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let-them-read-fics · 3 years

Text

Blackpink HC / One Shots: Enemies to Lovers, College AU (2/2)

Requested: Yes

Warnings / Misc. -- Bickering, Rivalry, Fluff

A/N: Hey everyone! This is the second half of the request, featuring Rosé and Lisa. If you want to see the first part, with Jisoo and Jennie, click the link below. I hope you enjoy!

Click for Jisoo and Jennie

♡ Happy Reading ♡

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

Rosé

Park Chaeyoung: The girl who hung with the wrong crowd.

Your problem lied more so with the people she associated with than her herself. You couldn't wrap your head around why such a kind person like her would spend time with the class clowns and bullies, and to make matters worse, she would stick up for them as well.

She spent most of her days in either the art or music room, creating the masterpieces that her brain came up with.

But as soon as school was over, she'd be hanging out with them again and getting into trouble. For instance, because of her talents, they would invite her to go with them and graffiti various hot spots around town. She never vandalized any monuments or landmarks of importance -- she typically stuck to bridges or abandoned buildings -- but after getting caught with them multiple times, it was inevitable for her to be held accountable.

She was given a week's detention to make up for her actions

You, coincidentally, had a teacher that absolutely loathed you for no reason at all. No matter how good of a student you were for him, he didn't care; he had a vendetta against you for some reason, and he patiently waited for the opportunity to ruin your day.

You came in literally 10 seconds after the bell rang, putting the breakfast sandwich you stopped to get on the way into your mouth so you could open the door. He was standing at the front with a smug grin on his face, and you already knew what was coming.

You were also given an ungodly sentence of a week's detention.

Turning Point

"If I see you on your phones, I'm taking them." The monitor informs before sitting at the desk, reclining in the chair and putting his feet up soon after. You sigh and lean back in your seat, attempting to find a way to pass the next two hours without getting in trouble. Your eyes scan across the room, eventually landing on Rosé, where she sits a couple rows away from you. Sunlight is streaming in through the window next to her, its golden rays peeking through the breaks in the clouds above to shine on her. She looks gorgeous as she doodles away in her notebook, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear when it falls in front of her face.

After waiting on the monitor to fall asleep and sending one last glance to double check, you quietly stand from your seat and go sit next to her.

You barely know each other, but she's your only hope of remaining sane and occupied.

"Hi," you greet, looking into her eyes.

"Hi," she copies, a tiny smile forming on her lips when she notices your impressed expression upon gazing down at her paper. You have to hand it to her -- she's really talented.

"You're really good," you compliment, still admiring the artistry. Seeing as how you're looking down, you fail to notice the blush that works its way to her cheeks. Coming from you, the simple remark meant a lot to her.

You spend the rest of the day making small talk and getting used to one another, leaving detention later with the hopes of sitting together again.

----

The Next Day

"Hi again," you whisper, glancing over your shoulder to ensure that the coast is clear. The monitor is out like a light, with his mouth hanging open and an obnoxiously loud snore coming out.

"Hi," she giggles, watching as you dive into the floor for cover when the man shifts in his sleep. You thought he was waking up, and if he finds out you moved seats, he'll definitely have something to say about it.

"The coast is clear, cadet," she nods like a soldier, assuring you that it's okay to move back after a minute.

"That was close," you breathe out in relief, glad to live to see another day.

You share a laugh, though it has to be hidden behind your hands and kept a minimum. It's cute though -- like a little secret between the two of you, only for you to know.

"What're you drawing today?" You ask later, laying your chin in your palm as you gaze down at her work. Her reply comes out stuttered at first when she feels your leg innocently brush against hers under the table.

"D-dalgom. My friend's dog." She manages out, mentally smacking herself for looking like a fool.

You smile, thinking she's adorable. "I bet it'll be great," you encourage. She grins back as her eyes scan over your face, committing the memory of you to heart. She's always had a thing for you, ever since the time you were paired up in Biology last semester, so she's been enjoying detention more than she thought she would. Seeing you makes the time go by faster, though ironically, she wishes it would slow down a bit.

You make her feel appreciated for more than just what she's capable of producing, and the divide between you and her friend group is blaringly obvious. They like her because of the rush she can help them achieve; you like her because of her.

That thought persists in her mind for the rest of detention, and before she knows it, the monitor is releasing you again. She bends down to put her notebook in her bag when a thought pops into her mind: she wants to ask if you want to go to the park with her. When she's done zipping her bag up, she looks back up at you, only to find you on your phone, talking to someone.

"Yeah, mom. I'll stop by on the way home. So milk, cereal, ramen, and paper towels, right?"

She watches as you wait for a reply, tucking the phone into the crook of your neck as you move to write the list down on a spare piece of paper.

"Alright, love you, too. See you later." You hang up before looking back at Rosie. She looks a little down, and you have no idea why.

You pause for a moment, silently psyching yourself up for what you're about to ask. "This is gonna sound really strange, but do you want to come with me to the store?"

Her heart's pace increases at that, happy to know that you want to spend more time with her, just as she does with you.

"Actually, yeah. That sounds like fun."

You grin at her before spinning around and doing a little celebratory dance, which wins you a strange look from the monitor. You stick your tongue out at him before grabbing her hand and rushing out of the room, hearing his disapproval shouted after you.

"Milk?"

"Check."

"Ramen?"

"Check."

"Cereal?"

"Nope."

You nod at her words, now reminded of what you were forgetting. You push the buggy towards the aisle of cereals, gazing around in wonder at the huge selection. Rosé is just the same, eyeing all of the options like a kid in a candy store. After grabbing your mom's favorite kind, you decide on one for yourself and bring it back to the cart. Rosie scoots her leg over, making room for them beside where she sits, reclined in the cart.

You grin when you see her eyeing a box of fruit loops. Huh; fruity. Go figure.

You wordlessly grab the box and hand it to her, feeling your heart melt when she looks up at you like you hold the key to the universe.

"Thank you, Y/N."

"No problem, Rosie." You say, putting your hands on the bar as you begin pushing the buggy again. "Now, I say we see how long it takes to get to the paper towel aisle. My last record was 30 seconds."

She looks at you, clearly impressed, with her eyebrows raised. Without question, she pulls her phone out and gets the stop watch feature ready to go.

"3...2...1... GO!" She shouts, commanding your legs to start pumping as you race down the long strip of store before you. A couple kids dart out of the way just before getting smacked into, quickly turning around and cheering you on as you charge forward.

Her giggles fill the air as you drift around a corner, shouting apologies to the lady you almost bumped into.

"Sorry ma'am!"

A few seconds later, chest heaving and legs sore, you come to a stop in the aisle, dramatically collapsing in a heap next to the buggy. Rosé checks her phone as she reaches down to poke you.

"22.18 seconds, champ," she declares victoriously, smiling when you magically regain enough energy to stand up and celebrate.

"Woohoo! Team Y/S/N (Your Ship Name) for the win!"

She laughs along at that, joining in on your celebration, but she's blushing like crazy on the inside.

-----

The Last Day Of Detention

Ever since your trip to the store, you and Rosé have grown closer and closer. You traded numbers and text occasionally, though nothing beats having her all to yourself for 2 hours straight with no distractions. She feels the same; when she's in class, she can't wait for the bell to ring and signal your reunion. Part of her wants to get in trouble again, just to see you more often.

So, as you'd expect, it's really no surprise that you're sat right in front of her again, telling jokes and asking about her day. You've grown a bit more bold with every step closer you've taken towards her heart, and now you reach down to intertwine your fingers with hers.

She happily accepts, even bringing your hand up to her lips to press a kiss to the back of it. She smiles against your skin after it, making butterflies take flight in your stomach. She's got you wrapped around her finger, and you don't even try to fight it anymore.

The sound of the classroom door opening alerts you, making her lower your hand. She doesn't let go of you, though, and that fact warms your heart for some reason. The squeaky hinges groan out again as the door opens wider, revealing about 4 or 5 people from the friend group that she hangs out with. They motion for her to sneak out with them, but she just shakes her head.

"Come on, Rosé!" They whisper-scream, offering her a way to freedom. Little do they know that she'd take this imprisonment over freedom any day, so long as you're by her side.

"No! Get out before he wakes up!" She whisper-shouts back, eventually convincing them to leave.

"Why didn't you go?" You ask once they're gone, toying with her fingers as your hands rest on the desk.

"Because I like spending time with you." She admits, letting her defenses down.

"I was hoping you'd say that," you smile, letting her know that you feel the same.

The Fallout

After detention, the two of you walked out of the school, hand in hand

"Would you maybe, I don't know... wanna go to the park with me?" She asks nervously, glancing up at you.

"You read my mind, Rosie." You smile at each other and head towards the parking lot.

You started hanging out more, and she distanced herself from her old crowd

You encouraged her to enroll in your school's art program and show her work that way

"You're really talented; it deserves to be seen."

Your support meant the world to her, and she never failed to let you know

"Thank you, Y/N. Having you behind me means the world to me."

At one of her art shows, where she was tasked with unveiling a new piece that she'd been working on for months, you got the biggest surprise of your life.

She created a mural of you, all decked out with every color of the rainbow, utterly gorgeous

She lit up when she saw your reaction

"This piece is titled 'Mine', which I hope the girl in it will soon be." She says into the microphone, looking at you with hope shining in her eyes.

You nod your head with a smile and walk up to her, pressing your lips to hers in a kiss that was long-overdue. She wraps her arms around your waist, pulling you in closer with her sweater-padded hands and kissing you again and again.

The crowd claps for you, happy to see such an ending.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Lisa

I couldn't choose between these two gifs so enjoy both for the price of one ^^^

Lisa Manoban: Cocky, smug, and self-assured. The dancer knew she was hot shit, and she wasn't afraid to show off.

You're all for people being confident and happy with themselves, especially when they're talented, but something about Lisa always seemed to rub you the wrong way.

Whether it be her lack of a filter or the arrogant swagger that she naturally exuded, you weren't sure. People wanted to either be her or be with her, but you fell into neither of those categories.

She always left you frustrated in one way or another, whether it be from her teasing or her witty comebacks

The teachers loved her, as did the students. She was the class clown, so her position was pretty sacred in the grand scheme of things

You, on the other hand, irritated her for other reasons. You were the only person she couldn't get to crack; you never gave into her charms, and it infuriated her to no end. She wasn't used to not getting what she wanted (as childish as that may seem) and having you, one of the most attractive girls at school, turn her down? Well that was a massive blow to her ego.

You weren't afraid to say your piece, and that both pleasantly surprised and upset her.

She constantly tried to flirt with you in class, but you knew it was all for the attention. She just wanted to make her friends laugh, which they always did.

"Y/N, come here babe. There's an empty seat next to me," she coos, batting her eyelashes as you walk in the door. It's a free day, so everyone is sitting with their friends, wherever they like.

"I'm good," you decline, deciding to sit against the wall beneath the large window of the classroom.

"Oooo, denied," Lisa's friends laugh at her this time, chuckling harder when she sticks her middle finger up at them.

"Yah, shut up," she says, nursing her bruised ego as she turns around and opens her phone.

You smile as you continue working on the homework you cracked open, scribbling an answer down onto the notebook paper in front of you. Your fingers glide over your textbook in search of the definition of the term you're on, and Lisa secretly watches from afar. Without realizing it, she grins when you light up upon spotting the answer.

Sometimes her flirting does work, though, and you turn into a blushing mess

*whistle* "Damn, Y/N. You're looking fine today," she exclaims, fanning herself. You worry that she doesn't really mean it, but when her eyes remain on you a second too long to just be friendly, you blush. She's taking in all of you, looking impressed all the while.

"Right back at you, Manoban." You wink, sitting down in your seat across the room. She lightly blushes back, though she does a good job of concealing it.

Considering you share a couple classes and the class sizes are relatively small, it was pretty likely that you'd end up paired together eventually

You weren't happy about it, especially not after the way she had acted that week. Her cockiness had been at an all time high as of late, leaving you frustrated and upset. She was so full of herself; all you wanted to do was wipe that stupid smirk off her face.

"Y/N, you'll be paired with Lisa," your photography teacher informs, pushing her glasses up higher on the bridge of her nose.

"But Mrs. Ta--"

"Pairings are final," she cocks her head at you, persuading you to give in. With a sigh, you respond, "Yes ma'am," and attempt to ignore the sound of Lisa's friends high fiving each other in celebration.

The Turning Point

"My parents are gone for the rest of the week..." she says, holding the door open for you as you carry in your equipment. A hint of suggestiveness lies in it; she's alluding to exactly what you think she is, and you push her shoulder upon realizing it.

"Knock it off, Manoban."

"Okay, okay," she chuckles, listening to you for once. The surprise is clear on your face.

She leads you towards the backyard, where you set up one of your highest power cameras and turn it on. You have to create a gallery of different photos, all under the same theme. You both agreed to do a time-lapse of the sunset, and take pictures of the stars after.

Once she makes sure that the timer is set correctly and that the auto shut-off feature is enabled, she motions for you to follow her back into the house. You do, and she leads you into the kitchen.

"Do you want a snack?"

"Sure, do you have any ramen?"

She nods, quickly busying herself by bending down and searching through the cabinets. After she finds it, exclaiming a pleased, "Aha!", she tells you to go get comfortable in the living room.

Three minutes later, from your place on the couch, you begin to smell something burning. You scramble up and rush to the kitchen, only to find Lisa running around like a headless chicken, attempting to put out the small fire she started.

"HOW THE HELL DID YOU MANAGE TO BURN RAMEN?" You shout, though your tone isn't angry. You're just very shocked, and loud about it. You push her away from the pot, albeit gently, and get the flames to go down relatively quickly. You turn the burners off and put the pot in the sink, leaning against the counter to recover from the adrenaline rush.

"Oops?" She asks more so that says, with a growing smile evident in her voice.

You shake your head and chuckle despite yourself, turning around to face her. "You can order a pizza now to make up for that." You point a finger at her, grinning stupidly when she presses the tip of hers to it.

"Your wish is my command, princess."

Thankfully you're already walking away as she says that, so she doesn't get the satisfaction of seeing you blush.

---

"Lisa, I can't keep going." You groan out, sweat dripping down your face. The pizza you ate earlier is giving you a stomache ache, paired with the physical activity you're doing.

"Y/N, just a little longer, we're almost there," she huffs out, keeping her movements steady somehow. You're a mess by now, so you don't understand how she's still going.

A couple minutes later, the TV in front of you lights up, saying, "Awesome moves! You win!" as you collapse to the ground in a heap.

Why you agreed to play Just Dance with her after eating is beyond you.

"Good job," she compliments, grabbing your hand to high five herself with it.

"Yeah, yeah," you roll over, catching your breath.

She lays down beside you as you recover, telling jokes to hear that laugh that she loves so much. She prefers yours over anyone elses, so it's always such a reward when she gets you to crack up.

"We should probably head up now," she notes, realizing that the stars will be coming out soon. You agree, and she carefully helps you up.

"Here, I'll carry you," she turns, bending down so you can get on her back.

"Lisa, you can't carry me," you brush off, feeling insecurity bubble up again like it always does when you're offered a piggyback ride.

"Y/N, I promise that I can. Trust me," she reassures, looking into your eyes sincerely.

"Alright," you sigh, standing onto the couch to get on easier.

"See?" She asks, sliding her warm hands up your thighs to keep you secured against her. "I've got you, babe."

You tuck your head into the space between her shoulder and neck, inhaling the sweet scent of her perfume.

"I'm gonna punch you if you drop me," you whisper, feeling her laugh against you.

"Fair enough."

-----

Later, On The Rooftop

"Careful," she instructs, outstretching a hand to help you climb out the window. Her camera hangs around her neck, and she takes the cap off of the lense once you're both safely sitting on the roof.

"Wow," you sigh, gazing up at the sky in wonder. Her house is far enough away from the city that you're rewarded with a gorgeous view of the stars, unburdened by the industrial fog that hangs over the cosmopolis.

"It's beautiful out here," you say, looking back at her. You tense up a bit, not expecting her to already be looking at you.

"Sorry," she laughs at herself, looking away once she gets caught admiring you.

"It's okay," you reach down and gently squeeze her hand, making her blush lightly.

"Let's get started," you conclude, pointing at the camera. She nods, knowing that she'd never get the assignment done if you didn't step in to tell her to (considering she'd rather admire you), and she points the device to the sky.

After snapping a few pictures, she lays back in order to get a better vantage point of one of the star systems. She hands it to you after she's satisfied with her work, and you take your turn with it.

She notices that you keep brushing your hair out of the way when it falls in your face, so she decides to help you.

"Here," she says, saddling up behind you. She gathers your hair up, running her fingers through it to neatly pull it up for you. Thankfully she always keeps a spare tie on her wrist.

"Thanks," you smile, snapping another picture. The simple act warms your heart; she's being selfless for once, and helping you without even being asked. It's a refreshing change of pace.

"You're welcome." She chirps, sitting back down beside you.

-----

Later, In Her Bedroom

"Oh, I really like that one!" She says excitedly, pointing at the TV. Her phone, which is connected via Bluetooth and automatically receives pictures of her choosing from the camera, is displaying some of your best shots.

"Yeah, you did really well with that. I think we might beat everyone else if we use that as our cover piece."

Your compliment makes her momentarily shy, and she quickly realizes how much she loves your praise.

The two of you continue like that, reviewing the different pictures and choosing your favorites. She always finds ways to compliment yours, noting your technique or the filter you used, and it always makes you smile. She's different than you're used to, and it's throwing you for a loop, pleasantly surprising.

---

Lisa steps out of the room to go to the bathroom a few minutes later, leaving her phone connected to the TV. A ding sounds out across the space, pulling your attention away from the stack of notes laid out before you. Your eyes dart up to the screen, reading the text message that appeared at the top of it.

Austin ⛓: "Dude, did you get into her pants yet? We're literally betting over here 😂"

You blink a few times as their words sink in, making your chest hurt. You were really beginning to believe that you had been wrong about Lisa; clearly, though, your instincts were right.

Feeling betrayed, you shove your folders back into your bag and stand from the chair, willing yourself not to cry. The sound of the sink turning on lets you know that she's almost done, so you hurry your movements and make your way towards the door. She steps out into the hall just as you exit her room, looking at you with wide eyes.

"Woah, woah, woah, what's going on?" She asks with furrowed brows, approaching you. One of her hands lands on your arm, and you shrug it off as you brush past her without another word.

"Y/N, did I do something wrong?" She asks from the top of her staircase, watching as you walk towards her foyer.

"Why don't you ask Austin?" You bitterly call over your shoulder as you turn the knob, slipping out the front door. She hangs her head upon registering your words, realizing what must've happened. She makes a mental note to give him hell when she sees him again.

Tears sting your eyes as you exit the house, wrapping your jacket tighter around yourself. You should've known something like this would happen. The chilly night air bites at your skin, stealing more of its warmth away with every step you take. The temperature doesn't change your mind, though; you're upset, and you'd rather freeze out here than be face to face with her right now.

"Y/N, wait!" She calls after you, blasting out the front foor. Her footfalls sound off behind you, announcing her rapid approach, but you don't turn around. Realizing this, she darts in front of you, keeping you from walking any further.

"Please, don't go. He's an idiot, Y/N."

"He might he an idiot, but that doesn't take away what he said," you scowl, clenching your jaw. "Betting? Really, Lisa?" You ask quietly, hurt evident in your voice.

"It was a stupid thing they tried to convince me to do. I didn't want to, but I couldn't stop them from talking once you and I were paired up. That's not what I want, though. I'm not just in it for that."

"How am I supposed to believe that? This is your M.O., Lisa."

"It's different with you, I don't know why." That's a lie; she knows exactly why you're different than anyone else she's flirted with in the past.

You stand there before her, silently weighing your options. After seeing the pleading look in her eye, her dark orbs full of sincerity, you relent. "Just take me home. We'll work on it another day," you compromise, allowing her in just enough to take you home, but not enough to stay at her place any longer. You're still weary after a text like that, and you will be for a while.

"Thank you," she breaths a sigh of relief, clasping her hands behind herself as you begin walking back to her house. She notices you shiver on the way, and she slips her jacket off without hesitation to cover you. Neither of you have to say anything; one glance from you is enough for her, and she's content knowing you're warm.

The Fallout

From there on out she was always honest with you and actually spoke out when her friends tried to do something stupid

She still remained the charming class clown that she naturally is, just getting rid of the not-so-nice parts of herself

You slowly let her regain your trust, little by little

She did nice things for you on the daily, whether it be holding the door, carrying your books, or offering to buy you some lunch

"Morning, Y/N. Wanna grab some breakfast?" She asks, moving her head to the side towards the café at the center of campus.

"Sure," you smile, laughing when she celebrates.

She invites you to her dance perfomances

When she goes to championships, you're always first on her list of invites

"I want you there." She declares, handing you the flyer.

"You've got it," you decide, knowing there's no where you'd rather be. "I wouldn't miss it for the world."

At said championship, she won the highest title and claimed victory for your school

You joined the rest of the team on the stage to celebrate, congratulating the solo dancer on her achievement.

"I'm so proud of you, Lis--"

She suddenly kisses you, clearly high off her win. She pulls back when she realizes what she just did, a worried look on her face.

"Shit, I'm sorry." She looks between your eyes, attempting to gauge your reaction.

"Get your ass back here," you order, feeling butterflies take flight when she eagerly presses her lips to yours again, wrapping her arms around you to spin you.

"Does this mean I'm forgiven?" She mumbles against your lips.

You squint, pretending to think about it. "Maybe... or maybe not."

Her subsequent gasp is quickly muffled by your kiss, which she can't seem to get enough of.

299 notes · View notes

atlas-of-a-human-soul · 4 years

Note

Ello can you do a Sky imagine where reader and him are a couple and Sky is the only one who knows that there a powerful fairy but then everyone finds out..

Part one - Intertwined

Pairing: Sky x reader

===============================

Sky had loved every minute he spent with Y/N ever since they met. Her presence alone was enough to calm him and he had acted as a compass for her - whenever she got lost, he guided her back home - back to his arms.

They hardly put any labels on what they are, but Y/N means the world to Sky - he knows that much. And while their relationship blossomed, Sky couldn’t help but worry about her and the decisions she made concerning her powers. Not only did she choose never to divulge the true magnitude of her abilities to anyone but the headmistress and Sky, she also trained alone and it often brought dangers he couldn’t anticipate nor protect her from.

He knew the choices were hers to make but that wasn't how his brain worked. For him the man, the specialist, the soldier must always be protector, guardian, the one in the line of fire. For Y/N to be in any danger was killing him from the inside and all the while headmistress just kept saying her skills were better, he wasn't right for this job. He wanted a shot, a chance to get her out of harms way, but how can he save her from herself?

And as the days ticked by his visions grew - blood dripping from his fingertips after each practice only to vanish into the cool autumn air. But that night wasn’t a drill he had to overcome in order to get a nod from Silva. This was real danger as the Burned Ones penetrated the barrier and threatened their security. Her security.

“That looks painful”, Y/N points to his raw hands as she leans on the wall beside Sky. “I could help a little”, she offers, her eyes on his tight lipped smile.

“You could help me by going back to the rest of the group.” Sky swallows thickly, continuing to avoid her gaze, unable to face her and show the fear and determination in his eyes.

“That’s cold. I should know”, she alludes to her powers, forcing a small smile as she steps right in front of Sky. “If I ask you to stand down, you wouldn’t do it.”

Finally looking at her, Sky furrows his eyebrows, “Of course not.”

