. We’re alone, whatever. But.. don’t you think it’s strange how if we’re quiet enough, we can hear things on the other side?”

“I try not to think about it. I thought we already established that nobody's coming to find us.”

“Because they don’t know we’re alive down here, but what if there was a way we could contact them?” Steve’s onto something with this. Another breakthrough idea like before with the portal. He just hopes this one works out better.

Billy is skeptical before he’s even heard the plan, “Don’t torture me.”

“I’m not. I’m serious. When Will was down here, he was able to talk to his mother through lights, like lamps and things.” Steve explains the foundations of his idea as it comes to him.

Still not convincing enough, Billy rambles critically, “So we possess the lights and suddenly our problems are magically fixed? The portal closed on us Steve. Even if we catch somebody’s attention, what if it’s the wrong person up there? Some government cronies who rescue us just to blow our brains out in the backroom of a lab.”

“Then we find the right person before we do it. We have to try.”

“If you knew this all along, why only bring it up now?”

Steve motions to himself and Billy, the state of their clothes, the nearly identical bloodied bandages around them. Things aren’t looking so good, and that's his answer, “You’re hurt now. I’m willing to risk being hunted by the men in black or whoever the fuck they are if it means we have a chance at getting you help.”

“Alright, fine. I’ll play along. What do we do?” Billy shifts forward in interest, wincing slightly. He’s really hurting now. Steve can tell. But Billy’s hiding it well, so he doesn’t bring it up. Not until they’re safe.

“We don’t really know what Will did, but I guess you have to just touch the lights. And be careful about it so somebody can see that it’s intentional.” It’s the oversimplified version, but it will do.

Simplified plans lead to simple observations. Billy points out, “There’s nobody around.”

“Not on this side. But up there, things are normal. Life goes on. Empty buildings are full of people and light. As long as it’s somebody who knows about this happening before, we’ve got a chance.”

“Where do we find this somebody?”

“I’m going to leave it up to you.” Steve’s tone is rich with honesty, knowing that this is a tender spot for Billy. He suggests, “I don’t know most of the kids too well except Henderson. He’s probably noticed I’ve gone missing so he might notice the lights too. But then there’s also..”

“Max.” Billy finishes for him, his expression too multifaceted for Steve to even begin to break it down. What he gets most is doubt, “She knows about this shit?”

“Well, she’s been down here, technically. The night we fought..”

Billy doesn’t want to acknowledge that, enough other hints to argue about, moving on almost immediately to, “The lights in that house are shitty anyways though. Doubt she’d even notice a little flickering since that’s what they do all the fucking time.” He’s trying to make excuses for the obvious concern they both have without saying them. What if they don’t notice or care that it’s them?

Steve offers a solution, “There was something else.”

“Go on.”

“The radio. Will was able to turn on a radio, and Eleven could hear him through radio static. Nobody without powers could hear us, but if we flicker the lights and play music, she’ll probably know something is going on.”

“Think it’s worth a shot then?” Billy sounds more optimistic and stronger too. Like the idea of still having hope to be saved is helping him to push through. Steve doesn’t want to think of what might happen to Billy if this doesn’t work.

He nods determinedly, “The best we have.”

———

By the time they make it to Billy’s house, Billy himself is worn down. He’s slow and he’s exhausted and he’s just all around depressed. A sweaty, bleeding mess, much like Steve himself. Not that they could blame it entirely on the injury. They’d avoided this side of town deliberately, the memories too torturous to the trapped psyche.

The best Steve can do is offer his support, holding Billy’s hand tightly as they walk along, partially to help him walk with his injury, but mostly for comfort.

Even with a lethargic second half, finding the house is easy. Just from a year of Billy living in Hawkins they both had every path to and from the house memorized. The hard part is just going in.

Steve asks, after they’ve been staring up at the crumbled form of the house that was never really a home, and definitely not a place where he felt safe, “You ready?”

Billy doesn’t say anything more as he steps forward and leads the way, needing Steve’s help up the front steps but after that navigating straight to his old room. It’s unrecognizable under the thick black cover of vines and decay, but Steve can tell Billy still gets emotional seeing it. He sniffs, wiping at his eyes discreetly before walking to one specific spot,

“Somewhere under here is my stereo. There’s a lamp on the bedside table.”

That means he’s ready. Steve lets go of his hand and lets Billy reach out to the tangled mass of his death that engulfs their chance at discovery. Just touching it, the room fills with this overwhelming, static-like feeling, and there’s a faint, muffled sound like music. It’s indiscernible what's playing, be it some local radio station or the last mixtape Billy left in the rack, but they can tell something is. A fact which is accentuated by the sound of a distant shout in the house.

It worked.

Someone in the real world, and they both have a guess as to who that is, wants the radio turned off. An unfortunate confirmation that they are heard.

“Quiet.” His adrenaline kicking through the roof again, Steve shushes Billy, convincing himself he can hear the sound of approaching footsteps.

“I wasn’t even sayin’ anything.” Billy argues, his voice whispery and sad. This is hard for him. Being hurt and having to ask for help, and just being able to communicate after so long trapped in this dimension.

“You are now. Hush.”

For a moment there is no more noise from above, the only sound the beating of their hearts in the tense moment and the faint radio static.

Anticlimactically, it just shuts off. And then there’s nothing.

Steve looks at Billy and he’s already looking back, they nod in mutual agreement to try again.

Billy taps it once more, and this time, they get a real response.

It’s thankfully Max that’s been tasked with shutting down their sound, as she mutters, barely audible through dimensional barriers, Come on, you stupid thing.”

She shuts the stereo off again, shaking it slightly. But hearing her voice only means they have to act more, before this incident is written off as an easy to fix technical problem and they lose their chance.

Billy turns it on and doesn’t take his hand off, with Max’s further attempts at silencing the stereo now unsuccessful.

She raises her voice slightly, without being able to see her, sounding on the verge of tears, “Even now you just have to annoy me... Why won’t you let me forget you?”

Steve keeps his head down. This moment feels too personal. Even though it’s his only sense of connection right now, he fights the urge to listen too. Those words were meant for Billy.

Only out of his peripheral does he see Billy, who’s taken Max’s words as his cue to up the game, reach across to the lamp he’d mentioned and putting his hand where the long shattered bulb would have been.

They hear Max sigh bitterly, “Great. Now I’m going crazy too. Is this..?”

Her disbelief makes Billy tense, almost panicked from not being able to get his point across easily, or any more clearly than this. Steve imagines that as he does so, the light dulls, because Max’s next response is even more doubtful.

“Of course it’s not.. I’m so stupid. And now I’m talking to myself. This is fine, everything’s fine.”

But it isn’t, and as Billy applies more intensity to the radio, the correlated volume going up on the other side, they hear the sound of hollow thuds against hard plastic, the unmistakable sound of Max smashing the radio against the desk in frustration, “Why won’t you turn off!”

Interrupting her meltdown, Billy goes back to the lamp, trying desperately to get her attention, to answer her question and say that it won’t turn off because there’s someone who needs her to hear them. Steve joins in, reaching up towards the half-exposed ceiling light, which he imagines is still perfect on the other side.

It seems to be enough. In a fascinated voice that is thick with tears, Max confirms what they needed to hear all along, “So this is real. This is really happening. Then that means… Billy?”

They both stop with the flickering, leaving the room in silence and dark until Billy, very purposefully, lights up that one bulb as intensely as he can manage. Whether it’s from the effort that takes or just from the situation, tears are tracking down Billy’s face now. He looks like he’s about to break completely.

“I knew it. I knew it!” The effort, the plan, the poorly thought out strategies, it’s all coming together for this moment. They hear Max raise her voice, as if to be better heard on their side of things, “Hey, um, I-I don’t know if you can hear me too good but, just stay wherever you are. I’m going to get us help.”

Billy nods, but realizes she can’t see him. A strange expression that Steve can’t read settles on his face, and he flickers the lamp, a confirmation that he heard her.

They can hear Max taking shaky deep breaths, sounding in shock, “You better still be here when I get back with backup. I need proof that I’m not nuts. Just.. I’ll talk to you again soon...”

“Please be real, please be real…” Bittersweet, the sound of her voice slowly fades to nothing as she leaves the room. Their presence is known now, but they’re technically back to square one, without anybody but themselves.

This time though, there’s hope in the solitude. There’s a future for them if they can just assemble enough help to make that reality.

Steve puts his arm around Billy, careful not to bump the massive injury in his torso. For the first time since he’s been down here, he smiles a genuine smile, “I don’t think we have to worry about being alone anymore.”

[ysljoon]

Lunchbox Friends|Park Jimin x Reader

This fanfic is mature so please avoid if you are not 18+. This is also a yandere fic so there are sensitive topics.

Warnings: Drinking/mentions of alcohol, partying, oral sex (f receiving), assault (Jungkook gets punched by Jimin), choking, noncon sex, Jimin is a peeping tom, masturbation, creampie. threats, mentions of a knife

Jimin had been by your side since middle school and you guys have been stuck together by the hip since then and refuse to separate. You don’t ever plan on living your life without him as he has seen you at your highest highs and your lowest lows. He knows you inside and out and you wouldn’t want this any other way. It wasn’t until you guys went to college that you realized your friendship had overstepping boundaries. It wasn’t noticeable to you until your friends pointed it out to you and even then you were still in denial. Why would your best friend suddenly not look out for you? It just didn’t make sense to you and you wanted to push it out of your mind.

Tonight was Hoseok and Jungkook’s party and you felt the whole campus buzzing with excitement. You were never close with Hoseok, but you had a few run-ins with Jungkook since he was friends with Jimin and Jimin had introduced him to you. Jungkook seemed like a sweet person and you had your eye on him for a while so you thought tonight was the perfect night to make your move on him. Once your classes were done you took the shuttle to your shared apartment with Jimin to get your outfit ready for tonight. When you reached the apartment you saw Jimin on the couch just watching TV.

“Y/N! You’re back, come give me a hug I missed you!” You dropped your bag by the couch and collapsed in his lap. He attacked you with tight hugs and kisses on the top of your head. Your friendship is very close and touchy, but this is just what happens after years of friendship so boundaries were very few and far between. You snuggled in his lap and scrolled on your phone to kill time and he continued to watch some drama filled reality show that he constantly loved to watch.

As time passed you realized it was an hour before the party so you tried to get up from Jimin’s lap but he wrapped his arms around your waist to keep you down. “Y/N can’t we just stay here for the night you can have so much fun with just me! We don’t need to go to some dumb party to have fun on a Friday.” Jimin whined, but you pried yourself from his arms and made your way to the bathroom to shower. You stepped in the shower and played music to get you in a hype mood to be in the party mindset. You were singing your heart out and didn’t hear the bathroom door creak open to create a slight opening that allowed your body to be exposed to prying eyes. Those prying eyes belonged to Jimin and you were unsuspecting of the fact.

Jimin ogled your naked body in the shower through the steamy glass panes and it started to make his pants tighten. Jimin started to palm himself while admiring the curves of your ass and breasts. You were in the middle of shampooing your hair, your bottle of body wash fell off the shelf and you bent over to pick it up and that had Jimin groaning from pleasure. He unbuttoned his pants and slid his underwear down enough where he could fist his cock with ease. He filthily spit into his hand and rubbed his dick slowly to not build up to his orgasm too quickly. You started to sway your hips back and forth to the rhythm of the upbeat song in your playlist. This had you looking so sexy in Jimin’s eyes. He wasn’t only getting off on how good your soapy body looked in the shower, but also the thrill of knowing he’s jerking off to his best friend who doesn't know how much he wants to ruin her right on the spot. Jimin hurriedly came to his orgasm when he realized you were almost done with your shower and hurried to his room when he stroked out his high.

You finished getting ready and slipped on a tight dress. You slipped on your shoes and waited for Jimin on the couch. After 10 minutes of impatience you knocked on his door and he swung it open after the second knock. “It really surprises me how impatient you are, it’s a wonder how I’ve tolerated you for this long.” You just rolled your eyes in response and grabbed his hand to leave.

Once you enter the house party you notice both Hoseok and Jungkook talking in the kitchen. Just seeing Jungkook brought butterflies to your tummy. Before you made your way to the men you found the table filled with bottles of drinks and poured yourself about two shots worth of fireball and downed it in one big gulp. You needed liquid courage if you wanted to make any progress with Jungkook tonight. Jimin watched you with wide eyes at your sudden behavior and you just gave him a wide smile while you made your strides to the kitchen. Jimin stood in his spot dumbfounded on how easily you left him. It irked him and made him feel disposable. He tried to brush off the feeling but it loomed over him for the rest of the night. He followed the direction you traveled to and saw you talking to Jungkook. You were giggling to no end and your cheeks were so round from how much you were smiling. This whole night bothered Jimin as he expected to spend it with you and only true. He walked away from the scene and moped on the couch while watching the party go down. If he continued to watch you throw yourself at his friend he would end up doing something he would regret.

“Y/N I’m surprised we haven’t properly hung out, you’re so much fun outside of class!” You rolled your eyes at his comment and poured yourself another mixed drink. The drinks helped you and Jungkook start to get cozy with each other. Hoseok even left you two alone when he noticed the atmosphere start to change between you two. Somehow the two of you managed to get rid of any space between each other and were now in close enough proximity to be skin to skin. The two of you were drunk enough to be bold but also not drunk enough to forget what happens if your actions don’t work in your favor. You started to eye his lips and Jungkook noticed because he started to come closer to you and get rid of the already nonexistent space between you two. Slowly your lips started to mold together and your stomach felt like there were fireworks bursting inside you. The two of you pulled away and Jungkook kept his hand on the small of your back. “Y/N, I hope you take me up on this offer or I’ll feel like a total idiot, but do you want to go up to my room and continue?” You were quick to agree and fervently nodded. Jungkook gave you a grin and took your hand in his and you two were quick to go up the stairs to his room.

Jimin saw you two go up the stairs and now he was livid. His best friend ditched him to go get fucked by his friend. You were selfish and he was going to make you regret your decision of being such a whore in front of him. He downed his drink and rushed up the stairs to Jungkook’s room. He swung open the door to find you completely naked and Jungkook’s head between your thighs. Oh how he wishes it was him instead. You looked at JImin mortified and crawled under Jungkook’s bedsheet with haste. Jungkook came close to your side and held your shaking body. “J-Jimin you could’ve at least knocked or something!” You were borderline angry at this point as Jimin wasn’t taking any hint to leave. Jimin took it upon himself to invite himself further into the room and locked the door behind himself. Now Jungkook was starting to get agitated. “Bro you’re my friend and all, but I really think you should go right now. I wasn’t doing anything to your best friend that she doesn’t want.” Jimin was furious to hear Jungkook’s words and in a blind fit of rage he punched Jungkook out cold and watched his body drop to the floor with a loud thud. “Jimin! What on Earth are you doing?” Now you really were scared as you have never seen Jimin act out so violently.

“Y/N, you have no idea how much I want you and have fantasized about you. Now you’re going to see tonight how I’ll make you mine!” He grabbed you by your throat and threw you down on the bed. You started to strain yourself to get any chance to breathe, but any chance you got Jimin held onto your throat tighter. He had a sinister look on his face and you were scared for your life. When your vision started to go in and out from darkness Jimin released his grasp on you and you dry heaved for oxygen. He did that just to put you in a weakened state and he used it to his advantage. He crawled on the bed and loomed over your body and grabbed your legs to drag you closer to him. He tried to force his head between your thighs but you clamped them together but he managed to pry them open. He gave you a hard slap on the back of your thigh. “Princess you won’t like me if you disobey me and fight back so just please just let me love you.” Jimin tried to give you a soft look, but you can still see the darkness embedded into his eyes. You forced yourself to comply without making eye contact. The idea of your best friend was gone and you would do anything to have him back and not have this monster in front of you.

