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jeonsjiddies · 4 years ago

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Headlights | pjm (m)

Summary- Jimin is a fuckboi, rumor has it his tongue can make you see stars. Everyone assumes he’s this way because he just wants to have fun. No one dares look deeper, no one sees the haunted look in his eyes, the emptiness and pain that reside in their deep brown depths. Until you.

🎶 Headlights by The Classic Crime - “Please don’t face the headlights of oncoming cars alone.” 🎶

Word Count- 14.7k 🥴

Pairing- Jimin x reader

Genre- smut

Warnings- oral (female recieving), overstimulation, multiple orgasms, slightly rough sex, nipple piercing? is that warning?, some depression-like symptoms/thoughts, a little self destructive behavior? Kind of.

a/n: Part of the Tatted Bangtan Series! This is the longest fic I have ever written and it is my baby. I hope you guys enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Please let me know what you think! 💕

Walking up to the frat house was intimidating, and you slowed your stride enough for Hana to reach back and yank you with her into the party. You could feel the bass of the music rattling your bones and couldn’t hear Hana as she shouted over the music to you.

“I can’t believe you made me do this!” you hissed, twisting your body around just in time to narrowly miss a drunk football player bulldozing his way through the crowd.

“What?” she shouted back.

You simply rolled your eyes and shook your head, gripping her hand tightly and following her through the overcrowded living room to the barely quieter kitchen. You took the drink she handed you and nursed it slowly, since you liked a good buzz but still wanted a clear head.

You felt his gaze before you saw him; you could feel the shivers along the back of your neck.

You turned to seek out the cause, methodically searching the crowd. Your eyes met the most beautiful pair of brown ones you’d ever seen, the strobe lights from above causing them to almost glow brighter- but that was the only light in his gaze. His eyes looked… sad. Empty.

It seemed like everything else turned blurry, and you could only focus on him in perfect clarity, every feature defined and prominent; every move he made, your eyes followed. Everything else faded away, and you only saw him. Him and his beautiful eyes, full of longing and something you couldn’t quite place.

You couldn’t help but furrow your brow in concern. Your face showed your every emotion like an open book, and you opened your mouth to ask Hana who was staring at you before she squealed, gripping your arm.

“Park Jimin is totally checking you out!” she giggled, tugging on your sleeve excitedly.

“Park Jimin?” you questioned rhetorically.

“He’s famous on campus. He’s hot, rich, and a total freak in the sheets. Rumor has it his tongue can make you see stars. Every girl on campus is dying for a night with him.” she chattered.

“Oh geez.” You rolled your eyes.

“Seriously. The saying is: once you Jimin, you can’t Jim-out. He’s so good in bed, he’s had to get like three restraining orders against girls who can’t let go. They say once you sleep with him no one else will do.” she continued, waving her hands in the air dramatically.

“I’ll take your word for it.” you giggled, glancing over towards Jimin once again.

He was absolutely gorgeous, with perfectly styled light brown hair, soft, plump looking lips, a jawline that could cut someone. His white t-shirt showed off tattoos that danced down his arms, covering the delicate ivory skin beneath. His thighs alone deserved their own wing in an art gallery, beautifully encased in skin tight ripped jeans. You caught yourself staring, clearing your throat and averting your gaze, but something kept drawing you back to him.

He was surrounded by girls, all leaning forward to give him the best view of their cleavage, all doing their best to seduce him, but he looked bored. Lonely. Lost. He sighed and his eyes trailed back to you. He watched you for a moment, noting how you flushed and turned away looking flustered. A smirk played on his lips and he shoved himself off the wall, making his way over to you.

“Shit! He’s coming over here!” Hana whisper-shouted.

You braced yourself, waiting for him to call you out for staring, or yell at you. Your body seemed to be vibrating with nerves because you could feel him getting closer, like your body had a radar that searched him out. Warm breath ghosted over the back of your neck, right under your ear. You shivered.

“Hello, there princess.” he purred.

You spun around, startled, and came face-to-face with Jimin.

He was even more gorgeous up close. He smelled of alcohol and something minty. You couldn’t help basking in the lovely scent that filled your senses for a moment, before leveling your gaze to his. His body wasn’t even two inches from yours. If you leaned up on your toes, you’d be kissing him. You took a step behind you, your back hitting the island in the kitchen.

“Hello,” you greeted in return, willing the heat in your cheeks to look like it was from the humidity in the room and not Jimin’s proximity to you.

“I haven’t seen you around before, are you a Freshman?” he inquired, sending his charming smile your way and making your knees want to buckle.

“No, I just normally don’t come to parties,” you explained, tilting your head towards Hana. “Hana made me.”

“Why not?” he wondered aloud.

“Just… not my scene.” you shrugged.

Jimin watched your face, amusement apparent on his features. He seemed to be contemplating something. Apparently coming to his decision, his smile came back to grace his gorgeous face, but it didn’t reach his eyes, a detail you couldn’t miss even if you’d wanted to.

“Sounds like you need to have a little fun,” he smirked, stepping closer to you, his fingertips trailing along your hips and his lips grazing the shell of your ear as he whispered his next sentence, “I could help you with that. My room is upstairs.”

“I… I, uh… no… no thank you,” you sputtered, placing your hand on his (deliciously firm) chest and gently urging him backwards to put space between your erratically beating heart and his warm, enticing body.

“What?” Jimin asked, genuinely confused.

“I’m not that kind of girl.” you said softly, trying to cushion the blow to his ego.

“You really don’t want to fuck me?” he asked, bewildered.

“Um… no thank you.” You coughed awkwardly.

Jimin stared at you for a moment, reading you. His eyes searched yours, looking for something. You didn’t know what, or if he found it, but when he looked away, he shrugged.

“Your loss.” he turned to the sound of someone calling his name and left you standing there, heart pounding out of your chest and legs weak.

You watched him walk away, plastering on that signature flirty smile that fooled everyone around him. You watched his animated dancing, life of the party, putting on a show. You watched his eyes search the crowd, like his soul was longing to find something, but you didn’t know what.

-♡-

A few weeks had gone by since your encounter with Jimin, and somehow he was everywhere. You saw him on your way to class, laughing with his friends by the fountain. You saw him at the coffee shop, exiting the building as you were about to enter. You saw him in the crowded hallways of your university, heard his infectious laugh bubbling from his chest and dancing through the air.

Even when Jimin wasn’t in your direct line of vision, even when you couldn’t hear the way his melodic voice carried through the air, he was everywhere. Every night since meeting him, you dreamt of sad, empty brown eyes attached to the most gorgeous man you’d ever seen. Every other thought that flitted through your mind was about him. What was Jimin up to? Does he look happier today? Was it just that night? Where was he now?

Sitting in the lecture hall next to Hana, you couldn’t pay attention to what the professor was attempting to teach you, a heavy sigh falling from your lips as you doodled a familiar pair of plusher ones. Hana nudged your shoulder.

“What’s up with you lately? You’re like, lost in space or something.” she accused.

“Sorry, just got a lot on my mind,” you sighed, playing with the edges of your notebook distractedly.

“Wanna talk about it?” she wondered.

“How much do you know about Park Jimin?” you asked almost instantly, causing Hana to jump a bit.

“Oh honey…” she sighed, shaking her head, “Don’t go there. Park Jimin is a good fuck if you’re looking to let loose, but I wouldn’t get too invested. Fucking is about all he’s good at. He doesn’t care about anyone but himself.”

“Do you really think he’s not good for anything but that? I mean, he’s human.” you defended.

“That’s not what I meant, I just know how you are. Don't go crushing on him, he’ll break your heart Y/N. Park Jimin doesn’t do emotions. He does meaningless sex.” she explained.

“I guess…” you trailed off, avoiding her gaze.

“Seriously. Don’t go looking for trouble.” she warned.

“I won’t.” you promised.

“Good. Now, there’s a party this weekend. Are you coming?” she grinned.

A classmate in front of you coughed obnoxiously sending you a glare. You shot them an apologetic smile but lowered your voice. Hana didn’t lower her volume at all though.

“Maybe. I don’t know.” you shrugged.

“Come onnnn. Live a little!” she encouraged.

“If you two ladies have something to share with the class, I’d be more than happy to give you the podium. Otherwise, I’d appreciate it if you’d wait until after class to discuss whatever is so important,” the professor hummed, shooting a glare in your direction.

Immediately silencing yourself, you looked down at your notebook, where the drawing of Jimin’s plush lips stared at you. You stared back, recalling the last time you’d seen him, and how your heart had pounded in your chest violently enough that you thought it was going to come out.

You decided you needed to see him again, which is how you found yourself completely out of place once again at another frat party. Drunk and stoned college kids stumbled around, grinded on each other, made out in corners, and caused all kinds of trouble all around you as you tried to be inconspicuous in your search for Jimin.

“Do you want a drink?” you asked Hana and she nodded, so you ventured into the kitchen to retrieve something for the two of you.