“Then why are you asking me to do that?” She takes his hand in hers, wetting her lips as she brings the back of his hand to her mouth. Blowing cool air, she relieves a little bit of his pain before slowly moving her eyes up to his only to find his worried hues upon her already.

“If something happens to you, I won’t make it.” Sky lowers his voice, breaking her heart as his voice wavers.

“And what exactly do you think would happen to me if something happens to you?” She raises an eyebrow, challenging him.

“I know we never said anything, but I can’t risk going into this night without you knowing.” Sky tries only to find her index finger pressed against his lips. It’s a gentle touch, not forceful as it seems to some.

“I know”, she whispers, “I feel the same way. It’s like I finally got what I always wanted and now it could be taken from me.” Swallowing thickly, she lets her finger fall, “Which is why I’m not going to be a useless fairy in hiding.”

“What do you need me to do?” Sky manages a smile, his hands intertwining with hers as he brings her closer. He bends ever so slightly, lips parted and it doesn’t take long for her to stand on her tiptoes, eliminating the distance between them as their lips meet.

Their souls have mated long before they felt the hurricane of emotions that connected them to one another.

Parting, breathless, Y/N couldn’t suppress a smile as Sky rested his forehead on hers, their noses brushing, lips just a whisper apart.

“This is exactly what I needed.” Drawing a deep breath, she steps back with a loving smile on her lips, “Stay inside.”

“Wait”, Sky exclaims as she rushes after Bloom who nods her way and before he knows it, the girls vanish into thin air.

Gripping his head, Sky feels panic rise in his chest, breathing becoming a chore.

“SKY?!” Riven pulls him back by the elbow, “Focus! These things are about to break in!”

“I never got to tell her”, Sky breathes out. She said she knows, but he wanted to say it. He needed to say it.

“Tell her what?” Riven frowns, unsure what’s gotten Sky so rattled.

“That I love her.”

While Sky was trying to find a way to stay alive long enough to tell Y/N how he feels, she was far too busy trying to save everyone else.

“We will have to channel more magic that ever before”, Bloom warns her and Y/N nods.

“I have no trouble channeling world destroying magic. That’s what scares me.” Glancing at Alfea, Y/N felt her heart sink with the thought of Sky being inside. “Are you sure those things are following you?”

Nodding, Bloom takes her hand, “We can do this.” But even Bloom didn’t know the true extent of Y/N’s power. No one did. Sky had an idea, but he had never seen the damage she could cause.

“They’re coming”, Stella warns and Y/N looks to her with understanding.

“I can do this”, Bloom whispers as she tries to make a spark, but nothing happens.

“Where’s the fire, Bloom?” Y/N steps back, her voice panicky. She looks around only to see dark figures running at full speed toward them and Bloom still had not created so much as a simple flame.

“Bloom?!” Y/N calls out to her, beginning to shake.

“it’s not working!” Bloom shouts and that’s when Y/N realizes it’s up to her. It isn’t to save her own life, but the very important life inside the school. She can’t fail, not when the consequence would be so dire.

Drawing a deep breath, she closes her eyes. Her mouth is filled with the coppery tang of blood, and it feels like ice is rushing through her veins. She groans as her vision shifts and the world erupts with colors. At first, it hurts, but then she’s suddenly filled with confidence and power. The ice freezes her insides, the colors burn brighter as she curls her fingers up.

In seconds, the water fountain behind her had frozen into spikes. Exhaling, her breath visible in the sudden cold, Y/N felt herself rising along with the frozen spikes she moved to her side. The ice surrounds her, a blue-white light encasing her as her eyes glow ocean blue.

Y/N grew her wings as waves of silk, effortlessly so, and she felt like she'd won her freedom, won the trust of mother nature. While the wings seem as soft as petals, Bloom soon realizes Y/N’s wings are a weapon as they direct the icy spikes toward the Burned Ones, making them fall one by one.

It’s as if it isn’t Y/N anymore, but a vengeful angel possessed by the need to protect innocents from the demons that came looking for blood.

Each spike finds it’s mark, each of them laying on the frosty grass. And as the last one falls, Y/N’s glow intensifies. Her skin is pale, sparkling in the moonlight. her eyes are cold, still glowing as if she can’t turn it off and her wings, they flutter as if they could blow the arctic winds down upon the world.

“Holy shit”, Bloom gasps as she stumbles back.

“It’s okay, Y/N!” Stella tries, “You can come down and rest now.”

“I can’t”, Y/N whispers under her breath. She tried, but it felt impossible to stop it. It’s as if the ice had frozen her heart over, the source of all that’s good - of control.

Looking at her softly glowing hands, she swallows thickly. She’s still above the ground, painfully aware she has wings - the very wings fairies aren’t supposed to have anymore. The brightly colorful world is just as intense, just as difficult to take as when it first appeared.

“Princess?!”

And that’s when she hears the shaky, loving voice of the one she’s been trying to protect.

“Sky?” She croaks, tears brimming her eyes.

“Come back to me.” Sky holds up his arm, hand open for Y/N to take. He can see she’s lost, scared even.

“I don’t know how”, she admits. He’s the light in her darkness, her compass, if he can’t help her, no one can.

“I believe in you.” Sky wets his quivering lips, “I love you, Y/N. I need you.”

Releasing a heavy sigh, Y/N nods, closing her eyes. She focuses on her heartbeat that’s like an echo, a distant reminder she is a living, breathing creature.

When she opens her eyes, she finds her hand almost touching Sky’s.

He reaches for her, bringing her down to his embrace and she shivers violently as the warm glow around her dies down instantly.

“Hold onto me”, Sky whispers, running his hands up and down her back to warm her up. “Hold onto me, you’re all I have”, he repeats as he picks her up in his arms.

She rests her head on his chest, curled up in the safety of his arms. No matter what, she knew she’d be safe with him. “I love you too”, she says softly before falling asleep from exhaustion the magic used caused.

And while Sky and Y/N spent the night in each other’s arms, the rest of the school was finally made aware of all the secrets Y/N tried to hide - her royal status and the unimaginable power she yields.

It certainly looked like Solaria will soon be second strongest kingdom, because when Y/N takes the throne she’s entitled to - and with prince Sky by her side, their power, their union would be unmatched.

Part 3

#sky x reader #sky imagine #sky fate winx saga #fate the winx saga #sky of eraklyon #winx sky #sky of eraklyon x reader

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chudleycanonficfest · 3 years

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Stars in the Night Sky

Day 3, Story #2 is by @adenei

Title: Stars in the Night Sky

Author: adenei

Pairing: Jily (James Potter x Lily Evans)

Prompt: Stargazing

Rating: PG

TW: None :)

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

The castle is peaceful as it nears midnight, a calm surrender to the usual bustling halls during the day. Rounds ended over an hour ago, but the quick pair of footsteps was not rushing through a late shift, they were on their way to the Astronomy Tower to meet their partner and begin Professor Sinistra’s constellation project.

Allocation of the work was all in the luck of the draw. Where one half of the class drew a name, and the other pulled the astronomical phenomenon they were to study. Lily Evans had pulled the piece of parchment on stars and constellations, and according to the project’s outline, she and her partner would be tracking Orion, Cassiopeia, Gemini, and Canis Major for the next two weeks.

The project left Lily questioning why she chose to pursue the subject after passing her O.W.L.s. Maybe it was because she has always been fascinated by the subject, or maybe it’s for the sole fact that Astronomy is one of the subjects she can discuss with her family since it relates closely to muggle sciences. Regardless, she’s not sure it’s worth the lack of sleep she’s about to endure over the next few weeks.

As Lily climbs the steps of the Astronomy Tower, her heart thunders in her chest with anticipation about who her partner will be. The class is small, with only ten students, but she didn’t bother to hang around and discuss ‘who had who’ at the end of class. She had a meeting with Professor McGonagall about her Head Girl duties and couldn’t be bothered to worry about who her partner was.

But now, after finding out through Mary that she’s been paired with Remus and Sirius pulled Benjy Fenwick’s name, Lily is nervous. Rumblings at dinner also confirmed that Calliope Forsythe of Hufflepuff was disappointed that she chose Bridgette Marls’s name instead of James’s, leaving Lily sweating the remaining possible outcomes. She doesn’t want to jinx it by getting her hopes up that James may have pulled her name out of the cauldron, and she’s mad at herself for wanting it so desperately.

We already spend enough time together with our Head duties. Plus, we’re friends now, so we can hang out whenever we like...just not alone.

Her last thought is only a partial lie, considering they’re ‘alone’ when creating schedules for rounds, but it never fails that some fifth or sixth-year students are always barging in to use the Prefect’s lounge to study, ruining any potential chance for either to make a move. Even when they’re on rounds, their conversation is constantly interrupted by catching a couple in a broom closet or empty classroom.

Lily lets out a huff of frustration as she recalls the last time, when she was sure he was about to ask her to Hogsmeade, but then there was a loud clatter from a room up ahead, breaking the moment. So really, it’d be ideal if James were her partner for this project. She’s sick of the song and dance they’ve been playing since the start of term and wants nothing more than to find out whether he still fancies her or not. After all, it’s only a matter of time that some other girl will swoop in, causing his devilishly handsome smile to be trained on them instead.

As Lily approaches the foot of the stairs leading up to the observation room, she checks her watch. 11:59. Right on time. She holds her breath during the entire stair climb, and only when she rounds the corner to the dimly lit area with one singular candle on the table to take notes, does she see him. He’s leaning over the table, the light illuminating his messy black hair as his glasses slip down his nose. The sleeves on the white shirt of his uniform are rolled up to his elbows, exposing the sinewy muscles of his forearm as Lily stands there, getting lost in a daydream that finds those arms wrapped around her body.

The hoot of an owl in the distance snaps her out of her thoughts as she takes a few steps closer.

“I hope you haven’t started without me.”

Lily’s light chiding gets James’s attention as a wide smirk dons his face. Her insides tremble as her heart pounds faster in her chest.

“How can I get started if I don’t know what we’re supposed to be looking at,” he remarks, eliciting a nervous laugh from her chest.

“Yeah, sorry for not sticking around after class. I had another appointment.”

“Well, I hope my reveal isn’t too much of a shock.”

“Better you than Mulciber or Avery,” she teases. “Why didn’t you ask Professor Sinistra what topic I pulled after you gave your information and got our timetable?”

James walks around the table to join her as she pulls out the project guidelines. She assumes he would have known what they were studying, considering everyone had to check-in and get their schedules from Professor Sinistra. Depending on what the group has chosen, their research times varied.

“Because I thought we were going for the surprise factor,” his cheeky grin matches the lightness in his voice. “Besides, I figured it’d be another excuse to pore over the parchment in close proximity.”

Lily searches the space next to her to see just how close James is before meeting his gaze. She becomes dizzy from the scent of his cologne, with hints of cinnamon and sandalwood invading her sense of smell. If she gives in to temptation now, they won’t accomplish anything on their first night.

Work first, play later.

Strengthening her resolve, Lily makes a swift turn and heads for the telescope. “We’re responsible for tracking the four constellations that are listed on the first page. I’ll see which one I can find first and we’ll go from there. We can take turns tracing, and observing if that’s alright with you.”

“Sure, I’ll get the parchment set up,” James agrees.

Lily’s not sure, but she thinks she may have heard a hint of disappointment in his tone. She pushes the thoughts aside and peers into the massive telescope that’s bolted down in the center of the room. It doesn’t take long to find Jupiter, and from there, she’s able to see a handful of the stars that make up Orion. The belt is the most prevalent as she takes mental notes to transfer on the paper.

Settling into a steady hum of working together, the pair take turns between the telescope and table, making light work of the night’s observations. When Lily checks her watch again, she realizes they’ve finished with time to spare. She wanders over to the railing, and even though she’s spent the better part of the last ninety minutes studying the stars, she finds herself looking up to the sky once more. Only this time, she’s stargazing with only the naked eye.

She feels James approaching before he arrives at her side, gazing up at the twinkling stars among the backdrop of black and midnight blue.

“We make a pretty good team.” Her voice is soft as it carries through the air between them.

Lily’s exhaustion is prevalent as her eyelids become heavier, but she can’t be bothered to move away from James’s side. Not yet, anyways.

“You haven’t gathered that from our flawless round schedules and seamless Prefect meetings we’ve run so far as Heads?”

Lily can’t help the smile that creeps across her lips. He’s playing into her words in the exact way she was hoping for. “Of course, I’ve noticed. I was just thinking out loud…” she trails off, hoping she’s got him hooked and wanting to know what else she’s about to say.

“About what?” Barely a second passes before the question leaves his mouth.

She drags her teeth over her bottom lip as she looks up at him. Here goes nothing.

“Just about how our teamwork might work in other respects, too.”

His lips part as she hears a sharp intake of breath. “Evans,” he warns as he inches ever closer to her face.

“Potter,” she challenges right back.

They are mere centimeters away from each other now, and it’d be so easy to close the gap between them. James seems to have frozen in front of her as she finds herself leaning up on her tiptoes to press a feather-light kiss to his lips. She pulls away, not wanting to push her luck.

When he doesn’t move after she pulls away, her heart sinks. Lily grabs her bag and turns to head back to the common room. Clearly, I was mistaken.

“Sorry, I just thought—” but she never finished her apology.

Her foot grazes the top step of the staircase before a warm, strong hand wraps around her wrist and pulls her back, where she hits a wall of muscle. Her lips are on his again, and this time he’s kissing her back as her arms snake around his shoulders and her foot lifts off the ground of its own accord.

James Potter is kissing me!

The moment only lasts a few moments before they pull apart, their breathing heavy under the starry night.

James breaks the silence after a minute. “So, er, Hogsmeade this weekend?”

Lily grins as she backs away slightly, leaving him standing there as she heads toward the stairs for the second time. She flashes a ‘come and get me’ look.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

#submission #chudley canon fest #hp canon pairings #hp canon romantic pairings #jily #james x lily

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imagining-in-the-margins · 4 years

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Here to Misbehave (Pt. 17 | S.R.)

Summary: Spencer is concerned about Reader’s growing impulsiveness, but Reader is the one who gets a call from JJ asking if she can come get her boyfriend. Couple: Spencer/Fem!Reader   Category: Smut (NSFW, 18+)   Content Warning: Discussions of drugs, death/dying, suicide, overdose; Alcohol, addiction, oral (male receiving), handjob, fingering, Daddy Kink, fights, PTSD, hospital talk, drunk smut w/ blanket consent Word Count: 12.5k

MASTERLIST

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When I opened the front door, I realized that I had returned to an empty home. I wasn’t sure which was weirder; the realization that the house was empty, or the fact that I was referring to her apartment as my home. It certainly had started to feel that way.

It never stopped being a shock that I would find a home in someone so quickly and with such little self-awareness. I'd certainly never suspected that the house we’d be in would also be shared with several other people, all of whom were significantly younger than me and shared almost no similarities with me beyond our love for (y/n).

And even if it wasn’t the weirder of the two realizations, the fact that she wasn’t there was definitely the more troubling one. I tried to gather at least a little evidence before I called her; I wasn’t exactly excited about being blindsided again. Judging by the red solo cups that were scattered in the kitchen, I had an idea of how her friends had spent the night. The fact that no one was here led me to another conclusion that I desperately hoped was inaccurate.

Her phone rang four times before she picked up, which was strange in itself. When she did pick up, she sounded like I expected her to. Tired. Groggy.

“Hello?”

“Hey little girl, where are you?” I hoped she couldn’t hear the fumbling of my keys in my pocket, or any other sign of just how anxious I’d gotten in the last three minutes. “Oh. I’m sorry, Spencer, I forgot I was supposed to see you today.” She mumbled, sounding genuinely apologetic if not a little confused.

“You… forgot?” I repeated, quickly making my way over to the calendar hung on a bulletin board outside the kitchen, noting the nothingness over both the current and following week.

“Yeah, I guess I got carried away with school.”

She was lying. I couldn’t be for sure about what, but it was obvious. If she was really having that much trouble with classes, she would have told me. We’d gotten past the whole insecurity over me thinking she was stupid thing a long time ago, and she knew I would always let her learn it on her own if she didn’t want my help.

“... What are you not telling me?” I tried to make the words playful, although my hand was now nervously patting the side of my hip at an alarming rate.

“Nothing! I just got distracted. I’m... a little busy today so we should just meet up again next weekend.”

“A week?” I knew she was probably getting tired of me parroting her words, but that just seemed like a ludicrous amount of time. Usually, we went barely a day or two without seeing each other when I was in the city, cherishing the time together when I wasn't called away to attend to crimes halfway across the country.

“What’s going on?” My voice was quickly falling into that register that warned her I was about to start profiling her, whether I wanted to or not. And unfortunately, she chose the worst possible reaction to that warning, further tipping me off to the fact that something wasn't quite right.

“Spencer, stop being weird.”

But I wasn’t. I knew that I could be weird; it’s kind of my thing. If you looked up weird in the dictionary, you wouldn’t find my name, but you’d definitely find a description that perfectly characterized my personality.

“You’re the one being weird. Turn on your camera.”

“I can’t. It’s dark in here.” She shot back her answer so quickly, I knew that she had already anticipated the request.

“Then move.” I ordered more than suggested. She understandably didn’t take kindly to my reaction, but I know she also knew why I was doing it. The excuses she was giving weren’t even well thought out.

“What is this? An interrogation?” She scoffed, “Do you think I’m cheating on you with barely dissolved stitches in my intestines?”

I took a deep breath, sitting down at the kitchen table still sticky with leftover sugary liquor and turned the phone onto speaker. “Turn it on.” This time, my voice broke with the order. As much as that didn’t make it sound authoritative, it did make her feel guilty.

As the screen lit up, it all made sense in the worst possible way. She was forcing a fake smile, her other hand resting against her face in a failed attempt to draw attention away from the the mottled skin of her left eye.

“I’m not cheating on you. Happy?” The words were sharp on her tongue, an anger in her features paired well with the understanding that I wasn’t wrong to be worried. I honestly think that was what bothered her the most – that she wanted it to be nothing, for me to be overreacting, but knew that it was a little more serious that she let on.

“I’m definitely not happy. What happened?” I was already at the door by the time the sentence ended... She shut off her camera just as quickly, hearing the commotion from my side. “Where are you? I’m coming right now.”

She sighed, and I could see it clearly despite the fact that she wasn’t on my screen anymore. “I don’t want you to come here. Spencer, I’m fine.”

I might have believed her. I might have honestly given her the benefit of the doubt – let her lie to me a little, and just accept that a black eye wasn’t the worst thing that could have happened. Eventually, she would tell me how she got it, so I wouldn’t need to worry about it.

But it became very obvious very quickly that it was not just a black eye.

“Ms. (Y/l/n)?” A third voice announced in the background, accompanied by the distinct sound of an alarm sounding in the distance.

“... Are you in a hospital?!”

“For fucks sake. I hate dating a profiler.” She grumbled, implicitly admitting that my conclusion was right. She wouldn’t let me have another word, speedily slurring her goodbye. “I have to go, Spencer. I’ll call you later. Love you!”

—————————————————

Anyone who has spent a long time in inpatient knows that nosy nurses are both the best and worst kind of people to be assigned to your stay. They were the best because they always had the best gossip and would spend their precious little free time sharing stories about their lives that were always more entertaining than whatever poorly budgeted gameshow was on the old, staticky television.

They were the worst because one wrong move meant that you were the subject of gossip. And boy, were they good at getting it out of you.

“Trouble in paradise?” She sweetly hummed as she pushed my bed down the hall.

I wanted to tell her that there was trouble, and that it was through no fault of my own. If the other people in the hospital didn’t have the audacity to be sick at the same time that I needed a CT scan, then I wouldn’t have even still been here. I could have been back at home, where… well, I guess Spencer would have figured it out either way.

“Yeah, I guess.” I sadly admitted, playing with the string of my gown. “He’s just a worrywart.”

The woman had that glimmer in her eye, the kind that came from years of seeing the same stories over and over again. Although, I had a hard time believing she’d ever been in this exact scenario, I guess they were all kind of the same after a while, semantics aside.

“Well, that makes sense considering your current state.” It was more of a reprimand than anything else, and I audibly groaned to try and get her to stop there. She didn’t, though, having spent enough time with me to know I needed to hear it. “You were very lucky, you know. If things had been even just a little bit different…”

Couldn’t you say that about everything? If things had been even just a little bit different, I never would have met Spencer in the first place. We never would have fallen in love or fought or done any of it at all.

I didn’t like thinking about that. I didn’t like even considering a life without Spencer. No matter how much pain I’d been through, or what traumatic memories were dug up, they were worth it.

That’s what she wanted me to realize, and she had succeeded. Suddenly, as we turned into the room, I was overcome with guilt at the way I’d ended my conversation with him.

The nurse knew it, too, because as she transferred me onto the scanner, she smiled. “I’m just saying, sweetheart. If he woke up next to your hospital bed last time, I understand why he’d be scared.”

Chewing on my lips, I thought about the last time I was in a hospital. I thought about how Spencer had curled his giant lanky body onto the bed and barely slept for 2 weeks. I could see the way his eyes got more sunken by the day, but never stopped shining with relief. I could hear him chewing on ice because he didn’t want to leave to grab food until after I’d woken up, and the cold would distract him from just how hungry he was.

“He must love you an awful lot to be that worried.”

I hated when they did that; when they read my mind and said exactly what I was thinking.

“Yeah, I know.” I tried to smile. It was hard with the stabbing pain in my stomach and the aching in the entire left side of my face, but I managed. It was just one of those things where if I thought of Spencer, my body had to react. It was as natural as breathing.

Which, speaking of…

“Take a deep breath in.” The technician alerted me from the speaker.

The high pitched whines of the CT scanner weren’t as obnoxious as the MRI machine. I was silently grateful that they were still too scared to use the giant magnet. I wasn’t sure if I was ready to be stuck in a confined space, listening to loud banging that sounded too much like gun shots for my comfort.

Even just the thought made me nauseous. I felt like a baby, to have such a strong reaction to something so stupid. I’d been in an MRI before. I was a in a hospital. Nothing bad was going to happen to me, and I knew that.

But even now, in a machine that made virtually no noise and barely covered half my body, I wasn’t able to hold in a breath. Each time I tried, it felt like I was choking on Spencer’s lap again. The stinging in my stomach felt so much stronger, even though I knew it was healed.

The world felt like it was closing in on me, and every second that passed felt like days. I couldn’t even trust myself to guess how long it took for them to get images that should have taken no longer than 5 minutes.

I felt like such a burden. Like I was in their way. Like I was doing it wrong. Like I was a little kid, thinking that she knew what she was doing and could do it on her own.

I wanted Spencer.

That was the only thing I could think, and although it should have been comforting, it just left me feeling empty. The thought of him wasn’t enough to stop the tears streaming down my cheeks. The hands of the nurses trying to calm me down didn’t help, either. They felt wrong. They felt cold.

I just wanted Spencer. I wanted him to be there to hold my hand and distract me from my own thoughts. I wanted him to replace them with other things, like he'd promised me. I wanted to make new memories far away from here.

But I couldn’t. I was an idiot and I’d gotten myself back in the hospital, and he wasn’t here because I told him I didn’t want him to be. Why had I told him that? There was no reason that made any sense.

Once we finally did get out of the damn radiology department, I could still only barely function. The ride back to my room was much quieter, and the nurse didn’t meddle anymore. Gossip was only fun when it didn’t hurt like this.

Again, I couldn’t trust myself to guess how long I’d been in the CT scanner, but as we crossed back into my room, an overwhelming sensation of relief washed over me when I saw his satchel in the seat beside my bed. I hated the knowledge that I’d wasted 45 minutes of the technician’s time, but I was just so fucking happy that he had actually come.