Jimin lowered his head down to your core and gave you kitten licks on your clit. You felt so much sensitivity and you clamped your legs around his head. You felt Jimin let out a light chuckle and you tried to block the sound out of your mind. You tried to make the situation better for yourself by imagining that it was just Jungkook above you instead of Jimin taking advantage of you. Once Jimin had his fill of eating you out he lifted himself up and freed himself from his pants. Once he had his cock out he shoved himself into your tight, wet cunt with no mercy and you gripped onto the sheets with a vice grip. “Kitten, don't you love how my fat cock feels in your hole? Don’t I make you feel so good.” You had your eyes shut trying to acclimatize to his cock, but the pain was taking too long to subside. Without even getting a chance to answer, Jimin grabbed your jaw to make you look at him. “Y/N, I want an answer. Tell me how good I make you feel.” You felt so embarrassed, but you just needed to give him an answer to please him. “Y-yes you make me feel so good! “ Jimin loved how his cock looked sliding in and out of your pussy and how your tits bounced and that it brought him close to his orgasm. You felt his grip get tighter on your hips and you felt his thrusts get rougher and his groans get louder. You knew he reached his high when you felt his hips stutter and his cum start to leak out from your hole. Once he was out of you he got dressed like what just happened was not troubling. You stared at the ceiling and felt the tears drip down your cheeks. Just when you thought it was all over Jimin’s body was above you again and this time he had a pocket knife pressed to your throat. “If you ever try to get with Jungkook or anyone else I will kill you. You are mine and only mine you need to know that.”

Notes: I hope you guys are currently enjoying the start of my yandere series! I will eventually get to all the members. I am also working on making a masterlist so in the mean time if you would like to find my other works you can find them under the tag ‘bts fanfiction’ or ‘bts fanfic’ if you search my page! Again if you liked what you read please leave a like and a reblog it really helps! You can also give me a Kofi if you would like to help support my work!

[yeojaa]

feed me, fight me.

pairing.  boxer!jjk x f!reader.  rating.  explicit.  tags.  relationship issues, baby angst, comfort, unprotected sex (please be responsible!).  wc. 3.5k.  beta reader.  @hobi-gif​, always.  💖  author note.  i’m really into comfort fics rn so... 

What do you get when you mix a pissed off girlfriend with a neglectful boyfriend?  (Aside from trouble, that is.)

The answer is you - throwing punches far harder than you should be, completely disregarding the fact that you’re meant to be playing the part of perfect partner, meeting pads in the sequence he’s laid out.  It’s you throwing a hook when you should be swinging an uppercut.  It’s you, snapping your leg out with a satisfying thunk! of your shin when you should only be thip kicking.  It’s you, not giving a single damn as you take out all your frustrations on someone who’s growing increasingly more irritated by your childishness.  It’s you, blatantly disrespecting him in his ring - sending a reminder that there’s more to life than the four corners of this space. 

How can he blame you though, when he’s the reason?  When you’ve voiced your annoyance more than once - more than twice, more times than you care to count - and each time it’s met with a half-hearted apology (if you could even call it that)?  How can he hold it against you when you’ve asked, demanded, pleaded for more? 

“Cut it out,”  he seethes, quiet, under his breath, irritation igniting his expression, something hot and angry burning in the dark of his stare.  A withering wildfire in an empty field, smoldering coals flickering bright.  It presents itself in how his mouth curls, the hard line of his jaw as bone threatens to snap in half from the tension. 

“Cut what out?”  Your retort is punctuated by the smack of leather on leather, the worn edge of your boxing glove meeting the pad that Jungkook raises just in time to avoid a black eye. 

“What’s your problem?”  How he manages to snipe back - somehow sounding disgruntled by your behaviour - you’re not sure.  All you know is it boils your blood, searing heat within your veins when he effortlessly blocks your next jab.  He knows you well and knows the sport better, predicting each movement as if you’re telegraphing it all with a giant neon sign on your forehead. 

(You probably are.  You’ve never been good at hiding your emotions, pinning your heart on your sleeve, your sadness heavy in your mouth.  They wear you, rather than you it.  A weakness of yours.)

“You’re my problem.” 

“Shut up.”  It’s not the usual exasperated annoyance he levels you with, meaner and paired with a swat of your gloved hand.  He’s not supposed to be countering you, instead only blocking the punches you throw his way. 

(But then again - when did he ever listen to you?  When did he ever do what he was supposed to?)

(It’s not a fair assertion.  You’re just mad.  Livid beyond belief, standing atop this hill that you’ll happily die on.)

“Fuck you,”  you snap, offering the petulant comeback in the same instance you surge forward.  He blocks your jab - sees it coming from a mile away - and goes to block your hook. 

Except it never comes, your knee straightening out instead, hard edge of your shin slamming right into the side of his leg. 

He crumples more out of surprise than anything, eyes wide, all the anger swept away by something closer to astonishment.  It shines impossibly bright in his eyes, turning his entire expression upside down when his knee hits the ground.  By how he falls, you’re sure you’ve hit just the right spot, left his nerve endings buzzing uncomfortably as the feeling leaves the limb. 

“Are you serious?”  You know he’s genuinely baffled then, voice slipping, cracking in a way you’d normally find adorable.  (It goes to show how upset you are, the awkward split of his words doing nothing to soothe your temper.)  “What’s your issue?”  He’s still seated on the floor, rocking back on his heels, brow knit in consternation.  It’d take him seconds to jump up - to put you on your ass - but he chooses to remain where he is, staring up at you with that look on his face.

(That look you love.  That you hate.  That makes your insides turn to goo on his best days and misery on your worst.  That you’ve seen every single day for the last three years, as the first thing upon waking up and the last thing before passing out.  That makes you hesitate now, peering down into it.)

(Were you being unnecessary?  Unbearable?  Was this on you?)

“I’m going home.”  It’d be nice to tear your gloves off, throw them in his face and storm off in a huff.  It’d cause the scene you’re hoping for, push him to where you need.  (Because that’s the thing about Jungkook - he doesn’t react otherwise and you’re sick of it.)  Instead, you turn on your heel and slink away, silent as a mouse.  

You’re tired.  Too tired.  Why had you started something you couldn’t finish?

It shouldn’t surprise you that you’re home alone for hours that night, curled up in bed and half-asleep when light from the hallway spills into your bedroom.  It comes with hardly any noise, a tell-tale sign he’s trying not to wake you (or disturb you or get caught).  You almost let it slide when his figure appears in the doorway, broad frame swallowed up by the oversized sweater he wears.

He’s moving near silently, having already deposited his gym bag in the laundry room.  He doesn’t even switch the light on, moving around in the muted glow of the hallway, fumbling as he strips his clothes off and tosses them into the hamper against the wall. 

You expect him to head directly into the en suite, wash away whatever grime he’s accumulated throughout the day.  He’s always been this way, far too concerned with dragging in odour and dirt into your bed to do otherwise.

Except tonight, he doesn’t follow his usual routine.  Tonight, he makes a detour.

The bed dips before you realise what’s happening, grip on the pillow under your head tightening.  Words fit between your teeth, ready to spill out, lash out, tear out like a bullet deadset on landing a bullseye. 

“I’m sorry.”  Two words you’ve been waiting to hear, that startle you enough to throw your anger out the window, tossing them out with the wash.  “I don’t know why you’re upset but I’m sorry for whatever it is.”  He’s speaking into the quiet of your bedroom.  You can feel his hand settled on the bed, wrist somewhere over the line of your spine.  

Oh - he thinks you’re asleep.

“Things have been crazy.  I’ve been stressed.”  Here, under cover of night, he’s vulnerable, explanation tumbling forth uncertainly.  You can hear it in the way the words form, syllables slipping into each other - a sure sign of his exhaustion.  “I know that’s not an excuse, so I’ll be better.”  Though he readjusts, weight distributing differently over the bed, he isn’t touching you.  You can only imagine how he looks, the posture he’s taken on, arms leant over knees, hands twisting together in that way of his that begs a silent help me.  A version of him you’ve seen only a handful of times.  

(Jeon Jungkook does not let things get to him.  Never has, likely never will.  He’s immaculately put together, strung tight by years of growing up too fast, wanting too much and fearing it’ll slip away.  He goes and goes until he can’t any more and only then does he still, crashing headlong over a cliff of his own creation.)

It’s then that you realise while you’ve grown irritated with his preoccupation, coming second to the man you’ve only ever put first, he’s been suffering right alongside you.  Differently, certainly, but suffering nonetheless.  Holding his cards close as he’s always done, shouldering all the things on his own and hoping for the best.

Irritation flares first.  Anger at the fact that he hadn’t confided in you.  It burns bright, erodes everything else in its path.

And then it dims almost immediately, overshadowed by a tenderness that blooms in the small of your chest.  Rosebuds that fill the cavity and swath affection in broad strokes, colouring everything purple - a pretty mosaic made up of equal parts love and sadness.

“You should’ve said something.”  

Bambi-eyed baby is your nickname for your boyfriend - one he reluctantly wears, scowls at when you use it in public - and yet you’re still blown away by the glossiness of his stare, how wide it goes when you roll to face him, simultaneously flicking your bedside light on.  There’s embarrassment crowding his expression, lighting up every handsome facet of his features in technicolour.  He works to hide it almost immediately, moves back on the bed as if he might find himself a home in the shadows.

“I thought you were sleeping,”  he mumbles, not quite looking at you, stare focused on your pillow case, the white linen that you’d bought when you’d moved in together.  “Did I wake you up?”

Though his concern is real, you know it’s a distraction too.  His way of deflecting, shifting the focus back to you.  

(Jeon Jungkook doesn’t live in the spotlight.  Hates it, in fact.  It’s a curious combination - wanting to be praised, to show off, and yet fearing failure so strongly.  A worrying mix when he’s down and an endearing one when he’s up.)

You’re still cocooned, still held far enough away that he hasn’t run for the hills, locking himself in the bathroom to put a further physical barrier between you.  Should you move too fast, you know he’ll spook.  Push too hard, he’ll leave.  

“Couldn’t sleep without you.”  It’s true enough.  Dreams had evaded you for the better part of the evening, held somewhere by hands inked like his, blemished by scars and calluses like his. They’d been kept in his coat pocket, tucked behind his ear.  (So maybe it’d been anger, too, that’d kept you up.  That doesn’t matter now.)

The disbelief is evident, both in his words and the quirk of his mouth, bathed in dim light.  “Really?”

(You sometimes wonder how different the two of you see things.  What a day looks like from his point of view - whether he reads all of your interactions in the same way.  You’ve always been terribly incompatible in that way, opposites in so many respects that it’d frankly baffled your friends when you’d started dating.

You were intent - sometimes too intent - on resolving problems, never letting up.  Forcing conversations you felt you needed to have, demanding answers even before there was one.  He, on the other hand, was uncomfortable with conflict, choosing to ignore the things that bothered him until they went away.  It’d driven you absolutely insane at first, made you worry that it was you that was the issue, simply being too much.  

But over time - three long years, to be exact - you’d found a common ground.  Or so you’d thought.)

“Why are you so surprised?”  

“You were pissed earlier.”  There’s a lightness to his tone, careful consideration poured into each word he offers, as if he’s navigating a minefield.  You’ve had these kinds of disagreements too many times for him to believe otherwise, as if his caution is a part of him, stitched lovingly - forcefully - by your hand.  “Thought you wouldn’t wait up for me.”  

“I shouldn’t have,”  you retort before you can help it, still just a little childish, a little hurt.  “But you know I hate going to bed angry.”  Of course he knows.  He’s lost hours of sleep due to your insistence that everything be talked out. 

He hums a noncommittal sound - more of a grunt - and you know your window is closing.  Now that you’re not out for blood, he’s retreating as he always does.  Readying himself to rise from the bed, close this half-read chapter and move onto the next. 

You beat him before he can, curling your fingers around his wrist, over the dangling silver chain.  (His birthday gift this year, heavy metal that’s cold under your touch.)  

“Don’t.”

One blink.  Another.  Slow and confused - deliberately so.  Then he’s looking away, staring down at the ground as if you haven’t just read his next move.  The ring might be his domain but home is yours;  it’s the one place you hold the upper hand.  “What?”  

“Don’t leave.”  It’s easy to read the meaning in between your words, the unspoken request that might as well be brilliant red ink.  It’s far kinder than your usual demands, more pleading than begrudging, more need than want.  

“I need to shower.”  

It’s not a no - which you suppose is a win. 

“Just wait.”  Your request comes with an adjustment, whole tired frame rising from the bed only to sink back down - this time against your partner, your other half, your infuriating love.  He accepts you readily, dropping his ink-strewn hand over your covered thigh.  The weight is comforting over the warmth of the duvet, grounding you in the quiet of your home.

“I’m gross,”  he complains, though he doesn’t make to move away.  Stays right by your side when you drop your head against his bare shoulder.  “Now you’re gross.”

“We can be gross together.”  Because you’re not ready for him to leave you, to close the door as he so often does.  (And, for once, you’re not quite as angry, not seeking an argument that’ll give you the resolution you hope for.  You want communication, open and honest.  You want him, vulnerable and soft.)

A little sigh comes, a puff of breath that expands his doughy cheeks and sends wayward strands fluttering.  It’s less resigned and more endeared - you know how much it means when his acquiesces like this.  

Maybe he wants those same things, you think.  

“Do you wanna shower?”  You ask in perfect tandem, words folding together.  You nod in the same way.

Encased in the small space - it’s different.  He’s preoccupied, back turned to you, shielding you from the slow-heating stream.  It’s as if his mind is a thousand lightyears away, trapped somewhere with the stars as the water rains down around the two of you, fogging the glass and wetting his hair. 

“Babe?”  

There’s a delay before he reacts, peering over his shoulder at you, a faraway look in his eyes.  You wonder what he’d been thinking of, whether he’s still on the same page as you or if he’s skipped ahead as he tends to do.  When he speaks, you have your answer, his words flicking through paper to bring you two where you need to be.  

“Can you wash my hair?”  An indulgent treat he rarely requests, one he seldom allows.  He’s far too on the go, jumping from this to that to spend much time like this with you. 

It’s a sign if there ever was one. 

You reach for your shampoo bottle wordlessly, popping the cap and depositing sweet peach-scented liquid into your hands.  They fold into his strands carefully, tips of your fingers pressing into his scalp, delightful bubbles accumulating between your digits.  He doesn’t make a sound but you feel the way he relaxes, practically melting into your touch as you work the cleanser through his roots, careful to keep the suds from descending into his eyes. 

When was the last time you’d done this?  Weeks ago?  Months, maybe?  You honestly can’t recall.  (Not that it matters now.  You’ve found yourselves back here, terribly tender and intimate in the dead of night.  Almost as if no time has passed at all.)

Silence stretches between the two of you.  You don’t even need to instruct him to rinse, running seamlessly through the routine without hesitation. 

Conditioner replaces shampoo, deft fingers combing through the few knots in his feather soft strands.  Though there are hardly any, you know he loves when you take extra care, treating him in ways he’d never ask for otherwise.  He savours these quiet moments of almost-solitude, spoiled rotten by your familiar touch and comforting affection.  