Once you returned, you couldn’t find her anywhere. She had a tendency of wandering off with the first hot guy she set her sights on, but you decided to look for her anyway. You wove between bodies, checking around corners and searching all the obvious places. When you came up empty handed you ventured out the back door, only to notice none other than Park Jimin sitting on the porch swing alone, smoking.

Previous task abandoned, you walked up to him and sat beside him; his eyes lazily trailed up and down your figure as he assessed you, his plump lips turning up into a smirk.

“Didn’t think I’d see you again. Change your mind about my offer?” he smiled seductively.

“No.” you shrugged, offering him the extra cup in your hand, which he took while watching you carefully.

“Seriously? Am I not your type or something? You think I’m ugly?” he wondered, feigning distress.

“That’s not it at all!” you gasped out with a little too much conviction.

“So you find me attractive?” he verified, scooting closer.

“Well, yes,” you admitted, cheeks blazing while you avoided his intense gaze.

“So you do want to fuck me.” He grinned.

“No,” you shook your head.

“Why?” he questioned, letting his fingertips dance along the edge of your shorts.

“Like I said. I’m not that kind of girl. I think sex should be meaningful,” you shrugged, though your body betrayed you with the goosebumps rising at his touch.

“Ah, so you’re one of those hopeless romantics,” he laughed.

“I wouldn’t go that far,” you giggled. “I’m not waiting for a knight in shining armour. I just want it to mean something.”

Jimin focused his gaze on your face, watching you carefully as you fiddled with a stray thread on your blouse. He knew your body reacted to him, he could see the way you shivered, feel the goosebumps on your skin. He didn’t understand why you weren’t jumping at the opportunity to fall into bed with him like everyone else. You were an enigma to him.

You finally met his gaze, curiosity getting the better of you. You had to know if his eyes still held the same look as before, or if it was a one-time thing. You could still see the loneliness, masked by his overconfident demeanor.

“What’s your major?” you asked, changing the subject out of the blue.

“What? Oh, um… dance, actually.” he said, averting his gaze.

“How long have you been dancing?” you wondered.

“Since I was little. Why are you asking this?” he narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

“Just wondering. I don’t know anything about you,” you easily replied.

“What’s yours?” he countered.

“Creative writing.”

“That’s cool.” he sent you a tentative smile.

“Thanks. So is dancing. I can’t dance to save my life,” you giggled.

“I’m sure you’re not that bad,” he argued, a smile playing on his lips.

“Oh, you haven’t seen bad,” you laughed.

After taking a moment to wonder why you were even outside talking to him and what you could possibly want from him, he pushed his suspicion aside..Jimin rolled his eyes with a smile and stood up, extending his hand out to you. You sent him a questioning look and he just shook his hand until you grabbed it, and he pulled you to your feet. He reached down into his pocket and pulled out his phone, playing a song you hadn’t heard before, but enjoyed nonetheless. It was slow and simple, but still pretty upbeat.

“We’ll try something simple so I can see where you’re at, ok?” Jimin grinned at you, spacing his feet apart and watching your face.

“You’re going to make me dance?” you gasped.

“I’m going to teach you some easy moves. Everyone should know at least one dance move,” he laughed.

“If you watch me fall on my face I can never look you in the eye again,” you grumbled.

“Oh hush. Okay, start with your feet shoulder width apart for balance.” he instructed.

You mimicked his stature, placing your feet shoulder width apart and following his movements that he did slowly so you could catch on. You could tell he was graceful and knew how to move his body, even when he was slowing down and exaggerating his movements so you could keep up. Jimin’s movements were fluid and calculated, each new step had precision but flowed into the next seamlessly. He was made to dance, you decided. And somehow, you didn’t fall under his instruction. He was patient and understanding when you’d mess up, showing you again and praising you when you got it right.

He seemed to be having fun, his laughter filled you with giddiness and his smile seemed genuine, his eyes scrunched up into little crescent moons and his beautiful pearly teeth on display, his hands wrapped around his stomach as he leaned over in another fit of laughter. You giggled along with him, albeit at your own expense, but you loved seeing this side of Jimin, he seemed… happy, carefree. This was the way Jimin was meant to be.

When you messed up again, Jimin laughed, coming over to you and grabbing your hands, showing you how to move your body to the music by leading you with his own. Your back was pressed against his firm chest as he guided you, his hips flush against yours, causing a blush to creep up your neck. Jimin must have noticed the position he’d put you in, but it didn’t stop him. He only pressed closer, whispering in your ear.

“You’re doing so good for me, babygirl,” he purred, his lips brushing the shell of your ear.

You shivered, attempting to turn and pull out of his hold to scold him, but you were interrupted by a loud male voice coming from inside the house.

“Yo Park where the hell have you been? We need help in beer pong! Oh-” a tall man you recognized as Hoseok froze at the sight.

Jimin cleared his throat and stepped away from you. Hana peered around Hoseok from behind him, curious to what was going on. Her eyes widened when she saw you, and she gave you a look of disappointment, knowing you hadn’t listened to her warning. You looked away, avoiding her gaze as Jimin breezed past you to follow Hoseok inside. Hana watched you for a moment before following them inside, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

-♡-

It had been a few days since your dancing lesson with Jimin, and seeing him in such a comfortable, happy state hadn’t really done much to take him off your mind, especially not after seeing his eyes glaze over and the mask slip right back on as soon as Hoseok called his name. How he’d breezed past you like you didn’t exist after what felt like a special moment shared between the two of you.

Maybe Hana was right… maybe all he wanted was sex. Your anxiety was telling you he was playing with your emotions, but you knew better. You saw something in Jimin, something no one else seemed to notice. The small amount of time you’d spent with him when he had let his guard down had given you the opportunity to see what potential he had.

Jimin didn’t have to be tough and closed off. He could be fun and open and sweet. He could be thoughtful and patient and encouraging. He could be silly and smart and dedicated. He was talented and hard working. You’d spent maybe an hour alone with Jimin at the party that night, and in that small frame of time, you’d seen a glimpse of the real him shine through that facade he put on for everyone else.

You wanted to see it again.

You took’d taken a trip into the city to do some sight seeing and clear your restless mind, having been driven crazy going in circles. It had taken longer than you’d anticipated, so you’d opted to take a taxi home with the sun having gone down a while ago and the stars making their appearance. You watched the cityscape fly by, lost in your own little world. The closer you got to campus, the more you paid attention, knowing the bridge that overlooked the beautiful skyline would be coming soon.

You watched the water below ripple gently, small waves dancing across the surface of the river underneath the bridge. It was beautiful, reflections of the city lights shining and shimmering in the water. You glanced up at the other end of the bridge and saw a figure standing there, alone. It kind of looked like…

“Sir, stop the car. Pull over please!” you begged the driver.

He shot you a curious look but pulled to the side of the road. You handed him your fare and dashed away from the car towards the figure. Once you realized he wasn’t going to jump or do anything stupid, you slowed your stride, watching him as you quietly made your way over to him. Jimin was lost in thought and didn’t notice you approaching him. He watched the waves longingly, as if he wished he were floating away in them, part of the nothingness. Like he wanted to disappear into the water and drift away into the sea.

The look in his eyes as he gazed out into the unknown was haunted, and it tore at your heart to see him look so empty. They say the eyes are the window to the soul, and if that’s true, Jimin’s soul seemed broken. You wanted to know why. He had it all. He had money, good looks, friends, girls, what could possibly be missing? Why did he look so dejected?

You gently placed your hand on his shoulder and he jumped slightly upon realizing he wasn’t alone, turning to face you. His gaze met yours in silence, he watched your face for a moment, then his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Y/N?” he asked. “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing. I was riding by and saw you, I wanted to make sure you were okay. What are you doing up here all alone?” you wondered.

Jimin turned to face you fully now, looking down at you with a hard expression.

“Why do you care?” he asked, bunching his fists at his side. “What do you want from me Y/N? Why are you being so nice to me?”

“I don’t want anything from you, Jimin. I just want to make sure you’re okay. I want to be your friend,” you explained softly, reaching out to touch his arm, which he yanked away.

“You want to be my friend?” he laughed bitterly. “Why? So I can buy you stuff? You want my money? Here,” he took out his wallet, holding out several bills for you to take.

You were shocked, stepping back a little, but looking up to meet Jimin’s gaze. He looked resigned, angry. You looked at his outstretched hand, holding the money out to you and sighed. You reached for his hand, and he thought you’d take the bills, but you only eased his hand back down to his side.

“I don’t want your money,” you told him, trying to keep your voice from sounding as offended as you felt. “I just like spending time with you.”

“Why? What is your angle here? Just take what you want and go, like everyone else does. Everyone uses each other, I don’t know what you’re trying to get out of me, but just take it and go. Stop acting like you care about me,” he hissed.

You watched him for a moment, chest heaving as he took deep breaths, looking angry and closed off and… scared. He looked scared. He said everyone uses each other, did he really not have anyone in his life who genuinely just wanted him to be happy?