Being alone in my room wasn’t a big deal anymore, because I knew it was only temporary. So as soon as I could, I sat up and waited patiently for my favorite mop of curly brown hair to peek around the corner.

He didn’t disappoint. He rarely did.

“Hey little girl.”

All the tension melted from my muscles, my head finally resting against the pillow with a dopey smile on my face. “Spencer.” I sighed, holding my hand out to him to usher him closer.

He gladly took the invitation, taking wide steps so he could be with me sooner.

“You shouldn’t be here.” I grumbled, flicking him on the arm while I locked our hands together. “But I’m glad you are.”

It was obvious from the way he let out a deep breath that he was also relieved to see that I wasn’t angry at him for coming. However, that’s also where his relief stopped. Because he’d seen me an hour prior and knew that I hadn't been crying then. But now, on top of the black eye, he saw the red rimming my sclera.

Taking my hand into both of his, he pressed a hard kiss against the back of it. Without looking up, he muttered into the skin a sad plea.

“Talk to me.”

“About what?” I asked, pulling back on my hand so he would stop with the shameless display of romance in such an awful place.

“Whatever’s going on.” He paused, but was clearly unhappy with the open ended question, and just as quickly specified, “What happened last night?

Unfortunately, I still wasn’t in the giving mood, even when it was information, and even if the person begging me for it was the boyfriend that I’d just cried for in the CT Scanner. If anything, that almost made it worse.

I hated feeling like this. Vulnerable.

“Nothing.”

Spencer was getting fed up, but it was like I couldn’t stop myself from fighting with him. I didn’t want to. I wanted to tell him that I needed him to take care of me and ask him to hold me while I cried on his shoulder about nothing at all, but I couldn’t. He would do it in a heartbeat, but I couldn’t ask him to. I couldn’t ask him for anything.

I couldn’t need anything without feeling too horribly guilty.

“Please don’t lie to me.” He was begging again, looking up at me with those impossibly warm amber eyes. He smiled when he saw the way my lips curled at the sight of him, unable to be angry for too long.

“Am I not allowed to have any stories for myself?” I joked, reaching forward to poke his face. Instead of moving away to avoid my hand, he leaned into the touch.

“You can. I just...”

“I know. You’re worried.” I responded with an exasperated sigh, rolling my head back. I could still feel him watching me, though, with a precarious smile, happy to see my spirits relatively high while also being deeply unhappy about the circumstances.

Wanting to see that full, confident smile again, I realized I didn’t have much of a choice. I’m sure that whatever he’d come up with in his head was much more sinister than what had actually happened.

“Fine. Stop looking at me like that.” I mumbled, gesturing to the childlike pout and laughing when he sucked his lips into his mouth in an attempt to follow my direction. I was glad he was still in a joking mood, because I had a feeling it would disappear as soon as I started talking.

I took a deep breath, looking up and away before I began my explanation of the stupidest night.

“I went out for drinks with my friends–”

“Drinks?!”

It hadn’t even been five seconds and he’d already cut me off. I couldn’t blame him, but it was so freaking annoying. This was exactly why I hadn't told him. Well, that and the fact he could get in serious trouble.

“I didn’t have any! Geez. Chill out.” I yelled back, chuckling a little bit at the conflicting looks of terror and relief. Because while he obviously believed that I didn’t drink any myself, it gave ugly context to the nightmarish guesses his mind had concocted.

“And everything was fine. We were on our way home. But then some asshole started messing with my friend. And she was way too drunk and started crying.” I was groaning internally the whole time, thinking about all the different ways this whole situation could have been avoided. Honestly, I don’t know why she had decided to try and square up with a cat caller when she knew damn well that she would start crying the second he raised his voice.

Which, of course, he had.

“So, I told the guy to fuck off. And he did not like it.”

There was a powerful rage boiling under the surface of Spencer’s skin, which was only betrayed by his clenched jaw and the sheets scrunched under his hand. “Did they arrest him?” He said, trying to calm the trembling in his voice. He wasn’t angry at me for being a victim, even if he was probably a little annoyed that I went out without telling him.

Not like he was even in the state, anyway.

“I didn’t press charges.”

He took a deep breath, clearly about to tell me that I was stupid for not holding him accountable. That I could’ve gotten hurt and he would’ve gotten away with it. That I could’ve died if he’d hurt me the wrong way.

I didn’t want to hear it.

“Stop. I didn’t want to go to court, and I’m fine. I didn’t even need invasive surgery again.”

Spencer was still angry but trying to settle himself down before he spoke. He could hardly even look at me, his hand leaving the bed to run through his hair and shake his keys in his pockets.

I wanted to tell him that the tension of silence was worse than if he’d just raised his voice at me, but I couldn’t even gather the energy to do that. My body and mind seemed resigned to their current state; they’d just given up.

“(Y/n)...” He started, and the hairs on the back of my neck stood up at the use of my name. They didn’t retreat, especially not when he dragged a chair over to my bedside, sitting down and placing a gentle hand over mine again.

“Are you okay?”

It was so sincere. So pure, so unforgivably kind. My hand that had felt paralyzed seconds earlier twitched under his. “I just told you.” I shrugged, fighting the urge to pull my arm away again. I wanted him here. I wanted him to touch me.

So why did it hurt? Why did everything hurt?

“That’s not what I’m worried about.” His voice broke, and I saw the way he was holding back tears with his tongue pressed against the roof of his mouth. He was biting back so many things he didn’t want me to know.

But again, I was too tired to fight it. So instead, I said nothing.

“It doesn’t take a profiler to see you’re hurting.” He continued, urging me to give him anything to work with. “How can I make it better?”

He just wanted to help. Why couldn’t I let him help?

“I’m fine. Nothing even happened to me.” My throat tried to reject the words, my brain screaming at me that they were fundamentally untrue. But my heart hurt, pounding louder in my chest to tell me that the logic was wrong. Because I was a big girl, and I shouldn’t be scared by things that already happened.

I’m safe, right? I don’t need to be scared, right?

Spencer could see the panic on my face because I couldn’t even have hid it if I'd wanted to. And my brain was telling me to not to. It told me that I needed to talk to him, to let him listen.

“That’s not true. You’ve been through a lot.” He bargained, trying to locate that little voice in my head with his offerings. He wanted to pull that small part of me out and force it to talk so that we might finally be able to start to move on.

“You go through worse every day.”

‘It’s common for patients suffering from PTSD to minimize their suffering or compare it to others. It’s a completely normal response, but I want you to try to resist belittling your own feelings. They’re yours, and no one else’s. Okay, sweetheart?’

The voice was so clear in my head, my body jerked in response. I looked around the room, looking for any sign of the man who’d told me them first. But he wasn’t here; he hadn’t been here for some time.

“Do you know how many profilers I’ve seen leave in my time at the bureau?” Spencer distracted me from the thought. He probably figured my flashbacks were more sinister than what they actually were. As upsetting as they had once been, hearing my dad’s voice in my head was usually oddly soothing.

“No.” I answered blankly, trying to pay all attention to the man who was still here.

“Four. And I’ve considered it myself.” There was a soft chuckle to hide the guilt in the admission.

I didn’t know why he felt bad for it; his job was so ridiculously difficult. On top of constantly having to rearrange his life on account of the various inextinguishable evils in the world, he had to face those evils every day and try to figure out their inner workings in order to thwart them. The only time I'd ever done that, I'd killed all three of them. Not the best track record.

“The first one, she... she reminds me a lot of you.” The soft twinkling in his eyes, much like emotional music in the movies, alerted me that a backstory was coming. Based on the extent of just how nostalgic he was coming, I guessed that whatever he was about to say was deeply important to him.

However, I was fragile enough as it was, and I didn’t need to add jealousy to my current emotional repertoire. “Is this another JJ origin story? Cause I don’t think I can handle it.”

He laughed, shaking his head at the frustrated pout that formed on my face. “No,” He said quietly, taking a pregnant pause to formulate the story. “Her name was Elle.”

The story he told was woven well, although I expected no less. He told it passionately and with absolute sincerity. He told me about the woman who was one of the first people he'd bonded with on the team. The playful relationship he described was painted so vividly in my imagination.

I wanted to meet her. But by the end of the story, it was obvious that it wasn’t an option. He didn’t say anything about it, but from the far off look I could guess that he hadn’t seen her since that last day.

“She was like a sister to me, and to see her fall apart and not be able to do anything to help her... it was one of the worst feelings in the world.”

And I understood then, why he was worried about me the way he was. He was projecting his previous experience on me, but things were different with me. At least, that’s what I told myself. Realistically I should have been reminding myself that she'd had the training and resources to overcome her obstacles, whereas I was basically still a stupid kid. The prospect of facing the reality was too difficult though; I just shrugged it off.

“Well, I already killed the people who did this to me.” I chuckled.

Spencer did not appreciate my humor. There was an even stronger concern that flashed over his features, worried by my flippancy over the death of three human beings.

Fuck, I should feel worse about it than I do, shouldn’t I? But if I thought about it, then it hurt so badly. If I had to pick one, I would pick apathy every time. I would choose the emptiness before the ocean of remorse.

“I’m not worried about them.”

I had drifted away from him again, and the sentence forced me to look at him.

‘I’m not worried about them. I’m worried about you.’

I’d said that before. Those were my words.

I pulled my hand back from Spencer, rubbing my forehead with both hands before wincing at the sharp pain around my eye socket. It took me a minute to focus on the sentence and dive deeper into its implications. But once I remembered why it instilled such a visceral reaction, I nearly gagged on the words.

“Wait, you think I’m going to kill myself?”

“I didn’t say that.” He quickly responded in the most defensive manner possible. If that was his attempt to calm me down, it did not work. It only pissed me off even more.

Because there was only one reason why he would think I was going to kill myself. I hadn’t given him any reason to believe that was a risk. Yeah, sure, I was being reckless and impulsive, but I was a teenager!

“Why would you think that?” I demanded an answer, and he was immediately hesitant to provide one. It was all the evidence I needed to reach my conclusion. “Don’t lie to me, Spencer Reid. You asked Hotch, didn’t you?”

He sighed, leaning back in his chair now that it was obvious, I wasn’t going to want him to touch me. “Yeah, I did.”

“You told me you wouldn’t, Spencer! You promised!” I ground the words out between my teeth, hoping he understood just how much I was holding back my volume.

He looked over at the screen monitoring my heart, noting the way the spikes appeared at an exponentially faster rate. “I know.” He whispered with an evident guilt.

“What did he tell you?” I hated the way my voice shrank with my shoulders, my body insisting that I assume to the smallest position I could. Because as much as I hated that Spencer had asked when he told me he wouldn’t, I was desperate for the information.

I’d always wanted to see the files, to hear the story as they knew it. I wanted to know what happened, and this was probably the closest I’d ever come to that, unless that whole Ouija board thing is real.

“Probably the same stuff that you already know.” He knew he was disappointing me. He shouldn’t have felt as bad about that as he did, but I’d take the implicit apology for what it was.

“Tell me anyway.”

Spencer should have been delighted to have the opportunity to talk at me for such a long time, but I also understood why he wasn’t. They weren’t the best topics of conversation, your ex-best friend and your girlfriend’s dead father. But he was a trooper and a skilled conversationalist, despite people not being able to understand that.

“He told me that there were several missions your father was a part of that ended controversially. That… he reported several violations that were never followed through on.”

The words so easily unlocked memories I had tightly and resolutely locked away, it was unsettling. I could hear my parents arguing about the philosophy of blame and responsibility. My dad always arguing that he couldn’t stand aside and let innocent people get hurt. My mom reminding him that he couldn’t save everyone.

‘We also get to see a lot of good.’ Spencer had said on our first not-a-date.

‘Yeah, but which do you see more of?’ I’d asked, and he’d avoided the question. I remembered seeing the question dance across his vision before he shut it out. He'd wondered why I was so confident in my conclusions.

“And the last mission…”

He didn’t have to wonder anymore.

“I saw the report.”

My breath was knocked from my lungs by an invisible fist to my damaged gut. I swallowed, trying to regulate my heart that was at risk of setting off the damn machine next to me. “What did it say?” I whispered, clutching onto the sheets and my gown, hoping it would be enough to keep me grounded.

“Killed in action.”

“That’s fucking bullshit.” I barked, my brows furrowing regardless of just how badly it hurt to contort my face so badly. “He didn’t– H-He wasn’t–“

“I know.” Spencer responded, a note of pity in his voice that made my face twitch in annoyance.

I turned to him with the same snarl, years of repressed anger resurfacing and wreaking even more havoc on my already destroyed life. “Do you? Do you know?”

“I mean, I can’t ever know for sure but… You weren’t the only one who felt that he...” He couldn’t say the word suicide, and for once, I was grateful. “It seems like all of his team had the same concerns.”

He was trying so hard to calm me down, to placate my fears and rage. He was sympathizing the best he could, but the truth was he would never be able to understand just how fucked up it was. He hadn't been there when it was happening, so the only thing he could do was try to slap a band-aid on a well-settled scar and hope that my not being able to see it made it hurt less.

“I’m sorry.” He uttered the two words cautiously, his heartbreak clear in his eyes. He had nothing to apologize for, but there he was, doing it anyway.

“For what?”

“That you’ll never have your answer.”

I don’t know what I expected him to say, but his answer took me by surprise. Of all the explanations I’d heard after an unnecessary platitudinous apology, I’d never heard that. And even worse, I’d never heard it in such a broken way, sounding for all the world like he believed he'd failed tremendously.

“I’m sorry that... that I couldn’t find it for you.”

I couldn’t stand the sight, and my hand found his cheek like it did so often, returning home to find that it was just a bit more stubbly than I remembered it. “It’s not your job, Spencer. We’re not one of your cases.” I assured him, running my thumb over the rough skin and remembering that he’d only just gotten home from exactly that: a case.

He did so much for me every day, but in the past few months he’d had to do so much more. And as much as I tried not to, I took him for granted so often. It was never as obvious to me as it was in that moment, when a tear slid down his cheek at the tenderness of my touch. He always expected anger and pain. I didn’t want him to feel that way with me.

“But thank you for trying. I appreciate you.” I tried to throw my soul into the words as they formed on my tongue, but all that came out was a pathetic whimper. “I love you very much.”

“I love you, too.” He sighed into the small embrace, leaning his weight more heavily into my hand. Still holding back, he grimaced at the words he shared. “If I’m going to be honest, I looked something else up myself. Not on any FBI database just... old school research”

I wanted to act surprised, but it was the least shocking thing I’d heard in a while. So instead I just stared at him, with the closest I could come to boredom while still being interested in what he had to say.

“Yeah? What’d you find?” Finally settling into the inevitable resignation, I moved my hand up the side of his face to tangle in his hair. It was so soft despite not having been washed for a few days. I could tell he hadn’t slept much. I wondered why he'd bothered digging into my past in the precious little free time he had.

But then he said it, reminding me of the pain of the cemetery and the events that both preceded and followed it.

“Trent Loughton.”

My fingers stopped in their exploration of his curls for a second, but eventually continued. “I see.” I hummed, trying not to push the conversation any further than he wanted to take it. As emotional as the topic was for me, it must have been harder for him. After all, he was the one who shared the nasty habit with Trent.

“I-I saw how he died... and I think I can fill in the rest myself.”

“Mrs. Loughton did give a lot of clues.” I laughed, mostly to stop myself from crying. That woman didn’t deserve any more of my tears. It was because of her that I’d spent years trying to convince myself that Trent’s death wasn’t my fault. Deep down, a part of me still believed her.

But honestly, it wasn’t my opinion that really mattered to me. It was Spencer’s. If he thought I was a failure, or that it was my fault for what happened, I wasn’t sure we’d ever be able to move past it. I wasn’t sure that I would ever be able to move past it.

“The drugs he overdosed on... they weren’t yours.”

Relief washed over me, but my mind told me not to get too comfortable, yet. “No, they weren’t.” My body had such a strange reaction to the words being said without an argument. I didn’t need to convince Spencer; he already knew. He not only believed me – he had come to the conclusion himself.

“So why did you say they were?”

It was such an easy answer, I knew he had to know it already. His hesitance to come to conclusions on my behalf, while appreciated, wasn’t necessary in this situation. “Pretty little girl with no record and a batshit war hero dad stood a better chance in the criminal justice system. I didn’t ask my dad to protect me, but he did.”

Spencer clearly sympathized with my father more so than me in that moment, which made my heart flutter in a remarkably inappropriate manner. I just couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that those damn psychologists were right – We really do sometimes pick men that remind us of our fathers.

“It wasn’t your fault.” Spencer said under his breath, and I wondered which one he was even talking about. It honestly could have applied to my whole life. He would have meant it each time, too. Because to him I couldn’t do anything wrong. I tried to take solace in that, but it honestly caused another voice to creep into the back of my mind.

I’d never be as good as he saw me. I’d never be worthy of his love.

Shoving those anxieties away again, I nodded in solemn recognition of the years I spent working to come to that same conclusion. “I know. It just took me a while to figure it out.”

My hand finally fell away from his face, although he grabbed my wrist to stop it from going too far. There was another hesitancy in his body language. His face turned down and his leg bouncing so gently I almost missed it.

“Is he the one you were talking about? The one you loved?”

Ah, nothing like a subtle hint of jealousy to boost a girl’s ego. I chuckled at the sound, swaying a bit in place to let him suffer a millisecond longer. “No. Not exactly.”

But then I genuinely couldn’t figure out how to say it. How could I describe what we had shared, when I'd spent so long trying to forget it? Had I loved him? Probably. No, I'd definitely loved him, just not in the way Spencer was thinking. Not like I loved Spencer.

“It was like, he always liked me, and I always thought we’d end up together because that’s how it happens in the movies, right? I was supposed to fall in love with him.” I ranted, trying to move my hands that were currently wrapped up in Spencer’s. “But I didn’t, and then he was gone and...”

We both stopped, his eyes trailing after me with questions he didn’t voice yet. He wanted me to finish before he decided whether or not they were worth it. I wanted to explain to him that they weren’t. As important as Trent was to me, he was gone.

“It’s fine. I’m sure he would be glad I found someone who makes me happy.” I was confident in that, at least. Because as I stared into those big hazel eyes, forcing themselves to stay open just to listen to me talk about my life, I was glad, too. “Even if that someone snoops too much for his own good.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

There were many reasons, most of which I didn’t want to go into. But the way he was looking at me shattered my heart into a million pieces, and I knew that if I lied to him now, it would only make it harder to put those parts back together.

He just wanted to help. I knew I should let him help.

“I didn’t want to think about it.” I admitted for the first time out loud. “I didn’t want to consider all the similarities. I didn’t want you to think I was just looking for a man to replace the ones I’ve lost.”

I couldn’t tell when I started to cry, but it was even more exhausting and painful than normal. Which is why I didn’t hesitate to accept Spencer’s offer when he stood up, wrapping his arms around me just tightly enough that it wouldn’t hurt.

“I didn’t want to lose you, too.” I whined, the comforting scent of his cologne filling my lungs and reminding me of all the beautiful moments we’d shared so far. We had so many more to go.

“You won’t lose me. I’m here to stay.” He said, reading my mind like he always did.

“I know.” I started to laugh, but this time it wasn’t held back by secrets. “You’d think a girl could lose you by getting in a bar fight an hour away and going to an unnamed hospital but nooo...”

He laughed too, although his was much more reserved. Spoilsport.

Spencer’s arms tightened around me briefly, holding me closer to him before he backed away, his hands finding home on my cheeks. I anticipated a kiss, which was usually what happened when he held me like that. But he didn’t kiss me, instead giving me a gentle instruction.

“(Y/n), look at me.”

My eyes, bruised and dry, still opened at his command.

“No jokes. No lies.” He asked, clearly enunciating each word. “Should I be worried about you?”

All I could hear was the sound of my heart and the humming of the machines. I was brought back to the CT scanner, the way it felt to be choking on air. Flashes of other men I loved were racing through my mind. I couldn’t save them, I remembered, before my eyes landed back on Spencer.

My stomach twisted at the memory of a wooden box, a check, and suddenly all I smelled was the pine of the forest.

“(Y/n)?” He asked again, although I saw he’d already received half of the answer.

“No. I’m fine.”

The most terrifying part about it was that I believed what I said, but the look on Spencer’s face told me that I was lying. And I believed that, too.

—————————————————

The thing about coming back from a gunshot wound to the stomach is that it takes a ridiculously annoying amount of time. Like, yeah, the pain is something awful, but the wait for things to return to normal was even worse.

I didn’t even know how long it’d been, my brain blocking out anything that reminded me of that day. If I ever really needed to know, Spencer could tell me. I was basically only keeping track of the days by deadlines for school and the dwindling prescriptions I had left.

My follow-up appointment was next week, and it couldn’t come soon enough. Spencer told me he would come with me, but I hadn’t really heard from him in a couple of days. He didn’t even have time to tell me about the case, although I could tell it was one of the “bad” ones – not that there were really any “good” ones.

But still, it was almost 11pm and I was about to go to sleep, but I wanted to wait a little bit longer before I called it a night. I was just hoping that I’d be able to talk to him, even if it was just to say goodnight. I missed his voice like crazy.

So when my phone lit up, I didn’t even look at the caller ID. There weren’t many people who would call me this late on a Friday – my friends were all already out for the night.

“Hello?” I sang into the receiver, already excitedly spinning around in my chair.

But the voice that responded was decidedly not Spencer.

“Hey, (y/n), right? It’s JJ.”

Her voice rang like a record scratch through my head, and I halted in my chair. “Oh, hey JJ... Why are you calling me?” Suddenly, my enthusiasm morphed into an overwhelming anxiety and darkness that threatened to crush everything in its path. “I-Is everything alright?”

But then I heard it. The sound of terrible music, loud laughter, and the general bustle of a restaurant. It was followed by an even more nervous JJ, “Uhh, yeah. Everything is fine. I was calling because Spencer might have had a few too many drinks and—“

Above the chaotic noise that I just described, I heard Spencer Reid loud and clear. Well, maybe not the clear part. His inaudible slurring sounded vaguely like a rant I’d heard before. Then again, hadn't I heard them all at this point? ?

I hadn’t put it together yet, though, and once I did, I couldn’t help but laugh. “My boyfriend is drunk? Cute.”

I was already standing, gathering my things and tossing my jacket on to head out when I asked, “Do you want me to come get him?”

“Please.” I’d never heard a more relieved woman in my life. The very thought of him driving his best friends insane with his drunken lessons was enough to combat my exhaustion. The poor thing was probably humiliating himself one sip at a time.

But for every chuckle, I was really just hiding a deeper concern. Spencer wasn’t supposed to be drinking. Spencer wasn’t allowed to drink, and he knew that. Out of the two of us, he was the one who put himself at risk more often, and I had a goddamn bullet wound.

“Sure thing. Just send me the address.”

It dawned on me somewhere along the 20 minute drive that Spencer had not only finished his case, but also come home and gone out for a drink with his team. Normally that wouldn’t bother me, but the fact that he hadn’t told me about any of it...?

I tried not to think about it, knowing that talking to him about it tonight would be a waste of time, anyway. From the way he'd sounded over the phone, he wouldn’t be in any state to talk about the deep nuances of addiction and our relationship.

So I pushed it away, trying to enjoy the fact that I’d be able to see him again. Now that we’d cleared the air about my past, things felt strangely calm. I told myself it wasn’t just the eye of the storm because I wasn't sure I could handle much more excitement lately.