You’d give it every single day if you could.  Had, in fact. 

That’s what’d brought you here, after all. 

“‘m sorry,”  he says - mumbles really - surprising you as you’re working your fingers into the nape of his neck, concentrating on the tension that’s carved out a home beneath muscle and sinew, turned bone iron-clad. 

“For what?” 

Any other time, it might’ve come across demanding, needing an answer that would soothe whatever inadequacy he’d somehow strung your heart up with.  Now, it’s genuine, asked more for him than you.  

You want to be let in.  Need it. 

“Being out of it, I guess.”  It’s a lot for him - admitting this.  “I’ve just been busy and I guess I kind of just—“  The imposing line of his shoulders rise and fall, a mountain range disturbed by the uncertainty in his voice.  

“Forgot about me?”  You don’t mean it meanly.  It’s a simple statement of fact, one the both of you have to face. 

“Yeah.  Something like that.”

You deliberate accepting the apology and moving on, sweeping it under the rug because he’s already come so much further than you’d thought he would.  But that’s not the kind of person you are, so you press just a little more, stand just a little taller. 

“I don’t think I ask for the world, Kook.”  Maybe more than some people.  Maybe less than others.  “If I’m being too much, I’d rather you let me know than shut me out.”

A sigh comes, so heavy you wonder whether he might be Atlas, carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.  

“No, I know.”  

“Do you?”

(At some point you’d stopped massaging the conditioner in, opting to crowd your hands over his back, working into the knots that run beneath his skin.  He hadn’t been lying - he’s stiff as a board, entire broad form twitching any time you press the pads of your thumbs into a particularly sensitive spot.)

“I thought I’d figure it out myself,”  he reasons, in that oh-so impossible Jeon Jungkook way of his.  “Didn't realise it was taking a toll on you.” 

“On us,”  you correct, not at all tactful.  

“On us,”  he agrees with another sigh, smaller this time, tinged blue with something that feels like guilt and fills up the glass space. 

“We’re a team, you know.” 

(You know he knows.  You just have to remind him sometimes, anchor him with the knowledge that it’s not him against the world.  That you’re in his corner - always.)

“I know.” 

When he turns to look at you - doesn’t even flinch when the sudden movement has you wobbling on your feet, catches you when you stumble - you don’t doubt that.  He loves you just as much as you love him, sees the whole world in the small of your stare.  

“I’m sorry,”  he says again, two hands coming to cradle your face, palms warm over each cheek.  “Just give me some time.”  For what, you’re not sure.  You don’t mind waiting to find out though - willing to weather the storm just to see him happy.  

Jungkook holds you close, threads his fingers through yours and peppers love into the silk of your hair.  Dresses your skin in the heat of his affection and sears his signature into the velvet of your skin, teeth dragging, tongue gliding.  

“Is this better?”  He means how he holds you, how he treats you like porcelain as he fucks you slow and tender, keeps one leg hooked back over his own. 

It’s not that this is the kind of lovemaking you prefer but rather the one you need, with him consuming you wholly, sweetly, filling you with each fluid roll of his hips and nothing else.  No elaborate dirty talk, no overzealous bouncing, just the two of you together, curled against each other like you might not survive otherwise.  

He’s not pushing you to your finish with deft fingers over your clit, not taking his fill with greedy hands.  He’s simply there, with you, feeling every curve of your body as he sinks into your aching cunt and sighs as if he’s in heaven.  (And maybe he is - because where he is could only ever be where you are and you feel like you’re floating, weightless and lovestruck, anchored only to your bed by the hand that squeezes yours and the mouth that purrs your name.) 

“Yes,”  you breathe, exhale in a breath that seems to take all of your effort.  It’s hard to focus when he splits you open so well, fills your pussy and your heart and makes your chest erupt with a kaleidoscope of butterflies. 

“I love you, sweetheart.”

When he says it like that - folds it like a promise and tucks it into the spot behind your ear - you know it’s true.  Even if you don’t always feel it, even if he doesn’t always show it, there’s not a doubt in your mind. 

In all the ways he can, he loves you.  And whether that means enough from one day to the next, you don’t mind sticking around to find out.  Not if it means more of this. 

(Of him, of you, of your life together.)

tag list.  @neverthefirstchoice @youwannabelostandnotbefound @snackhobi @codeinebelle

[kpopfanfictrash]

Raise the Barre (Ch. 8)

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Pairing: Jimin / Reader

Rating: 18+ (Eventual Smut)

Genre: Enemies to Lovers / Dance Academy!AU

Warnings: underage drinking, angst, hoseok’s bare abs

Word Count: 10,705

Summary: You and Park Jimin have been rivals for as long as you’ve known one another; ever since he tripped you in the front row of your first dance convention. When you graduate from high school and enter Russet Ballet Academy, you tell yourself you’re leaving all past quarrels behind. The main problem with this though, is that your past seems determined not to leave you alone.

Worse still, the obstacles you face while out in the real world might prove more challenging than anything your enemy has to offer.  

“Okay, even you have to admit this is too soon.” Finn stared, appalled at the chalkboard. “It’s not even Halloween!”

Laughing a little, you looped your arm around his to drag him towards the back. Plopping down in a chair, you placed your order number in the center of the table. Seating himself across the table from you, Finn began to undo his coat.

“Come on.” He grinned, brown hair flopping when he leaned forward. “Admit it – this is too early for holiday drinks.”

“Okay, maybe it’s a little early,” you acquiesced. “But Halloween is tomorrow! They probably just put up the holiday drinks so they don’t have to do it on Sunday.”

“Laziness!” he cried, jabbing a finger in the air.

Shaking your head, you smiled when Namjoon, the barista, placed a pumpkin soy latte before you.

“Thanks!” you said, pulling this towards you.

“No problem,” he said, flashing his dimples before he turned to leave.

Taking a long, slow sip of your drink, you groaned. “Oh my god. This is it. This is heaven.”

Finn laughed. “Is that seriously your first pumpkin drink of the season?” Sadly, he shook his head. “I remember our senior year, you dragged me out of bed at 7:00 AM on a Saturday just to get the first pumpkin drink of the year.”

“I know,” you sighed. “But I’ve needed the extra caffeine jolt each morning. Sweet drinks just don’t cut it anymore.”

“Ah, the first step in addiction.” Finn nodded sagely.

Smiling, you settled back in your seat as he took the first sip of his black coffee. It had been two weeks since your fight at the club and since then, Finn had been on his best behavior. For about a week, things between you had been awkward but slowly, your relationship was returning to normal.

Seated in the corner of your favorite coffee shop, you drank from your cup and glanced around the room. This was what you’d pictured when you imagined you and Finn living in the city together. Coffee dates, going on new adventures and continuing your relationship where it had left off.

Of course, this morning was only possible because Miss Britt’s ballet class had been cancelled. A contemporary master class had been scheduled for the afternoon, but your day before then was free – something you’d immediately taken advantage of by calling Finn. It was becoming easier to fit each other into your schedules, more like second nature, but things were still tense whenever things didn’t line up.

None of this was eased by the burgeoning whatever-it-was you’d shoved to the back of your mind regarding Jimin. Since the day of Mr. Vlad’s ballet class, you’d managed to keep your emotions in check, but were constantly on the lookout for dangerous situations. You and Jimin were professionals, obviously, but you were also only human. It was reasonable to have subconscious wants and desires, but these weren’t important unless you chose to act upon them.

You didn’t tell Finn about it because honestly, there was nothing to tell. Okay, so you’d felt an errant spark one day during a lift. Big deal. Finn had been your boyfriend for over two years – it would take more than that to threaten your relationship. A relationship which, frankly, had been getting stronger as of late. Telling him something as inconsequential as a spark you had with Jimin would only take you further down the wrong path.

“Are you sure you’re okay with us doing separate things tomorrow?” Finn interrupted your thoughts. His brow furrowed. “It is Halloween, after all.”

“Ah, yes.” You nodded. “Halloween, the internationally known couple’s holiday.”

He laughed. “Okay, point made – but still.”

“It’s fine,” you assured him. This was something you’d already been over. “It just makes sense like this! Your friends are going to that off-campus party and I promised Noelle I’d go to this club thing with her.”

“Right, of course.” Finn grinned. “I’m bummed I’ll miss seeing you as the Powerpuff girls, though. Who’s going to be the third one, again?”

“Well, I’m Blossom – obviously.”

“Of course.” He nodded. “Miss Responsibility.”

A twinge of annoyance went through you, but you pushed it aside. You didn’t think you were always the responsible one but admittedly, you’d been more on edge than usual lately.

“Anyways,” you continued with a roll of your eyes. “I’m Blossom, Noelle is Buttercup and Irene is going as Bubbles. It’ll be fun! Aside from the whole club part, of course.”

“It does sound fun,” Finn admitted, a tad mournful. “Meanwhile, I’ve been roped into the classic college bro costume of Ghostbusters.”

“Oh, come on! That is classic! You’ll be super cute in your… suit? Cargo pants? What do Ghostbusters wear again?”

“Knowing Ben, something tragic from Party City. Pray for me.”

“I’ll light candles.”

Finn grinned, sipping his coffee again and your conversation slipped naturally to other topics.

Halloween fell on a Saturday this year, which meant every college campus was gearing up for some epic parties. Noelle had managed to snag tickets to a club fancy enough to require an RSVP. Apparently, said brother she missed was a DJ and could get tickets to a lot of things if Noelle bothered to ask.

A bunch of people from Russet were going, which made you excited. There hadn’t been many parties with your classmates so far this semester. Despite technically being in college, your classmates were all under the same intense pressure, only made worse by constant early morning ballet.

This week though, even your teachers seemed to have decided you needed a break. Aside from the master class you had this afternoon, there were zero Russet classes until Monday morning. The break in schedule meant you could actually go out – and drink – if you so decided. You and Noelle were planning on attending a ballet class tomorrow, but your entire day after would be free.

You’d originally planned on seeing Finn during the day, but then he’d been invited to a Halloween darty (day party) starting at noon. Despite not seeing Finn on Halloween, you weren’t feeling stressed. It was only one holiday and not even a couple’s one, as you’d said.

After coffee, you kissed Finn goodbye and headed to class at Danley Hall. The atmosphere was different as soon as you entered the classroom – all of the students were buzzing, excited by the prospect of the weekend ahead. The excitement only grew when coupled with the fact that today’s class was contemporary.

For nearly two months, your training had been mostly ballet. This was the foundation of all western dance, and where most dance students were expected to start. Finally though, you were being given a chance to show off. Today’s teacher, Luna Jordan, was a well-known contemporary choreographer across the globe.

You’d done a master class with her once back in high school and honestly couldn’t wait to learn from her again. She wasn’t alone, though, you noticed as you walked in – an unfamiliar, dark-haired guy stood beside her, stretching lithely before the room’s mirror.

“Holy shit,” Noelle whispered as she came to a stop. “That’s Jeon Jungkook.”

Startled, you looked twice and saw she was right. You hadn’t recognized him without his bevy of followers, but Jeon Jungkook was known in the dance world. A child prodigy, he’d been on America’s Got Talent at age eleven and finished in second place. Following this, his family had moved to LA and he’d been in high demand for movies, music videos and performances ever since.

You remembered hearing he worked with Luna Jordan, but the thought hadn’t crossed your mind before now that he might be here.

Noelle cocked her head to one side. “He’s hot.”

“Noelle,” you hissed, trying to shush her.

“What!” A devious grin spread across her face. “Am I supposed to be blind, as well as mute?”

“Well, no, but –”

“Alright, everyone!” Miss Luna clapped her hands together. “I know everyone is excited for the weekend, but we unfortunately have an hour and a half together before then. Everyone spread out for warm-ups!”

A few people laughed, spreading out on the floor as class began. Noelle wriggled her eyebrows, pulling you towards the front in order to get the best spot. Hiding a smile, you ducked your head and settled beside her into a stretch.

Noelle was nearly as excited as you were for the opportunity to dance contemporary. Most of your classmates knew this to be your forte – you caught glances from the corner of your eye while you warmed up, trying not to let their attention get to your head.

Jimin was also near the front, although on the opposite side. You suspected your class was equally excited to see him perform – as talented as Jimin was at ballet, there was a reason you hadn’t thought he’d be at Russet this fall. Jimin’s strength in jazz and contemporary was unparalleled. You would’ve thought he’d gone to LA to become a dancer like Jungkook.

Speaking of whom – Jungkook really was attractive; that much couldn’t be denied. He had dark, wavy hair pulled into a bun and cheekbones sharp enough to cut glass. When he glanced up from his stretch, his gaze somehow found yours and he smiled.

Eyes widening, you stared until you caught sight of Jimin behind him. Glancing between the two of you, Jimin’s expression soured before he looked away. Lips parting, you felt the sudden urge to say something, but there was too much distance between you.

“You ready?” Miss Luna called, an upbeat pop song blasting from the stereo. “Let’s go!”

She launched into isolations, leaving the rest of the class to follow. Warm-ups passed quickly and before you knew it, you were gathered at center to learn the combination. Miss Luna’s style was right up your alley. The steps came easily and, once you’d learned the whole chorus, she left you alone to practice.

You were helping Ari with a difficult move when you caught sight of Sabrina as you turned. She’d positioned herself near the back, which had to be a first. Usually, Sabrina was front and center to allow for maximum receipt of teacher praise.

The decision to stand near the back could’ve been strategy – sometimes, dancers did that at conventions. Conventions were giant weekends of competition with teachers from all over the globe who taught master classes to hundreds of dancers in hotel ballrooms and convention centers. Space at the front tended to be limited, so some stayed at the back, where there was more room to dance and be seen. You had a greater likelihood to capture the teacher’s attention when you had the room to do incredible leaps.

Sabrina’s decision didn’t seem strategic, though. While you watched, Sabrina stumbled transitioning from one move to the next. A brief twinge of pity went through you.

It was easy enough to spot ballerinas dancing anything but ballet. Although ballet was the root of modern westernized dance, it could be hard to translate into other styles. Ballet was more rigid than contemporary, jazz or hip-hop. In ballet, each position was defined, individual style was limited, and dancers were expected to all look the same. Standing out in the corps de ballet was equally frowned upon as missing an entrance.

Not that ballet wasn’t important to all dance styles, mind you. Even hip-hop dancers took ballet to improve their balance, core strength and general understanding of the body. There was an element of individuality in other dance styles, though, which lacked in ballet. Contemporary and hip-hop dancers were expected to have relentless technique all while creating their own, unique flair.

Just looking at Sabrina you could clearly see the holes. She was trying so hard to emulate the moves of Miss Luna, she was kind of missing the point. When Miss Luna did a certain flick of the wrist, it wasn’t a defined part of the choreography, but rather an individual choice.

Without thinking, you took a step forward – only to stop. Sabrina wouldn’t want your help; she’d already made that abundantly clear. Besides, you knew her friend Katie to be a contemporary dancer. She could help Sabrina and yet, when you looked, you saw Katie practicing near the front with Jungkook.

Jungkook obviously knew the steps, since this was probably the tenth time he’d learned the combination. Dance teachers often did that – selected a dancer to attend classes with them, traveling to different cities to demonstrate the combination and help when they weren’t free.

Before you could decide whether to help Sabrina, Miss Luna clapped her hands again.

“Let’s do groups!” she declared. “I’ll count you off into groups of four, and each group will showcase. Sound good?”