“I do care about you, Jimin. I don’t want anything from you but friendship,” you said softly.

“Right,” he laughed, “like I believe that. No one just wants to be friends. They want something. Sex. Money. Status. Then they leave, everyone leaves eventually so why bother getting attached and pretending to care?”

“That sounds really lonely, Jimin,” you trailed off quietly.

Jimin’s expression was one of shock. He was expecting some sort of reaction out of you, anger, defiance, maybe admitting you were just after his money. He expected you to try to trick him, to yell at him, to tell him he was an asshole and you never wanted to see him again. Jimin was not expecting you to see straight through him, to see how lonely he was, how much he craved connection.

You terrified Jimin. He’d been drawn to you from when he first laid eyes on you, admittedly it was a sexual attraction at first. When you’d refused him, though, he was intrigued. He’d watched you around campus, how you never sought out to be the center of attention, how you didn’t go looking for drama or clout. Then you showed up on that porch swing at the party, looking into his eyes like you really saw him.

Jimin hadn’t felt so at ease so quickly with anyone in his life like he did with you. He felt like he could be himself, like he could let his guard down. He had fun, really enjoyed himself for the first time in what felt like forever with you. He wasn’t putting on a show. He wasn’t giving the people what he thought they wanted to see from him. He was just spending time with a beautiful girl who made him feel like he was enough.

And that was terrifying.

Jimin couldn’t afford to get attached again. He’d had his heart ripped out and stomped on so many times he’d honestly thought he didn’t have one anymore. Until he watched the way your eyes lit up when you giggled at one of his silly dance moves. Until he felt the giddiness rising in his chest when you smiled especially for him. Jimin almost couldn’t remember what it felt like to feel so carefree, and he missed it so much. He longed to be free and let go.

You made him feel like he could, and that scared Jimin shitless. He’d spent so long building up this wall to protect himself, so long wearing this mask of indifference to shield his weary and battered heart from another letdown. Another person pretending to care. Another “friend” using him to get something. Another betrayal. But you… you felt so genuine. You were light and happy and kind and you made him feel like he could breathe again. He barely knew you, and already you’d wormed your way into his heart enough to make him feel like things could be different. It scared Jimin just how badly he craved that, the connection, to feel something again.

“I… I guess,” he finally admitted, his shoulders slumping from the confession.

He looked like he was deflating, the tension falling off his body once he finally let it out that yes, he was so lonely. He watched your reaction, embarrassed that you’d seen this side of him. He didn’t want to be vulnerable in front of anyone, didn’t want to give them the chance to use him again. But you just smiled sympathetically. You didn’t push or pry.

Instead, you pivoted. “Are you hungry? I kind of want some ramen. Come with me to the store?” you offered.

Jimin eyed you warily, but nodded, falling in step beside you as you walked along the bridge, the only sounds you could hear were the soft rippling of the waves below and the sounds of the cars rushing past. Jimin was quiet beside you, looking like he was lost in thought. He wasn’t paying attention to where he was stepping, and tripped over a loose brick on the sidewalk.

You saw the headlights of the oncoming car nearing closer as Jimin tumbled into the road, your heart beating out of your chest in bone-chilling fear. You jumped into the street and grabbed Jimin’s hand. You jumped back and yanked him onto the sidewalk mere fractions of a second before the car zoomed past where your bodies had just been, horn blaring obnoxiously. Jimin’s body crashed into yours, sending you off balance and splaying against the sidewalk.

You groaned at his weight being flung on top of you when you crashed into the hard cement sidewalk. Jimin propped himself up on his arms, body still flush against yours as he searched your face, eyes wide.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt? What the hell were you thinking?! You could’ve been killed!” he scolded, eyes roaming over your face and arms for any injuries.

“So could you! I couldn’t just sit back and watch you get run over!” you defended.

“So you risked your life for someone you barely know?!” he hissed, with no real bite to his words.

Worry and guilt were swimming in his gaze as it met yours. You softened, reaching up to caress his hair gently in an attempt to soothe him and get him to focus on you and your next words.

“Hey, we’re both fine. Everything’s okay,” you smiled.

“I’ve never met anyone like you before,” he said more to himself than you, “What even are you?”

“Still hungry,” you giggled playfully, trying to ease the tension surrounding the two of you.

Jimin rolled his eyes but finally, a smile graced his pretty lips. You both seemed to notice your positions at the same time, your cheeks lighting up and the tips of his ears turning red. He scrambled off of you, holding out a hand to pull you to your feet. You both avoided eye contact and he let out an awkward cough, scratching the back of his neck.

“Let’s go get ramen then,” he smiled shyly, motioning for you to go ahead of him.

You walked together in silence, Jimin being much more careful about where he was stepping while you made your way to the convenience store at the edge of the university. Entering and nodding to the cashier on duty, you both made your way over to the ramen. You reached out to grab a bowl, and a gasp left Jimin’s lips.

“You’re bleeding!” he grabbed your arm, examining the scrape on your elbow.

“Oh, whoops,” you shrugged.

Jimin went to the cashier and requested the first aid kit, then guided you to a seat and gently took your arm, cleaning the cut with an antiseptic wipe. You hissed at the burn, and he apologized, leaning down to blow air on the wound. You watched in awe at the way his lips looked, plump and soft and delicious. You shivered as the cool air hit your skin, soothing the burn from the antiseptic wipe. Jimin smiled up at you.

“Better?” he asked.

Not trusting your voice, you simply nodded. He took the bandage and placed it over your wound, smoothing it out with a gentle brush of his fingers.

“There. All better. Let's eat!” he chirped, pushing off his knees to stand.

You both picked out some ramen and drinks, using the water dispenser to add hot water to the dry noodles. Jimin reached for his wallet to pay for you both reflexively. You didn’t put yours on the counter and he looked at you in confusion.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Uhhh… waiting my turn?”

“What do you mean? It’s our turn.”

“It’s your turn. I’ll pay for mine when you’re done,” you shrugged.

Jimin looked shocked and confused, and the cashier looked impatient. You nodded towards the counter and Jimin paid, watching you curiously as you completed your transaction with a smile on your face and thanked the cashier. Jimin held the door for you and you both walked to a nearby park, sitting on the bench to eat.

You ate and talked and joked and laughed. You both just enjoyed being in each other’s presence, able to let loose and not feel judged. You watched Jimin’s eyes begin to shine for the first time since you’d met him, and your heart swelled with joy. You’d finished eating long ago but neither of you wanted to leave, so you stood up.

“I’ve been practicing, you know.” You wiggled your eyebrows.

“Practicing?” he echoed.

“Dancing. I’ve been practicing what you showed me. Not to toot my own horn, but I’ve gotten pretty decent,” you grinned playfully.

“Show me what you’ve got,” Jimin smirked, leaning back into the bench with his hands folded behind his head, his shirt riding up and displaying his mouth-watering abs, along with the small trail of hair that dipped down underneath his waistband.

You stood with your feet shoulder width apart, just like Jimin had taught you, and started shaking your hips like you’d seen him do that night at the party, giving your best impression of his dance routine for the first minute or two. Then, you grinned at him as he opened his mouth to praise you, before you started doing the chicken dance.

Jimin’s laughter rang through the air and he started dancing with you, both of you making fools of yourselves, your only audience each other and the moon that shone brightly in the sky, illuminating Jimin’s face, highlighting his ethereal beauty. The two of you danced and laughed for a while, before falling onto the bench in a fit of giggles.

Finally deciding it was time to go, Jimin insisted on walking you home, saying it wasn’t safe for you to be alone that late at night. You agreed, not because you weren’t capable of keeping yourself safe, but simply to stay with him for a little longer. You tossed your food containers in the trash as you left the park. His hand brushed against yours a few times as you walked, talking animatedly about anything and everything, and you figured it was just an accident soyou didn’t think too much of it.

Disappointment washed over you as you walked up to your dorm building and you sighed, scuffing the ground with your foot in an attempt to stall. Jimin made no move to leave either, both of you waiting in silence for the other to say something. Suddenly, you felt warmth surround your frame as Jimin wrapped his arms around you and pulled you into a tight embrace.

“Thank you for tonight. This is the most fun I’ve had in a really long time,” he whispered into your ear, almost like a secret he didn’t want anyone else to hear, though you were alone.

“Me too, Jimin. Thank you for coming with me, and walking me home,” you smiled, returning his hug and placing your head on his shoulder.

You weren’t sure how long hugs between stranger-friends were supposed to last, but you weren’t going to pull away first, not when you felt so warm, so safe, so comfortable. Your heart was racing but your whole body went pliant at his touch, any tension you’d been holding melting away as you melted into him.

Jimin pulled away first, leaving a chaste kiss to your cheek before turning around and walking off, shouting “goodnight Y/N!” over his shoulder as he left. You missed the way the tips of his ears turned pink, and he missed how your whole face turned red. You couldn’t wipe the smile off your face as you crawled into bed that night, your dreams filled with bright brown eyes shining in the moonlight, and a little bit of hope.