Showing up at one of the bars I used to frequent didn’t do much to convince me otherwise, either. The stench of cigarette smoke and alcohol hit me like a freight train as soon as I stepped out of my car. How did I do this every other night before?

As I approached the door, I didn’t even recognize the bouncer’s figure in the shade of the dim porch light. I recognized his voice, though, that’s for sure.

“Hey Jailbait, haven’t seen you around.”

Shit. Slower now, I hesitantly approached him with the most innocent and well-meaning look I could muster, knowing full well that another part of my life was going to be exposed tonight. At least this time, Spencer was the story and not the listener.

“Hey Tom...” I nervously laughed, drawing out the words while I came to a stop.

“Heard some pretty crazy shit went down to keep you off the scene. Must be bad if it keeps you away from me.”

It was weird to think that they talked about me. But I guess it was to be expected; we were all friends before Spencer Reid. And when someone in those friend groups goes missing suddenly, there’s usually reason to be worried. But in my situation, the worry wasn’t really necessary (aside from the whole being shot thing, I guess).

“Crazy is a good word for it.”

He leaned forward, beckoning for me to move in even closer with a wave of his hand. I complied, although I was a little confused as to why we were being so secretive.

“Hey, sorry, but... I can’t let you in tonight. You know I normally would, but the place is swarming with feds tonight.”

Then I remembered that I actually had to explain the reason for my absence, rather than just think about it in the abstract. “Oh no, I know.” I peered around him, trying to spot the man past the door. It wasn’t hard, considering how goddamn tall he was.

I pointed to him, causing Tom to turn with an amused grin before I explained, “I’m here for the drunk noodle man.”

The look on his face – hilarious, and a little insulting.

“What? Jailbait’s picking up a fed? Damn girl what’ve you been into?” He laughed, barely able to control himself. He laughed so hard, in fact, I’m surprised there weren’t tears in his eyes.

“Stop that.” I whined, but he didn’t listen.

“Does he know who he’s dating?”

The question hurt more than he could have anticipated. I didn’t want to confront those messy feelings, so I bundled them all into an annoyed exclamation. “Yes, he knows!” I huffed, crossing my arms and turning away from him as I stepped towards the door. “So can I go get him?”

He composed himself rather quickly after that, shaking his head and unhooking the rope that blocked off the door. “Please do. If I have to hear one more fact about Ancient Rome, I might quit.”

With the last obstacle gone, I happily skipped through the door, the excitement returning in a bubbling wave through my chest. “Thanks, Tom!” I chirped, barely giving him a glance as I raced through the door.

The only person more surprised to see me than Tom was Spencer. Although, to his credit, I did practically launch myself at his side. We both nearly toppled to the ground thanks to our lack of coordination, but we were luckily stopped by the bar he was leaning against.

“Boo!” I shouted in his ear, hearing a small, surprised gasp from my boyfriend.

“(Y/n)?” He turned towards me now, stars quickly forming in his eyes as a big, goofy smile spread across his face. It took him a minute, but eventually he recognized me in the dim light.

“Hey old man.”

Hugging me back just a little too tightly, he began to gush, “Oh my gosh. What are you doing here?” Of course, before I could answer, he came to several other conclusions. “Wait! This is a bar. You can’t be here! You aren’t twenty one!”

He thought he was whispering, but he definitely, definitely was not.

“I’m here to pick you up, not party.” I actually whispered back, turning to see JJ practically hiding at the table. I’m guessing he hasn't wanted her to call me, although I was pretty sure he wouldn’t care at this point. He seemed pretty happy I was there.

“You can’t pick me up. You’re hurt.”

I didn’t even know where to start with that, so I just chuckled. “Smart as a whip, Dr. Reid.”

I ran my hands over his shoulders, smoothing out the wrinkled dress shirt he'd either had no time to iron, or had worn to bed the night before. I didn’t like either of those options. Spencer must have noticed me analyzing the fact, because his hand came up to stop me.

Trying to quickly change the subject, I blurted out over the terrible music, “Even when I’m hurt, I can probably still pick you up. You probably weigh the same as me.”

He scoffed, looking down at his lanky body compared to mine before shaking his head. “That’s hurtful, (y/n).” He attempted a puppy dog face, which only made laughter burst from my pursed lips.

Grabbing hold of his wrists and pulling him away from the bar, I turned and waved to the few team members I could spot among the crowd before returning to my drunken idiot of a boyfriend. “Come on, love. It’s time to take you home with me.”

When the cool autumn air hit him, I felt the goosebumps ripple over his arm. He leaned a bit closer, resting too much of his body weight on me for my comfort, but I wasn’t going to tell him to stop.

“How did you find me?” He mumbled, trying to touch me more than he currently was. Pushing him away from me was supposed to serve as a gentle reminder that we were in public, but he didn’t seem to care about that at all.

“JJ called me.”

“They all like you a lot. So do I.” His fast responses were a little less impressive considering how spontaneous they seemed, but I let it slide. As long as he was saying nice things, it was fine by me.

Guiding him as gently as possible, which is to say not gently at all considering he was essentially a human giraffe, I sighed. “I’m glad to hear it, Spencer. Maybe I can actually hang out with them one of these days.”

The guilt appeared before I could stop it, but it was the least of my worries at the moment. More concerning would be getting him into his house and in bed without either of us doing something stupid. After all, he was usually the one who stopped me from being stupid. And so far tonight, he’d already done something pretty damn stupid.

As I pulled the driver side door closed, a silence filled the car. Spencer was stuck between staring at me with a lovesick smile and looking away, probably because of his pink cheeks making him look a perfect combination of embarrassed and plastered.

“So what had you drinking, Spencer?”

“A case.” He shot back with that voice he usually reserved for the bedroom. It was the voice that told me not to press, to take his answer and let it die.

Unfortunately, I couldn't really do that this time, concerning this particular topic. . “Good thing or bad thing drinking?” I asked quietly.

I think he wanted to snap at me, to tell me that it was clear he didn’t want to talk about it, but he didn’t. The way my hands and words trembled told him that I was just as scared as he was that the answer might be the wrong one.

“I don’t know,” was what he said, instead.

“Okay.” I accepted that answer, understanding that it meant we could talk about it later, when his blood went back to normal and his mind was where it should be. “We don’t have to talk about it.”

And there we were, me sitting and staring at the indicators on the car as the engine turned, and him staring at me in the little light provided. After staring back at him for a moment, I had to ask the glaringly obvious question.

“Why are you staring at me like that?”

That’s when Spencer Reid let out an honest to god giggle, his hands reaching out to massage my face that no longer showed any signs of the black eye I'd received a few weeks prior. “You’re sooo pretty.” He drawled, slumping over in his seat so he could rest his face against my shoulder.

I couldn’t help but laugh back, petting his hair for a second before returning my attention to the wheel. “Oooh, I like this.” I whispered, letting my heart skip a few beats as he nuzzled into the warmth that only I could provide him.

“I love you.” He mumbled against my shirt, letting out a deep breath before apparently trying to fill his lungs with the smell of my laundry detergent.

The sensation of his breath hot against my neck caused a familiar desire to stir in me, just barely beaten out by the even more powerful adoration I had for the puppy-like man who was already practically asleep on my shoulder.

“I love you, too, darling.”

He didn’t hear me, his soft breath indicating that he would be out for the drive. Taking my time to avoid the roads with potholes and curves, I managed to keep Spencer on me the whole way back to his apartment. Once we were there, though, I didn’t have any option but to wake him up. Unlike him, I definitely could not carry him out of the car.

It took him a surprisingly long period of time to realize that we were not, in fact, at my place. As soon as he did notice, he rubbed his eyes like it would transform the door in front of him. “Why didn’t you take me home?”

“This is your apartment, babe.” I explained, digging through his pockets to find his keys. He jumped at the contact before letting out a sound that was way too close to a moan for him to be making in the hallway.

“Yeah that’s not home.” He answered, swallowing down other noises that threatened to erupt by the time I withdrew my hand. “But home is–“ He hiccuped, patting his finger on my nose as he tried to stabilize his feet. “Home is where you are.”

“Mmm, so smooth.” I hummed, unlocking the door and shoving his drunk ass into the apartment before he could do something else that made me question whether I should just turn around and go home.

But he just looked so proud of himself, spinning around on his feet and crashing into the table beside the door. “Thank you!” He chirped, reaching forward to grab my hand and pull me closer.

When our bodies pressed together, the first thing I noticed was the fact he was clearly much more excited to be home with me than he was letting on. The thin fabric of his slacks left little to the imagination, and when my hand slid over the tent in his pants, there was nothing left to wonder.

“I brought you here... because I didn’t want to have to be quiet.” I purred, palming his erection over his clothes.

Through his broken moans, he still managed to ask the silliest question: “Why are you going to be loud?”

He was so fucking cute; so remarkably innocent in his drunken stupor, it was hard to remember that he was the same man that once finger fucked me on the metro.

“Why do you think?” I asked just as sweetly, making quick work of the buttons on his shirt.

Spencer still just stared, mesmerized by the way the buttons slipped from the fabric between my fingers. Once they were all open, I ran my hands over his chest before wrapping my arms around his neck.

He was the one to close the gap, coming down to deliver a feverish kiss against my lips. He tasted like honey and whiskey, and I wanted nothing more than to drown in him. His hands were on my lower back, sneaking under my shirt and spreading goosebumps all over my skin.

I moaned into his mouth with the utmost desperation, murmuring words against his lips. “Take me to bed, Spencer,” I begged.

The words awoke something in him, and suddenly, his hands were off of me and raised in the air.

“Wait— I can’t.” He concluded, drawing in heavy breaths.

“Why not?”

I wasn’t sure which part of this situation did him in, although I had my suspicions. As much as I wanted him, I would suppress those urges if he was really, truly uncomfortable. I almost felt bad for a second, but then he spoke again.

“I have a girlfriend.”

With a few slow blinks, I tried to figure out how the hell I was supposed to return a serious answer. Deciding that was impossible, I deadpan replied, “I am your girlfriend, you absolute idiot.”

I took his stunned silence to be permission enough to start leading him into his room. He honestly looked like I’d just told him all the answers to the universe, and he trailed after me like my hand was a leash. Still, once I sat on the bed and pulled his body against mine, he paused again.

“My girlfriend can’t— she’s hurt. She can’t have sex with me.”

I got the impression he was trying to reason with himself more so than with me, which explained the third person. But it was deeply unsettling, because I really needed to know he was here in this moment with me.

“Stop saying 'she'. It’s me, babe.” I gently reminded, and I watched it dawn on him again, his eyes lighting up in the darkness. Sliding my hand up his arm, I pulled him forward to hopefully convince him to climb into the bed with me. “And we don’t have to have sex.”

Funny enough, Spencer was the one who had enough sense to strip off most of his clothes before he stumbled onto the mattress after me. His lack of coordination was even worse with the alcohol, and it reminded me of the virginal teenager I’m certain he once was.

It was strange to consider, that if we’d met each other under different circumstances, at a different time, our roles might have been somewhat reversed. To picture him as an innocent little thing was... kind of exciting.

But he was anything but innocent now, his face hanging over mine while he helped me disrobe, trying to focus his analytical abilities on me in his haze. Finding no pain or hesitancy, he crashed his lips over mine with an energy I hadn’t seen in some time.

And it was so invigorating, to feel his skin against mine without him having to constantly worry about whether or not he was hurting me. It’d been far too long since we shared a bed together like this, and now that it was happening, I could hardly breathe.

“God, I love her.” He whispered against my skin, before quickly correcting himself, “I love you.”

I laughed, the kind that sputters from your lips when you try to hold it back. Pushing the hair from his face, I ran my fingers over his scalp. “How drunk are you?”

“I’m not drunk, I’m stupid.” He replied with a cheeky smirk, diving back down to kiss me again. I wasn’t going to argue with the brilliant Spencer Reid, even if the point he was making was that he was, in fact, stupid.

Maybe it was stupid, the two of us tangling up in his sheets despite the fact that I hadn’t been cleared for it yet by my doctor. I knew that it was coming soon – probably at my appointment in a couple weeks, actually – so why wait? I knew that Spencer would never hurt me. Even now, his hands were gentle in their insistence, raking over my hip and stopping just short of the place where I really wanted him.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful.” He groaned, his hips rocking forward and pressing his erection against my leg.

“Touch me.” I ordered, louder and more forcefully than I intended. I was expecting an argument, but I didn’t get one. In fact, Spencer’s finger had already breached my folds before I even finished talking. Unwilling to let him be the only one to enjoy himself, I reached down to grab his cock.

“Shit.” He hissed, biting down on his lip while he rutted against my hand. “I just want to hold you down and fuck you until you cry.” The restraint was obvious in the fingers slowly sinking into me, his jaw clenched and his eyes barely able to stay open. “But I can’t.”

Through my heavy breaths, I panted out another request. “Tell me more about it.”

He immediately realized why I’d asked, and his fingers began to pump in and out of me faster and with more force, his lips trailing kisses over to my ear. While I tried to keep up the pace of my strokes, it became more complicated when his breath fanned over my ear.

“It’s been so long since I bent you over and had my way with you like I did that morning over your kitchen counter...” He moaned, and I could almost feel the sensations as he remembered them. Although his fingers would never be the same, just having him inside me in any capacity felt like pure bliss.

But he wasn’t done, continuing to speak his thoughts into my ear. “I just want to—fuck, I want to fill you up.” I went to respond, but I choked on a sob, instead. The lewd sounds between us only aided his descriptions.

“God, I love the way you feel. You’re always so wet for me.” He whispered, beginning to make small thrusts with his hips. The movement essentially allowed him to use my hand to stroke himself, and he let out another unsteady moan at the contact. “Think about what it feels like, little girl.”

“I-I am.” I could barely make the words come out; my body too sensitive to his touch after being starved of it for so long. And Spencer was ready to take full advantage of that.

“I still have so much planned for you. Don’t think I’ve forgotten about that little stunt you pulled when you got all riled up.” He growled, using his free hand to grab a fistful of my hair. He yanked my head further to the side, laying sloppy kisses along my jaw. “I told you I’d give you triple the marks you left on me, and I can’t wait to cover you with me.”

“Fuck. Please, Spencer.” I hoarsely begged, my hand on his shoulder tightening so that my nails dug into his skin. If his grip on my hair wasn’t so tight, I would have thrown my head back. Instead, I just squirmed underneath him, crying out, “I’m so close, Spencer, please!”

He did not disappoint, his fingers curling inside of me with each thrust, and by some grace of God, he was able to coordinate his thumb over my clit. As if that wasn’t enough, he pulled back to look me in the eyes.

“I want to feel you come on my fingers.” It was more of a demand than a desire, as evidenced by the way his hand tugged on my hair. “Come on, little girl. Make daddy proud.”

Just like that, my body responded to his call, my muscles trembling from the tension as my orgasm hit me like a fucking freight train. It was such an overwhelming experience, to remember exactly how Spencer was capable of making me feel.

And he knew it, too. “Oh, good girl,” he cooed, continuing his kisses against my neck and murmuring the words as they came to him. “That’s my pretty little slut.”

After taking my time coming back to earth, I struggled from the overstimulation still burning between my legs. Spencer hadn’t stopped his fingers, which were diligently stroking inside of me while he continued to buck his hips against my hand.

“I want you to finish inside me.” I slurred in my delirium, withdrawing my hand from his dick while he whimpered.

“I-I can’t. I can’t fuck you.” He was asserting a necessary and understandable hard limit, and it was clear I wouldn’t be able to convince him to fuck me that night.

But that wasn’t the plan, anyway.

“That’s not what I’m talking about.” I said between gasps, struggling against his fingers still inside me. “Come up here.” I whined, rubbing my hands on his shoulders while simultaneously trying to sit myself up.

The movement and the words made him withdraw completely. “(Y/n)...” He warned, running a hand through his hair while he sat up on his knees. “I could hurt you.”

“That’s always been a risk with us, Spencer.” My retort was both quick and persuasive, judging by the way he almost moved, but stopped himself yet again.

“Please. Please, do it. I want you to do it so fucking bad.” There was an obvious and deep desperation. I was literally begging him, to the point that I swore I almost cried. It felt stupid, but I needed him like I’d never needed anything in my life before. He’d spent months taking care of me, and I couldn’t do anything in return.

I just wanted to make him feel good, to give him something like we used to share.

Of course, I think those thoughts were also visible on my face, and they were obviously worrying him. With tender touches, Spencer’s fingers lightly trailed over the side of my face. The brief flashes of clarity alerted him of my struggle, and he let out a shaky breath at the war inside his own mind.

“I want to feel you inside me, and this is the only way.” I concluded, trying to lead him to the simplest conclusion. It was the safest, easiest way to solve both of our current problems. And although I could see how hard the decision was for him, my pleading eventually bested him.

“Fuck.” He mumbled, leaning forward to grab the headboard, staring down at me as I shimmied further up the wood.

“Fuck!” He repeated, rolling his head back with a light groan when both of my hands reached forward to grab his hips. “Fine. You’re lucky you’re so fucking cute.”

A giggle bubbled through my throat, and my body actually bounced in excitement as he slowly positioned himself in front of me. I wasn’t even sure which I was more excited for, my own orgasm or getting to finally give him one again.

As soon as my mouth closed around the head of his dick, I got my answer. Spencer’s moan filled the room, his hands holding so firmly on the headboard that the entire bed creaked. Although I figured he’d been taking care of himself in my absence, it appeared that wasn’t entirely the case. He seemed just as starved as I was.

“Holy shit.” He groaned, dropping a hand to the top of my head. I had to remind myself that he was drunk, which explained why he seemed so much more responsive than normal, with whimpers and pants flowing steadily through his mouth. He only got louder as he began to slowly push himself further into my mouth, stopping every few inches to retreat before pressing further.

“God, I need to do this more often. No back talk, no whining.” He said in a low tone under his breath, beginning to settle on a steady rhythm.

Meanwhile, I couldn’t think of anything except how fucking good it felt to be useful again, to feel him struggling to hold himself back as he started to more aggressively fuck my mouth. My eyes could barely stay open, but I needed them to. I needed to see him in the dim light of the streetlights that peered through the window.

He looked so beautiful, so perfect, and so mine. Feeling him slide back and forth against my tongue revived memories from long before and reignited my longstanding desire to do anything to please him. In all his caretaking, I was worried he might have forgotten how to control me.

But he hadn't. Thank god, he hadn’t.

“Come on, little girl. Earn your fill.” He whispered, burying himself in my throat and holding me against the headboard. I only lightly choked on the intrusion before my body complied, swallowing him further until my lips were pressed against the base of him.

Suddenly, Spencer withdrew, beginning a brutal, dizzying pace. Now, my eyes couldn’t stay open, rolling to the back of my head as I used my hands to steady myself against his thighs. The sobs trying to escape felt more like moans, and they shoved Spencer over the edge he’d been riding in his caution.

“That’s it. Take it.” He barked the instruction, looking down at me and smiling, “Don’t you dare spill any of it, do you hear me?”

My answer was stifled against him, just the way he wanted it to be. And with a few more rough thrusts, Spencer buried himself as deep as possible. I swore my heart synchronized with the pulsing against my tongue as his seed spilled down my throat.

I hollowed my cheeks, trying to drain every last drop from him as he finished. It had its desired effect, and Spencer grabbed my hair and forced himself deeper one more time with a growl. “Good girl.”

Once he had enough, he pulled out of me with a satisfied grunt, waiting just a second before clumsily falling onto the bed beside me. I laughed as he hit the pillows, obviously too tired to even reposition himself in the disastrous sheets.

“Thank you, daddy.” I spoke in the silence, gingerly cleaning the spit that had dripped down my chin.

“Fuck.” The curse was muffled in the pillow, but I understood it well enough. He seemed more concerned when I started to sink down into the sheets again, reaching a tentative hand out to him.

Finally rolling over, he grabbed my arm and guided me closer. “Come here.” He said with the tenderness I’d grown used to over the past few months. He turned towards me, apparently not ready for me to sleep on my side just yet.

He brushed my hair from my face, lifting the sheets to look at the now mostly healed wound. I hated it when he looked at it. It just reminded me that I’d never be the same girl he first met. Every time he saw it, he would remember that day. I didn’t want to think about it.

“Are you alright? Are you hurt?”

But even with the insecurity and anger in my gut, I wasn’t lying when I answered. “No, I’m fine.” My heart was so full, my body relaxing for the first time in so long. I was just so unbelievably happy to be together again. Even if it wasn’t like last time, it was still just as wonderful.

“I’m a little better than fine, actually.” I admitted with a bright smile.

Spencer hummed something in thought, but then winced. “Do me a favor.” He mumbled, rubbing his eyes and wiping a heavy hand over his face.

“Anything.”

“Kick my ass in the morning.”

He was caught off guard by my response, which was a full-hearted laugh that was too loud for how close the two of were. But I couldn’t help it, it was just so Spencer to still be punishing himself despite the fact that nothing bad had happened.

Once I calmed down enough to talk, I turned to him with a devilish grin. “I don’t wanna.”

Then were both laughing, and Spencer pulled me close to him until he could rest his chin on the top of my head, curling up against my side. “Spoiled brat.” He whined, running his hand through my hair and down my arm.

When I smelled the whiskey on his breath, the guilt hit me just as hard as any of the pleasure. I'd been so excited to get to experience this with him again, I almost forgot the reason he didn’t want to do it in the first place.

He just didn’t want to hurt me. He just wanted to make me happy.

“I just wanted to be with you again... I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.” I whispered, pulling the covers up so that I could hide my shame beneath them.

“I wanted to be with you, too.” He reassured me, half asleep and barely able to talk but wanting to get the words out. “I know it’s important to you, but I need you to know I would be with you even if I never got to touch you again.”

“Please never stop touching me.” I quickly replied, a genuine worry in my eyes.

But when Spencer glanced over, he just laughed, “I don’t think that’s going to be a problem.”

“No? Even when I get pregnant and have a big ol’ belly?” I playfully answered, bringing his hand to my stomach and pressing it against the side that still remained intact.

The familiar position caused a shift in Spencer’s body language, and suddenly he was even more insistent on being impossibly closer. “You’ll still be irresistible to me.” He said against my hair, running his fingers lightly over the unmarked skin of my lower stomach.

“We’ll see, I guess.” I mumbled, not realizing that I said it aloud until I heard his confused reply.

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing.” The defensiveness in my voice was terrifyingly transparent, and I hoped that if his drinking made him forget anything, it would be this conversation. “Go to sleep, drunk ass.”

“I need hugs and kisses first.” He complained, rubbing his nose against me in a way that should have been irritating instead of adorable.

“Spoiled.” I grumbled, reaching a hand up to play with his hair. I turned to kiss his cheek through the smile that was plastered over my cheeks.

Already half snoring in his sleepy state, he got out one more cringe worthy joke before he succumbed to his exhaustion. “What’s good for the goose...”

“...is good for the gander.” I finished for him, before taking the advice and following him to sleep.

—————————————————

| Part 18 |

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clairecrive · 4 years

Text

“Mirror, mirror” - Remus Lupin

A/n: And here’s another Remus one. I’m sorry but I’m so into him you can’t even imagine. I have to let out these feelings some way. For my Hardy’s mutuals don’t worry I’m working on an Alfie piece too *wink wink*. Well then, hope you like this <3

Warnings: none

Summary: Secret Santa situation

Words: over 1.3k

HARRY POTTER MASTERLIST

inspired by this tik tok video

The Marauders usually spent Christmas time at the Potter's. It had become a tradition of sorts but only after Sirius had left his house, before that they would only meet for the annual New Year's party hosted by Euphemia and Fleamont.