It wasn’t really a question so much as an announcement. The rest of the class nodded, waiting while Miss Luna counted you off. You ended up in the same group as Irene, Paulo and a few others. Jimin and Noelle were in the group two, while Sabrina was in the group after theirs.

Jogging off to the side, you waited while the first group took center. You were part of group four, which meant you’d be amongst the last to dance on the floor. When the music began, you closed your eyes and began to mark the combination. You tried not to focus on what anyone else was doing, but this became difficult once Noelle’s group stepped up.

Noelle had trained in jazz and contemporary, although she’d stopped in high school to focus mainly on ballet. Still, her artistry shone in her movement. She could definitely stand to loosen up a bit but was still one of the best in the bunch. You found yourself smiling when she landed a turn, silently cheering her on from the side.

While you were watching, Jimin cut across your vision.

Dropping to the ground, he rolled and arched as his forehead brushed wood. His quality of movement was breathtaking and for a moment, you felt like you were back in high school.

Suddenly returned to those dimmed auditoriums, you watched Jimin take the stage like an otherworldly being. His body seemed to move before your mind could comprehend. Barely did he finish one move before he was starting another, the steps flowing endlessly together like unhindered water. Although you knew the combination and knew how you would dance it, watching Jimin perform was a different experience entirely.

Ballet required dancers to stay on the beat but in contemporary, they were expected to lag. Extensions were all the more breathtaking when they clung to the last second, seeming as though the dancer might not make it before they caught up. Jimin was an expert in this, knowing exactly when to hang precariously over the edge and when to pull back.

Watching him dance, that pesky, strange something bloomed in your chest again.

Squashing this quickly, you looked away and resumed marking the combo. The end of the song was improvisation though and, unable to stop yourself, you found your attention drifting to Jimin again. He was ridiculously beautiful – you nearly didn’t hear when Miss Luna called for them to stop. As she turned off the music, she applauded the group while they walked from the floor.

Breathing heavily, Noelle came to a stop alongside you and – somewhat guiltily, since you hadn’t been watching – you gave her a high-five.

“That was awesome!” you said with a grin. “You definitely stood out in the group.”

Noelle snort-laughed. “Not with Jimin up there, but that’s okay. This is his specialty – and yours,” she added with a wink. “I’m psyched for group four.”

“Ah,” you groaned, rubbing your neck. “Too much pressure.”

Noelle laughed, shaking her head as group three took the floor. Both of you fell silent to watch, your curious gaze finding Sabrina in the back. Sabrina looked almost nervous; an emotion which seemed out of place on her features. It made her look almost human.

As soon as the music began, you stifled a wince. Sabrina stood out from the group, and not in a good way. She had the combination down but moved with a woodenness you would’ve expected from someone half her age. It was enough for you to glance at Miss Luna, wondering if she had noticed.

“Wow,” Noelle whispered, looking almost gleeful. “Sabrina is terrible.”

“Noelle!” you whisper-laughed.

“What? After everything she’s done? After everything she’s said?” Noelle’s gaze narrowed. “Sabrina deserves this.”

Despite privately agreeing, you couldn’t help but feel bad as Sabrina continued. Not wanting to watch any longer, you turned towards the front and resumed marking the combo. As soon as Miss Luna cut the music and polite clapping ensued, you turned back around.

It was time for group four. A shaky, sick feeling entered your stomach as you walked to center. So many eyes were on you, but it had been so long since you danced contemporary. You couldn’t help but wonder if you were as good as people seemed to imagine. Surrounded by so many dancers at Russet, surely your own talent would pale in comparison.

As soon as the music began though, everything faded. Insecurities slipping away, a lightness entered your chest as, eyes falling shut, you slowly inhaled.

Taking a step forward, you opened your eyes and began.

To you, dance had several phases. The first was learning, where you memorized each step and put them in order. The second was understanding, where your muscle memory began to take over and the combination felt smoother. The final phase, performance, was when you thought not of the steps, and were free to just dance.

This was your favorite phrase. In this phase, your mind separated from your body, leaving you only with sweat and emotion. Dance was the only art form composed solely of the body. An odd combination of physical strength and artistic beauty, it was both a testament to human capability and human emotion.

Losing yourself in the music, you ebbed and flowed through the combination until the choreography ended and improvisation began. Finally, you let go and held nothing back. Raw, unbridled passion poured out as you lost sight of yourself, so consumed by the movement.

When the song finally finished and you came to a stop, you were panting for breath. Glancing up, the first person you saw was Jimin.

He stood off to one side, leaning casually against the rungs of the barre, but his expression was anything but. Focused on you, his gaze had turned dark in a way which made you catch your breath.

Miss Luna clapped both hands once again, returning your attention to her. Blinking, Jimin shook his head and in your peripheral, you saw him straighten.

“Very good!” Miss Luna scanned the group. “I know our time is nearly at and end, but why don’t we have a few students come out and demonstrate?”

Again, this was fairly common in master classes. After learning the combination, teachers would often single out students to perform as examples. It wasn’t always the students with the best technique who got chosen. Oftentimes, it was as much for passion and performance quality.

Taking a step forward, Miss Luna began to call out names. You were one of the first – setting your water down, you jogged back to center. Jimin was the next person called, then Noelle, much to your excitement. Jungkook was also instructed to join on the floor.

Turning the lights halfway down, Miss Luna pressed play and let you improvise until the combination began. Jungkook started dancing and honestly, he was beautiful, but you couldn’t linger on him for long. 

Catching sight of Jimin again, you were once more transported to earlier times. This wasn’t the first time you’d been called out together. Oftentimes, this had happened at conventions but back then, your mind had been too clouded to see him for who he was.

You’d always wanted to beat him in high school, but now, you were consumed by the oddest desire to see him do well.

Glancing up, Jimin caught your gaze and he smiled – but then, the combination began.

By the time you were finished, you could hardly catch your breath but somehow, you felt the most alive you’d been in ages. Back in your own element, surrounded by some of the most amazing dancers in the world – this was what you’d imagined when you came to Russet.

People around the room clapped, some of them begrudgingly. You got the impression many of your classmates weren’t used to not being chosen. As you walked from the floor, you saw surprisingly, Sabrina wasn’t amongst them.

Instead, Sabrina simply looked tired – as though she’d tried her best and it hadn’t been enough. You knew that look. You sympathized with that look.

The look lingered in the back of your mind while you packed up your things and listened to Noelle discuss Halloween tomorrow. When she mentioned Ari had decided to visit her family this weekend, an idea began to form in your mind.

“Wait,” you interrupted, looking up. “Ari can’t come tomorrow?”

Noelle shook her head. “Her brother just turned eighteen, so her whole family is having a party or something.”

“So… her ticket is free, then?”

“Yes…” Noelle paused. “Why? Y/N, what are you planning?”

“Okay. Hear me out,” you said as you shrugged on your coat. It was cold enough now for the coat to be necessary.

Noelle sighed, slinging her bag over her shoulder. “Alright, I’m listening.”

Glancing away, you saw Sabrina packing her things on the other side of the room. Before you could talk yourself out of it, you returned to Noelle.

“What if we invited Sabrina?”

Noelle snorted. “Pass.”

“Noelle,” you laughed, reaching out for her arm. “Come on! Do you really think she’s doing anything for Halloween?”

“Probably not. And that’s her own fault.”

“Maybe,” you said, glancing at Sabrina once more. “But how could it hurt? We have an extra ticket, there’ll be tons of people tomorrow night. She’ll probably say no – at least this way, you can claim a write-off on your way into heaven!”

Noelle upper lip twitched. “Oh, is that how write-offs work?”

“Well, I can only assume.”

Finally, she laughed. “Ugh, fine. You can invite her – but only because it’s Halloween, and Halloween is a time for peace. And slutty costumes.”

“Thanks, babe,” you said, squeezing her waist in a one-armed hug.

Sighing exaggeratedly, Noelle waved aside your thanks. Hiking your bag higher, you began to make your way across the room. As you closed in on Sabrina, you began to rethink your choice. It had been nearly a month since anything bad had happened between you but still, you found yourself feeling wary. As tough as you pretended to be, rejection hurt you just as much as the next person.

Still, dancing with Jimin had been a reminder of just how bitter your relationship used to be. If that relationship could change, you had to imagine things with Sabrina could, too.

Coming to a stop at her bag, you waited for her to look up. When she finally did, her brow wrinkled in confusion.

“What?” Sabrina asked, sounding defensive. “What do you want, Y/N?”

You couldn’t really blame her for her suspicion. Had your situations been reversed, you would’ve been equally distrustful. It was likely Sabrina thought you were coming over to gloat, or say something to do with class today. Another twinge of pity went through you as Sabrina zipped her bag shut to stand.

“I just wanted to know what you were doing tomorrow,” you said, trying to smile. “Noelle has an extra ticket to a Halloween party, and we thought you might like to come.”

Sabrina stared. “What?”

“Tomorrow is Halloween,” you said, a bit slower. “You know – when we were kids, it was all about costumes and candy. Now, it’s about costumes and booze?”

Sabrina failed to crack a smile. “And you want… me to come to this party?”

Something about the way she said this made you sad, as though she genuinely thought this might be a joke. As though at any moment, someone might jump out and yell SIKE.

“Yeah,” you said, softening a little. “Look – it’s not a big deal if you can’t make it. A bunch of our class is going though, so we thought of you.”

Sabrina hesitated, then glanced at the door. “Okay,” she said, looking back. “Okay, yeah. I’ll come.”

Stifling your surprise, you nodded. “Great. I’ll text you where to meet us tomorrow before the club. Wear a costume,” you added before walking away. “Noelle said it’s required.”

“Alright,” Sabrina said, so quiet you almost missed it.

Walking away, you were nearly at the door when Jungkook popped up before you. Flashing a smile, he fixed a loose strand of hair away from his face. Feet fumbling to a stop, you could only stare.

“Y/N, right?” he said, sounding shy.

Unable to find the words, you blinked in response. The way Jungkook danced had been so confident, you’d only assumed this to be his off-floor persona, as well. Hearing him sound shy was unexpected. 

Also – you hadn’t expected him to know your name.

“I… yeah, that’s me.” Shaking your head, you smiled. “Jungkook, right?”

“Yeah.” He nodded. “I just wanted to say I’m such a big fan of your dancing. It was great to take class with you today.”

Without meaning to, a laugh escaped your lips. Jungkook stared at you, baffled until you quickly waved him off.

“Oh, no – no! Sorry,” you said. “I’m not laughing at you! I’m just laughing at the ridiculousness of you saying you’re a fan of me.”

Some of Jungkook’s wariness disappeared, and a small smile played across his lips.

“Well, I am.” His grin widened. “I used to assist on the convention circuit, too and I remember you being called out all the time. You and Jimin,” he added, glancing across the room.

You looked, too and saw Jimin still packing his things. His back was stiff, pointedly not looking in your direction. Lingering on him a moment, you returned to Jungkook.

“Still,” you said with a laugh. “It’s a bit of a stretch to say we took class together when you’re the teacher’s assistant.”

“True.” Jungkook paused. “Well, next time you’re in LA, let’s fix that. Let me know if you’re ever in town and we can take a class together.”

Despite yourself, your brows raised. It was harmless, but Jungkook was definitely flirting with you. He was attractive, sure and seemed nice, but he lived in LA and you had a boyfriend. You should probably leave before things had the chance to go any further. The last thing you needed was another complication. Adjusting your bag, you gave Jungkook a small smile.

“Sounds like a plan,” you said before turning away.

Jungkook chuckled from behind. “Bye, Y/N.”

As you joined Noelle at the door, she stared over your shoulder.

“What?” you said, coming to a stop.

Noelle’s gaze moved to yours in disbelief. “How?” she demanded as you exited class. “How do you have all these men just… tripping over themselves for you?”

Heat rising to your face, you shook your head. “That’s – I,” you sputtered. “You’re being ridiculous!”

“Am I?” Noelle grinned. “First Jimin, now Jungkook… and all this while having a boyfriend.” 

“I… you... Jimin is not tripping over himself for me!”

Both her brows shot way, way up. “Is that the only part of the sentence you took objection to?”

“Shut up,” you groaned and shoved her in the side.

Noelle laughed but nodded. “Alright, fine! I’ll stop. Did Sabrina say she’ll come?”

“She did.”

“Great. I still don’t like her,” Noelle said, pushing open the door. “But I guess you’re right, I have an extra ticket. It’s nice to be nice.”

You laughed, pulling your coat tighter as you walked outside. “You’re a saint.”

While you walked, your phone dinged and pulling this from your pocket, you saw a notification on Instagram. Jeon_Jungkook97 has followed you.

Shaking your head, you returned this to your jacket as you continued. While it was nice of Jungkook to compliment your dancing, his approval didn’t mean as much as certain other peoples had. This realization stuck in your mind, making you wonder about Noelle’s teasing jibe.

She had said Jimin flirted with you, but that wasn’t true – was it? You would have known if Jimin were flirting. It was hard to pick out though, since Jimin was friendly with everyone. That was just who he was; as he’d said earlier, he liked to be liked. A note of uncertainty entered your thoughts though, recalling the ballet class with your chest pressed to his. Shoving this away, you forced yourself to focus on the upcoming weekend.

Halloween was a night for fun, for letting loose and enjoying yourself with your friends. You refused to let the night be spoiled by any lingering feelings – either from you, or towards you.

The next night was perfect Halloween weather.

Chilly, but not cold enough to risk snow falling. There were several Halloweens from childhood you could recall trick-or-treating with a winter coat flung over your costume because the temperature had dropped below freezing.

You, Noelle and Irene showed up to Paulo’s house around 8:00 PM, shivering a little while you stood on his doorstep. Paulo was one of the few freshmen who lived off-campus, having known several upperclassmen before he came to Russet. The brownstone he lived in was cute, with window boxes you imagined hosted flowers in the summer.

Tugging your pink and black minidress down, you adjusted your bow as Paulo opened the door.

Blinking, he took in your costumes. “The Powerpuff girls!” He cheered, raising an arm overhead. “Try not to take down any of the villains upstairs, yeah?”

“No promises,” said Irene, flicking hair over her shoulder.

Entering the house, you heard thumping bass from an apartment upstairs. Paulo lived on the third floor and as you climbed the steps, the music grew louder. It took Paulo two tries to shove open the door – “warped wood,” he explained – but once you were inside, you saw familiar faces.

“The Powerpuff girls!” Jasmine cried, jumping up from the couch. “Finally! Thank god – can you take down Eamon? He came here dressed as a potato, or something.”

“It’s an avocado!” Eamon shouted from the kitchen. He was dressed in a round, green costume with a halo overhead. “I’m ‘holy guacamole’ – get it?” he said, pointing at the halo.

Jasmine stared at him a moment. “That’s terrible. Worse than mine,” she said with a wave down her body. “I’ve been Princess Jasmine for the past five Halloweens. It’s easy to remember and I already have the outfit.”

Laughing, you shrugged off your coat and added this to a pile on the couch. “It’s a classic,” you agreed as you turned.

Noelle had managed to procure at least twenty tickets to the party tonight, so a lot of your freshman Russet class was in attendance. Including Sabrina, who stood in the corner, talking to Louis over cups of red punch. She looked up when you entered, pausing before she gave a small wave. Surprised by the gesture, you did the same.

“No.” Noelle groaned, coming to a stop alongside you. When you looked, you saw she’d already removed her coat. “Tell me Sabrina didn’t come to this party dressed as a ballerina.”

“We did invite her at the last minute,” you laughed. “Hard to find a good Halloween costume in a day.”