-♡-

After the night on the bridge, you and Jimin began hanging out. He’d wait for you outside the lecture hall and walk you home some days. Others, you’d show up with his favorite coffee and snack in hand before his (regrettably chosen) 8am class. Jimin was different around you, lighter.

Because he was Jimin, people noticed. Eyes trailed after the two of you everywhere you went, whether you were together or not. Rumors spread, saying that you were using him to gain recognition, saying that he’d knocked you up and been forced to date you, saying that you’d blackmailed him or something. Neither of you paid attention to the prying eyes that seemed to dissect your every move, you were too caught up in each other.

You made Jimin feel like a better person, and Jimin made you feel safe and giddy. But there was no denying the massive crush you’d formed on the poor guy. You did your best to hide it, trying not to make him uncomfortable. You’d told him all you wanted was friendship, you weren’t about to make a liar out of yourself and get rejected, losing your new friend over something so silly as your unyielding yearning for him.

You really tried not to let your eyes linger on him for too long when he walked unaware beside you, humming the newest song he was practicing for dance class. You tried not to let your touches last longer than socially acceptable for friends, despite the way your entire body seemed to light up with electricity every time his skin met yours. You tried not to stare longingly at his lips as he told you a story about his childhood or a class he’d taken the day before.

You tried not to fall in love with him.

You tried not to fall in love with the way his eyes formed crescent moons when he smiled, his real smile. The one he used in your presence, not the one he plastered on for the rest of the world to see. You tried not to fall in love with the sound of his voice calling your name, or the way he’d mindlessly sing quietly to himself while doing mundane tasks. You tried not to fall in love with the way he’d already be looking at you when you glanced up to check on him, with the way he’d shoot you a goofy face.

You tried not to fall in love with the way he held you close, the way every hug was just a little too long, the way he’d hold open doors for you or fix your collar, or the way he seemed to be able to make you forget about the rest of the world. You tried not to fall in love with how strong he was, both physically and emotionally, how he’d let you in and trusted you.

But Jimin was a force of nature, somehow terrifying and comforting at the same time. He showed your heart no mercy, consistently proving himself to you over and over and making you fall harder and harder. How were you not supposed to fall head over heels for Jimin? A few weeks into your friendship and you were ready to throw caution to the wind and marry the man. Or maybe you were a little dramatic, but still. You felt so deeply for him you almost couldn’t stomach it.

Jimin seemed to bounce as he walked in front of you, using his ridiculous amount of coordination to walk backwards so he could face you as he spoke. You giggled at his behavior, keeping an eye out to make sure he didn’t run into anything or anyone. He wove around the crowd gracefully, looking back every so often, but you still watched out for him. Just in case.

“So then the professor woke the kid up by slamming a book on his desk, I kinda felt bad for him, to be honest. But it was really funny. The kid wasn’t too bothered by it, he laughed with everyone else, and apologized for falling asleep. I don’t blame him though. I nearly lost it when he went into the section on Pavlov,” Jimin recounted, rolling his eyes.

“Poor guy!” you laughed.

“I know, so embarrassing.” he cringed.

“Yo, Jimin!” came from somewhere in the crowd, and Jimin’s easygoing expression immediately morphed into a hardened one.

You turned to see Hoseok and Hana jogging to catch up with the two of you. Ever since they’d started dating, you’d seen Hana less and less. You didn’t mind much, as your time was mostly filled with Jimin. Hana’s hair had gotten longer and she’d dyed it a light shade of pink. It suited her.

“Hey Hana, I like your new hair,” you smiled.

“Thanks, girl! I haven’t seen you in forever!” she grabbed you, pulling you into a tight hug which you returned, shooting an uncomfortable look towards Jimin.

His attention was on Hoseok though. He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes, and you didn’t like it when Jimin’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. It looked unnatural, wrong. Happiness belonged on Jimin. Hoseok was sweet, he was funny and lively and courteous, you had nothing against him. But you wished he would leave so Jimin would go back to normal. Unguarded.

“Jimin, I’ve been trying to get a hold of you for a couple days man. I really need your help. Are you busy? The girls can grab coffee or something and we can swing by the shop?” Hoseok begged.

“Ooh that sounds so fun! We haven’t hung out in forever! Please, Y/N?” Hana begged, pulling on your shirt sleeve.

You shot a look over to Jimin, gauging his feelings on the situation, but you couldn’t read him. His face was stoic and you couldn’t see his eyes. He shrugged, following Hoseok across the street. Hana pulled on your arm, directing you to a nearby coffee shop and grabbing a table in the corner by the window.

“You still like the hot chocolate here the best?” Hana asked, standing up to order.

You moved to follow but she waved you off, placing your order for you and handing it over once it was ready.

“Thank you.” you smiled, “How much was it? I’ll venmo you.”

“Don’t worry it was only like two bucks,” Hana shrugged. “Hobi’s been paying for everything lately, hasn’t asked me to chip in a dime! So I’ve saved up a bit.”

“Oh wow,” you laughed.

“I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever! Do you remember when we used to come here like every day to do our homework and people watch?” Hana giggled.

“Yeah, it seems so long ago.” you agreed, grinning at the memory.

“Ugh, I still had that poofy curly hairdo and you wore those high school musical shirts all the time? When was that, like 8th grade?” she cringed.

“Freshman year of high school, I think. We met in high school.” you laughed. “Why did your mom let you leave the house like that?”

“Girl I don’t know!” she groaned, “why did yours?”

“I guess she wanted me to express myself,” you shrugged with a giggle.

“Express yourself right out of any chance to be popular,” Hana remarked sarcastically, throwing in a playful smirk.

“Hey, I don’t need to be popular. I just need a few good people around me,” you shrugged.

“Hmmm… So, how’s Jimin?” she asked, glancing away and not meeting your eyes.

“He’s good. We were just on our way back to my dorm to watch a movie when we ran into you guys,” you explained.

“A little netflix and chill?” she laughed, but her eyes zeroed in on you.

“No,” you shook your head, “just a movie.”

Hana sighed, placing her coffee on the table and looked you in the eyes.

“YN, I’m worried about you. Someone like you shouldn’t be hanging out with someone like Jimin. When I invited you to that party, I just wanted you to get out more, not start messing around with someone like him.” Hana explained, attempting to keep her voice soft.

“What do you mean ‘someone like him’?” you asked harshly.

“You’ve heard what people are saying right? They’re spreading rumors about you because you’re hanging out with him. He’s bad news, YN. He only sleeps with girls to get what he wants. I know you’re a hopeless romantic but I can guarantee he doesn’t love you, no matter what he’s telling you.” she sighed.

“You can’t be serious.” you laughed incredulously.

“YN, I’m just looking out for you. Jimin is-” she began but you stood and cut her off.

“Jimin is kind. Jimin is funny, smart, sweet and loyal. Jimin doesn’t talk shit about people behind their backs. Jimin doesn’t pretend to care just so he can cause trouble. Jimin doesn’t judge people based on rumors. You don’t know anything about him, Hana. You never cared enough to. No one has! You all think he’s some souless succubus who only uses sex to get what he wants, but you’re wrong. You don’t know him at all. Jimin is wonderful and I will hang out with him as much as I damn well want to because you know what? He makes me happy. So you and anyone else who has a problem with that can fuck off,” you seethed, slamming five dollars down on the table to pay her for your drink, not wanting to owe her anything, “Keep the change.”

You stomped away from the table, finally looking up from Hana’s speechless, shocked expression to find Jimin and Hoseok staring at you in mirroring astonishment. You froze for a split second, but in your rage, trudged forward, grabbing Jimin’s hand and pulling him towards the exit.

“Let’s go.” you grumbled, and he allowed you to pull him out of the exit and begin walking down the street, leaving Hoseok and Hana in stunned silence.

You didn’t let go of Jimin’s hand and he didn’t make a move to pull away as you walked silently to your dorm, your anger slowly going from a boiling rage to a simmer. You opened and shut the door with a little more force than necessary and flung the dvd cabinet open with a little too much emphasis. Jimin watched you curiously, letting you have your space and set up the movie before you crawled into your bed next to where he was waiting.

You laid your head on his shoulder, needing the extra comfort of having him close after your emotional meltdown at the coffee shop. You sighed, letting the tension roll out of your body that you’d stored up from the encounter. Jimin wrapped an arm around you, giving you a gentle squeeze.

“You want to talk about it?” he asked quietly, eyes still on the opening credits of the movie.

“No,” you pouted.

“Are you sure?” he pressed, gaze shifting to you.

You sighed and sat up, turning to face him and pausing the movie.

“How much did you hear?”

“Hoseok and I walked in right about where you asked Hana what she meant by someone like me,” he explained.

“Oh,” you flushed, looking away from him. “I’m sorry you had to hear that.”

Jimin sighed, turning your shoulders so you’d face him and you gazed up into his eyes as he focused on you.