However, since their group kinda merged with that of the girls after James finally succeeded in wooing Lily, they moved the opening of presents to the week before they had to go home. They would still see each other for the party but by then it would be too late to exchange gifts.

So here they were, in the common room of the Griffindor Tower, sitting in a circle in front of the fire trying to guess who their gift was from.

None remember whose idea it was but whoever it was suggested they tried doing Secret Santa this year. It was difficult to get the right gift for every one of them so this way it was easier for them and each of them still got a gift.

It was Remus' turn to open his present and guess but by the way he was looking at it, he hadn't a clue. To be fair, the shape of the wrapped object wasn't conventional. It didn't look like a book, something that everyone would have thought he was getting. Apparently, whoever his secret Santa was, they had decided to get creative.

It wouldn't have been all that difficult to guess who it was though. All it took was to glance and everyone's faces and then one would unmistakably notice the look of apprehension and anticipation on someone's face. That would have been a dead giveaway Fortunately for y/n though, no one seemed to have noticed, least of all the directly concerned one.

On top of the package, there was a small piece of paper. The writing was in black ink and elegant cursive and while the first sentence was at the top centre, the drawing of a small mirror was the one to whom the second sentence belonged to. As if he was answering to whatever had made the question.

"Mirror, mirror on the wall, who's the fairest of them all?

But of course, the one the flowers move for."

Remus only stared at it in confusion, he was sure he had heard the rhyme before but he couldn't pinpoint when and where. Maybe it was a muggle thing y/n or Lily had said, he would always have trouble remembering that kind of things for some reason. What he didn't know though, was that the rhyme itself was a spoiler for the present laying on his lap.

Without thinking too much about its meaning though, he carefully removed the wrapping paper only to be met with... his face?

His scarred face was reflected in an orned mirror that looked old but was clearly hand made and of good quality. It wasn't just a mirror though, just like Remus wasn't just a werewolf. Not that he'd ever say it, mind you, but it was the reasoning behind y/n's gift.

On the bottom of the mirror, there were five small sunflowers. Each of them different from the other but all of them facing whoever was standing in front of the mirror. Remus could see a faint trace of the same paint used for the flowers on the frame of the mirror so he deduced that they were hand-painted recently and did not come originally with the mirror.

"Are you sure there was your name on it? Because this looks like the perfect gift for Sirius," chimed James over his shoulders.

"Oh, please. I'm not the one who spends at least ten minutes every morning fixing his hair," Sirius snickered clearly pointing at his best friend

"Well, I need to look girl for my girl don't I," he smirked wrapping his arm around Lily who was still getting used to him calling that

"You're right Prongs, not everyone can be effortlessly dashing,"

"Well, now we know why this would have been a useless present for Sirius." Rolling her eyes, y/n stated from her place beside the long-haired boy and in front of Remus who still trying to wrap his head around the identity of his secret Santa.

*** *** ***

It was later in the evening, everyone had opened their presents and full from the delicious food offered by the school, they had all retreated to their rooms. Well, everyone but one of them.

Holding his present in his hands, Remus was still trying to figure out who had bought this for him. And most importantly, why. It wasn't a secret that he wasn't the most confident in his looks. The scars covering his body had never failed to remind him that there was something wrong with him. But then again, seeing as this person had taken the time to actually paint flowers on it, it meant that there was some explanation behind it. Remus couldn't see it to save his life though.

Soft footsteps broke him out of his thoughts and he turned around to see y/n standing at the end of the stairs that led to the girls' dormitories with a glass of water in her hands.

"What are you doing here?" Y/n wondered yawning

"Couldn't sleep."

"Same," she said making her way to sit next to Remus who went back at staring at the mirror.

"Do you know that sunflowers move in whatever direction the sun is?" She asked lowering the now empty glass on the floor beside the sofa.

"They do?" Remus asked in surprise making y/n hum in confirmation.

"And they all point towards you." She pointed out after a while, aiding him in the right direction seeing as he was still looking at the gift puzzled.

"So, you're saying that whoever made this for me thinks of me as the sun?" This time he turned to face her and she just shrugged her shoulders. To be fair, she was the one who had made that for him but she wasn't confident enough to just tell him. It didn't look like he liked his present much.

"Maybe this was really meant for Sirius," he muttered under his breath turning again towards the mirror. Y/n couldn't help but scoff at this, at his non-existent self-esteem.

"Is it so absurd for you to think that someone might find you beautiful?" She asked him, maybe more snappy than she ought to be, but it did manage to catch Remus' attention and the wheels in his mind to spin.

"You're my secret Santa, arent' you?" He asked and even though there wasn't really the need for her to confirm she still nodded, hiding her blushing cheeks by turning her head.

"I'm sorry though, I knew it was a bit risky of a present but I thought it was cute."

"It is, it really is," he insisted when she shot him a doubtful look, "it's very thoughtful. I just- I just didn't know you thought that way about me."

"Honestly Remus, you're the only one who's clueless about your worth."

"Do you really think so?"

"I've just compared you to the sun, do you really need to ask that?"

"Sorry, it's just that it feels like a dream." Not knowing what to say, Y/n chose not to speak but that only fueled Remus more.

"My crush comparing me to the biggest star honestly feels like a dream," he added making y/n's head snap to him

"What?"

"If I'm the sun, does that mean that you're the moon?" he asked leaning closer to her

"But the sun and the moon never meet." She complained, her eyes on his lips.

"I'll just have to catch, won't I?" he murmured now practically on her lips

"I reckon that won't be a problem." And that was the last words they exchanged before their lips met.

#remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin imagines #remus lupin one shot #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin deserves the world #harry potter #harry potter imagines #james potter x lily evens #sirius black #maruaders #marauders era #marauders imagines #marauders x reader #marauders imagine

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junko-and-riri-domain · 4 years

Text

❦ boys & girls try to pretend | p.sh

❦ genre: park sunghoon x reader, fluff, semi-angsty?

❦ warnings: none (if there are any warnings I missed in relation to this post please let me know!)

“Boys and girls try to pretend

They’re not catching feelings

When they’re catching feelings”

❦ note: this was inspired by “boys & girls” by James TW, some lyrics were changed to fit the narrative of the story

As 7-year-old you looked at 7-year-old Park Sunghoon skating in the ice rink, there was a sort of air about him that had you curious about the boy. As most 7-years-old, the two of you were just gaining a recent awareness of what it meant to live life. Park Sunghoon knew the minute he stepped onto the ice that ice skating was his everything. He loved the thrill of it, the cold air, but most of all the freedom it provided. Over some hot chocolate, once he finally left the rink, the two of you got to talking which led to your parents exchanging numbers. Sunghoon wasn’t a talkative boy most of the time but his parents noted how he made an effort to talk to you.

You later found out that the two of you attended the same primary school but were in different classes. You found out one lunch at recess when you noticed some guys in the 3rd grade crowding over someone. Curiosity got the better of you and you wanted to see what was happening only to find out that the boy you drank hot chocolate with a few days prior was getting bullied. You stood up for Sunghoon, telling the bullies to “fudge off!” despite the slight fear you felt, the bullies left the two of you alone. The two of you spent the remaining few minutes of lunch together, bonding over a penguin plushie your aunt bought you as a gift.

It didn’t take long before the two of you became friends, a concept you’ve heard of but neither of you truly experienced until each other. The next year of school, the two of you were in the same class. Not only were you in the same class, but you hung out with each other outside of school, mostly at the ice skating rink where the two of you truly noticed each other. Some days you joined him in skating but for the most part, you preferred to watch, a habit that would continue in later years to come.

When you turned double digits, things started changing. You’d be entering middle school soon with more classes and newer people. One Saturday, Sunghoon was at your house and the two of you were having a Disney movie marathon. The scene of the Sleeping Beauty kissing scene appeared on the screen,

“Mama said that people only kiss when they love each other,” you found yourself saying as you glanced over to Sunghoon. You knew love in the form of warm breakfast and being tucked into a blanket but not yet in form of the scene where Flynn Ryder and Rapunzel were surrounded by lanterns on a canoe. Sunghoon looked at you,

“Do you love me?” he asked. He wanted to know your answer for some odd reason despite not knowing the weight of the question. With you, the feeling you gave him was something similar to the one he felt while on the ice but somehow different? You nodded,

“Mama said to love everyone.” Neither of you knew exactly what happened at that moment when Sunghoon made his way to you, your lips brushing for a second, no more, no less. Your first kiss was etched into the history of the world, one of billions of events that occurred that day in that very moment. The kiss wasn’t mentioned nor talked about after that day but the two of you were gaining an awareness of what it meant to be boys and girls.

“You’d talk about a certain boy

And he’d give you his advice

While you’d tell him what to say to all of the girls he ‘liked’”

At 13-years-old, things started changing between the two of you. You were given the talk about puberty with a new awareness of the “birds and bees.” Your group of friends increased, often teasing you and Sunghoon but neither of you paid any mind to it. Feelings of conflict often filled you when you noticing the differences in Sunghoon. The way he was taller, his hair styled differently, and the difference in the atmosphere when he got close to you. The things he did for you were done so in silence but were still actions that you noticed like how he’d give you your favorite bag of chips during lunch or how he waited by your locker to walk home with you. Despite realizing that you had a semi crush on Sunghoon, you were started to have feelings for a boy in your English class, one named Jaeyun. With no other person to ask, you’d talk about it with Sunghoon, often failing to notice the way his jaw clenched slightly or how his gaze grew colder. As a rebuttal, he talked about a girl in his English class and you’d give him pointers on how to talk to her despite the slight sinking feeling in your chest. You and Sunghoon had English class together but you didn’t know which girl he liked and you found yourself not wanting to know.

“As he watched you get close to him

He knew it was serious

Something inside lit up a fire

Can’t help if something’s changed”

You and Sunghoon as a pair started including Jaeyun somewhere down the line. Sunghoon found something else he wanted to do apart from ice skating which no one ever thought possible. He first asked you about it, preferring your opinion over any one else’s and while you were scared of losing your best friend you knew that this was something that’d make him happy. So, you told him to go for his dreams of becoming an idol. On the days that you and Sunghoon weren’t together, Jaeyun was there for you which lead to the two of you getting closer. One night, a rare event happened. Sunghoon’s practice ended early and the two of you headed to the ice skating rink. You decided to skate with him today, wanting to have his presence near you rather than watching from afar.

“You and Jaeyun,” you heard him say in a low voice as you skated. Your hands were linked, an action that was something you were used to with how long you’ve known each other that you didn’t think much of it.

“What about Jae?”

“Are you two… together?” Unsure as to what he was truly trying to ask,

“We went to the festival together yesterday.” The festival was one Sunghoon was supposed to attend with you but couldn’t.

“Just the two of you?”

“Well yeah, since you weren’t there,” you answered. Sunghoon said nothing and you accepted his silence. He was so deep into his thoughts that he ended up tripping over his skates and falling. Because the two of you were holding hands, you were accidentally brought down with him. As the feeling of falling came over you, you waited for the impact of ice on your body but it never felt. Sunghoon let out a slight hiss of pain as you opened your eyes and saw that you were on top of him, his arms wrapped around you to protect you from the ground. His eyes settled on you with an emotion you couldn’t decipher,

“You ok?” he asked. There was something about how the two of you were settled within this moment, the close proximity of your faces, the cold temperature of the ice that caused it to turn a few degrees higher due to the newfound body heat you were sharing, and the way his arms felt so natural around you. A shift in your relationship occurred in this moment and while you both knew it, neither made the effort to acknowledge it.

“We had so much to lose

But I kissed you anyway”

In the following weeks, you started drawing lines between you and Jaeyun. He didn’t exactly notice that you had a crush on him in the first place with how outgoing he was to everyone, but Sunghoon did notice. However, you drew lines with Sunghoon too as you saw how passionate he was with the dream of becoming an idol. Making an effort to state that you two were just friends despite how much you wanted to be more, Sunghoon allowed himself to stay behind the lines you drew out fear of ruining the foundations the two of you built your life upon. Weeks turned to months which turned to years and before either of you knew what was happening, Sunghoon’s dream of becoming an idol was within his reach. You cheered for him on i-land, and cheered for ENHYPEN when the members were announced. Due to Sunghoon’s newfound busy schedule and the responsibilities of life pressing on you, your video calls that sometimes lasted an entire day shifted to regular calls that decreased in time which turned to mere texts that became inconsistent. Constantly, you found reminders of each other whether it be when you saw a penguin plushy or were drinking a cup of hot chocolate. It didn’t take long before an entire year passed since you last talked to each other. Then, at 3 in the morning, Sunghoon showed up in front of your doorstep.

“Sunghoon?” you asked despite it clearly being him.

“Can I come in?” For the first time in both of your lives, the silence was something you didn’t know what to do or say. Until finally, you took his hand and brought him inside. Sunghoon was gaining popularity and you didn’t want a box of mangoes being delivered to your doorstep anytime soon. His height towered over yours as you got a good look at the boy you missed more than you cared to admit. As his eyes settled into yours, his hand pulling you closer his arms wrapped around you.

“I missed you, y/n,” he whispered. There was a gentleness only owned by Park Sunghoon when he lifted up your chin so that you were looking at him. Then, he tilted his head slightly.

“Boys and girls try to pretend

They’re not catching feelings

When they’re catching feelings”

Your eyes fluttered shut as you brought your hand up to his neck. The closeness of your bodies like the time in the ice skating rink where you fell on each other but here the process of falling for each other was truly starting to take effect. Kissing Park Sunghoon now, the two of you were boys and girls trying to pretend you didn’t have any feelings for each other. The only thing was that now you were no longer boys and girls like you used to be. And now, you were no longer pretending.

|❦ end of story, written by riri| |blog master list|

more fics: (the fics linked below are all fluff but the master list has angst)

|warm mornings (jungwon, written by junko)| |you, jake, and layla (jake, written by riri)| |storms & ghosts (jay, written by riri)|

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korissideblog · 3 years

Text

ok! so! this fic was getting a bit long for my tastes, so i decided to split it into 2 parts!

even though they don't show up, i'll be mentioning two lovely characters in this fic, Haru from the amazing @compoundhero and Jetsam from the outstanding @jetsam-kisa <3

and without further ado! here's part 1/2 of-

The Hedonist

“Welcome back.” Aito walked into the library, a dimly lit room draped in darker reds, softly lit by simple reading lamps.

“Where is the rest of the team?” he asked, looking to the only filled seat in the entire room, a plush settee with a woman in an overly large white mink coat lying across it.

“I sent them away. We do our best thinking when no one else is bothering us- isn’t that what you said?” the woman offered, sitting up a bit to look at Aito more clearly. “You play dumb, but I know there’s more going on up there. Am I wrong?” she asked, only to be answered with silence as Aito sat down in an armchair nearby.

“Will you ever tell me your name, Checkmate? I’ve told you mine.” Yua Sakura said, truthfully. “I think it’s only fair.”

“I’m a man of my word, Sakura san.” Aito responded calmly, settling into the chair and accepting the tablet Sakura passed to him. “I’ll tell you my name on my deathbed- only so you know what to put on the gravestone.” he chuckled, opening the tablet to find the plans already open.

Sakura rolled her eyes but dropped it quickly. This wasn’t the first time she’s asked for the man’s real name, and it won’t be the last. “I’ve already secured the bank’s blueprints. Consider our entrance my responsibility. If we’re in the vault, how would you plan our escape?” she asked, clearly still testing the newest recruit of their team, despite the fact that he’s been a full fledged member for almost a year now.

Aito looked over the plans with a critical eye, swiping marks onto the blueprint till she was satisfied, and held it up to present her idea. “The vents. If you can remove the screws while the rest of the team fills the bags, we could escape rather quickly.” Aito gestured to the woman’s hands, referencing her quirk.

And what an interesting quirk Sakura had. She had a form of telepathy, but the largest thing she could lift was a pencil. What really gave the woman’s quirk it’s bite, though, was the smallest thing she could lift. Her quirk let her quickly detach and lift tiny molecules, all at once. Aito once watched her deteriorate a man's fingernails in only the span of a handshake- and it was the most terrifying thing Aito’s ever seen.

“Interesting… Why the vents?” she asked, looking over the tablet carefully.

“Because-” Aito said, pointing to a shaded line going through the walls of the bank. “This is a gas line. If we set off even the smallest explosion…” Aito imitated a large explosion, which made Sakura smile wickedly.

“Oh Checkmate,” she giggled, clapping her hands together in glee. “Oh I just knew you would have the perfect idea! And they say blondes are dumb!” Aito’s jaw dropped in annoyance, touching her bleached hair in defensiveness. “Now now, don’t make that face, pet.” she laughed, waving off Aito with a flick of her wrist. “You know I jest. I’d never question a mind like yours, why, people like us- we just have to stick together.”

“People like us?” Aito questioned, setting the tablet down onto a nearby end table.

“Yes, People like us- us with quirks… predisposed for villany.” Sakura hummed, slumping further into her seat comfortably. “I mean let’s be honest with ourselves, once we’d gotten our quirks, we both must have known where we would end up. And it’s hardly our fault honestly- I mean how else would we have made use of our abilities?”

“I believe my quirk to be neutral.” Aito shrugged, mirroring Sakura’s comfort by souching into her armchair- and quietly wishing he had put on something with a bit more fabric. His usual crop top and biker shorts were of little comfort to him in the colder parts of the hideaway. “I really could have been anything with a quirk like mine. Hell, I could have even been a hero.” Aito quickly decided that sitting around wouldn’t keep him warm, and swung himself out of his seat to look over the books that surrounded them, still staying close enough to speak to Sakura.

“You don’t really believe all that, do you?” Sakura asked, her eyes following Aito like a panther watching its prey. Predatory, yet patient. She watched as Aito carefully touched the spine of nearly every book on a shelf, not answering, but still listening. “Why, maybe I could have had a chance but… your quirk in particular? Checkmate, what else could you have done except for villainy? I mean, I’d even go so far as to call your gift inherently evil.” and that… that seemed to still him.

Aito no longer pretended not to hear, her hand shaking minutely before she rested it onto the shelf and looked over his shoulder to Sakura. He took a book from the shelf and opened it randomly, wandering behind the settee as she looked over the text. It was some sort of book of mythology, and Aito’s fingers brushed over a small drawing of a little girl with a fox tail. She noticed Sakura reaching for her, but flinched away before her hand met his waist. One of the pros to wearing such little clothing was that most people didn’t want to reach for Aito, in fear of touching his skin. The awkwardness of human contact being the only thing that protected Aito from this villain’s grasp.

And Aito was sure that if she ever were to touch him, he would scream. And kick. And bite.

“Sakura san? Why did you become a villain?”

Sakura chuckled, pleased to have finally caught her partner’s attention. “I’ve already said it. I had little other choice, given my abilities.” she shrugged, looking up at Aito with a smile, and carefully laying a hand onto the book, their fingers brushing together softly. “And you, pet?” she asked softly

Aito’s eyes looked away from Sakura and to a nearby window, a small sliver of the starry night slipping between the thick velvet curtains, her eyelashes fluttering minutely as she thought.

“It was my love of strawberry ice cream.”

Sakura laughed, but Aito’s serious face gave her pause, calming herself before letting her partner continue. “Apologies, Checkmate, please continue.” Aito nodded, and flipped lazily through the book’s pages as she spoke.

“When I was a child, my mother would sometimes bring me to work with her. If I behaved myself, she would then take me for ice cream.” Aito started again, seemingly more involved in the book she wasn’t reading than the conversation he didn’t want to be having. “One time they were out of chocolate, so we got strawberry instead. I soon fell in love with the flavor, and got it every time we went.” Aito fought the smile that tried to crack her serious expression, but a ghost of it remained. “High school was hard on me. I was home schooled, and my high school had on campus boarding. Up to that point the longest I’ve spent away from my mother were the few hours when she would sleep, and now I had to spend an entire school year with only visits on the weekend.” Aito then snapped the book close, almost catching Sakura’s fingers between the pages. Aito barely blinked in apology. “I was homesick, and smuggled a bucket of strawberry ice cream into my dorm room. I ate the entire thing, and became sick soon after.” She then tossed the book into Sakura’s lap, not wishing to even touch it now that it had lost his interest. “I had to miss class for a day, and missed very important notes. After that I failed an important test, and my teacher started to worry for me. He asked another-more advanced-student to help me with my work, and we became close friends soon after.”

“What was their name?” Sakura asked, taking the book in her hands.

Aito was silent for a moment. “I called him big cat.” she finally responded, vaguely. Taking her turn to watch as Sakura opened the book. “After him, my other classmates seemed much more approachable.”

“This story isn’t about big cat, is it now?” Sakura hummed, looking from the book’s yellowed pages up to Aito, who was focused on the book with a deadly stare.

“No. it isn’t.”

“Who then, pet?”

Aito paused again, as if trying to find a way to describe her memories from her youth.

“He was a very nervous boy.” Aito started, her eyes fluttering shut as he tried to remember his friend as vividly as possible. “He’d be surrounded by clouds of this vicious black smog- his quirk, he would always produce the foulest smoke wherever he went.”

“You were irritated by him?” Sakura offered.

“No, never.” Aito responded quickly. “I had a habit of taking in the nervous ones. He wasn’t the first, and he wouldn’t be the last.”

“Oh, then I apologize for interrupting.” Sakura chuckled, patting Aito’s arm, which Aito gently pulled out of her grasp. “What drew you to him in the first place?”

Aito sighed, cursing his terrible memory as he tried to recall. “When not in uniform… he’d wear the prettiest clothes.” Aito explained. “One sweater in particular… it was pink I believe… It was softer than a cloud. I think I stole it from him- I probably wore it more than he did.” Aito said, letting the smallest smile show on her face as he touched his arm, as if he were wearing the sweater right this second.

“You tend to do that.” Sakura laughed, poking humorously into Aito’s side. “Remember when you wore one of my dresses to that charity gala?”

“I wore it better than you would have.” Aito quipped, immediately invoking another laugh from Sakura.

“Oh, you’re much too quick witted” Sakura giggled, wiping her dry eyes as though she had been laughing much harder. Aito nodded slowly, but kept his face flat.

“He… he’s the reason I don’t believe you when you say that our quirks can decide things for us.” Aito explained. “He was nothing like his quirk would suggest. Despite all the smoke, he was a pleasant boy.”

“Ohh… but, I asked you why you became a villain, pet. This boy, why do you mention him?” she finally asked, noticing Aito resting his hands on the back of the settee and carefully placing her’s onto his. Aito’s pained silence left Sakura a bit off guard, but she slowly came to a conclusion that… she could only hope her guess was wrong. “Is he… gone from us?” she asked, letting Aito assume her meaning.

“No.” Aito huffed, his grip on the settee’s back tightening slightly as she turned away from Sakura.

“What then? What could have happened that’s made you this upset?” she asked, her red eyes never faltering from her teammate’s face.

“He…” Aito finally turned away, as if even saying it out loud was too much. “He turned his back on me.”

“Oh… pet…” Sakura whispered, carefully patting his hand in an attempt to comfort him. “Loss can be hard… especially when the loss isn’t permanent… when it’s a choice someone makes.” Sakura hadn’t a clue how to ease this pain, completely unused to her teammate showing this amount of vulnerability around her. “If it’s any comfort at all… I’m thankful for you, the entire team is- you must know this by now.” Sakura suffered through another silence, wishing that Checkmate would just tell her how to help him. “What was… pet… what did you call him?” Aito looked back for just a second, his eyes trained on the floor as he tried to gain the courage to finally speak.