“Hey,” Noelle argued. “There’s no we here. You were the one who invited her, and you’ll be the one to accept the consequences should your social experiment fail.”

“Done,” you agreed. “Speaking of social experiments though, I’m ready to get drunk tonight. Where’s the alcohol?”

“Kitchen!” Irene called, brushing past. “Or – that’s where Brian disappeared to when we entered, so I can only assume.”

Telling Noelle you’d be back with drinks, you wound through the room towards where Irene had pointed. The kitchen was tiny, on par with most city apartments. There was only room enough for one or two people, so you were lucky it was deserted when you entered.

Surveying the counter, you found the usual party staples. A bowl of red punch, a bunch of beer and various liquor bottles with chasers. Skipping over the communal punch bowl, you reached for a bottle of diet coke and coconut rum.

“Oh,” a voice said as they entered the kitchen. “Sorry – I didn’t know you were in here.”

Glancing up, you saw Jimin and froze.

He’d dyed his hair black – that was the first thing you noticed. Jimin’s hair was no longer blonde, but completely dark. His outfit confused you at first – a frilly, white blouse with slicked-back hair and dark trousers – until you saw his bright red contacts and the dribble of blood at his mouth.

“A vampire,” you said, finally recovering your voice. Scanning his body, you frowned. “Where are the teeth, though?”

Jimin blinked, his gaze jerking up from your waist.

“Huh?” he said, sounding a bit strangled.

Cheeks heating a little – your dress was pretty short – you repeated yourself. “The teeth,” you said, pointing at your own lips. “Don’t vampires have fangs?”

“Oh, right.” Jimin dug around in his pocket – fuck, were his trousers tight – to produce twin fangs. “I took them off when I got here. They’re really hard to talk in.”

“Go on then, Park,” you said with a grin. “Put them in.”

“One second.” Twisting to face the wall, Jimin popped them in his mouth. Turning around, he bared his teeth. “Sexy?”

With the teeth in though, the word came out more like shex-shie and you burst into laughter. “So sexy,” you agreed, reaching past him for a cup.

Jimin stiffened when your arm brushed his front. Unbidden, you thought about what Noelle had said – Jimin had been flirting with you. Pulling away, you resumed making your drinks and tried not to look in his direction.

Even so, you remained aware of his presence. Jimin inched his way behind you, reaching for the whiskey on the other side. His arm brushed your elbow as he went, right knee nudging yours in an intimate gesture.

Glancing up from the counter, you accidentally caught his gaze. Despite your earlier joking, he did look sexy. Devastatingly so. Even the blood-red contacts weren’t enough to deter the shiver which ran down your spine.

Shaking yourself free from your trance, you grabbed both cups and pulled back. 

“So, what’re you drinking?” you asked. 

You decided it was best to steer the conversation away from how sexy Park Jimin was or was not.

Seemingly oblivious to your inner turmoil, Jimin poured whiskey into his cup. “Whiskey and coke. Can you pass me that bottle?”

“Sure,” you said, leaping at the chance to prevent him from walking past you again. “Here you go.”

Pushing this forward, you watched Jimin pour both drinks all the way to the brim. He paused near the end, staring into the depths before he looked up. He seemed to be warring with something, debating whether or not to speak whatever was on his mind.

“So…” He paused. “Do you know Jungkook, or something?”

You blinked. “Jungkook…?”

“You know, Miss Luna’s assistant. Jeon Jungkook.”

“Oh! Jungkook. No, I don’t really know him.”

“You were talking to him at the end of class, though?”

Hearing the curiosity in his voice, both your brows raised. “And?”

“And nothing,” Jimin said, sounding uncomfortable. “I just… I didn’t know you knew him, that’s all.”

“I mean, I don’t.” You paused. “But even if I did, what does it matter?”

“It doesn’t.” His cheeks began to redden. “It’s just – ah, never mind. We don’t have that great a history, that’s all. He’s kind of the reason I’m at Russet this year.”

You stared at Jimin a moment. “Wow, what a tragedy,” you said, stifling a laugh. “To have been forced to attend one of the most prestigious dance institutions in the world.”

His upper lip twitched. “It’s not that. I was deciding between attending Russet and accepting a job offer out west. I was asked to join this pop star on tour… anyways, Jungkook’s never liked me much. It’s a long story.” Jimin’s brow furrowed. “My offer was rescinded at the last minute. The artist never said why, but I always got the feeling he had something to do with it.”

You stared at Jimin a moment, unsure how to respond. Jungkook hadn’t seemed like that kind of person, but you supposed you’d only talked to him for a few minutes. If that was true, what happened to Jimin sucked and yet, the next words from your mouth nearly had you face-palming.

“And here I thought I was your biggest rival, Park,” you said.

Jimin’s eyes widened. “Are you… jealous, Y/N?”

He sounded almost pleased by the notion, which sent a different kind of shiver down your spine.

“Not at all,” you said quickly, turning back to your drinks.

Jimin made a soft tsk-ing sound, as though he didn’t believe you.

“That sucks,” you continued, determined to change the subject. “I’m sorry that happened to you.”

“Yeah. Maybe it was all for the best, though. Things happen for a reason, right?”

Looking up, you caught Jimin’s stare. He didn’t look immediately away and you got the oddest sensation he meant more than what he said. Hastily, you pushed this feeling aside, clutching your drinks as you entered the main room. Jimin followed close behind, two cups in his hands.

“When did you get here?” you asked. “Been here long?”

Jimin shook his head. “Nah. Hoseok and I got here like, ten minutes ago. He should be around here somewhere, he –”

“Y/N!”

You looked up just in time to see Hoseok, Jimin’s roommate, barreling towards you.

“It’s been so long!” Crushing you to his chest, Hoseok wrapped you in a hug. “Hope Jimin isn’t boring you to death,” he stage-whispered before he pulled away.

“Just for that.” Jimin arched a brow. “Both these drinks are for me.”

“No – wait, wait. I’m sorry!” Hoseok pouted. “Hand over the drink, Park. It’s been the longest fucking week.”

Jimin grinned and relented, handing Hoseok his cup as you laughed. Hoseok was a newer friend, but he was close to Jimin, so he’d gradually bled into your latest gatherings. Despite not being on the ballet track, most of the dancers at Russet knew of him. Hoseok had that way about him.

Glancing down at your outfit, Hoseok held up a finger. “Let me guess – Blossom,” he said, turning to scan the room. “Which means… aha! Irene is Bubbles and Noelle is Buttercup. Makes sense.”

“And you are…” Pausing, you squinted at his outfit. “Someone at the spa?”

“Sure.” Hoseok shrugged. “Honestly, I just wanted to wear a bathrobe.”

Said bathrobe was paired with only boxers, the front of the robe open to display his toned abs. The costume didn’t surprise you, based on past interactions with Hoseok.

Casually, he twirled the robe tie in a circle. “Impressive, no?” Hoseok glanced away. “Whoa, wait – they have beer pong? See you all later!”

Hurrying off, he left you alone with Jimin. Shaking your head, you glanced in his direction and saw Jimin down his whole drink. Arching a brow, you were about to ask why when Irene called your names from across the room.

“Y/N!” She waved her hands. “Jimin! Get over here, you two – we need more for flip cup!”

You found yourself pulled in this direction despite your insistence you didn’t do well under pressure. Jimin ended up at the other end of the table and you lost sight of him when you started to play, paired with Jasmine for a partner.

By the end of the first round, you discovered you weren’t as horrible a player as you’d imagined. Then someone suggested mixed drinks for the second round, and things became fuzzier. There were more people present than just current students of Russet. One of Paulo’s roommates knew Seokjin, so you saw him in the room, along with Sana.

You chatted with both over the course of the evening, in addition to a guy who’d recently debuted on Broadway, Kim Taehyung. Apparently, there was already buzz around him for a Tony. Taehyung was nice, but it was sometime during this conversation you realized how tipsy you were. Apparently, not drinking for several months and then going ham made for very low tolerance.

Collapsing onto the couch, you joined Irene and Brian’s conversation. In the corner of your eye, you caught sight of Noelle – a terrible flip cup player, she’d roped Hoseok into giving her private lessons, but these seemed to be going terribly. Or perhaps very well, given how much the two of them were laughing.

You completely forgot about Jimin until you spotted him across the room talking to Sabrina. Seeing them together, you straightened. Both seemed fairly comfortable, which struck you as odd. Since that morning in Jimin’s dorm, you hadn’t really seen them hang out together.

Despite this, Jimin was laughing at something Sabrina had said. Tearing your gaze away, you forced yourself to focus on the conversation at hand. It didn’t matter who Jimin spoke to, or even who he decided to go home with tonight. He was your dance partner and friend, nothing more and besides – you had a boyfriend.

Blinking, you reached into your clutch and pulled out your phone. To your disappointment, you’d gotten no texts from Finn since this morning. You assumed he was still at his party but didn’t know for sure. Shooting him a text, hey, you waited for a response and when you got none, returned your phone to your purse.

Across the room, you heard Noelle yell your name. “Y/N!” She cupped her mouth with both hands. “We need another person for flip cup!”

Laughing, you pushed yourself from the couch and were immediately roped into your fourth game of the night. The night blurred again after that, turning into a pleasant hum of conversation and booze. At some point, Ubers were called to bring you to the club. As you rushed downstairs, you realized you forgot your coat as soon as you stepped outside.

Shivering violently, you rubbed your arms and cursed yourself for poor foresight.

“Y/N?” Jimin came to a stop alongside you. “Hey, where’s your coat?”

“Inside,” you said through chattering teeth. “I-it’s fine, though. I’m fine!”

Jimin gave you a look. “Where’s Paulo?” he said, glancing around. “I’ll grab him, we can get your coat before we go –”

“The Uber’s already here, though,” you argued, grabbing his sleeve to drag him towards the curb. “I’ll be fine from here to the club!”

Jimin sighed but gave in, following when you rushed to the grey SUV. Irene had claimed the front seat, so you and Jimin pulled open the middle door – Noelle and Hoseok were crowding behind you, so you and Jimin ended up together in the backseat.

Collapsed in a heap, you giggled as Jimin tried to squish himself in a corner. “Sorry,” he said, trying – and failing – to keep his knees separate.

“Jimin.” You snorted. “Are we going to go through this again? Your hands have been in way more inappropriate places than that this semester.”

Jimin’s lips parted, shocked, but you were already hoisting yourself over the middle seat. Draping your arms next to Noelle, you begged her to play your favorite song on the radio. Had you been more sober, you might’ve recognized your position to be precarious – perched on the edge of your seat, your ass hovered inches away from Jimin’s face.

Plopping back down, you glanced sideways at Jimin and found him frozen. Suddenly, you realized the visual he’d had.

“Um, so what happened to the teeth?” you blurted, determined to change the subject.

Jimin blinked and managed to meet your gaze. “Casualty of flip cup,” he said. “One of them fell out during the game and I couldn’t find where it rolled.”

“Well, that’s okay. You can just be one of those vampires who blend in with normal humans. You know, the kind whose fangs only come out when they want to bite someone.”

“That’s true.” Jimin arched a brow. “Lucky for you, I’m not hungry.”

“Lucky for me? Lucky for you,” you retorted. “My blood is about half alcohol right now. If you drank my blood, you’d be a very silly vampire.”

The idea of a silly vampire made you laugh – even more so when you pictured said vampire as Jimin. He seemed much too coherent for your liking right now.

“A silly vampire, huh?” Jimin looked on, amused. “Damn, Y/N – when was the last time you went out? Your tolerance is shit.”

“I know,” you sighed. “I haven’t drunk much this semester. Too much dance, too little time. I think the last time I went out was –”

“We’re here!” squealed Noelle, throwing open the door.

A blast of cold air hit you and you shivered, wishing you’d worn your coat. Jimin’s gaze remained steady on yours.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he said lowly. “I can give you, uh…”

“Your shirt?” you said dryly, lifting a brow as you brushed past. “Then you’d be shirtless, Park. Let’s think this through.”

Jimin chuckled before he followed suit, although you cursed as soon as you left the car. He was correct. It was freezing, even with your alcohol-induced blanket.

“Come on!” you yelped, following Noelle towards the entrance.

Bypassing the line, Noelle walked straight towards the bouncer and showed him her phone. He nodded and waved her past, counting your friend group who followed. Not everyone from Paulo’s place had gone to the club, but enough for you to make quite the entrance.

“Y/N!” Noelle doubled back to link arms with you. “Come on – this way! That guy’s going to show us to our table.”

“Table?” you asked her, wide-eyed.

Tables in a club on Halloween night were ridiculously expensive, but it seemed Noelle had downplayed her brother’s connections. Your group was led right to the front of the upper balcony, getting a coveted spot overlooking the dance floor below.

This was undeniably the coolest club you’d been in. Not that you’d been in many, mind you, but this one had to take the cake. A half-circle of tables took up the top floor, with twin staircases descending to the main room below. Most of the lower floor was for dancing, although you saw additional tables pushed to the sides. Fluorescent bars and dance platforms were dotted throughout and above all was the DJ booth, blasting the latest songs.

“Whoa,” you breathed.

Noelle grinned, squeezing your arm to pull you into the booth. As soon as you settled in, Jasmine leapt up and clapped her hands.

“I want to be in one of those!” she said, pointing to a glowing cage at the center of the dance floor.

“Oo, me too!” Irene leapt up to join her.

“Me, three!” said Paulo, clambering out of the booth.

“Awesome.” Irene beamed and glanced your way. “What about you, Y/N? You in?”

The idea was tempting for a moment, but then Finn flashed through your mind. You highly doubted he’d be on board with you gyrating for a room full of strangers without him. Somewhat dejectedly, you plopped back on the bench.

“That’s okay,” you sighed. “I think I’m going to stay here for a while. I’ll join you later!”

Irene frowned but nodded, following the rest when they left for the stairs. About half the group went, clearing out the table while you stared at the dance floor.

Jimin slid into the bench alongside you. “You don’t want to dance?”

Startled, you glanced in his direction. While you watched, Jimin began to undo his cuffs, casually rolling the sleeves of his shirt. His hair, which had been slicked back at the start of the night, was starting to fall. Several dark strands hung over his forehead, although this only seemed to make the look more appealing.

“No,” you said, crossing your legs. “I just… don’t really feel like it.”

“Is this the whole hating clubs thing again?”

“Kind of.” You laughed. “I don’t know. Club dancing isn’t like normal dancing, you know?”

“It is when you’re at the club with all dancers,” Jimin pointed out, nodding towards the floor.

Following his gaze, you saw Jasmine dancing full-out in a lit-up cage. She wasn’t so much gyrating as she was creating choreography on the fly. The mere mortals around her looked on in awe. Fighting a smile, you returned to Jimin.

“Okay, that does look like fun,” you admitted. “The last time I was at a club was with Finn.”

Jimin blinked. “Sorry – what?”

“In the cab,” you said, leaning closer in order to be heard. “You asked me when I last went out. It was that night… um, the night you came and picked me up.”

Jimin stared at you a moment, as though contemplating something important. Abruptly, he stood and held out a hand. You blinked at this like he’d offered a football.

“What are you doing?” you said, glancing up.

“Taking you down to the dance floor.” Jimin retracted said hand. “Come on, Y/N! You don’t have to give out dry lap dances, or whatever.”

“Hey!” In disbelief, your mouth fell open. “You said you’d forget all about that!”

His smile turned impish. “Seriously, we can just do the sprinkler, or something. It’ll be fun!”