“Hey, it’s okay. I know what people think about me. I don’t care about their opinion. I care about yours, and maybe Hoseok’s. Sometimes,” he explained with a chuckle.

“I guess…” you trailed off.

“Thank you,” he spoke suddenly, softly.

“For what?” you wondered.

“For sticking up for me. For believing in me. For having my back,” he told you, his eyes swimming in an emotion you couldn’t place.

“Of course. I meant everything I said. You’re an amazing person and if people would just take a second look and get to know you, look past the wall you put up, they’d think so too.”

Jimin pulled you into his arms, encompassing you in his warmth and comfort, seeming to hold you together when you felt like you were shaking into pieces from the intensity of how strongly you felt for him. You relaxed in his hold, allowing the warmth of his body against yours to soothe your nerves.

“You’re my best friend,” he whispered into your ear, barely audible.

“You’re my best friend too,” you whispered back, hugging him just a little tighter.

Jimin smiled against your neck where he’d rested his head, and you hoped he couldn’t feel how loudly your heart was beating from feeling his lips against your skin, though he probably didn’t mean to do that. You pulled apart and snuggled into the covers to watch the movie, finally completing the task you’d set out to do since mid-afternoon.

Once the credits rolled, you were tucked into Jimin’s arms, drifting in and out of consciousness. Jimin glanced at the clock and sighed.

“I don’t want to leave but it’s getting late,” he looked down at your face.

“Nooo.. don’t go. You’re so comfy,” you whined.

“Are you calling me fat?” he huffed playfully.

“Oh hush,” you giggled, but looked up at him, biting your lip nervously.

“Can you just… stay? Just for tonight? If you want to, that is…” you looked down at your hands.

“You’re not worried someone will see me leave in the morning and start more rumors?” he wondered.

“I don’t care if you don’t,” you shrugged, meeting his eyes once more.

“Scooch over then,” he grinned and you giggled triumphantly, scooting over to one side of the bed so Jimin could slot himself between you and the wall.

He wrapped an arm around your middle, pulling you against his chest and sighed contentedly. You snuggled just a little closer, mumbling something about the chilly air in the dorm, but really you just loved being close to Jimin. Butterflies swirled in your stomach, and you listened to Jimin’s breathing begin to even out as he fell asleep. You followed not long after. Wrapped in the safety and comfort of Jimin, you swore it was the best night's sleep you’d ever had.

-♡-

The second Jimin had exited your dorm that morning, there were about 50 pictures of the incident flooding social media, rumors flying rampant about your night spent together. Every other comment was about how you’d turned into a whore or Jimin was just playing with you or you had to have something on him. You ignored them all. People could think whatever they wanted, but you knew you hadn’t done anything wrong.

On the contrary, waking up beside Jimin had felt so, so right. You’d somehow shifted in the night, both of you seeking out each other’s warmth and you’d woken up face-to-face, your noses almost touching. You’d opened your eyes to find Jimin opening his and you both smiled at each other, giggling nervously as you broke apart.

Jimin had gone home to freshen up, seeing as your impromptu sleepover left him without a change of clothes or a toothbrush. You hadn’t heard anything from him since he left, and you were starting to wonder if he regretted staying, if he felt uncomfortable now. Your nerves were eating you up and after your fight with Hana, you didn’t really know who you could talk to about it. You sighed, flipping through a textbook while being unable to concentrate on anything you were reading.

A few hours went by and you were starting to lose your mind from the lack of communication and the anxiety it caused. You picked up your phone to distract yourself with something when a text from Jimin came through. You sighed in relief, opening the message.

Jimin [5:54pm]: The guys at the frat house say I’ve been boring lately and I’m not allowed to skip tonight’s party. Come with me?

Did he mean come with him as in… be his date? Surely not. Right? Your heart hammered in your chest. Sure, people had seen you and Jimin around together a lot, but it was another thing entirely to go to a party together. That was basically announcing that you were dating. Maybe he didn’t see it that way? Maybe he just wanted to bring his friend to the party?

You [5:59pm]: Sure. Meet you there?

Jimin [6:04pm]: Starts at 10. :)

You texted a little back and forth in the next few hours, then you got ready for the party andmade your way over to the frat house, wondering what kind of fresh hell this party would bring. Though, you couldn’t say all parties were bad. You had met Jimin at one of these. That had turned out to be the greatest thing you’d ever done.

You were filled with a sense of nostalgia walking up to the familiar front door and entering into the foyer, greeted with booming music and some cheering from the corner where someone was doing a keg upside down. You were startled by an arm wrapping around your shoulder, pulling you into a warm body.

“Y/N! Nice to see you again,” Hoseok grinned, leading you towards the kitchen.

“Hey Hoseok,” you smiled, a little confused.

“Jimin and I were about to play beer pong with Tae, we need a 4th player,” he grinned.

“Oh okay,” you smiled, walking with a little more confidence.

“Y/N!” Jimin grinned, walking over and wrapping you in a hug, “I’m glad you came. You’re on my team, ok?”

“Sounds good,” you grinned.

“Y/N, this is Taehyung, you’ve already met Hoseok. Tae, this is Y/N,” Jimin introduced.

“Nice to meet you,” Taehyung grinned a boxy smile, enthusiastically waving to you from his end of the island. “Sorry we’re about to kick your ass,” he added with an evil chuckle.

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” you giggled.

“Have you played before?” Jimin wondered.

“A few times, not at a big party like this but I’ve practiced,” you mimicked brushing off your shoulders and Jimin let out a hearty laugh.

“Alright, a seasoned pro!” Hoseok chimed in excitedly.

“Is Hana not here?” you asked quietly to Jimin.

“I haven’t seen her, no,” he shrugged.

“Did they break up?”

“I doubt it, but I don’t know.” he answered.

“Alright, ladies! Let's go!” Taehyung shouted enthusiastically.

Hoseok took the first shot, landing it perfectly in a cup on your side of the table, and Jimin took the first swig, downing the cup. Hoseok shot again, missing by a mile. Jimin laughed before tossing his ball across the table, expertly landing it in one of the opposing team’s. Hoseok pouted but drank anyway. Jimin tried again, landing another. You clapped and hooted for him. Jimin got three cups before he missed.

Taehyung got two cups, and you drank both before he grazed the edge of the third, but the ball didn’t go in. You started shooting and got two cups before someone jostled you on your third throw, causing you to miss the entire table. You shot a glare to the offending stranger, who apologized profusely. You sighed.

“Minho is clumsy but he’s sweet. Don’t be too hard on him. He might actually like it. Kinky bastard.” Jimin winked at you playfully.

You choked on your next breath, giggling at his words. Neither team scored anything for a while, too busy trash-talking each other and cracking jokes to concentrate on the game. Jimin’s full smile had yet to appear, but he did seem more relaxed in your presence, so you took it as a win. He wasn’t quite himself, putting on more of a show than usual, but you decided to let it go since he seemed like he was having a good time. Surprisingly, you were too.

Taehyung was sweet and funny. He was easy to talk to and super charming. Hoseok was a ball of sunshine and energy, and they both seemed to accept you as part of their little group with no effort at all. You were Jimin’s friend, and therefore you were their friend by association. You wondered if these were people Jimin could be honest with, they seemed really genuine, but you knew how guarded he was so you weren’t about to bring it up. They were fun to be around, and that was enough for now.

The night raged on, and your team ended up winning beer pong. You’d both gained a pleasant buzz from the game but Taehyung and Hoseok were absolutely trashed. Jimin explained that they might’ve pregamed a little too hard before the party, so the added beers from their crushing defeat sent them over the edge into utterly intoxicated. They were currently clutching onto each other and singing a very off key rendition of a song you didn’t even recognize.

“Hey, where’s the bathroom?” you asked.

“Just down that hall,” Jimin pointed, and you smiled at him before making your way there.

You quickly did your business and washed your hands, checking your appearance in the mirror and smiling to yourself about how well the night was going. Everything was perfect and after last night with Jimin, he seemed more… into you? Less platonic. Or maybe your mind was playing tricks on you. Either way, you were hopeful that maybe Jimin felt the same way you did.

That was, until you walked out of the bathroom and saw him pushed up against the wall with some girl’s tongue down his throat.

You felt like the room was spinning. Your heart shattered and you found it difficult to get air into your lungs as you stood frozen in shock, eyes glued to the pair like a car wreck. You just couldn’t look away. It felt like years, but lasted only a second before Jimin’s eyes opened and he spotted you. He pushed the girl off of him, taking a step toward you, but you made a beeline for the door.

You weaved your way through the crowd as fast as you could, ignoring Taehyung who gleefully called out for you to join him in karaoke. You begged any entity that was listening to let you hold your tears in until there were no witnesses, focusing solely on getting your feet to move faster and holding your emotions at bay. You heard Jimin calling your name but you only moved faster, sprinting out of the open door and down the empty road.