“Jetsam Kisa.”

#ohhhh ok i can't wait to start working on part 2 <333 #it's all outlined already #i just gotta get it all written out <2 #bnha oc comeback #knha // kimi no hero academia #Aito takao #aki hiroharu #jetsam kisa #kori stories

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storyofmychoices · 3 years

Text

Bounce

[Bryce Lahela x Olivia Hadley Masterlist]

Pairing: Bryce Lahela x Olivia Hadley (OC) Other Characters: Keiki Lahela, Aurora (former pediatric patient), Mrs. Watkins (Aurora's mom) Book: Open Heart Rating: General *Fluff* Word Count: ~1,200

Synopsis: Olivia helps plan a carnival, fun day for past patients to celebrate their recovery and remission milestones. Bryce is more than happy to get in on the fun.

Background: This takes place somewhat in the future. Bryce and Olivia (and Keiki) have been sharing an apartment for some time. Keiki also volunteers at the hospital after school in the Pediatric ward with Olivia. She reads to the kids in the day room.

"We can't thank you enough, Dr. Hadley."

"Great job!"

"Thanks for today. It really meant a lot to us."

Olivia beamed as the adulation continued. The smiling faces of the grateful people thinned out as the celebration came to its conclusion.

A hand on her shoulder pulled her from her thoughts. "Oh!"

"Sorry! We didn't mean to startle you." Mrs. Watkins offered. Her hand settled on her six-year-old daughter standing beside her. She stroked the tired girl's back gently.

"It's okay." Olivia's eyes brightened at the sight of the happy child. She had met Aurora her first year as a pediatric intern. Her neuroblastoma was considered low risk, and the survival rate was significant over 90%, but that small percent of uncertainty had understandably worried her parents throughout her treatment. "Did my favorite Disney princess have fun today?"

The little blonde girl nodded enthusiastically. "It was the best day ever!"

"We just wanted to say thank you again. This carnival was such a beautiful idea. It was good for the kids and for the parents too," Mrs. Watkins admitted. She kissed the top of her daughter's head. "To remind us that we're not alone and every day is a gift."

"It was my pleasure. I'm happy you both enjoyed yourselves."

Aurora threw her arms around Olivia, hugging her tightly. "I'm going to be a doctor just like you when I grow up and save other kids like you saved me."

Olivia's smile stretched to her eyes as she stooped down to hold her closer. "Whatever you decide to do, you will be amazing. Always remember how brave and strong you are!"

"I will!" The little girl moved beside her mother once more. A quiet yawn slipped from her lips.

"I guess that's our cue!" Mrs. Watkins ran her fingers through her daughter's hair. "Thank you again, Dr. Hadley—for everything!"

"Have a great night!" She waved goodbye, watching as they left hand in hand.

"Olivia!" Keiki called. "There you are."

"Hey, Keiki. You did amazing today! I'm so glad you came out to help. The kids loved seeing you again. I know they enjoyed your storytime when they were here."

"Thanks." She tried to hide her growing smile at the compliment. "That's not why I needed to find you. We have a situation at the bounce house."

"Oh no! What's wrong? Did someone get hurt?" Olivia began moving quickly toward the amusement attraction. "I thought they had shut it down."

Keiki followed closely. "They did."

"So, what's the situation then?"

"You better see for yourself."

The pair stopped in front of the bounce house.

"I—" Olivia wasn't sure if she should laugh or scold him.

"Hey, Liv!" Bryce bounced high, his extended arms touching the ceiling.

"This. This is the situation." Keiki rested her face in her palm as she shook her head.

"Come join me." He proposed joyfully.

"I will not!" Olivia replied sternly. "This is for the kids!"

"And they all left! Come on! You've spent all day working. You're missing out on the fun!" He landed with more force this time, bouncing him higher into a flip.

"I can't. I need to help finish cleaning up."

"It can wait," he insisted. "Let's make a deal; I'll come out when you come in."

"I'm not—That's not how this works!"

"You know you want to." His hair fluttered out weightlessly with each jump.

She chewed her cheek. She couldn't even remember the last time she had been in a bounce house. It did look like a lot of fun. "Fine. One minute and then we both leave. Deal?"

He held his hand out, helping her into the castle. "My lady."

Olivia wobbled as their weight caused the floor to shift beneath them.

"I've got you." He held her hands to steady her. "Together? On 3."

As he counted down, she jumped hesitantly, feeling a bit silly now that she was inside the colorful attraction. Her worries were quickly laid to rest as her delight grew into happy giggles. Feeling more confident, she let go of his hand to bounce on her own.

They built a steady rhythm together. A childish bliss overtook them; their laughter and merriment filled the night air. There was something pure about it. The weight of the world seemed lighter as they bounced in tandem.

"We should get a bounce house," Bryce declared while doing a backflip.

"And put it where?" Olivia chided with slight amusement. She curled her feet beneath her as she bounced. "The apartment roof? That sounds very sensible...and safe."

He shrugged in contemplation, "Fine, so maybe we just get a house instead."

The suggestion took her by surprise. She stopped in her tracks, her bouncing coming to a halt. "What?"

He ceased his movements, balancing on the air-filled base as he moved beside her. He took her hands in his own. "Why not?"

"Bryce, come on. Be serious."

"I—I think I am."

"30 seconds ago you wanted a bounce house. Now, you're ready to get a real one?"

"So what if I am?" He squeezed her hands, his thumb brushing tenderly over her knuckles. "It doesn't have to be tomorrow or even this month, but someday, soon. You know how I feel about you, Liv—how I feel about us. I want a future together. We've been sharing an apartment for a while. We work. Let's get a house!"

"A real house? With a yard? And a cute little garden?" She looked hopeful. "Just clarifying, not a bounce house?"

He contemplated it for a moment longer. He wrapped his arms around her. "The first one. I mean, unless you're open to both. Because I am if you are!" He wagged his brow at her, a simmering smirk settling on his features.

Olivia pulled her hands from his, pushing them against his chest. The movement was more forceful than she intended, causing him to fall back onto the soft floor. Her hands clasped over her mouth as she hid her laughter.

"You think that's funny?" Bryce quickly rebounded, bouncing up and pulling her into a chaste kiss.

"We're really going to do this?" She closed her eyes, shaking her head in disbelief.

His fingers danced gingerly through her hair. "Yes, I think we are."

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"For our future!" Her hand cradled his face, drawing his lips to hers. She kissed him softly, trying to keep her balance as they shifted slightly.

"Ugh! Get a room!" Keiki groaned playfully from just outside, reminding them they were not alone. "Also, Liv, you are failing at your job of getting Bryce out of the bounce house so they can shut it down."

"Oops?" Olivia bit her lip, having momentarily forgotten her task.

"How is it that of the three of us, the one of us passable for a child is the only one not in the bounce house?" Keiki crossed her arms, her head tilting to the side.

Bryce laughed, giving her a challenging grin. "You can always come in."

His sister sighed heavily.

"Come on, Bryce." Olivia laced her fingers with his, guiding him out of the bounce house. "It's time to go."

He gave her hand another gentle squeeze. His voice was low, a whisper just for her. "With you, I would go anywhere."

Choices Perma: @the-soot-sprite ; @princess-geek ; @gardeningourmet ; @katrinegrey ; @trappedinfanfiction ; @aleynareads ; @lucy-268 ; @xjustin-ethansgirliex ; @maurine07 ; @nikki-2406 ; @schnitzelbutterfingers ; @zeniamiii ; @lauridiculous ; @lilyoffandoms ; @ruinedbypixels

Bryce: @burnsoslow ; @callmeellabella ; @ariondevereux ; @ofpixelsandscribbles ; @nyastarlight ; @superharriet ; @jamespotterthefirst ; @brycesgirl ; @kat-tia801 ; @anotherbeingsworld ;

#bryce lahela #bryce lahela x mc #bryce lahela x oc #open heart #fan fiction #olivia hadley #keiki lahela #bryce x olivia #bryce x liv

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minaslittleone · 3 years

Text

Fission & Fusion (Part 2)

Part 1 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Summary: How did the refined and proper Wilhemina Venable end up working for two coked-up tech bros out of the back of a van?

An origin story of sorts, dedicated to the amazing @lucyintheskywithxanax who has developed such a beautiful and nuanced depiction of Mina. This was inspired by her incredible story "And I failed to climb the mountain".

Word count: ~2700

The hours after that were fuzzy. After storming out of her parents house with little more than the bare essentials and no intention of returning Wilhemina didn't really have much of a plan. She had never fantasized about running away as a child, she hadn't even been brave enough to rebel vicariously and yet here she was, with no plan and no where to go. And terrified.

But Wilhemina was nothing if not practical so she sequestered all of those doubts and anxieties down into the deepest corners of her brain to be dealt with later, she told herself. Really to be dealt with never.

Practically speaking, money was her first concern. She knew that her mother's threat to cut her off had not been idle, but she also hoped that her mother would continue to underestimate her long enough that she would be able to clear the remaining funds out of her account before her mother froze it. Her pride raged against the idea of taking the idea of taking the money religiously placed into her "allowance" once a month by her father, hating how spoiled that made her sound and wanting to be free of any lingering ties to her parents. She would have gladly traded every last dime for any other monthly ritual with her father, for anything with him really. But she was a casualty of her parents' failing marriage, the only thing that they hated more than each other was the idea of acknowledging that their marriage had long since fallen apart. Her father avoided the house like the plague, and her by extension, throwing himself deeper and deeper into his professional life to mask the failure of his personal one. And so their relationship had become almost completely transactional, her father attempting to atone for his absence by providing her with everything she could ever dream of, save for the one thing she truly wanted - his affection. But as much as she hated the money and everything it represented, she really wasn't left with much of a choice.

That was how she found herself standing in front of a bank teller at 1:30pm on a Wednesday afternoon, lying through her teeth and praying that her voice wasn't shaking as much as her hands. Exactly how she had got there she wasn't sure - a bus? Surely she hadn't walked this far - she was completely focused on getting what money she could and getting out.

The process was certainly made easier by the fact that she had been coming to this branch since her father had opened the account on her sixteenth birthday. And maybe for once in her life her twisted frame would be an asset - it was difficult to forget a girl her age with flaming red hair and a cane.

So she lied. She told the teller that she was using the money to put towards a car but that her parents were unfortunately too busy to accompany her. That part wasn't even really a lie, her parents were always too busy. Either way the teller didn't seem to see anything unusual about depositing the entire $5000 balance into Wilhemina's hand, before politely wishing her a pleasant day.

She had thought she would feel safer with the money in hand, feel like she had more control over the situation. In fact all it did was make her realise how vulnerable she was. How she would never be able to defend herself if someone decided they wanted to take it from her. Maybe her mother had been right, maybe she really was too broken and useless to survive on her own.

She could feel her heart racing. She had to find somewhere to stay. Find somewhere that she could get off the street. Maybe then she would feel safer. Maybe.

Except she didn't know how long she would need to make that $5000 last. She had no job and had effectively forfeited her degree the minute she walked out her parents' front door. Any future prospects she had were tied to their connections anyway. Oh god, what was she going to do? She had no experience and no qualifications, and any jobs that would have been open to her without those were made impossible by her twisted spine. She wouldn't have been able to stand for long enough to finish a shift as a waitress, let alone carry much whilst also maneuvering her cane.

So she would have to make the money last. At least until she managed to come up with a better plan. Which is how she found herself unpacking her meagre possessions into a battered shell of a room in a run down hotel that offered rooms by the hour. As she eased herself down onto the bed, finally allowing her back some respite after hours on her feet, she reasoned that this was the best choice for now. And she would think of something, this was only temporary.

But it hurt. The adrenaline from her triumphant exit earlier that morning was long gone and now she was left with the painful reality of what life on her own would look like. At the moment it consisted of a sea of mismatched floral patterned fabrics, a green melamine kitchenette and far too many questionable stains.

She felt like she was suffocating, that the battered walls with their pealing wallpaper were steadily encroaching on her, squeezing the last ounces of calm and confidence out of her by force. She had to get out, had to keep moving, had to keep busy lest the reality of her situation catch up to her and drown her in its melancholy.

She burst from the room, shaking fingers struggling clumsily against the lock. She had to get away, to be anywhere but here. Away from the stale smelling room with the pealing wallpaper. Away from the lumpy bed swathed in garish floral covers of questionable cleanliness. Away from the suffocating reminder of how alone she was.

It shouldn't have surprised her that she would end up back in the college library, it's where she spent most of her time any way, finding any excuse she could not to go home. It was quiet and it was safe. Between the warm, dim lighting and the earthy smell of the old wooden shelves and the books themselves Wilhemina finally began to calm. She could feel the tension to funnel out of her trembling fingers, feel heart finally stop racing and draw her first real breath in hours.

She didn't know how long she sat there, not really seeing or hearing the world around her, just being, adjusting. Letting her body and mind begin to come to terms with her situation. Start to reset her parameters and realise that she wasn't going home tonight, that there wasn't a home to go anymore. Perhaps there never had been, not in the ways that mattered.

She was drawn from her haze by the gentle but insistent whispering of her name that indicated that this wasn't the first time the owner had tried to rouse her. As her vision cleared she was met with the kind, if not slightly concerned countenance of her adviser, Professor Thompson.

"Is everything alright, Wilhemina?" She could only nod dumbly in response. "I missed you in class this morning" the older woman added. "I know you said had a specialist appointment and might be late, but I got worried when you never showed up. Did everything go ok?" Wilhemina couldn't find the words to answer, couldn't find a way to explain how her life had been pulled out from under her in the preceding few hours. Her mouth guppied in response, producing several sounds that could have been the start of ideas but nothing intelligible.

Professor Thompson's brow furrowed. Over the years that she had known Wilhemina Venable she had always been impressed by her tenacity. For all this young woman had endured, she had refused to let it define her. She was always the first present in class, sitting front and centre, attention never wavering, even on the days Professor Thompson could see the tell tale signs of pain breaking through her indifferent facade. The tension in her brow and jaw, the twitch of her lips and narrowing of her eyes at each spasm, the shifting in her seat in a desperate effort to find some level of comfort. There was a hardness, a determination in the eyes of that girl which said she refused to give up which was notably absent now, replaced by a glazed, foggy expression that made Professor Thompson's heart hurt.

"Wilhemina," she tried again, "would it be easier if we discussed this in my office?" The redhead's eyes rolled up to meet hers almost drunkenly, obviously still not entirely processing the world around her. She managed a small nod, vacant eyes focusing somewhere in the middle distance. "Here, let me take your bag" she offered, hands floating just beyond Wilhemina's shoulders as the redhead hoisted herself to her feet, swaying slightly as she found some semblance of equilibrium.

Professor Thompson couldn't help but bring a hand to gently cup Wilhemina's upper arm, causing the younger woman to finally meet her gaze. Oh and didn't it just break her heart, the pleading terrified desperation she found in those deep brown eyes. "Come on, dear" she coaxed, "this way."

Wilhemina felt herself start to come back into her own body as she sat in Professor Thompson's office, old worn leather chair beneath her and warm cup of sweetened tea pressed into her trembling hands.

Professor Thompson noticed the change as well. "Easy, dear" she cautioned, as Wilhemina's shaking hands tried to raise the warm mug to her lips. "Are you feeling better?"

"Yes" Wilhemina managed to rasp.

Professor Thompson reached out her hand to rest on Wilhemina's knee, rubbing slow comforting circles. "Do you think you can me what happened? Was it something at your appointment? Do you need another surgery?"

"No" Wilhemina whispered, teeth worrying her bottom lip before lifting her eyes to the older woman, who's warm gaze encouraged her to continue. "The surgeon doesn't want to do anything, doesn't think it's necessary to do anything. My mother on the other hand is not satisfied and won't be until I look *normal*"

"I'm sure she just wants the best for you" the older woman tried.

"She wants me to stop being an embarrassment. She flat out told the surgeon she doesn't care about my pain, she only wants him to fix how hideous I look." It was happening again, Wilhemina realised, the years of repressed pain and frustration spewing out of her unbidden. "The surgeon stopped recommending procedures when I was eighteen because they weren't likely to help but my mother kept insisting because I looked so hideous she couldn't stand it. She put me through years of pain because I was so ugly and she was so ashamed of me." Her voiced cracked as the tears she had tried so hard contain broke free down her cheeks.

"She was trying to do it again" Wilhemina choked. "She was trying to convince him to operate again and I finally told her no."

"And how did she take that?" Professor Thompson asked, almost fearing the answer. Wilhemina let out a self-depricating laugh through her tears, rolling her eyes. "Wilhemina," she added urgently, gently squeezing her knee to get her attention, "she didn't hurt you, did she?"

Wilhemina stopped at that. "Not physically, no." A beat of understanding passed between the two women before Wilhemina continued. "She threw me out, cut me off, told me I was completely on my own unless I agree to have the surgery. Told me I can kiss my degree goodbye." The older woman gasped. "I told her she could have it, I was done with her controlling my life."

Professor Thompson reached out to take Wilhemina's hands, squeezing them in her own. "That was so incredibly brave." Wilhemina let out a wry chuckle "You don't think I'm completely mad?" Another warm squeeze of her hands. "Absolutely not. I think you are so strong."

Wilhemina raised her eyes again to meet those of her professor, searching them for the signs of a lie. Finding none she felt her chin begin to tremble as she fought against the tears.

She lost. The tears came bubbling out of her against her will. Tears for the years of pain she had endured, both physical and emotional, at her mother's hands. Tears for the little girl who spent years in pain trying to convince her parents that it wasn't all in her head. For her childhood that had been stolen from her. For the little girl alone in a hospital, who's parents were far too busy to visit, who was left to rely on nurses for comfort and support. For the twenty four year old woman who had just lost everything.

She curled in on herself as much as her twisted spine would allow, rocking rhythmically backwards and forwards, trying in vain to offer herself some comfort. She felt the chair next to her dip and then she was being cradled in her advisors arms - how embarassing. But try as she might she couldn't quiet the hysterical sobs.

Eventually pulled herself out of the older womans arms, trying to regain some level of dignity. Professor Thompson gave her hands one last squeeze as she let her go.

"We will find a solution to all of this" she assured "but for now all of that can wait. You need to eat and you need to sleep. You must be exhausted" Wilhemina nodded, still frantically pawing at her tear-stained cheeks. There was no point hiding anymore, not after her earlier display.

"Do you have somewhere to stay?" Professor Thompson asked. "You're welcome to my spare room if not"

"No it's fine" Wilhemina replied, glad to avoid imposing on her professor further. "I have a hotel room."

"Ok I'll drive you" Wilhemina tried valiantly to rebuff Professor Thompson's kindness, but the older woman would not be dissuaded. And once Wilhemina realised how dark it had gotten she was secretly grateful.

As the car came to a stop in front what currently passed for Wilhemina's lodgings, Professor Thompson took her hand once more. "After work tomorrow" she pressed "I am picking you up and you are having dinner with me. It will give us a chance to come up with a plan for what happens next. I refuse to see someone as smart and driven as you are, Wilhemina, be sabotaged by negligent parenting. We will figure this out."

Wilhemina couldn't even bring herself to try and rebuff such kindness, for how her heart ached for it. Instead all she could manage was a watery "okay" and tremulous smile. As she walked back to her room she felt lighter than she had all day, tension finally beginning to drain from her body like water trickling down her arms and plummeting from her fingertips.

Exhaustion quickly rose to fill vacancy making her limbs heavy and fingers clumsy. Almost there, she told herself as she struggled with foreign keychain, not much longer. Just inside the door and then you can rest. But try as she might her exhausted mind could not make sense of the lock nor could it co-ordinate her trembling fingers well enough to keep hold of the keys which fell limply to the concrete just beyond her door.

It was as if the universe was laughing at her, she thought, as she gingerly squatted down, bending her legs to compensate for her immobilised spine. After all the humiliation she had endured today she could not be allowed to rest without at least one more reminder of her inadequacy. So fucking useless, the voice in ear chided, so fucking stupid. Hurry up and pick up the god damn keys and open the door like a normal, functional human being. Can you manage that much at least?

And maybe she could have managed it had the hand she extended to reach for her keys not been firmly crushed into the concrete and pulled away from her by a steal-capped boot, upsetting her precarious equilibrium and sending her sprawling face first into the concrete.

"Now, what's a pretty little thing like you doing in a place like this?"

A/N: Ok, so number one - I'm sorry (ducks). I promise I won't hurt her too much. This part wasn't even in my original plan but then the angsty little plot demons took over and here we are. Number two - for those of you who are interested I wrote Professor Thompson with Prof. Stromwell (Holland's character from legally blonde) in mind because I think she is exactly the type of tough but caring person that baby Mina would be drawn to. But also because I'm dying to see Sarah and Holland work on a project together, so this was my own vicarious little head cannon.

#sarah paulson #wilhemina venable #lucyintheskywithxanax #mina #baby mina

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rhenuvee · 4 years

Text

Part of Me (George Weasley x Reader)

Request: hey i know you’re not taking requests right now but when you are i have a cute idea where the reader has a large freckle/ mole on the back of her neck and george (or fred) moves her hair out of the way and kisses it and the reader asks what he’s doing and he says “it’s like a little part of me on you” i feel like that would be soooo cute :))

A/N: @//anon I’m sorry if I took the request the wrong way :T

Taglist: @obsessedwithrandomthings

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

To say you were having a bad day would be an understatement at the moment. You did not understand today’s transfiguration lesson at all, your DADA performance was terrible, homework just had to pile up on you the whole week when you originally had plans to go out with your friends and had to cancel. Snape was not pleased when you messed up your potion, which embarrassed you and made some stupid guys in your class laugh at you.

Right now you were focused on getting your pile of work so you could just fall on your bed and sleep it off. As you looked in the common room from the portrait hole, you stopped yourself from entering. From that angle you could see your boyfriend George sitting on the couch, but Fred and Lee were nowhere to be seen, which only meant he was waiting for you.

You speed-walked straight towards the stairs without making eye contact with anyone. But before you even reached the starts of the stairs, George’s eyes caught you the second you stepped in.

“Whoa, hey, love where are you going?” he asked standing up and following you and reaching to hold your hand loosely. You hoped he didn’t notice your uneasiness.

“Just to my room.” you said trying hard to be calm. It didn’t work. You thought it would’ve been silly to shed tears in front of your boyfriend, so it took your all to keep it in.

“I have a lot of work to do.” George was not one to be fooled, he could hear the slight shakiness in your voice. You watched as his face contorted into one of a mix between pleading and worry.

“(Y/n)...” he said quietly while trying to pull you to sit on the couch with him. You wanted to protest by saying you needed to do work and that’ll be it for the day, but with the amount of mishaps you had, you gave in and sat down with George.

“Tell me about your day sweetheart.” he said sitting closer to you so that your sides were touching. He kissed the side of your face, a little bit above the corner of your eyebrow. You could tell that he already knew that something was wrong seeing as he softly rubbed your waist. He seemed to do that every time you were tense, and it worked to soothe you.

“I wasn’t having a good day.” you bluntly said drawing your lips into a thin line. George did not like the sound of that.

“And why is that?” George tried not to give any hints of anger, it broke his heart to see his girl upset. You sighed, then remembering the mountain of homework due tomorrow.

“It’s not important George, it-”

“What was it? Was it Snape? Or that girl from your charms class? Or those ‘stinkies’ you mentioned from potions? Did Fred prank you, because I will-”

Your giggle made George stop rambling about the possibilities. You laughed partially because he said the word stinkies. The first time those guys were mean to you, you got frustrated and it happened to cloud your vocabulary when you told George, and it stuck to him ever since. But you were glad even just to hear George know that these were exactly the types of things that made you sad.