“The sprinkler?” Starting to laugh, you stood. “Was that really the first move you thought of?”

“Nah. My go-to move is the criss-cross, but I figured this was more your speed.”

Snorting, you shoved him in the arm before following Jimin to the dance floor. It didn’t take you long to spot your other friends, clustered near the front and around the DJ booth.

“Y/N!” Noelle cheered, breaking off from the pack. “You made it!”

She nearly spilled her drink while she danced, catching herself just in time as she spun around. You grinned, entering the circle with Jimin by your side. He did, in fact, pull out the criss-cross – Hoseok joined in and soon, there was a Fortnite dance battle between them. You truly haven’t lived until you’ve seen a TikTok dance-off between two semi-professional dancers.

This ended with both declaring mutual defeat, and Hoseok disappearing to buy the next round. Noelle shimmied her way over to Jasmine, accepting the hand given to stand on the platform.

You laughed at their ridiculous dance moves, choosing instead to stay on the ground. The crowd around you had thinned since you’d joined. Eamon disappeared a few minutes later, saying something about needing a drink upstairs. Before long, Irene had joined Jasmine and Noelle on the platform, leaving you alone with Jimin on the floor.

Under other circumstances, you might have felt uncomfortable, but Jimin was so good at putting you at ease. Determined to keep you in the present, he came up with more and more complicated dance moves which had you snorting with laughter.

On a particularly flamboyant spin, Jimin accidentally smacked the drink from someone’s grasp. Blue vodka splattered everywhere, drenching its owner – a burly man in leather who snarled in frustration.

Looking up, he met your gaze and his eyes narrowed.

“Shit. Run!” you blurted out.

Grabbing Jimin by the arm, you dragged him into the crowd.

“No, wait – let me apologize!” Jimin tried to twist around. “I can pay for his drink! I can –”

Once there was suitable distance between you and the guy, you came to a stop. Laughing so hard you nearly fell over, you turned sideways to face him.

Bodies pressed against you from every side but rather than feel claustrophobic, all you could think about was Jimin before you. His hair had become thoroughly mussed during the night and you fought the sudden desire to smooth it down.

Although your breath came hard, the club around you seemed to slow. The music somehow had narrowed to pinpricks, a heady thump of bass while everything dulled.

What you should’ve done was taken a step back – but you didn’t.

Instead, your gaze drifted across his face. Jimin stared back, something intense to his gaze you couldn’t quite name. Breath caught in your throat, his eyes dropped to your lips.

Before you could react, someone bumped into you from behind, sending you careening forward. Jimin caught you easily, one arm around your waist and your chest pressed to his. You could feel every hard line of his body, his thigh wedged between your legs while you grasped at his arms. Heart thudding traitorously against your ribcage, you tried to ignore the emotions which followed.

It was impossible. 

The song playing was slower, sexier than the one which had inspired the dance-off. Without meaning to, your weight subtly shifted. This caused your hips to move against his as Jimin quietly sucked in a breath. The effect this had on him was instantaneous. His grip on you tightened, gaze heady with desire and something more. Before you could second-guess what you were doing, you moved your hips again – this time, on purpose.

Jimin’s eyes darkened. Without looking away, his grip on you tightened as he slowly dragged you up his thigh. Suddenly breathless, your hands gripped him tighter while your eyes fluttered shut. The heat of his body on yours, the faint smell of cologne and sweat, the tension in his limbs and the knowledge of what he could do to you – it all left your head spinning.

“Y/N,” Jimin murmured, low in your ear.

You weren’t used to him saying your name like that.

You were used to him saying your name in every other way, but not that. Sharp with dancer’s critique, brusque with instruction, light with teasing – but not like something heavy was lodged in his throat. Maybe his heart.

Panicked, your eyes flew open.

What were you doing? This wasn’t some random stranger and this sure as hell wasn’t your boyfriend. This was Jimin. Stumbling backwards, you broke from his hold. Jimin seemed equally stunned, staring at you on the dance floor.

“I have to go,” you blurted and whirled around.

Shoving into the crowd, you heard Jimin emit a soft groan. Despite this, he didn’t immediately pursue, for which you were grateful. Stumbling through strangers, strobe lights flashed brightly overhead. You squeezed between someone dressed as a go-go and another person dressed as a werewolf. Skidding to a stop on the edge of the floor, you scanned the room and saw no one from Russet.

When you glanced over your shoulder, you saw Jimin now followed. Panicking again, you began to move. Beside one of the bars, you spotted a hallway labeled restrooms. Heading in this direction, you quickly disappeared inside the door marked women.

Once inside, you locked yourself in a stall, lowered the lid and sat down. Head in hands, you slowly exhaled. You were a coward; that much was clear. Jimin was probably out there looking for you right now, but you’d rather hide in a bathroom than face him.

The fluorescent lighting overhead was too bright – it made you feel overexposed. After a long moment, you fished around in your purse and pulled out your phone. Flipping to your thread with Finn, you saw he’d sent no response since your text. Complete and utter silence.

Heart cracking a little, you slid this in your bag and stared at the door. This wasn’t how things were supposed to go. When you imagined you and Finn at college, you’d always pictured you together, attending the same parties and sharing the same adventures. Tonight though, had proven to be anything but that. Finn hadn’t once glanced at his phone judging by the unread mark next to your text.

Dimly, you wondered why you weren’t more upset about this. It should bother you that Finn hadn’t called or even texted throughout the day. Sure, he was out with friends, but so were you and you’d reached out – as soon as you thought this, your heart sank.

You weren’t sure you could call Jimin a friend after what had just happened.

Sure, you’d only danced, and it had only been for a second but still, guilt bloomed behind your ribcage. The idea of Finn doing the same thing with anyone else made your heart twist. You wouldn’t feel that way if what you’d done wasn’t wrong.

Groaning out loud, you lowered your head to your hands. After several minutes, you felt calm enough to stand and pretend-flush the toilet. As you exited the stall, you walked to the sink and began washing your hands. Staring at yourself in the mirror, a million things ran through your mind.

Clearly, the situation with Jimin was worse than you’d thought. The spark you’d felt kept returning, no matter how much you tried to ignore it. Maybe the only solution was to find a new partner. The very idea made your heart sink, but you couldn’t deny things had gotten out of hand.

Before you could seriously consider the option, the door to the bathroom flung open and banged against the wall. Sabrina stormed in, wiping both eyes with the heel of her hand. You froze, staring at her in the mirror but she didn’t seem to notice your presence.

When she finally lowered her hands and took a deep breath, she saw you and froze.

For a moment, you both only stared at each other and then – you coughed. Awkwardly, you began to dry your hands.

“Are you okay?” you asked, tentative.

Sabrina stiffened. “I’m fine,” she muttered, walking to the sink.

You watched her wash her hands, struggling and failing to control her expression. Sabrina’s hair was a mess and you stared, wondering where she’d been. You hadn’t seen her since you’d entered the club, but had assumed she’d stayed on the second floor.

“Are you sure?” you pressed, remembering your night at the other club. “You know, you can –”

“Will you… just stop.” Sabrina closed her eyes. “Will you … stop pretending like we’re friends, or something?”

Struck with disbelief, you could only stare. “I… are you serious?”

“Yes.”

“Wow.” You shook your head. “Just wow.”

Her lips tightened and finally, she whirled around. “What?” Sabrina demanded. “What is it?”

The look in her eyes was familiar. Her frustrated, angry look was mirrored in your expression, but you found you didn’t care. Sabrina was clearly going through something, but her rudeness to you was the final straw. Tired from Finn, Jimin and the constant pressure you were both under, something about Sabrina’s words made you break.

“Why are you always such a… such a bitch,” you blurted, hurling the word like a knife. “What did I ever do to you? Why do you always act like you hate me so much?”

Sabrina’s upper lip curled. “Why do you always think this is about you, Y/N? Maybe I just wanted one second of peace and instead, here you are. Like always.”

“Here I am, in the public restroom of a club we’re all at?”

“No. Here you are in my life,” she snapped, pushing herself from the sink. “People won’t talk to me? It’s because you’ve run your mouth about things you think I’ve done. I’m falling in the class ranks? It’s because you’re after my spot. Jimin doesn’t want to be my partner? It’s because of his feelings for you. I’m sick of turning around and always seeing you there!”

“Okay, but none of those things – I, Jimin doesn’t have feelings for me,” you sputtered.

Sabrina gave you a look. “Oh, please, Y/N.” Her laughter was harsh. “Why else would he turn me down?”

“Um, maybe because he’s a decent human being? Unlike yourself.”

“Great, yeah.” Sabrina glared. “Make me the bad guy again.”

“I’m not the one doing that,” you huffed. “You are. You want to blame me because no one wants to be your friend? Maybe try reaching out first. Maybe don’t talk shit about people behind their backs. And I’m improving because I’m taking extra lessons. No thanks to you, of course.”

“Don’t try and make me feel bad because I didn’t have time to give you lessons.”

“I’m not trying to make you feel bad. I’m trying to explain why I’m improving and you’re not.”

Sabrina bristled. “Are you saying I don’t work hard, too?”

“No.” Mirthless, you laughed. “I know you work hard – maybe even as hard as I do. But you know what the big difference is between you and me?” you said, drawing yourself to your full height.

Sabrina’s eyes glimmered while she stared you down. Still, she retained her aloofness when she said, “What? What’s the big secret?”

“You think everyone’s out to get you,” you said, stepping closer. “You think not asking for help makes you stronger, but it’s the exact opposite. At least I’ve improved since the start of the year. What have you done?”

Not waiting for an answer, you pushed past Sabrina and walked out the door.

Shoving it wide, you entered the hallway. Dance music flooded your senses and you winced, remembering where you were and what you’d been doing. Luckily, Jimin was nowhere in sight. He must not have seen where you’d disappeared to.

Shoulders slumping, you pulled out your phone and dialed a number. Walking to the front, you concentrated on breathing while you waited for them to pick up. Coming to a stop beside coat check, you didn’t leave the club – a lesson you’d learned the hard way.

Noelle answered on the third ring. “Babe?” she yelled, barely audible over the din. “What’s going on? Where are you?”

“Are you…” Closing your eyes, you paused. “Can we leave?”

Noelle paused, then muffled her phone with one hand. “Irene!” you heard her yell. “You good to get a ride home for these people? Okay, cool. Bye!” Her phone became un-muffled. “Where are you, babe?”

After explaining your location, you hung up and hugged yourself with both arms. Noelle burst into view a few moments later, scanning the crowd like a mom on a mission. When she saw you, she rushed over – and you promptly burst into tears.

“Oh, no!” Pulling you into a hug, Noelle began to rub your back. “No, no, babe! Don’t cry! What’s going on? Do I need to kick someone’s ass?”

Hearing Jimin’s words said by Noelle only made you cry harder. Wisely sensing this to be a problem not easily solved, Noelle continued rubbing your back while walking towards the exit.

The two of you went outside and, as luck would have it, saw a group of people arriving at the club. Noelle snagged their taxi, helping you in the backseat and giving the driver your address. As you settled against her, your head on her shoulder, Noelle kept rubbing your arm and waited for the tears to stop.

You weren’t really sure why you were crying.

Of course, Sabrina was terrible, as was the situation with Jimin, but it was more than that. Dancing with Jimin hadn’t caused problems in your relationship with Finn. There had been problems in your relationship Finn and so, feelings had crept in which led you to dance with Jimin.

More than that though, you couldn’t help but notice Noelle had come to your aid much faster than Finn ever had. Even Jimin had dropped everything when you asked, and he was someone you’d once called your enemy. Noelle had been having fun, but she’d cut her night short because you were upset. This knowledge crushed you and for the very first time, you realized your relationship with Finn might be unfixable.

Curled up on the backseat, you let yourself cry a bit more. You could be calm and rational in the morning, you decided but for now, you just felt defeated.

When you finally climbed into bed at your dorm at night, you looked at your phone and saw Finn still hadn’t texted.

Author’s Note: Thank you for reading! 😊 New chapters of Raise the Barre are posted weekly; dates are listed on the series Master List. Requests for updates will be deleted.

RAISE THE BARRE MASTERLIST 

© kpopfanfictrash, 2020. Do not copy or repost without permission.

[honeybunpeter]

I saw this post from @starker-secrets and had to write something.

"I need more of Tony spying on Peter thru his suit"

Hope you enjoy :)

~~

“Sir, Mr. Parker’s suit is transmitting audio that the Baby Monitor Protocol has flagged as potentially distressed. Would you like to hear it?”

“Yeah, give it to me FRI.”

Gasps sounded through the suit’s speakers as Tony flew from the partially built upstate facility back to Avengers tower. It sounded at first like Peter was in pain, and Tony’s heart dropped to his stomach as he sped up. But then a soft moan filtered through, and Tony’s heart dropped even further. Faintly, he could hear slick noises, softly squelching in the rhythm a fist would make over an approximately 5.4 inch long object. Peter wasn’t in distress. Quite the opposite in fact.

Tony’s dick got hard so fast it made him dizzy. He faltered slightly in his flight, overcorrecting when he tilted.

Peter was apparently done with his patrol for the day, if this audio was anything to go by.

A student at NYU, Peter had refused Tony’s offer of a fully paid tuition, and was instead paying for his schooling himself. Because of the whole Neighborhood Spider-Man deal, he couldn’t work enough jobs to pay for both an apartment and the tuition, and have enough time to be Spider-Man and a normal student, so he had accepted Tony’s offer of an apartment. He had initially refused that as well, but after Tony cited his endless supply of wealth, as well as Peter’s need for privacy due to his costumed alter-ego, Peter reluctantly accepted.

That privacy was now being used to its full advantage. The moans currently caressing Tony’s ears were increasing in both volume and frequency.

Feeling guilty and more and more like the creepy old man he pretended not to be, Tony was about to open his mouth to tell FRIDAY to cut the sound, when the slick noises suddenly sped up.

Peter, alone in his apartment that Tony bought for him, jerking off while wearing the suit Tony made for him, was about to come, and Tony was going to hear the whole thing. Fumbling, Tony put the suit in FRIDAY’s control, not trusting his unfocused eyes and racing heart to steer him home. Breathing hard, he turned his full attention to the delicious noises echoing in his helmet.

“Unh, fuck. Ah— ah— ah—“

Peter cut off with a gasp, before he stopped breathing entirely. After a silent, expectant moment, his voice broke on a loud moan as he presumably came, all over his multi-million dollar suit.

Tony’s dick was currently trying to poke a hole through the hard metal casing of his own suit. He was aching, literally aching, to get home and peel it off, and finally indulge in the thoughts he hadn’t let himself think for the past year.

Listening to Peter’s heavy breathing as he recovered, Tony thought back to when he first met Peter.

Freshly eighteen and a new freshman in college, Peter was understandably scared when Tony dropped into his dorm room to accuse him of vigilante-ing, and to ask him to help in Germany. Tony knew Peter had an aunt in Queens, and he was considering using her as leverage, when Peter agreed to fly to Leipzig and miss a week of classes. He had done well, had helped Tony try to keep the Avengers together (which actually did nothing but tear them further apart, but that was in no way Peter’s fault), and had gone back to his dorm room with Tony’s promise of a call.

Of course Tony had found Peter attractive. With big eyes framed by thick lashes, a strong and muscular body hidden under large hoodies and sweatpants, with a bright and easy smile, he was charming in his excitement and naïveté. He was almost too pure, his rosy cheeks and soft skin so obviously a metaphor for an angel it could hardly be called a metaphor anymore.