How could you have been so stupid? Of course he didn’t like you. You were just the first person to show him, real, unconditional friendship. That’s all his affection was. Platonic. He didn’t want you. How could he? That girl looked like a supermodel. Of course she was more his type. How could you even think he would ever want someone like you? Because he spent one night with his arms wrapped around you and brought you to a party in front of his friends? Ugh.

“Y/N! Wait!” Jimin called, and you could hear his footsteps growing closer.

Damn him and his dancer’s stamina.

You wiped any stray tears from your eyes and did your best to plaster on a smile as you turned around to face him, you couldn’t outrun him. You might as well act normal and pretend everything was fine. Jimin slowed to a stop in front of you, panting a little.

“Where are you going?” he asked breathlessly.

“Oh, uh. I’m going home,” you grimaced as your voice cracked.

“Y/N, it wasn’t what it looked like,” Jimin began.

“Oh Jimin, it’s fine,” you brushed him off, using every bit of your willpower to make yourself seem believable. “You can do whatever or whoever you want. It’s not like I own you.”

“I saw the look on your face, Y/N, I-” Jimin tried but you shook your head.

“No it’s fine. I should’ve known you’d want to have some fun tonight. You’re not obligated to babysit me just because you invited me,” you cut him off.

“But I-” he tried again, scratching his arm in frustration.

“Go back to the party, that girl is probably waiting,” you smiled, moving to turn around.

“Would you just fucking listen to me?!” he shouted, making you freeze in your tracks.

Your eyes flickered up to meet his in shock, mouth hanging slightly ajar. Despite him being covered in tattoos and piercings, you’d never heard Jimin raise his voice or be threatening in any way. His sudden outburst caused your heart to flutter in your chest, both with astonishment and a little bit of arousal.

“She just came up and started talking to me, and she asked me to fuck, but I said no. She kissed me out of nowhere and I froze. As soon as I saw you I knew I fucked up. I pushed her off and told her to get lost. I don’t want her, Y/N. I don’t want any of them,” he nearly growled in frustration, running a hand through his messy hair. “I don’t want anyone else. I want you.”

Your heart stopped beating entirely.

“I was scared to tell you because I didn’t want to scare you off. You said all you wanted was friendship and I didn’t want to push you away. You’re my best friend. You’re the only one who really sees me, the only one who really cares. You make me a better man. I can’t imagine my life without you in it. Everyone leaves but I can’t lose you. Not you. I… I love you. I’m in love with you,” he sighed, taking a step closer and gauging your reaction.

“You… do?” you whispered, scared that if you spoke too loudly he’d vanish and you’d wake up from this dream.

“I love you,” he repeated, placing his hands on your shoulders and running them down your arms to interlock your fingers.

“I love you too,” you choked out, your tears running freely now. “Jimin I love you so much it hurts.”

Jimin lifted one hand to cup your cheek, his eyes full of love and adoration and contentment. His gaze flickered down to your lips then back up to your eyes. You nodded, just barely, and he leaned in. Finally, after months of daydreaming about this very moment, Jimin’s soft, plush lips pressed against your own. Time seemed to stop, and everything faded away but Jimin and the way he kissed you.

His kiss was gentle, but held so much passion. All the words he couldn’t say, or didn’t know how to, he flooded them all into the way he kissed you, wrapping his arms around you and bringing you closer as he worked his mouth against your own. Kissing Jimin felt like coming home, like the first breath of air after being caught in a current and forced underwater until your breaking point. It felt right.

Jimin’s tongue danced along your bottom lip, and you opened your mouth, allowing him entrance. His tongue explored your mouth, sliding along yours and it felt more like a loving caress than horny college kids making out. Deepening the kiss had lit something inside you and you pressed even closer to him, pouring all your love and longing into the actions between your lips.

Pulling away only when your lungs began screaming for air, Jimin rested his forehead against your own, his breaths coming out labored. His eyes searched yours and a slow smile spread across his reddened lips.

“I’ve wanted to do that for so long,” he admitted breathlessly.

“Me too,” you giggled, hiding your face in the crook of his neck as the blush crept into your cheeks.

Jimin laughed and held you tight against him, rubbing soothing circles against your back. You both stayed like that, in the middle of the road, the only light being the stars and the moon, but you didn’t care. All that mattered was that Jimin loved you. Jimin loved you! And he wanted you. And you were safe in his arms.

“Let’s get you home, yeah?” Jimin smiled, pulling back to look at your face.

You nodded, slipping your hand into his and walking beside him. Your whole chest felt like it was going to explode. You were elated. You were shocked and excited and so, so happy. You giggled to yourself, hiding your face with your free hand as Jimin walked you home.

“What’s so funny?” he chuckled.

“I can’t believe this is real, I’m so happy,” you admitted, biting your lip nervously and shooting a curious glance his way to watch his reaction.

Jimin smiled softly, pulling you closer to leave a gentle kiss on your forehead.

“Me too baby. Me too,” he said softly.

Jimin walked you home and you both crawled into your bed. Jimin wrapped you up in his arms and held you close. You felt like you were in heaven. You ran your fingers through Jimin’s hair, then trailed them down his arm, tracing his tattoos with the tips of your fingers. Jimin smiled, rubbing shapes and doodles into the skin of your back where your shirt had ridden up.

His gentle caresses were soothing, and after the ultra emotional day you’d had, you were pretty drained. You drifted in and out of consciousness, shifting closer to Jimin and he grinned, holding you against his frame and leaving gentle pecks on your neck, your ear, wherever he could reach. You giggled.

“I’m so glad you’re finally mine,” he whispered into the chilly air of your room.

“I’ve been yours, Jimin. From the moment I met you,” you admitted sheepishly.

“I might not have known it yet, but I was yours too,” he smiled, kissing your cheek. “Now go to sleep.”

So you did.

-♡-

About a week later, the rumors were still running rampant about you and Jimin after you’d both made it official on social media, and were now spotted sharing sweet kisses and tender touches in public rather than just being together. You’d received a fair amount of messages and evil looks, girls upset that you’d taken Jimin off the market and now his skills were “going to waste.” You’d just roll your eyes and hit the block button.

You had been wondering about those skills more and more recently. Once you and Jimin had started dating, he had seemingly become allergic to wearing shirts. Prancing around your dorm room with his toned body on display, delicious ink decorating the surface of his ivory skin… you were frequently having thoughts that weren’t exactly PG. But Jimin hadn’t brought up sexual activity, and neither had you.

You felt like you could cut the sexual tension with a knife some days, but didn’t want to push Jimin into anything, not when you knew that he’d used sex as a way to push people away in the past. You knew you were overthinking, and should probably just talk to him, but you were nervous. But oh goodness did you want him. You’d wanted him from the moment you’d laid eyes on him, and rejecting his proposition that first night had been harder than you’d thought.

Now it seemed like every time you looked at Jimin, it became harder to hold back. Knowing that he knew you loved him now, and that he loved you too gave you that level of comfort you needed to be able to finally take the plunge with him. You wanted him to plunge into you. All. Night. Long.

You shook your head to rid yourself of the dirty thoughts you were having just as Jimin climbed in bed beside you, snuggling up to your frame and pulling you against him. You smiled and ran your fingers over the tattoos on his arms, tracing the designs with the tips of your fingers as lightly as you could. Jimin liked that you were always touching him. Running your fingers through his hair, tracing his tattoos, or just resting your palm against his chest. It didn’t matter as long as you were touching him, he was content.

He shifted, laying on his back with one arm tucked behind his head, allowing you to rest your head on his chest and trace the tattoos that littered the skin there as well. Jimin closed his eyes and focused on the sound of your even breathing and the feeling of your fingers gently brushing against his skin. He shivered a time or two, and you snuggled closer, assuming he was cold. Unable to rid yourself of the lingering dampness between your thighs, you let your fingers gently graze across Jimin’s pierced nipple.

Jimin sucked in a breath and bit back a low moan, but you heard his chest rumble with the action. You bit your lip and mumbled a quiet, insincere apology. You traced the tattoos along his collar bone for a while before your fingers daringly dipped down, brushing the other exposed nipple, which had Jimin tensing below you and letting out a quiet whine.

“Are you doing that on purpose?” he accused, focusing his gaze on you.

“Noooo…” you trailed off, looking up at him with faux innocence.

“I’m trying really hard to be good right now, baby girl,” he breathed out, almost as if he was in pain.

“What if… I don’t want you to be?” you whispered seductively, letting your hand trail down his abdomen teasingly.

Jimin’s muscles clenched at the movement, and you noticed there was a sizable tent in his sweatpants. Your mouth watered at the sight. He was clearly working with some nice equipment. Jimin shifted so he could put his full attention on you, his eyes searching yours.

“Are you sure? I know you said you were waiting, are you really ready for this?” he asked, concern and a little bit of hope written all over his face.

“I’m sure. I love you, Jimin. I want you,” you smiled reassuringly, leaning in to place a kiss to his gorgeous, soft lips.