“There’s a pretty smile.” he said smiling himself. You blushed, he never failed to compliment you in every way. You cleared your throat before answering.

“I guess... a mix? It’s irrelevant really, besides I’ve got a lot of homework to do.” you said preparing your papers and quill to begin. You didn’t see it, but you missed your boyfriend pouting as you chose homework over anything else.

“Then I’ll do it with you!” he said sitting more upright. “And then you can tell me what those guys said- wait it doesn’t matter because Fred and I will get them back anyway.” You smiled at how proud George seemed to be to plan it, and to cheer you up again.

Throughout the late night, you wrote and wrote. George helped you by thinking of the answers next to the one you were working on, so the time spent was halved. Unfortunately, potions wasn’t his strong suit so you had to deal with that on your own. You decided that it was okay, it wasn’t his homework to begin with, and plus, he seemed to get more tired by the minute.

You were hunched over the table and concentrating on your assignment. George was currently doing any little things to keep him awake and busy.

That was until he saw something peeking beneath your hair on the back of your neck. His curiosity (and boredom) led him to lightly sweeping your hair out of the way. You were busy yourself so you didn’t bother flinching. George discovered that you had a large freckle, and he’s never seen it before. He couldn’t help but grin as he thought of something and leaned in to kiss it. That, you noticed and turned your attention to him.

“George, what are you doing?” you said surprised of the place he kissed. He gestured to the spot on the back of your neck. You knew what he was talking about.

“It’s like a little part of me on you.” he said still grinning. You took in what he said and smiled widely. You weren’t sure if it was the fact that it was late or he was bored and loopy, but you could not deny that your boyfriend was the sweetest on Earth.

You both press your lips softly against each other and you move in sync. You hand went to cup his cheek, and his hand trailed after. His large hand engulfed your hand in his warmth. You were still a little giggly, you could tell he was too as you felt his lips curve upwards. As you pulled away with your noses still next to each other, you take in the close up view of his own freckles. You kissed the top of both his cheeks as that was where most of his freckles were, and he smiled giddily for the affection.

“Or maybe it’s a part of me on you.” you teased. George laughed.

“Don’t get cocky darling.”

“Me? You’re the one who started with it, so you shouldn’t get cocky.”

“I should, because I have the most beautiful girl to myself. See, we were made for each other.” he said pointing to his freckles and yours. You lightly pushed him for being cheesy, but you couldn’t help but smile.

For the rest of the night, you and George fell sleepier. You noticed how his eyes were slowly opening and closing, and how his chin rested on his palms desperate to be laying on a pillow. He eventually couldn’t take it and lay down on the couch. You felt bad keeping him awake for so late, so you didn’t bother waking him up.

“Georgie... I’m finally done.” you said sighing of relief. You turned to see your boyfriend looking like he passed out on the couch, remembering he fell asleep 30 minutes ago. You wanted to go upstairs and grab a blanket or a jacket for him.

“Darling...” his groggy voice mumbled. You thought he was still asleep, but guess not. His eyes were still closed, but his hand was lazily stretched out, trying to blindly see where you were. You realized this and guided your hand into his, until you could feel his fingers lace yours.

“Mm, are you done work...?” he asked softly.

“Yes Georgie, I’m sorry.” you said quickly not knowing how much longer he could stay awake.

“That’s my smart girl.” George was probably the only one in your life to ever call you smart despite doing work until midnight. You gushed at the words and kissed his cheek.

“C’mere, let’s go to sleep.” he said tugging you closer to him. Your heart fluttered at his sleepy state, and you couldn’t say no. You slowly shifted yourself into a position where you could fit onto the couch, with you against George’s broad chest, snuggled close to him. And with that, your boyfriend fell asleep for real this time, with his light snores filling the room. If Fred or Lee or anyone caught you like this, you’d be in for a lifetime of teasing.

But right now you had the opportunity to be next your boyfriend. And maybe that’s all you needed after a long day.

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Because I’m stupid I forgot to ask if any of you wanted to be added to the taglist. I write for 3 fandoms so please specify which ones or which characters!

#george weasley #fred weasley #george weasley x reader #george weasley oneshot #george weasley fic #george weasley fanfiction #george weasley fluff #harry potter #weasley twins #fred and george #george weasley one shot #fred and george weasley

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let-them-read-fics · 4 years

Text

Handle With Care

Requested By @posies4rosie: "Jisoo once gave advice in an interview to people who are having anxiety/depression, that when they feel themselves “slipping under”, they can try turning their thoughts to something lighter and focus on the better things instead before getting consumed. -- Request for reader x Jisoo where reader had one of those episodes and failed to pull herself out, which she thinks she’s failing Jisoo by not being able to help herself, causing her to sink even further. -- Jisoo uses her way to help reader. Angst with a happy ending, please <3"

Pairing: Jisoo x Fem!Reader

Word Count: ~ 3,948

Warnings / Misc. -- Angst, Self-Doubt, Mentions Of Anxiety / Depression, Fluff, Light Smut / Suggestive Themes, Some Cursing, Happy Ending

Disclaimer: This writing is a work of fiction, and no disrespect is meant for those mentioned herein.

A/N: Hello again, my lovely readers! I really enjoyed writing this one, so thank you very much for requesting. I hope all of you enjoy it -- Happy reading!

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

The day started off like any other, nothing seeming out of place or particularly noteworthy as you rubbed the sleep from your eyes and took a look around the room. Jisoo had to leave before you woke up, and a sweet letter on the bedside table served as her parting gift.

My love,

We have an early stage today, but I'll be back before you know it. Turn it on if you miss me too much ;)

All my love and kisses,

Your Jichu

It made you smile, imagining her saying those words with a little smirk on her lips, and you mindlessly toyed with the edge of the paper. The power this woman holds over your heart is a bit frightening, if you're honest with yourself. One simple note, merely a paragraph at best, warms your heart immensely. The thought of her alone is capable of making you giddy, magically turning you into a love stricken teenager. She rules your world with care, always making sure you feel important and valued; she fights your demons right beside you, never backing down for a minute.

Before Jisoo, you falsely thought you knew what love was; the ill-conceived notion that you used as a guide was flawed in every way. You were raised to believe that true, honest love only existed in far-off realms -- in worlds of make-believe; so, naturally, settling had always been your forte. You blended in and stuck with the crowd, always going for the safest option when given the choice. You limited yourself with each decision you made, and deep resentment blossomed within you.

Resentment at your family for allowing the disease of self-doubt to grow within you. They could've stopped it before it really began; they could've assured you of your worth instead of letting you think your insecurities true.

Resentment at yourself for believing them.

Everytime you attempted to break the pattern and listen to your heart when it told you that there was a world beyond such mundanity, some nagging voice in the back of your head told you it was all a lie. Your life so far, as boring as it may have been, was predictable and safe. Although you ached for the unexpected, for some all-consuming thrill to shake up the life you had grown to accept, you always fell back into that old mindset. Your fears outweighed your courage every time, and you knew it was futile to go against them.

But one day -- one beautiful, fateful day -- you met Jisoo. It was a time in your life that you needed a friend; someone to listen and assure you that things would be okay. In allowing your paths to cross, the universe most certainly blessed you; Jisoo became your confidant in the blink of an eye, offering consistency and understanding, and you let her slip past the walls you spent years so meticulously putting up.

You didn't do that often, and yet it seemed like a no-brainer with her. She made you feel as though you were enough, that you mattered in a world that so adamantly tried to make you believe otherwise. Her love was unconditional and fierce, thorough and far-reaching.

Keeping people at arm's length had always been your way of ensuring that life stayed as predictable as ever, precariously balanced in that safe zone of no risk. Even when you dated people, giving into those innate desires to be cherished despite not deeming yourself worthy, you never really let them in. Not all the way, at least. Something always told you that others were better; closer to perfection. No matter the person, you could always find a reason to say that they were better. That they were something you'd never be; that they had something you'd never have.

The comparisons didn't stop when you began dating Jisoo, but they sure as hell slowed down some. All of that was her doing; she filled your mind with constant reassurance and love, always showing you what a healthy relationship looked like. Over the years, she learned to read you well: the shifting of your eyes served as a sign that you were getting overwhelmed; the way that you zoned out told her the negative thoughts were barreling in. Though she's convinced you to give yourself some credit in the matter, she's the main one responsible for getting you where you are today.

She's your strength -- your reason for wanting to be better.

-------

"Dalgooomie," you cheerily sing out, your voice echoing throughout the apartment. That familiar sound of paws on hardwood draws a smile from you, and you turn to see him eagerly scrambling towards you.

"Good morning buddy! Are you ready for a walk?" For a moment, you swear he can understand your high pitched speech; he spins around, wagging his tail happily as he looks towards the door.

With a laugh, you clip his leash on and the two of you begin your walk.

It's a gorgeous morning; the sun is peeking up, illuminating a sky of beautifully pastel colors as the grass shines with dew. The beads spring off in different directions, the surface tension of the water breaking every time Dalgom rustles his way through the lawn. You have a feeling that today will be a good day.

If only you knew.

About 15 minutes later, you unlock the front door and grin as he charges into the familiar space. He tugs you with him, drawing a chuckle from you as your feet stumble in through the doorway.

"Slow down buddy! I know you're hungry but you've gotta give me a second," you shake your head, amused, as you remove his leash and make your way to the kitchen. He follows suit, barking when you take too long for his liking.

"Yah, okay okay!" You scoop his food into the bowl and pat him on the head as he begins to eat.

A ding from your phone sounds off, the notification surprising you a little. Great timing, you think to yourself.

"About to go on stage, I'll text you later. Xoxo"

Your heart warms at the message, and you type a quick reply before heading to the couch to turn the tv on.

At first, all is well: you watch your girlfriend in awe, always so enraptured by her performances. During one portion of the program, you even run upstairs to retrieve your lightstick and dance around in the middle of the living room. As much as Jisoo can't believe you actually bought one, she thinks it's the most adorable thing ever.

Everything was going well, truly, until towards the end of the show, when the girls were interviewed with a few other idols. One in particular, a female soloist, stood beside Jisoo, looking completely at ease next to her. She was beautiful in every way imaginable, and you couldn't help but begin to compare yourself. You tried to focus on how happy Jisoo looked as she joked with her members, answering the questions with that quick wit you love so much. But your mind soon again filled with intrusive thoughts, taking the focus away from Jisoo.

She looks so much prettier than you do

Watch how she's looking at Jisoo

They look pretty together

What if Jisoo likes her?

I bet she does

You physically shake your head in an attempt to force the thoughts out. Jisoo loves you, you know that. She's with you for a reason. Eventually you're able to look at the tv again without grimacing, but soon that progress is destroyed all over again.

The soloist puts her hand on Jisoo's arm, motioning to the girls and herself as she explains something to the MC. She must've cracked a joke, said something really hilarious, because all of them burst into laughter. Jisoo throws her head back, bringing her hand up to cover her mouth as she giggles loudly. That joyous sound hurts you now, almost feeling like she's laughing at you.

It's ridiculous and immature, but your brain takes it there no less. You know better, but your mind is flooded with insecurity and fear, overrun by your unforgiving worries. Tears are streaming down your face as the thoughts grow worse and worse, and it feels suffocating. You consider yourself weak for blowing such a seemingly innocent thing so out of proportion, twisting what should be a positive thing for your girlfriend into something negative. But you can't help it. Your brain betrays you, coming up with hundreds of hurtful scenarios that pile on until you can't breath. It's a physical pain, one far too overwhelming to "wish away" now. You turn off the tv and dart up the stairs, set on crying into your pillow until your mind decides to give you a break.

-------

"Y/N, baby, I'm home." Jisoo calls, and you can hear the material of her jacket slide onto the metal hook beside the front door.

"In here," you say weakly, cursing your voice for even hinting that you're less than okay. For Jisoo, you want to be perfect; you want to seem like you have your shit together. She must not have thought anything out of the ordinary, though, because soon you hear a little giggle from the hallway.

"Hi Dalgomie, did you miss mommy?" She coos, her voice higher than usual and bouncy as she bends down to scoop up the pup. She pads her way into the kitchen, talking to him all the while. Her free arm snakes around your waist once she reaches you, and she leans around to kiss your temple.

The action was loving and simple -- it shouldn't have made your heart ache. Perhaps it wasn't the act itself that caused it; maybe it was the accumulation of all of your emotions from the day coming to the surface. The feeling of Jisoo's arm around you reminded you of earlier; of how close she was to that woman on the program. They looked incredible, clad in the blingy outfits you could never afford and elegant in their mannerisms. It all brought forth the nasty idea that she's just settling for you -- that she's only with you because she feels sorry for you.

When you don't start a conversation like normal or even turn to look at her, Jisoo knows something's wrong. Gently, she kisses Dalgom's head before setting him down on the ground. He trots off towards god-knows-where, and you almost wish to be him. You want to avoid the discussion you'll surely be having any minute now; running away has always been your go-to.

But Jisoo won't stand for that. She's mature and honest in every way, and she knows how to handle you.

"My love, what's wrong?"

She's earnestly concerned, and her tone lets you know she doesn't want you to brush the problem away. Without even knowing the issue yet, Jisoo can tell it's something worth working through.

"I had an episode today and I wasn't able to stop it." You hang your head, your fingers busying themselves by toying with the bread bag in front of you. Once you had stopped crying earlier, you came down to make yourself some food; after all, you hadn't eaten all day.

Jisoo tuts at you, slowly turning you around to face her. The back of your legs lean against the counter now, and tears threaten to spill out of your eyes. A few moments of silence pass, Jisoo giving you the opportunity to elaborate. She always offers you the option to initiate the process, not wanting to risk diminishing your feelings before even knowing what's troubling you. She never patronizes you, and you're endlessly thankful.

With a deep breath, you lower your gaze to the floor and continue. Seeing the disappointment in her eyes is definitely not something you can handle in your already emotional state.

"I turned your show on today and saw the pretty idol you were talking to. I started comparing myself and it all got worse from there." You inform quickly, just wanting to get the words out.

She sets her jaw, clenching and releasing the muscles repeatedly as she decides on how best to respond.

"Did you use the technique we talked about?" She asks gently, releasing the question with care.

"I tried, but it didn't work this time." A single tear rolls down your cheek, and you swipe it away before Jisoo can even notice it.

You feel like you're failing her by giving into your worries, but they're incessant. They fight for your attention, completely overruling any "happy thought" that you might have previously hoped would be capable of mitigating your fears. You're disappointed in yourself, but since when is that a new thing?

"She's an idol, Jisoo. She can relate to you in ways I'll never be able to."

"You think I'd throw away 4 years with you to be with someone I barely know, because we can relate?"

She voices your fears in such a way that you instantly feel foolish for believing them. Nevertheless, you persist.

"She's everything I'm not."

"And that's precisely why you never have to worry."

With furrowed brows, you tilt your head and look at Jisoo: her statement confuses you.

"No one else even comes close to you, baby. You're what I want. You're who I want. Every little thing that makes you who you are is a reason I love you."

Your heart beats harder at her words, taken aback by how genuine they sound. She's saying all the things you need to hear, but it feels too good to be true.

"Loving me is exhausting; I don't see why you keep doing it. You should be with someone who doesn't need coddling… who isn't broken like me. We go in circles, Jisoo. I always go back to giving into my fears."

She lets out a disbelieving scoff, soft in its volume as she says, "If I wanted to leave, I would've. You've given me more than enough chances to go, and still I have yet to find a reason to. I'm not perfect either, Y/N. You act like everyone else is so high above you, but we're really all just dealing with our own baggage."

"I have enough of that for 10 people." The phrase is pointed and self depreciating, and Jisoo can't take it any longer.

"Stop. Look at me, baby." She finally breathes out, hooking her fingers underneath your chin and raising your head.

"Whether or not you think I'm making a mistake, I'm always gonna choose you. My life isn't complete without you in it; our stories became intertwined the day we met."

Her cheek briefly tugs up in a lopsided smile at the memory of your first meeting.

"I'm just scared, Jisoo. Do you know how many times people have told me they'd stay, just to leave the moment they found someone better? I know I'm not easy to love; I know it's difficult. I just can't imagine what I'd do without you. You've made me feel emotions I never even knew existed."

You're more honest with Jisoo than anyone else, and being so vulnerable scares you. Nevertheless, it feels good to open up sometimes.

"You'll never have to find out what that's like, because I'm never leaving. Do you understand how in love with you I am? I don't think you do."

You slip your chin out of her hold again, still disappointed in yourself. The action hurts her more than you know, and you miss the way her face contorts into a sad frown.

"When I roll over in the morning and see your face on that pillow, I don't know what to do with myself. When I'm holding you and Dalgom cuddles in between us, it's like I see a glimpse into my future. When you smile at me it's like I can finally breathe again. My home is with you; please don't ever doubt that. You're my world."

And then, you hear it. The noise that very rarely ever comes from your girlfriend. A sniffle.

Your eyes shoot up to hers in an instant, searching through her deep pools as you step forward to cradle her face in your hands. She tries to turn away, already upset with herself -- she knows you'll blame yourself for her tears.

Jisoo only cries in front of you when she's frustrated or deeply moved, and sometimes when she's scared. As you run a thumb along her cheek, you attempt to figure out her reasoning for it this time.

Once she eventually accepts that you aren't letting her get away, she leans into your touch.

"I wish you could see yourself the way I see you. You sell yourself so short. The fact that you think you're anything less than incredible devastates me. You're amazing in every capacity… and so, so beautiful."

Her voice wavers, taut with the emotions she's still reeling from. She says the words so assuredly that you begin to give in and believe them. She makes them sound like simple facts; common knowledge to any and everyone. On top of that, you're pained beyond belief that anything of your doing makes her this sad. She deserves to be smiling constantly, so hard her cheeks hurt and her belly aches from laughing.

"I'll never be able to see myself like you do, Jisoo, but I'm willing to work on it. You've already helped me more than you'll ever know, and I've come pretty far. Sometimes I just can't keep the thoughts at bay."

She nods, moving the hand that previously rested on your hip to hold your wrist. She strokes the skin gently, leaning further into your touch as her eyes soften with understanding.

"I love you. Thank you for dealing with me." You utter, leaning forward to rest your forehead against hers. She sighs at your words, rubbing a comforting circle on your back.

"Thank you for letting me in, jagi. Saranghae."

Your lips move to meet hers now, halfway, both of you needing to feel each other. It's slow and meaningful; she takes her time with it, treating it just like she does your heart. You tilt her head to deepen the kiss, noting the warmth that her cheeks still radiate as you trail your fingers over her skin.

A subtle shiver courses through her at your ministrations, drawing a smile from you. You'll never get tired of kissing her; of having her wrapped in your arms, so close to you. Vulnerable moments like these remind you of how different she is from everyone else. She's your everything and then some, and she needs you as much as you need her.

A bit impatient now, Jisoo tugs at your bottom lip, silently asking for more. You tap her thighs before looping your hands underneath them, swiftly lifting her onto the kitchen counter. The thin material of her skirt sits a little higher up on her legs now, having ridden up as you moved her.

She hooks her legs around you as you move to stand in between them, preventing her from falling and keeping her as close as possible. You break the kiss to study her for a moment, lazily running your fingers along the newly exposed skin of her thighs. Her hair is on its way to being mussed, the curls from her earlier performance now coming undone.

Her tongue darts out of her mouth to moisten her lips as she drinks in the sight of you. The top 2 buttons of your blouse are open, allowing her eyes to gaze at your chest wantonly.

She trails a hand up your body, teasing you before she grips your collar and yanks you forward.

Your lips meet again but this kiss holds something different than before: it's passionate, full of need. She adjusts her posture so that her body is flush against you, enabling you to feel how hard her heart is beating. No one else is capable of making her feel this way, and she's determined to remind you of that.

You bite her bottom lip before smoothing your tongue over it to soothe any ache your actions might've caused. The act is welcomed by Jisoo, proven by the groan that vibrates in her throat. Her hands tangle in your hair as you lower your head to her neck, pressing your lips to the tender skin.

"A-ah, right there," she husks out, her voice deepened with desire. Her wish is your command, and you take your time in leaving a mark there. You continue your assault, leaving a trail of purple-ish bruises in your wake as you move to untouched patches of skin. She knowingly spurs your actions on by moaning into your ear when you bite with just the right amount of pressure, her breath hot on your neck.

You pull away to admire your work, knowing her makeup artist will have a field day with covering up all of your marks. She leans back a bit, slowly swiveling her hips as she uses her ankles to pull you closer.

Her movements fuel the heat pooling between your legs, and you don't even attempt to stop the moan that leaves you. She knows you so well; she knows exactly what gets you going, just what to do and say.

"Come here," you command, securing her legs around your waist as you lift her off of the counter. Her lips find yours again, keeping them occupied as you walk towards the couch -- trekking up to the bedroom would take far too long.

"Tell me what you want, baby." You say, laying her down on the plush cushions. She pulls you against herself again, smiling at the feeling of your hips pressed into her. At first, she defies you, opting to push her lips against yours instead of answering your question. You know what to do to make her talk, though. Slyly, you pull away, barely ghosting your lips over hers. It's just enough contact to make her want more, but not enough to satisfy her.

With a press of your thigh to her center, she's already bucking her hips up into you, reaching up to reclaim your lips. She whines as you pull further away, not allowing her to kiss you until she gives you an answer.

"Use your words, Jisoo." You add your hand into the mix of things driving her crazy as you trail it down her body, allowing your fingers to sneak under the hem of her shirt and skim over her abdomen.

She looks at you defiantly, causing you to quirk an eyebrow. Challenging you, is she? Two can play at that game.

You apply more pressure to her core, allowing her to take pleasure in two more strong strokes against your thigh before pulling away completely.

"Fuck- no. Y/N…" she pleads, reaching for you again. She's really getting worked up now.

A smirk crosses your lips at her desperation, and you almost have to stifle a chuckle. She knows you're stubborn, and denying herself release seems idiotic when all she has to do is listen to you. So, she gives in.

"I want your mouth; your fingers. All of you."

Your cocky persona falters a bit at her words and you feel the blood rushing through your veins at the way she said them. Her voice was raw with lust, dripping with desire as she eyed you.

"Was that so hard, baby?" You tease, resuming your previous movements with a smirk.

"Shut up and kiss me." She huffs out, half annoyed and half amused.

"Yes ma'am." You press your lips to hers and get started on meeting her demands.

153 notes · View notes

lilbabycee · 4 years

Text

tatiana // steve rogers 🌸

↳ summary: you've made a series of mistakes concerning steve and you're not going to stop now, although these mistakes may leave you in some unprecedented circumstances.

↳ relationship: soft dark!steve rogers x reader

↳ word count: 5.4k (i got carried away with this one)

↳ warnings: explicit smut, mildly dubious consent, emotional manipulation, cockwarming, dad!steve

↳ author’s note: some more soft dark steve bc we all need it 🤤 this may be one of my favorite steve fics i’ve ever written, so please enjoy! 💖

The white doves that tell the tales residing inside the heavy book that weighs down your lap flutter downwards, blowing little wisps of air onto your skin as your fingers slacken and the cover of the hardback hits the pages with a soft thud. Perched on the edge of the too-big queen-sized bed with the too-soft mattress, you take a second to breathe deeply, cherishing these moments of peace because these breaths haven’t come easy to you recently. Your head falls into one of your hands, your bones as exhausted as your mind. You have to remember that it’s ten in, hold for five, and ten out just like he taught you, but the thought escapes you as your lungs struggle to intake air in anything but huge, gasping breaths. It feels like someone is sitting on your chest, a weight so heavy having settled where your heart should be, dragging your body further to the ground than gravity.