Peter was legally an adult, yes, but Tony was his mentor, and Peter was almost thirty years Tony’s junior. He didn’t have the weight of thousands of lives and a failed marriage and a broken team dragging down his shoulders like Tony had, either. That shit aged you.

So Tony had locked his impure thoughts away in a little box in his brain, only taking it out sometimes to look at it, but never to open it.

But now, the little box had been blown wide open, and all the thoughts Tony had smothered were back in full force. Thoughts like how Peter would look with tears of pleasure beading at the corners of his eyes, how he would look with cum splattered on his cheeks, how he would moan high and pretty when Tony licked him just so, how his lithe back would arch, how his mouth would drop open when Tony first pushed inside him, how he would look up at Tony in rapture, with love in his eyes— No. That was too far. Tony couldn’t afford to think like that.

When Peter’s breathing finally evened out, Tony cleared his throat and said, “Cut the sound, FRI.”

Taking control of his suit back once he reached Manhattan, Tony angled his way down to the landing pad of the tower. Once he landed the suit opened up, letting him stumble his way out on trembling legs. His slacks were uncomfortably tight. Finally making it back to his room and collapsing on his bed, he shoved his hand down his pants, closed his eyes, and let his hind brain take over. Trying to ignore the guilt settling like acid in his stomach.

—

Peter had known for weeks about the Baby Monitor Protocol. He didn’t know if it was just tracking his location, or sending information, or even recording, so he did a little hunting. Finding in the code and his suit only a tracker and an outgoing connection to the microphone in his mask, he figured that Karen was constantly transmitting audio and general location information to FRIDAY.

Swinging between buildings on his way home one afternoon after patrol, he thought about what that meant. It made him a little hot under the collar knowing that Mr. Stark could hear everything he was doing when he was wearing the suit, could be listening at all times. Listening to Peter helping old ladies across the street, saving a man from a mugging, panting with exertion— would he think his heavy breathing was from something else?

The thought made Peter miss his next web shot and he had to scramble to make sure he didn’t smash into a street lamp. Warmth bloomed into his cheeks and down his neck. His suit was starting to feel uncomfortably tight, and he swung faster.

Making it to his living room window, he dropped in on silent feet. He stumbled his way to his couch, slumping down until his head was resting on the back of it. Opening the secret seam at his waist Mr. Stark made when Peter complained about needing to pee when he was patrolling (and God what Mr. Stark would say if he knew what it was being used for now—) he slipped his hand in to palm at his aching cock. Groaning in relief, he closed his eyes and gave in to the pleasure.

What if Mr. Stark were listening? Would he be disgusted? Would he turn off the audio as soon as he knew what Peter was doing? Or would he be intrigued, aroused, at the thought of Peter defiling his multi-million dollar gift?

Peter did just that when the thought popped into his head, sending streaks up his chest almost to his masked chin. Body still jolting in the aftershocks, what he just did finally registered in his head.

Gasping in panic this time, rather than pleasure, he ripped his mask off and flung it across the room, peeling his suit off next. What was he thinking? There was no way Mr. Stark would he anything other than disgusted with what he heard, if he heard it at all. Not to mention, Peter had violated Mr. Stark. Guilt and panic started to clog his throat, and he resolved to never do it again.

—

A few weeks later, Peter relaxed back on his bed and pulled his mask off. He wiped his sweaty hair off of his forehead and grinned. Fuck. That was good.

He wasn’t sure if Mr. Stark was listening, but honestly it didn’t matter, because that was one of the best orgasms he’d ever had. He’d imagined that Mr. Stark was teasing him, was keeping him balanced on the edge, whispering how Peter’s pleasure was his, his to create and control.

After the last time he jerked off in the suit, he had resolved to never do it again. But that was only until Peter saw the way Mr. Stark watched him. Peter wasn’t sure if he was imagining it, imagining something he only wished was there, but he could almost feel the heated gaze Mr. Stark sent him tingling down his spine. When they worked in Mr. Stark’s workshop side by side, Peter modifying his web shooters and Mr. Stark tinkering on his cars, or making an entirely new Iron Man suit, or just generally flitting between projects, Peter felt that Mr. Stark was doing a lot more tripping over his feet and burning his fingers than actually paying attention to what he was doing. Peter liked to imagine that this distraction was because of him, and not because of something else.

So Peter decided to do what Peter does best; solve the shit out of this problem. After class he changed into the tightest shirt he owned, and some gym shorts with a 5-inch inseam, ones he only bought because MJ slipped it into his basket at Target when he wasn’t looking. He felt distinctly uncomfortable on the subway to Stark Tower, but the thought of Mr. Stark’s (hopefully) flustered face was enough to steel his resolve.

He wasn’t disappointed. Mr. Stark practically did a spit-take when Peter walked out of the elevator into the workshop, eyes tracing up and down his body.

“Hey Mr. Stark,” Peter said, dropping his backpack off at his work station and sitting down, projecting a casual air.

“H-hey, Peter.”

Peter grinned down at the desk top. Mr. Stark never stuttered. That was almost a written confirmation of his hypothesis in Peter’s eyes.

The next night before his patrol, Peter settled down onto his bed, wearing his mask but no suit, preparing to have a fantastic next hour.

Which he definitely did.

—

In the weeks that followed the first time, Tony felt unbearably dirty, but he couldn’t stop thinking about it. How Peter’s moans sounded. How he might look, wracked with pleasure, his face slack and pink mouth open, eyes rolled back. Peter’s moans and pretty gasps haunted his every waking moment, and most of his sleeping moments too. He’d often wake up with sticky boxers, something that hadn’t happened to him since he was a teenager. A teenager like Peter, oh god.

He’d taken to wearing an earpiece, not visible of course, that connected directly to FRIDAY in case he was out of the tower or away from his suit when Peter next indulged in, ahem. Some personal time.

But it hadn’t happened again since the first time. Unfortunately. Or maybe fortunately. Maybe if Tony didn’t hear it again he would stop thinking about it. Maybe then he could go back to pretending he wasn’t that creepy old man. Who was he kidding, he still was. Peter had walked into the workshop the previous day wearing very short shorts and a tight shirt, his tan legs and leanly muscled chest taunting Tony as they worked. But he could at least try to not creep on Peter electronically.

“Sir, Mr. Parker’s suit is transmi—“

There goes that.

Tony looked around the hallway he was in in the upstate facility, and snuck into an empty conference room. He quickly locked the doors and asked FRIDAY to black out the windows.

“Let me hear it.”

Moans filled his ear again, closer this time, more intimate. It sounded also as if the audio was clearer. Tony could hear more things now. Like how Peter’s breath would hitch on a moan right after the slick noises of his fist slowed down or stopped entirely— was he teasing himself? would he like to be teased for hours if Tony were there? Tony could bring him to the edge over and over, watch the flush move down Peter’s cheeks to his chest, watch his cock twitch every time Tony let go, watch tears of frustration start to fall down his pretty face—

—and how there was also the dry rasping sound of skin on skin, followed by a sharp gasp— was he caressing his chest, running his fingers over his nipples, pinching them? twisting them? did Peter like pain? would he like it if Tony sucked dark bruises all over his body, biting them deeper, leaving his mark—

(—it didn’t occur to Tony to wonder why Peter’s chest was bare but the suit was transmitting audio, meaning Peter was wearing the mask and only the mask—)

—and this time when Peter was about to come Tony heard that the sound of his fist moving over his cock stopped, and instead there was a softer sound, quick and frantic but still gentle and wet— like Peter was rubbing his first two fingers on the spot right under the head of his cock, the most sensitive part, like he was letting the heat build and build rather than letting it take over immediately, letting the warm ache spread out into his pelvis and thighs and lower back, building and building, until the pleasure became too hot and he had to wrap his fist back around the head and squeeze gently, gasping through the waves and waves of pleasure—

Tony gasped through his own orgasm, not realizing that he’d snuck his hand down his slacks while he was listening. He shivered as he came back down.

“Shit. Fuck. Shit fuck. Fuck.” Tony cursed quietly under his breath as he carefully pulled his hand from out of his boxers. “Cut the sound, FRI.”

He looked down at his dirty hand, wondering how he was going to get out of this room and hallway undetected.

“What the hell am I doing?”

—

Peter jerks off in the suit several more times over the next few weeks, each time so full of mind-melting pleasure it leaves him gasping for minutes after. His guard is starting to drop, the idea of Mr. Stark hearing him, and his fantasies of Mr. Stark being there, have made him reckless.

It all comes to a head one Thursday night. Peter had just received an A on one of his midterms, and wanted to reward himself (not that there was any chance he wouldn’t do well on the midterm, but it’s the thought that counts), so he settled in for a long, luxurious jerk-off session.

“Uh— uh— yeah—“

Fuck it felt good. If only Mr. Stark were here. He’d trace his fingers up and down Peter’s flanks, nip possessively at his neck, cover Peter’s fingers on his cock with his own. He’d wring the pleasure out of Peter so skillfully and thoroughly that Peter would be able to do nothing more than shiver and cry under his calloused hands.

Forgetting himself, and who could be listening, Peter gasped out “Mr. Stark—“

“Calling Mr. Stark now,” came Karen’s cool voice.

Eyes popping open Peter yelped, frantically shouting “No! Wait—“

With a gentle bing, the phone call connected. Fast and heavy breathing followed by Mr. Stark’s unusually rough and breathless voice filled Peter’s ears.

“…Peter?”

[caffeineforbucky]

As Time Goes By...(Chapter One)

Post-blip (five or six months later)

A/N: This is my first time writing on this website or anything public really, I usually just write for me, please just bear with me if it looks or sounds janky. Also, thanks for taking the time to read. I deeply & wholeheartedly appreciate you. Enjoy!

Summary: I suck at them but, I'll give it a shot. You- the reader, are surprised by 'old' friends when they show up out of the blue, asking for your help on a mission. (This is just the sum for chap. 1)

Word count: 2,760

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem! reader

Warnings: Angst, swearing, ex-boyfriend jealousy...

The day was coming to an end, a small heatwave conjuring up a sweat as you wiped down your last table for the night. You blew out a breath, brushing back a sheen of perspiration with your forearm, watching the last customer walk out of the restaurant as the bell chimed above their head.

You never understood why people chose to sit inside when there were tables out on the sidewalk. It was hotter in here than out there, especially since the air conditioner had gone out just a few days prior and the fans above the tables were only circling the air inside. It was an actual oven, but they contended.

Your hightops heaved across the tile, dragging yourself with the sufficiency of a person who was only working because they had to. You kicked up the doorstop, pulling the door towards you with a small amount of goodwill and vigor to finish locking up, flipping the paper sign over from open to closed. It wasn't as if you hated your job. You thoroughly enjoyed the atmosphere of it all. It was the only person working the night shift job you hated with every fiber of your being. You weren't completely alone in the restaurant, having a few cooks and the owner to keep you company, especially on busy nights like the one you just had.

"I'm clocking out, Mrs. Turner!" You call out, reaching behind your back to untie the knot of your apron, pulling it up and off your neck once the ties came undone. Trudging back to the table, you picked up the disinfectant wipe and toss it in the bin, making your way to your boss's office before hanging up your apron on the hook. "Mrs. Turner...?" You murmur softly, poking your head in through the doorway, only to see her counting the profits for the day. "I'm heading home," You chime, pointing behind your shoulder with your thumb as she glances up at you.

"Alright, Honey," She beams, a bright smile pulling at her lips as her eyes meet yours. "I'll see you tomorrow then?"

Working for the Turners wasn't supposed to be a permanent job, in fact, it wasn't even your original plan, as opposed to the small favors you would complete now and then for the people that were willing to pay a pretty penny for your...services.

But you figured having a stable job was smarter and safer than the alternative. And the help wanted sign was very persuasive, due to the pretty colors and splashes of glitter. It looked like it was made by a child, which you later found out, was decorated by Mrs. Turner's seven-year-old. "Always." You accede, tapping the doorframe as your goodbye before parading into the breakroom to gather your things from the lockers.

You take your backpack off the hook and swing the strap over your shoulder before time punching your card and going straight through the back door. The sounds of the city hit your ears as the heavy door slammed behind you. Traffic honks and tires treading against the grain while you walk further into the busy streets of San Francisco.

As you were about to turn the corner, you were met with the sight of your friend's van, followed by a trumpet rendition of La Cucaracha. You grinned widely, gripping your strap tighter as you jog up the 1972 Ford Ecoline, aka Big Bertha. At least that's what you called it. "Luis!" You rejoice, resting your palms on the ledge. "What are you doing here?"

"Scotty sent me out for a few things," Luis answers, his hands gripping the steering wheel, his head turned to you. "I was just about to go when I saw you. Thought you might need a ride." He shrugs, a cute smile playing on his lips.

You nod, reciprocating the smile at his answer. "Yeah, if it's not too much trouble..." You drag, your voice hesitant, as if he didn't offer at all.

"Nah, get in." He gestures, beckoning you with a wave of his hand. "Your place is on the way," Luis loosens his seatbelt, reaching over to the passenger side to pull up the lock, opening the door for you.

You climb in, plopping down on the tufted leather seats as you pulled the door towards you, closing it shut. "Thanks, Lu," You breathe, dropping your backpack below your feet, then you fasten your seatbelt. "How is Scott, anyway?" You ask as Luis changes gears and presses the gas, the van rolls onto the street.

"Ehh...he's...he's alright, know what I'm sayin'?" He answers, glancing at you before focusing back on the road. "I mean, he missed like five years of his daughter's life. He's just trying to spend as much time with her to make up for years they both lost."

You nibble at the inside of your cheek, nodding softly in agreement as the city lights passed you by. There wasn't much you could say to that, having lost so many people yourself. People you considered family just...gone.

"Yo!" Luis pipes up, snapping you out of your train of thought. "Didja see the news today?!" He shakes his head, whistling at the thought. "I can't believe they would just give some random dude the shield like that, ya know?"

You drew in your bottom lip in contempt, nodding once again at Luis. You had seen the news, and they couldn't have picked a better time to broadcast. If it hadn't been for Mrs. Turner asking you in, you would've hunted Sam Wilson down and kicked his ass yourself.

The van rolled to a stop, brakes squealing as Luis pulled up beside your apartment. You sighed heavily, glancing at the small apartment you shared with your Ex-boyfriend. By the looks of the living room light illuminating behind the curtains, he was home, and you absolutely dreaded when he was. It wasn't as if you wanted to live with him, but you had no other alternative. Ever since dropping your side job, money was tighter, and he was kind enough to let you stay, just until you found a place. "Thanks again for the ride, Lu." You mumble, unclicking your seatbelt as you took hold of your backpack. "You didn't have to."

"Don't even mention it, Y/N," Luis reassures, watching you as you pull at the door handle, opening it to get out. "I know how hard it is to get back into the norm."

You shut the passenger door, shooting him a sympathetic smile. "I'll see you around?"

With a smile, Luis waves goodbye and drives off into the night, the exhaust pipe blowing smoke as he rode off. You shook your head, cracking a smile at the honk of his horn. You turned towards the front entrance of the apartment, your stomach twisting as your smile dropped completely. You swallowed thickly, rolling the tension from your shoulders to prepare yourself before jogging up the small flight of stairs.

You fished your keys from the front pocket of your backpack, taking a breath before shoving the key into the lock, twisting as you pushed the door open with your shoulder. "Joshua?!" You voiced, calling out your ex's name to make sure it was him. You dropped your belongings beside the door, pushing your sneakers off before kicking the door shut with your foot.