Jimin brought his hand up to cup your cheek, working those plush lips of his against your own. The two of you had made out before, but this felt different. You were filled with anticipation and need. You pressed yourself closer to him, and he took the opportunity to deepen the kiss, his tongue sliding gracefully along your bottom lip, which you immediately parted for him.

His deft muscle slipped inside your mouth, rolling against yours skillfully. His hand dropped from your cheek and snaked up your side, sneaking under your shirt and grazing along your stomach until he reached your breast, kneading it underneath your flimsy bralette. His thumb brushed against your nipple and your body jolted towards him, seeking more.

“Mmm… so responsive.” he whispered against your lips with a teasing smirk.

You furrowed your eyebrows, then let your nail scrape gently along his pierced nipple, tugging ever so gently on the metal ring. Jimin moaned into your mouth, his body arching towards yours. You smirked against his lips.

“So responsive.” you giggled.

Jimin chuckled, pulling back to look at you with a raised eyebrow, the light reflecting off the piercing there as well. His cocky look was gasoline on the fire of your arousal, and you made yourself busy by kissing down his exposed neck, leaving a trail of red and purple bruises in your wake. Jimin’s low moans were music to your ears. You wanted to elicit more of the beautiful sounds from the irresistible man who had become putty in your hands.

Urging him onto his back, you straddled his hips and ground your covered core down against his clothed erection for a little relief, causing Jimin to let out more delicious noises. You kissed down his chest, bringing his nipple piercing into your mouth and licking around the sensitive area before tugging it gently with your teeth, scraping the flesh just a bit in the process. Jimin’s hips bucked up into yours at the action.

Your fingers teasingly dipped below the elastic of his sweats, running back and forth along the edge while you worked your mouth against each nipple. Jimin’s hands found purchase on your hips, his nails digging in just a bit so he had something to ground himself while you teased him. Your hand slipped underneath his sweats, surprised to find he’d foregone boxers. Your fingers brushed against his rigid length, and he tensed, gripping your hips harder.

“Don’t tease,” he groaned, head lolling back as he tried to restrain himself.

You giggled, wrapping your hand around his length and slowly dragging it upwards, letting your thumb circle the tip. You used the precum that spilled out to lubricate your next journey down. Jimin groaned, finally losing patience and effortlessly flipped the two of you over until he was hovering above you. He smirked at the surprised expression on your face and began leaving pretty red marks all over your neck and the exposed portion of your chest.

He sat up momentarily, pinning you with a hungry gaze and fiddling with the hem of your shirt.

“Off,” he commanded.

You immediately complied, peeling the fabric off your body and tossing it away, revealing your lacy bralette. Jimin’s eyes roamed over your chest and he licked his lips before leaning down and letting his tongue draw a stripe over the thin fabric covering your nipple, already erect and sensitive. Soft whimpers escaped your lips. It felt good, but you needed more.

Jimin’s lips traveled farther down your body, leaving marks all over your skin. He licked and sucked and nibbled in places you never would’ve considered erogenous zones before, but honestly, maybe it was just because it was Jimin. His tongue danced along the hem of your shorts teasingly before he glanced up at you to make sure you were still okay. You nodded breathlessly.

Jimin peeled your shorts down to expose your black satin panties, and you wished you’d worn the lace ones but it could’ve been worse. He brought the little bow tie between his teeth, tugging and letting it snap back against your pelvis. You jumped a bit and Jimin chuckled, mumbling “so cute” under his breath before slipping your soaked panties down your legs and tossing them aside.

“Damn baby girl, you’re dripping,” he grinned triumphantly. “What got you all worked up like this?”

“Jimin,” you whined impatiently.

“That’s right baby, say my name,” he teased (although he wasn’t really joking), but didn’t waste much more time, lowering his face and licking a bold stripe along your folds to distract you while he snuck a finger closer to your entrance, letting your arousal aid him in entering you. His tongue drew some sort of lost language on your clit with expertise, and it was almost impossible for you to hold still with the amount of pleasure coursing through your veins.

Your hips bucked up and Jimin moved a hand to splay along your lower stomach, holding you down onto the bed while he devoured your pussy, slowly adding a second and third finger to stretch you out. It burned for a moment before you got used to it, Jimin’s fingers gliding along your walls and hitting your g-spot repeatedly. Even for your first time together, he knew your body like the back of his hand.

You could already feel the coil deep inside you threaten to snap at Jimin’s ministrations. You were a moaning mess, babbling his name like it was the only word you knew. His plump lips wrapped around your throbbing bundle and he sucked- hard. You groaned, back arching off the bed as your orgasm crashed over you, your vision going spotty. Now you knew why they said he could make you see stars.

Your body fell lax against the mattress as you panted, before pushing yourself up on your elbows to see Jimin’s face lift from your core. He met your eyes and seductively licked your juices off his lips, closing his eyes and savoring the taste of you. Your mouth went dry at how erotic he looked, and he climbed up your body, pressing his lips to yours and allowing you to taste yourself.

Your mouths worked against each other, and you wound your fingers in his hair, tugging gently on his soft locks, causing him to let out a low whine.

“Do that again,” he begged against your lips, his voice deeper and a little hoarse, but needy.

You wound your fingers in his hair, gripping it tighter and tugging again. Jimin let out a strangled moan, grinding his rock hard member against your core. Your body shivered at the feeling of his clothed shaft pressing up against where you needed him the most.

“Jimin, please,” you sighed, bucking your hips up to meet his.

“Okay baby. Oh fuck. Please tell me I still have a spare condom,” he suddenly groaned, reaching over for his wallet on your nightstand.

You watched him curiously, your eyes lingering on the curve of his plump ass under his sweats. You licked your lips, wanting to bite into the flesh. You’d save that for another time. Jimin let out a triumphant noise and held the condom in the air like a first place medal. You giggled at your boyfriend and rolled your eyes with a smile.

Jimin slid his sweats off in one smooth motion, kicking them away and onto the floor somewhere before ripping the condom open with his teeth and rolling it onto his length. Jimin paused, peering at you from his place above you, a small smile curling onto his plush lips, his eyes alight with adoration.

“I love you,” he whispered, intertwining his fingers with yours.

“I love you too,” you sighed happily.

“Are you ready?” he asked, squeezing your hand gently.

“Yes. I’m ready.”

Jimin leaned down, meeting your lips in a soft kiss, and slowly slid his rigid length into your honeyed entrance. You gasped into his mouth at the welcome intrusion, his cock stretching you in the most delicious way. Even with the prep from his fingers, his cock stretching your walls burned just slightly. Jimin deepened the kiss in an attempt to distract you from the discomfort, slowly inching more of his length inside until he bottomed out, his hips flush against yours.

Jimin fit inside you perfectly, his thick cock filling you up like he was made for you. He pulled back to look at your face, and you shot him a reassuring smile. He brought your joined hands up to his lips, placing them gently on the back of your wrist, and once you nodded your approval, he slid out until just the bulbous tip was left inside, before sliding back in, setting a slow, torturing pace.

This wasn’t your first rodeo, though you were nowhere near as experienced as Jimin, but no one had ever felt this good inside you. No one had ever felt this right. Jimin reached places inside you that no man had before and you were already falling apart at the movement of his hips. Jimin was definitely a dancer, able to move his body precisely and with precision, angling his hips to hit that soft spot inside you with every thrust.

“Fuck babygirl, you look so beautiful like this,” he groaned into your ear, his hot breath coming out in short puffs from the physical exertion.

“Ngh. Jimin,” you whined, “Please. More.”

“Can you handle it?” he wondered, experimentally dragging his cock a little faster along your walls, continually hitting that sweet spot inside you.

“Yes, yes please. Need you,” you whimpered, bucking your hips up to meet his.

Jimin’s brow furrowed in concentration and his hips picked up speed, his sole purpose in that moment to give you the most blinding pleasure you’d ever experienced. His punishing pace had you wailing out his name in ecstasy, clawing at his back in a desperate attempt to ground yourself to something, lest you float away into oblivion from the fire building deep in your core.

“Come on baby, you look so pretty when you cum for me. Let go,” Jimin urged, his free hand slipping between your bodies to rub at your clit.

“Fuck… Jimin!” you cried out, and his teeth sinking into the flesh of your neck was the last thing you needed to send you careening over the edge into bliss for the second time that night.

Your breath coming in heavy pants, you were surprised when Jimin showed no signs of slowing down. Your walls continued to clench around his length in the aftermath of your orgasm, and Jimin let our low growls at the feeling of your pussy swallowing up his cock with each thrust. You whimpered, slightly sensitive from your two previous orgasms, but Jimin pistoning himself inside you still felt heavenly.

Jimin shifted, pulling your leg up over his shoulder, the new position allowing him to reach even deeper inside your core, and your eyes nearly rolled back in your skull at the sensation of his cock kissing your cervix. You were a whimpering mess, your moans now garbled gibberish, not making any sense. All you knew in that moment was Jimin and how good he made you feel.