But you’re unable to help the sincere albeit shaky smile on your face when you admire her, your breathing starting to even out until it’s shallow and steady. Round cheeks squished against the pillow, one of her chubby little hands gripping your sleeve and the other tucked underneath her head, she’s a vision - truly a beacon of light in what is otherwise a neverending spiral into darkness. Carefully and with all of the finesse that your shaking hands can muster, you pry her fingers off of your sleeve one by one, although you know that the chances of her waking up are slim. You love telling her that she can sleep through an earthquake or a hurricane because it always - without fail - elicits that same sweet little giggle from the sleeping girl in front of you and a whiny “Mama!” , her beaming smile enough to warm your heart for the rest of your life.

Tatiana’s long eyelashes - all too reminiscent of her daddy’s - fan against her face while she dozes, her mouth wide open and her soft snores the only sound in the room. Her closed eyes shield you from the most disarming baby blues that never let you forget exactly who her father is, and the thought alone makes the blood pumping your heart run cold, an involuntarily shudder passing through you at the feeling.

He’s just over in the next room and you know it - the apartment is almost entirely silent but you know. He’s waiting, expecting you, knowing that you’ll come to see him at the end of the night. Tatiana’s enthusiasm and your insistence upon reading her to sleep hopefully went unnoticed by him - being alone in a room with him always makes your skin crawl and your heart beat erratically but you know that he can smell the arousal that pools between your thighs regardless of the attitude that you give him on the surface.

Not wanting him to come and look for you, you decide that you’ve spent enough time in this massive bedroom - a converted guest room - that’s far too large for a 3-and-a-half-year-old. You lean down over your baby, hand coming up to brush a thumb over her cheek and then run a hand through over the top of her head, pushing the stray baby hairs out of her face. You make sure to place the book on her nightstand so that you don’t have a fiasco like the last time that you couldn’t find it. It ended up underneath the couch and your daughter was in a mood for the whole day, pouting and sulking when her father told her that he couldn’t find it. It was a gift that was given to you by her favorite uncle, Tony, when she was born: Grimm’s Fairy Tales. Tony considers it essential in developing her love for reading and stories at an early age, and you didn’t argue, the gift so sweet and thoughtful that you make sure to read at least a little to her every night. Making sure to turn her nightlight on, you rise and head to the door, looking back over your shoulder one more time to see her cocooned in her blanket and being swallowed by her mattress. The image alone makes a chuckle rise in your throat and you shake your head before flipping the light switch and closing the door.

Your back is pressed against the hard lines of Tatiana’s door, and your gaze falls on the one at the end of the hallway. It’s been left ajar, almost as if he’s inviting you inside. You know that you shouldn’t - common sense is telling you that you should steer clear of that room for the sole reason that you know exactly what or rather who lays in their bed behind it. Before you even realize what’s happening, a deep baritone is summoning you to, “Come in”.

Silently, you curse yourself, aware that it’s too late to take back any chance of escape that you may have had prior to this, but you press your palm against the white wood of the door so that it slowly slides open. The sight that greets you makes you want to claw at your skin as much as you want to claw at his. The idea of vertical red lines scratched down his back makes you bite your lip and really assess the gorgeous man stretched out in front of you.

At a closer listen, you’re aware that he’s actually been playing music, soft jazz melodies floating through the air that ease your anxiety just a little. His bed is directly across from the door and obnoxiously large and comfortable - it used to be covered in pillows and have a softer mattress and extra blankets, but that was before you moved out. Now, the pillows are somewhere in a closet, as are the blankets, and the mattress is significantly harder than it used to be, although not uncomfortable. But the bed isn’t what’s making your mouth water and a fire ignite in your stomach. It’s the man atop it.

He’s stretched out like some kind of god - picture Dionysus - with the bone structure and physique of Adonis, and you think that if the heavens opened up right now and took him back you wouldn’t bat a single eyelash. The only sources of light in the room are the twin lamps that emanate a bright, white light. The light catches all of the planes and angles of his face, the shadows and highlights alike showing you all of his best features. And he’s absolutely the picture of relaxation, back leaning against the headboard, right hand behind his head and the left holding a book.

He’s only wearing a pair of grey sweatpants and a black t-shirt that’s slightly rucked up to show the line of abdominal hair that leads down to what you really want, but he may as well have been wearing nothing because you wouldn’t be able to tear your eyes off of this man if you tried. And even from the few meters that separate the two of you, you can feel the intensity of his blue gaze behind his glasses - it always feels like he’s stripping you slowly, carefully, methodically in his mind. Not only is it disconcerting but it makes you feel things that you can only associate with uncomfortable desire. His eyebrow quirks up and the hand that was behind his head slowly slides his glasses down the bridge of his perfect nose until they drop to his side. His lips quirk up into a smug little smirk that you simultaneously want to punch and kiss off his face.

“Hey,” he says your name like a prayer, lips wrapping around the sound and it draws you into the room - you’re almost floating towards him.

You swallow, willing yourself to say something instead of just standing there, staring at him like an idiot. Relaxing your stance, one of your hands finds your hip and the other runs over your hair that you’re sure is a mess from playing with your daughter earlier.

“Hi,” you reply quietly, almost a whisper. He mirrors you, running a hand through his golden hair and then over his clean-shaven jaw - Tatiana prefers it that way.

“She asleep?”

You nod, finding yourself on the edge of his bed as he puts his book face down next to him. Inhaling deeply, he runs his large hands over his powerful thighs and even that small motion has you distracted and you squeeze your own thighs together, shaking your head disapprovingly at yourself. Absent-mindedly, your hand comes up to toy with the pendant of the simple necklace that you always wear, and you watch Steve’s eyes as they follow your movements. They zero in on your exposed décolletage and darken, his tongue running over his plush pink lower lip again. Pulling his phone from underneath his pillow, he makes a point of checking it before glancing back up at you.

“What?”

“You checked the time, sweetheart?”

At the shake of your head, he flips his phone around to show you that it’s four minutes past midnight.

“Shit, are you kidding me?” you groan almost childishly, rising hastily and making your way towards the door. “I’ve got work tomorrow - I wasn’t supposed to stay this late.”

“Hey, hey,” Steve quickly moves to stand up and placate you, rounding the bed to come and stand in front of you with his hands out. “It’s not your fault - Tati was excited to see you, you can’t blame her… or yourself for that matter. She’s been asking about you for weeks now, talkin’ everybody’s ear off about it. She doesn’t get to see us all the time, you know that-”

You know it all too well. Frankly, you’re proud of your success - there’s no reason that you shouldn’t be. You were lucky enough to land a key internship at Stark Industries as a college student that really gave you a leg up in a lot of your future professional life. You were already set to inherit what is now your publishing company from your father, but you were unsure about whether or not that was something that you wanted to devote your life to. Sooner rather than later, something clicked for you and that was when you decided to pick up your father’s life’s work, reassuring him that it would be left in capable hands so that he could eventually retire peacefully. Not that he doesn’t still hover because he does, giving you advice whether you want it or not and making final decisions in places where you’re torn. Initially, there was a lot of discontent within the company concerning your father’s replacement: he is something of a legend in the publishing world and even you were terrified that you wouldn’t be able to live up to their expectations. You had to prove that you deserved to have the CEO position that your father appointed you to, show people and yourself, more importantly, that you were worth being there as much as any other employee. It took some years, but you love your job, so much so in fact that your mother - a former dentist - is often concerned that you’re working yourself to an early grave.

Unfortunately, this leaves little time for you to spend with your family, especially your daughter. Your job requires an exorbitant amount of international travel, meaning that your house barely looks like a home because most weeks, it’s empty.

Sighing, the thought in itself makes a grey cloud hang over your head to shroud you in despondency. Steve notices and the corners of his lips turn downwards as he boldly approaches you and gently grabs your upper arms. His touch in itself makes you soften and he dips his head to try and catch your eyes. When he does, he gives you a crooked, boyish smile that makes the crease in your eyebrows disappear and your lips curve into a shy grin.

“I know it’s part of your job,” Steve’s voice drops even further, hands rubbing up and down your arms, thumbs stroking the cotton of your shirt. “But she misses you… why don’t you just stay over?”

This makes you freeze in place and try and free yourself from his grip, but he only tightens it, that same compassionate look in his eyes.

“Baby,” before you can reprimand him for using the pet name, he anticipates your next words and shushes you so that he can continue, “I bet Tati would love to see you when she wakes up tomorrow morning. Imagine the look on her face - she’d be overjoyed. Just think about it.”

You know what he’s doing and still attempt to wrestle free, but his hold on you is solid though it doesn’t tighten any further.

“Steve,” you sigh in what sounds like defeat and you can see the spark of hope ignite in his eyes. “You know why I have to get home. I’ll come back tomorrow - I’ve got the whole week here before I head out again-”

“But then what?” he says your name pleadingly, though his tone sounds almost accusatory. “I could be gone on a mission at any time and then some of the team has to take care of her - or your parents, or your sister, or your brother. Look, I try to be here as much as I can but I’m not planning to hang up the shield for a few more years-”

“And I’m not expecting you to, I never said I was, Steve,” you fire back, taking a step towards him with your arms still pinned by your sides. “I get that your missions are unpredictable and unexpected - you can’t help that - but there’s no way that I can lose these clients overseas, especially since I basically just got this position-”

“So you’re saying that you’re prioritizing your job over our daughter?” his voice rises slightly, but his eyes don’t harden at all.

“That’s- are you kidding me? That’s not at all what I’m saying. I want to provide financial stability that’s enough for the rest of her life and with both of us working, she’ll have more than enough for her and her kids and probably her kids’ kids. God, why would you even -”

“You know what she told me yesterday?”

This makes the fire within you die down just a little, your heart skipping a beat when you register the intensity of his gaze and the gravity of his words. You swallow, hands starting to clam up and lips starting to quiver. He knew what reaction this would give you, effectively shutting you up.

“Wh-what- I mean, you know...what did she say?”

Steve suddenly looks away from you, releasing your arms and pacing, turning his back to you. Letting out a distressed sigh, he shoves his hands deep into his mop of blonde hair, planting himself on the edge of the bed and shaking his head.

“I shouldn’t have said anything- I’m sorry, it’s not my place-”

His voice is quiet but also muffled by his hands, but now he’s piqued your curiosity so you can’t just let this go - especially because it concerns the single most important person in your life. Without thinking, you rush over, getting on your knees before him, right in between his open legs. Tentatively, your hands land on his knees and your thumbs trace small circles where they lay.

“Steve,” you call out softly. Nothing happens for a moment - he remains silent and the jazz song is underscored by his ragged breathing. The feeling of nervousness that already set in your stomach drops further and further, blood running like fire once again through your veins. When he finally does look up at you, he looks torn, like a lost golden retriever. He knows very well what that look does to you and you’re more than aware of it yourself, yet you find that you are unable to look away from those eyes that mirror those of your daughter so perfectly.

He says your name quietly, his significantly larger hand covering one of yours that rest on his knee. Though you hate to admit it to yourself, it makes the suspense of the situation so much more bearable.

“It’s just,” Steve hesitates, unable to maintain eye contact with you and sitting up from his hunched position, “she asked me why you were never here…”

Your heart sinks, another lump stuck in your throat.

“And you said…?”

“A-All I did was tell her the truth,” he shrugs, exhaling another shaky breath before looking at you with glassy eyes, “I told her that you’re really busy with work all the time, but every time you’re not at work, you’re trying your best to spend all your time with her.”

Steeling yourself not to cry, you look away from his face and lower your gaze to stare at the carpet.

Ten in, hold for five, ten out.

“That doesn’t sound too bad,” you say lightheartedly, knowing full-well that there’s more to it. Steve manages a chuckle, but it sounds forced so you decide to shut up and listen.

“But then she said that it was okay because she has Nat instead.”

There it was.

You’ve always known that your daughter has been brutally honest - as all children often are - but this is a pain unlike anything that you’ve felt before. Your fingers come up to your chest to clutch at your breast, dying to massage away the aching of your heart. Hot trails of fire spill onto your cheeks and the moment that Steve registers them, he takes advantage of your position on the floor and tucks his hands underneath your arms to drag you up to sit on his lap like a doll.

You’re curled up on top of your ex-fiancé’s thighs, his hand pressing the side of your head into his hard but surprisingly comfortable shoulder, and you’re sobbing your fucking eyes out at the harsh but very real words of your three-and-a-half-year-old daughter. Steve says your name comfortingly and wraps his arms tightly around your body, rocking you back and forth while he shushes you and whispers sweet nothings into your ear.

It definitely hurts to hear: the hectic, distant, fast-paced and frankly insane life that you’ve been trying to convince yourself isn’t your reality is indeed the truth and even your daughter can recognize that. You’re ashamed of yourself, Steve’s kind words only making you feel so much worse.

Between sobs, you attempt to explain yourself but Steve just keeps quieting you, rubbing circles into your back. All he says is ten in, hold for five, ten out.

Once you’ve calmed down a little, you realize the vulnerable spot that you’re in - one you shouldn’t be in. You squirm in his arms like you’re about to get up but once again, he holds you firmly in place.

“I need to head out, Steve- I’ve gotta get some time alone to think about-”

“Or,” he draws out the word, voice having hardened significantly, “you could stay here and when our daughter comes to wake me up in the morning, she’ll find you here too.”

Jerking your head back, you’re genuinely shocked at his audacity.

“Steve, let’s get this straight,” you start, feeling much more confident and calm than before, “if I’m staying here, we are absolutely not sleeping in the same room. We’re not having a repeat of what happened the last time-”

“And what was so bad about the last time, hmm, sweetheart?”

He runs his index finger over your jawline, dragging it down the length of your neck and down to your exposed collarbones.

“If I do recall,” his voice is much quieter but also deeper, “you thoroughly enjoyed what we did the last time.”

His one arm keeps you anchored to him, the other moving from your chest to cup behind your neck and pull you to meet his lips.

“Steve-”

Your protests die in your throat as you feel his soft lips on you, your eyes fluttering shut as he starts to press wet, open-mouthed kisses on your throat. He works his way up to underneath your ear, biting in places that you know you should be worried about him marking before he nips at your earlobe with his perfect teeth and traces the outer shell of your ear with his tongue. It makes you whimper softly, the sound making your eyes shoot open and snapping you out of whatever trance he’s put you in, your spine going rigid.

“We’re not doing this,” you say firmly, placing your hands flat on his chest and pushing backward. He looks resigned but nods, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head instead.

“Fine, but I still insist that you stay here,” he presses. “Not for me, but for Tatiana - think of her. She’ll love it.”

Biting your lip, you consider it for a moment before sucking your teeth and staring heavenwards.

What’s the worst that could happen? And if it’s just so that Tatiana can see you with her in the morning, it’s more than worth having to deal with Steve for a night.

“Okay, fine- fine. You’re gonna need to let me borrow some clothes. If I’d known that this was the plan, I would’ve packed more appropriately.”

Steve’s self-satisfied smirk irks you and he shifts you off of his lap, standing up so that he can disappear inside his walk-in to search for something for you to wear. You can’t help but notice that as he’s walking, he has to adjust the crotch of his sweatpants which aren’t really hiding anything. You clear your throat and look away, the heat that previously ran throughout your body all settles in your core.

Something that smells suspiciously like Steve - soap, pine, lavender and something citrusy - smacks you in the face, making you scowl when the clothing falls to reveal a grinning Steve who looks very pleased with himself leaning against the closet door.

“C’mon,” he gestures to you with one hand, the other shoved in his pocket. “I’d love to get some sleep, so get changed.”

He turns on his heel and heads to another door on the other side of the room, walking inside as he yells, “And make sure to let people know that you aren’t gonna be in tomorrow. We’ve got plans, doll.”

Plans?

The door clicks behind him, and you heave a deep sigh, wanting to fall through the bed. Quickly, you disrobe, folding your clothes and placing them onto one of the armchairs in the corner of his room next to the record player. Looking at what he brought you, you shake your head in incredulity.

This cheeky motherfucker.

He’s only brought you a t-shirt - a white one with the Captain America insignia on the back, the same one that you bought for him as a joke on the first birthday of his that you spent together. You purposely made sure that it was loose enough for you to wear to bed by itself too because he wears all of his t-shirts in a size too small - not that you’d ever complain - and you hated grabbing one of his shirts, putting it on, and finding that it fit you just like one of your own.

You pull it over your head and look back to the empty space on the bed.

No shorts either.

You scold yourself because you should’ve known that he’d pull something like this. But he’s promised that things won’t go to levels that you’re not comfortable with, so you just sleeping in your panties and this t-shirt should be fine.

Maybe?

Entering the bathroom, Steve hands you the toothbrush that he keeps here for you, his own buzzing in his mouth, and you thank him silently with your eyes as you take it from him. Your eyes travel up his body, narrowing because he’s taken off his shirt and his sweatpants, and he is only wearing a pair of grey Calvins, distracting you and making even more moisture pool between your thighs. Steve evidently notices your not-so-subtle staring and tries to hide his smile under the guise of brushing with renewed vigor.

Get a hold of yourself.

The two of you finish up in the bathroom, Steve walking behind you and burning holes into your bare thighs. He turns off both of the lights on either side of his bed as you crawl underneath the heavy comforter, curling in on yourself. You turn away from him, hoping that it indicates that you’re not up for talking and just want to sleep. He moves around a little bit before getting in with you, and suddenly your space is crowded by pillows?

He remembered.

It makes the butterflies in your belly that have been dormant for a long time start to wake up.

Rearranging the pillows in the fashion that you like, you try and put today’s events behind you and make a silent vow to yourself that you will do better, you will try harder to become a better and more present mother to your daughter.

In fact, you’re so absorbed in your thoughts that sleep begins to pull you into its clutches, your eyes drooping lower and lower until your breathing evens out and you’re just on the cusp of it when a strong, hard body molds itself against your back. Any semblance of sleep that you felt just moments ago slips away, your eyes widening.

“What are you doing -”

His hand clamps around your mouth, promptly cutting you off before his other warm hand runs down your front, down your t-shirt before creeping underneath, all while leaving a trail of fire in his wake. You’re thrashing now, knowing that your efforts will be futile because as much as you can tell yourself you don’t want this, it’s everything that you’ve ever wanted.

It was a mistake like this that gave you the best thing to ever happen to you.

His lips touch your ear at the same time his hand flicks your peaked nipple, making you buck your hips back into him. “Oh, sweetheart, look at you.”

He gropes at your breast for another few seconds, his gentle yet firm grip doing nothing to ease the desire that you have for him. A sharp pinch to your nipple sends a lightning bolt right to your cunt. It then moves even further downwards, past down your belly button, hovering over where you need him the most.

“So needy, aren’t you, baby?”

He slips the fingertip of his index finger underneath the band of the lace, snapping it so that you gasp against his hand.

“I’ve been able to smell you all night,” he buries his face in your neck, inhaling deeply and the groan from deep within his chest vibrates against your back. Arching your back into him, he uses both of his hands to push your hips into his, hooking his thumbs over the band of your panties and sliding the rest of his fingers underneath. “You wet for me, sweetheart?”

You can do nothing but nod - this is a mistake but you wish that every mistake that you ever made felt this good.

“Good girl,” you can hear his grin while he removes his hands and his index finger slides against your covered core. “This all for me?”

You nod again and he moans loud , louder than the sounds of your desperate panting. The jazz record continues to spin on the needle.

Slowly, he runs a finger up and down your folds, feeling the slick that has dampened your panties. He thrusts up into your ass in response, wasting no more time.

“Please-”

You choke out the word, needing him to extinguish the flames that he’s ignited inside of you.

“It’s okay, doll - I got you.”

And he does, yanking down his underwear over his cock and wrapping his hand around the base. In your eagerness, you shove your own panties down your hips, causing Steve to rumble a laugh and click his tongue at you.

“Baby,” he exhales, evidently amused at your whiny demeanor. “Did you really think you could trick me? Comin’ in here, all shy and nervous but still tempting me… knowing exactly what you’re doin’, hmm? You wanna be a family again, sweetheart?”

With this, he guides the head of his dick to your entrance, rubbing up and down the sensitive skin, taking his time. And in all the time that you’ve known him, Steve is not the type to be patient.

“All you had to do was ask.”

And then he slams into you - really and truly because you jerk forward at his powerful thrust, eyes watering at the sensation. He’s so big that the stretch precariously toes the line between pain and pleasure but just falls on the side of being enjoyable. The sound of skin slapping sin is lewd and filthy and you love it.

Steve’s deft fingers quickly find your clit and press down, rubbing circles into the small nub. Coupled with Steve’s labored breathing and moans in your ear, it doesn’t take you long to be right on the edge of your peak.

“I can feel you, doll,” he whispers, teeth grazing your ear once again. “You gonna cum for me, make a mess all over my dick?”

You nod frantically, unable to speak, eyes squeezed shut.

“No, no, no, baby,” he breathes. “Look at me while I make you cum - I want you to know who’s making you feel this good. Tell me who’s about to make you cum, baby.”

Opening your eyes, he flips you around so that you’re facing him, throwing one of your legs over his and he does it all without ceasing his motions. Your body warms in embarrassment, however because you’re chasing your release, you swallow any pride that you may have and give him what he wants.

“You are-”

An exceptionally hard thrust makes you squeal and Steve grunts in disappointment. He’s got one arm encircled around your waist, the other gripping your throat bruisingly tight.

“I didn’t fucking hear you, sweetheart.”

“You are,” you try a bit louder, your ability to form coherent sentences significantly impaired.

“What was that, doll?”

“You are,” you yell emphatically, the pressure being applied to your clit temporarily pushing the words out of your mouth in exactly the way you know he likes it.

He bounces you on his cock, pulling you into a heated kiss before drastically increasing his speed, every thrust upwards poking at your g-spot.

“That’s right, sweetheart,” he licks a stripe up your throat and your hands scramble to find purchase on his slick skin. Your nails dig into his back, painting those thin crimson lines he likes so much. “Just like that.”

A strangled moan crawls out of your throat but he shushes you, squeezing your neck tighter.

“I know, I know,” he soothes. “Cum for me, doll.”

And so you do - your thighs quiver and your lips part wide in a silent scream, eyes rolling to the back of your head. Your muscles contract around Steve’s dick which sets off his own orgasm but almost stubbornly, he keeps his eyes on your blissed-out face while he spills his own release into you.

Once the two of you come down from your high, your heart racing and your breath erratic, Steve’s tight embrace does nothing to quell your growing anxiety at what the fuck you’ve just done - again.

“Should keep you like this forever,” Steve pulls you into the heated skin of his chest and buries his face into the space between your shoulder and your neck. His cock is still buried inside of you. “Fucked full of my cock for the rest of your life. I bet you’d like that, baby.”

His words make tears spring to your eyes - guilt - and you can’t even give him a response, so all he does is exhale deeply, kissing the top of your head and settling into the sea of pillows around you.

“Night, sweetheart.”

And then he promptly falls asleep, no more words exchanged between the two of you. Truly you can do nothing more but wrap your arms around his neck, the weight of him inside you making it difficult for you to get comfortable, and try to get some rest. The jazz record slowly starts to come to a close.

The moonlight shines through the slits of Steve’s blinds, depicting white horizontal lines across his back. It makes him look like art, you think, running your hands slowly up and down his bare skin. As you do, the light catches on the ostentatious rock on your ring finger.

↳ tagged: @literaturefeen

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