"Yeah, in here!" He responds quickly, a slight tremor to his tone.

You frown softly, tossing your keys into the bowl on the console table before sauntering to where his voice was emanating from. "Josh, are you...?" Your voice came to a halt, your footsteps stopping altogether as you walked into the living room.

"Hey!" Joshua exclaims once your figure comes into view. "You wanna explain who they are?" He presses, his face crossed with fear as he gestures to the two men sitting calmly on your living room couch.

You remained quiet, your body tense, eyes wide as your focus shifted between the men on the couch and your ex.

"Well...?" Joshua demands, crossing his arms over his chest, shifting in his stance at the unsettling glare one of the men was sending his way. "I was in the middle of hosting game night-as you can see, when they showed up," Josh drops his arms, hands splaying out to gesture to the coffee table consisting of five different dips, two bulk-sized bags of tortilla chips, and a twenty-four pack of Blue Moon beer. "The guys were just about to come over."

You take a deep breath, closing your eyes to refrain from any and all insults towards your ex. That explained why he was home. "Um..." You utter, pinching the bridge of your nose, "Fucking hell," You curse under your breath, eyes fluttering open to look at Joshua. "Josh," You begin, clearing your throat as you start with the man on the left. "They are Sam Wilson and..." You hesitate, eyes settling on the man to the right, his sight alone bringing back the memories that you swore you didn't want to remember. "James Barnes," You finish, ripping your eyes away from his baby blues to look at your ex. "Aka-"

"The Falcon and The Winter Soldier..." Joshua finishes for you, his eyes flashing with amazement, head whipping towards the guys. "Shit!" He curses, smiling widely like a kid in a candy store. "Can I get you guys anything? A plate? Beer?"

"Actually," You grunt, interrupting before Sam or Bucky could answer. "Can you give us a minute, Joshua?" Insisting while your foot tapped impatiently against the hardwood floor.

"Should I be worried?" He inquires, eyes filled with confusion as he looked between the three of you, trying to piece together the situation at hand. The main reason you and Joshua couldn't work it out was that you kept a lot of secrets, mostly from him. He didn't like the fact that you wouldn't let him in. Sure, you lied to him, the biggest lie being that you were an Avenger, but that was just to keep him safe. There were other reasons why you decided to split up as well. Joshua knew...he knew deep down you were just with him to pass the time. He could see it when he looked into your eyes. There was someone else in the reflection and it wasn't him. If he was honest with himself, he could admit that it did hurt him. That he wanted a chance to make it work with you, but with the way you were staring at James, he finally recognized that reflection.

He should've noticed it early on-like that day he had somehow convinced you to take a trip to D.C for a tour of the Captain America museum. You were hell-bent on not going, trying to make up some elaborate excuse or an alibi of sorts, but alas, you still went. And for some odd reason, you couldn't stop coming back to the Bucky Barnes portion.

"No," You reply, keeping it short to dismiss him.

Joshua's mouth set in a hard line, a foreign feeling forming in the pit of his stomach-jealousy. He never had to worry about it before, especially when his friends used to come over, back when you were still together. Except for that one time, but how could he blame them? You were the kind of person that listened, laughed at the jokes being made, could lend a hand when needed, and your looks were just a bonus in his book. "Uhm, yeah," He coughed, frowning softly while nodding his head at you. "I have to go pick up the pizza, anyway," Josh brushes past you, fetching his keys from the bowl while slipping on his Vans that sat up against the wall ledge that separated the front door from the living room. "Are you going to be okay?" He mumbles, glancing over his shoulder to look at you.

You shoot Josh a smile, nodding reassuringly, his footsteps approaching closer before stopping in front of you, the palm of his hand landing gently on your shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. "Let me know if you need anything, m'kay?" Josh's voice is soft, the concern in his eyes making you feel guilty. You knew he cared about you, and there wasn't a time where you'd catch him staring at you for far too long, but you were well past that. "I'm just a text away," He notes, waving his cell in his hand.

"Josh, I'll be fine," You sigh, stepping away from his touch, the sound of his hand hitting his jeans as it dropped from your shoulder. "I always am."

"Right," Josh nods, looking over at the men on the couch before gazing back at you. "I'll see you in a bit, bug." And with that, he turns, opens the front door, and steps out, shutting the wooden door behind him.

You close your eyes, the pet name Josh had coined for you making you sigh. He agreed to stop calling you that all together and it only made you feel that more guilty for ending things. "So..." You pipe up, opening your eyes as you turned to look at the guys. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

"Bug?"

Bucky is the first to speak, his jaw clenched at the mere sound of the word. Indignant at the way Josh had touched you, even if it was just your shoulder. "I didn't know he knew you like that," Bucky flashes you a taut smile, nodding softly as he shared a look with Sam, but the falcon only shook his head. "How long have you been..." Bucky couldn't even finish the question, his glove-clad hands tightening at the thought of you being with somebody else...someone that wasn't him. Though, it was his own fault. If he hadn't done what he'd done-you'd have never found another.

"Wow," You scoff, padding closer to where they sat. "You don't miss a beat, do you? Just..." You sink into the sofa adjacent to the one they occupied. "-Right into the big stuff."

"I didn't bring you here to question her about her love life," Sam voices, his scolding eyes on the man beside him. "And she sure as hell isn't obligated to answer you, Bucky."

You smile gratefully at Sam before glancing down at your leg that had begun to bounce in anticipation. "What are you guys doing here? And how'd you find me?" You ask, tilting your head in curiosity as you look up at the guys. "When I resigned from the Avengers initiative, they ensured me that I wasn't able to be traced, not by your or any other remaining member. I was supposed to be scot-free," You declare, hitting your thigh with your fist.

"Oh, come on, Y/N," Sam chuckles, shaking his head at the naivety. "We both know that's a bunch of bullshit. The government is always going to have its eyes on us. Especially free agents like you and us."

You draw in your bottom lip, biting down, eyes flickering between Sam and Bucky. You knew it was too good to be true, and part of you sensed the bullshit when the government explained it to you. You just didn't want to believe it.

"You were an ex-assassin. How could they not keep tabs on your whereabouts?" Sam recounts, emphasizing that it was in the past. At least, that's what they thought. "And I had some help from Redwing as well." He shrugs nonchalantly.

You choke out a laugh, shaking your head at the smug demeanor emitting from Sam. "Redwing," You whisper, smiling thinly. "Of course, nothing could ever be hidden from your personal P.I, huh?"

"I hate that thing," Bucky grumbles, folding his arms across his chest. in annoyance. "Invasion of privacy, I'm telling you."

"You love redwing," Sam jokes, playfully jabbing Bucky's arm with his elbow, "It's okay Bucky, you can admit it."

"Can we get back to the issue here?" You interject, "Not one of you has explained the reason you're here. I mean, don't get me wrong, it's great to see you...one more than the other," You whisper that last part but, completely aware that Bucky could hear it. "But, you both showing up out of the blue...? That's almost a bad omen."

"I didn't ask him here, by the way," Sam acknowledges, raising his hands in defense, "I just want to get that out of the way. Bucky came because he wanted to. I'm here," Sam gestures to himself, "-For one reason and one reason only..."

"And what's that?" You ask, leaning forward in your seated position.

"I need your help, Y/N."

[navegandoaciegas]

You think Lee would seize the chance when his wife's niece (not his side of the family) comes to visit? He's never met her, since the family moved out of knockemstiff many years ago. I mean, that beautiful, 21-year-old would look magnificent coming around his fat cock right? It's all he can think about, especially since his wife won't touch him anymore. And that perfect young thing is right under his roof.

changed it to friend’s daughter bc i checked and what you asked for is incest by marriage (at least in my country)

Married men do it better

Summary: You heard from your roommate that no one does it better than married men in their 40s, and you decide to test out her theories on your dad’s best friend (smut, explicit language, typos probably)

You looked like shit under the bright mirror lights of the bathroom, drenched in sweat and sleep deprived. The faucet twisted with a squeak, and you relished in the cold water that soothed your burning cheeks, neck and chest.

The night was restless, like most were when you spent them someplace other than your home or your dorm. You’d tossed and turned for hours in the single bed that the Bodeckers have provided you with, in the room that had been designed to be their child’s but had stayed barren. Then you’d gotten up, and tiptoed to the bathroom, careful not to wake Mrs Bodecker next door or your parents in the guest room downstairs.

You splashed more water on you, sighing in satisfaction. Blindly grabbing a towel on the rack next to you, you patted your face dry, standing straight.

And when you opened your eyes, another pair looked back at you in the mirror.

You jumped in suprise, but the scream that threatened to rip out of your throat was silenced by his rough hand clamping shut your mouth. You still bumped against the sink, rattiling the products on it, but luckily none of them fell to the linoleum floor.

Lee Bodecker stood behind you, so close that for a brief moment you wondered how you hadn’t sensed his presence before.

You knew he’d come look for you, for your sweet words and warm body, like he had all nights since you’d stayed at his place. You’d felt bold, that first night, and palmed his cock through his work uniform while your parents and his wife chatted in the kitchen.

It was easy, riling up a man who hadn’t been touched by his wife in years and hadn’t felt affection or sweet nothings whispered in his ears in even longer. And to be honest, he hadn’t put up much of a fight, too enamored with you, a young, sweet thing, all doe eyed and pouty lips.

You’d heard from your roommate that no one did it better than married men in their forties.

Those frat boys you both fooled around with didn’t even come close, and she’d slept with an older gentleman already, and you couldn’t let her be too smug about the fact that you hadn’t.

You’d have to try it too, and tell her all about it when you’d go back to Denver in August.

Until August, though, you’d let Lee Bodecker have his way with you all night, every night.

“Hush, baby girl,” he chuckled in your ear, eyes boring in yours through the mirror, “don’t wanna go wakin’ daddy dearest, hm? He’d kill us both.”

You shook your head, and giggled in his hand, pressing yourself flush against his chest. His belly was soft and pliant on your back, and underneath it you could feel his thick cock, already hard for you.

He groaned, and tightened the grip on your sides. “Already so eager, you little minx.”

“Always eager for you, Sheriff,” you said in the most sensual voice you could muster.

He didn’t look like the boys on the Varsity team, with his chubby cheeks and double chin, but it didn’t matter to you. You liked men in all shapes and forms but something about Lee’s body made your pussy throb, and your thighs clench.

“Good girl,” he mumbled in your hair, nuzzling his face right behind your ear, “Do you want me, hm? You all hot and bothered thinking about my cock all night? Thinkin’bout how I make your pussy cry for me?”

A whimper almost escaped your lips, and you clenched your thighs, memories of all the things he’d done to you flooding your mind. He’d fucked you harsh, and then soft, and then he’s stuck a thumb in your ass, a place where you’d never though about sticking anything in, and then shoved his cock all up your tight rim.

It hadn’t hurt, surprisingly. Much less than losing your virginity with a dumb teen boy underneath the school’s bleachers.

He’d eaten you out like a starved man, had had you ride his face, and then he’d stuck his cock so far down your throat that you’d almost passed out.

You were a wrecked, sobbing, sticky mess after each encounter.

“Please Sheriff, need you inside me, need your big fuckin’ cock in my cunt.”

He smirked, one hand traveling up to your breast, the other roaming down your thigh. “You got a mouth on you, darl’. Dirty little mouth on a dirty little slut like you,” he hummed, smiling against your skin.

His hands were rough and calloused, and they left shivers behind as they grazed you with gentle touches you wouldn’t expect from a man so big and harsh.

He touched you like you were made of the finest china, and sometimes when your mind wasn’t clouded by lust, you felt sorry for him. You pitied him, all alone in a cold house with a distant wife that you suspected was seeing other men behind his back and that made him sleep on the couch most nights.

You closed your eyes, shoving your bleeding heart in a corner of your mind, focusing on how good his hands felt as the pinched your nipples, how pleasant his lips were on your pulse point.

He bunched your drenched nightgown at your waist, growling when he noticed you weren’t wearing any undergarments. He dipped his fingers in your glistening folds, finding you soaked, leaking for him.

“Always so wet for me, princess, all for me?” he whimpered, rubbing his aching cock on your ass, eyes squeezed shut.

“Only for you, Lee,” you whined, hips rolling against his lenght, desperate to feel him inside you, to have him fill you up with his fat cock.

He played with your clit, rubbing circles on it while he crouched around you and sucked one of your nipples in his mouth. You stared at the scene in the mirror, your body twisted around his, your tits spilling out of your nightgown, the golden band around his fourth finger gleaming in the light.

Your pussy clenched hard around nothing.

“Fuck,” you moaned, bucking your hips behind you to rub the flesh of your ass against his raging hard on, “I can’t wait Lee, I need ya inside me, now.”

Lee chuckled, shoving his pyjamas pants down his thighs, his big, leaking cock standing to attention.

“Won’t even lemme taste you, darl’? That eager, hm?”

“Please,” you whined, spreading your legs apart to give him better access.

He teased you, rubbing his tip through your folds, coating it in your arousal. He slowly pushed himself past your entrance, stretching you with his girth, sheathing himself inside you with a broken moan.

He stilled, giving you time to adjust as you panted and winced.

“God, you’re so fuckin’ big, I’ll never get used to this,” you breathed, slowly circling your hips.

His cock hit all the right spots inside you, sending jolts of electricity down your spine. You felt the pressure build slow but steady in your cunt, as he slowly dragged his cock in and out of your cunt, relishing in the way your walls gripped him.

He clamped a hand over your mouth, shutting your moans up, and kept hammering his hips against your ass, the slapping of the soft flesh of his belly against your back the only sounds in the room.

He hauled one of your legs over his forearm, spreading you even further for him. He hit a new angle, a new nerve that threatened to break the dam in you core.

He thrusted deep inside you, and you watched from the mirror the slow drag of his cock disappearing in and out of your swollen cunt.

He was sweaty and out of breath and judging from the pained look on his face was trying hard to will back his pleasure and his moans.

One wrong move, one loud sound, and you’d wake someone in the house, who’d come check on you. If they did, they’d Lee pounding into you and you enjoying it like the cockdrunk whore you were.

That’s what he liked to remind you, and you nodded, lost in pleasure, feeling the warmth and pressure in your cunt become unbearable.

“Fuck, I can feel you clamp down on me, princess. Wanna feel you cum baby, come all over my fuckin’ cock, I know you can do it.”

He doubled his efforts, rubbing your clit and pummelling inside you.

The thought that your parents could catch you made you dizzy, but the idea of his wife walking in on you pushed you over the edge.

You were glad for the hand on your mouth as you came, screams muffled. You gushed over the sink, and you both watched through lidded eyes the pressure in your cunt snap, knot unraveling, his cock slipping out of you with your release, just in time for him to paint your legs and the floor with his hot spurt.

You were both spent and satisfied, and you turned around, lazily throwing your arms aroud his neck. The kiss you shared was sweet and sated.

He tasted like lemon drops on your tongue.

You pulled back, adjusting the nightgown over your tits.

“My roommate was right,” you hummed, pecking his lips and brushing past him.

“About?” he questioned, brow quirking.

“Married men really do it better..”

He turned around to say something, anything really, but you were gone already, leaving behind the sweet scent of you hair and an enraptured Lee.

-

Sorry for the typos. I’m writing from my phone.

I hope you liked this. Please reblog and leave some feedback. I love reading your comments, and they’re my biggest motivation ⭐️❤️