His lips wrapped around your nipple, sucking and nibbling on the sensitive flesh, and you shivered. His thrusts were getting erratic as he chased his own high, but Jimin was desperate to make you cum again first. He pinched and rolled your clit between his thumb and forefinger, abusing the bundle in the best way, sending you closer to your high once again.

“Fuck, Jimin- I-” you groaned.

“Come on baby, give me one more,” Jimin encouraged, using all his strength to hold back his own impending orgasm as he slammed inside of you.

Your whole body seemed to seize as you came for the third time, this one more intense than the others, making you almost dizzy with euphoria. Your throat burned with the force of your screams, quickly turning raw with use. Jimin didn’t last much longer, your cunt clenching around his length sending him over the edge. His hips stilled as he spilled ropes of hot cum into the condom. You could feel the heat from the thin plastic layer and wished that you could feel his seed shooting into you, dripping from your hole.

Jimin collapsed next to you, panting. His body was covered in a thin sheen of sweat, and he looked absolutely edible like this. His plump lips parted as heavy breaths escaped, he turned his head and his eyes met yours. You were both shaking from the intensity of your highs, and you let out a quiet giggle which made a smile bloom across Jimin’s lips. He let out a quiet chuckle.

“You’re so beautiful,” he cooed, turning his body back to face yours after tossing the used condom into the trash.

His arms wrapped around your torso, bringing your naked chests flush against each other as he peppered chaste kisses along your forehead, nose, and cheeks before catching your lips in a sweet kiss.

“I love you,” you whispered, clinging to his sweaty body like he was the only thing keeping you from floating away, and maybe he was.

“I love you more,” he grinned against the skin of your neck.

“Absolutely not. I love you more,” you pouted.

“Nuh uh,” he teased, fingers poking into your side, causing you to shriek and curl into him.

He laughed and kissed your forehead, relenting from his teasing and tickling. Your bodies spent, you drifted off to sleep together, safe in the comfort of each other’s arms.

-♡-

Months had flown by in the blink of an eye. Suddenly, it was May and you were graduating. They say time flies when you’re having fun, and they are right. Every moment spent with Jimin never seemed to last long enough. After the two of you started dating, Jimin had slowly begun opening up to other people. He learned to trust Hoseok and Taehyung, and your initial impression of them had been correct: they were people Jimin could count on.

Jimin did lose a few friends from the frat house when he stopped trying to play the part of the indifferent fuckboi, but he didn’t really count those people as losses. If they couldn’t accept the real him, they weren’t worth it. The two of you had branched out socially, and made new friends as well. Yoongi, the music major, who began working at the coffee shop you both frequented. He was stoic and unapproachable at first, but Jimin had commented on his band t shirt once and Yoongi’s eyes lit up like a Christmas tree, showing that he was actually super sweet and thoughtful once you got past his icy exterior.

Namjoon, the business major whom you’d met while browsing the shelves of your university library. You’d been having a hard time reaching the book you wanted, and Namjoon had assisted without you even asking for help, his much taller frame bringing the book down to your level. He’d told you he had read that book at least ten times and you would surely love it. The two of you hit it off and soon Jimin joined you, immediately connecting with Namjoon as well. He was smart, patient, and would make an amazing businessman, just from the way he could read people but never treated anyone any differently.

Seokjin, the culinary arts major who had gone around campus giving out free samples of his work, promoting his new youtube channel “Eat Jin.” One taste of his dasik and you were begging him for the recipe. Jin had lit up and began explaining exactly how to make it and invited you to an episode of Eat Jin.

Jungkook, who hadn’t quite figured out what he wanted to do yet, had met Jimin at the gym. He was boxing in the practice room that Jimin had reserved to dance. He hadn’t noticed he’d gone over his time, and when Jimin politely entered the room, complimenting his form, he’d flushed and shot him the most adorable bunny smile. Jungkook apologized for running over his time and Jimin brushed it off, but Jungkook insisted on buying him coffee as an apology.

Slowly but surely, your friendship group grew, each new friend weaving their way into your hearts and teaching you something new. They got along with each other as well, as it turned out. You’d thrown a surprise party for Jimin’s birthday and invited them along, Namjoon and Jin became inseparable almost immediately, and Hoseok and Yoongi as well. Taehyung and Jungkook became a dynamic duo, consistently stirring up trouble wherever they went.

Hoseok and Hana hadn’t broken up, after all. Hana had even contacted you to get coffee, apologizing for judging Jimin unfairly and trying to get in between the two of you. She’d joined your little group of friends, which slowly became more like a second family . Jimin flourished, surrounded by people who loved and cared for him exactly as he was.

He didn’t have to pretend to be anything but himself, didn’t have to please anyone, play any parts. His smile reached ear to ear and his eyes shone with love and light and so much life. Thinking back to the way they’d been dull and lifeless when you first met him brought you to tears as you watched him throw his head back in laughter and wrap his arms around Jungkook, who returned the gesture with similar glee.

Jimin no longer seemed broken. The dead weight resting in his chest had been lifted, and he was free. It didn’t happen overnight, and beginning his relationship with you certainly hadn’t been a magic fix, but it had been a catalyst. You taught Jimin that there were people in this world who genuinely could care for him without expecting anything in return. You showed him that there was still good, and he could trust people. Then, slowly, he’d met more and more people who only validated the lessons you’d taught him.

The more people Jimin met who didn’t use him, the more the ice around his heart began to chip away, giving him the strength and the courage to save himself from the darkness that had plagued his heart and mind for so long. And now, you were all graduating, moving on to pursue your dreams and aspirations. It was the last party of your college career, and you’d all gathered because Jimin had announced he’d had something to say to everyone. You gazed up proudly at your boyfriend.

“Thank you all for being here to celebrate the last night of college!” he cheered, earning hoots and hollers from your friends.

“I know we all promised to keep in touch, but I just wanted to make sure that you all know how much I appreciate you being in my life. I love every single one of you, and I couldn’t have asked for a more amazing group of people to surround myself with. You all have lifted me up, encouraged me, and given me the strength to keep fighting when times got tough. They say that sometimes when you’re in a dark place, that you think you’ve been buried. But really, you’ve been planted. You just need a little bit of love and patience before you bloom. So thank you for giving me what I needed to bloom. All of you. Especially you, Y/N. You were the first person who really believed in me, and if it weren’t for you, I never would’ve let in any of these guys. I love you, baby. And I love all of you,” he grinned, “So here’s a toast to all of you, may your future be bright and your beer be full!”

Cheers erupted around you and you cheered along, all of you knocking back a sip of your drink to Jimin’s toast. He hopped down and wrapped an arm around you, kissing your cheek as your friends congratulated him on his speech and shared how happy they were to have met you both as well. Your heart felt like it couldn’t possibly get any fuller than it was in that moment, surrounded by people you loved.

You and Jimin had both grown so much since that first night at the party, you’d fought, you’d cried, you’d laughed, and you’d gotten stronger. You were so proud of him and how far he had come, and you felt peace settle over you knowing the fact that he’d never have to be alone again, and neither would you. No matter what you found on the road ahead, you’d be okay.

You had each other.

1K notes · View notes

literaila · 4 years ago

Text

an epiphany we cannot

spencer x reader

request: hey there! would you by chance, be up to writing something where the reader is finishing grad school and working as a new agent for the bau? and spencer has to go check in on her because she hasn't been showing up to work/class because of depression, and he helps to clean her hair and tidy up the house with her before asking her what's up? sorry if that's a little weird, but i just want a fic where the reader isn't suddenly fixed. i feel like you're the perfect person to do that! 😅

warnings: symptoms of depression, lack of eating + sleeping + showering, maybe angst? its just terrible poetry really

a/n: the writing of this fic is intentionally chaotic. its meant to be put into the perspective of someone who hadnt slept in week(s). so, if it gets confusing, that was on purpose.

Sleep was an epiphany.

A strange thing that only came when it was pitch black outside, when the birds had all gone to bed and there were no clouds to be seen in the sky. A strange thing that only came from the deepest feelings in her chest that could not be described. Feeling that she didn’t dare try to mutter aloud.

How could she? Entirely alone- what would be the point? Why might she try to explain anything when she could simply...

Breathe in and out. Take in air, she liked to think that she really didn’t need, breathe in and out, and hope that her feeling would soon disintegrate into her body so that she could- for once -feel that strange sleep. So that for once, she could merely forget that she had that feeling at all.

It had been a hard week, a hard year, one too many too many hard seconds pounding down on her body, the time tick-tocking until she was too tired to breathe.

She couldn’t sleep. Really, not at all. Not even when she laid in bed for hours, cursing only in her head at the terrible sounds that filled her small apartment. Wondering how the world was acting when she was away. She never slept. Not after hours of thinking, of breathing in the same rhythm, her heart beating just the same as it had hours ago-

She hated it.

But, she promised herself, she would not leave this bed, would not leave her house until she could sleep. Until this dreadful feeling was gone so far away that she could no longer think of what it had been. Until her eyes were shut, her body was relaxed, and she no longer had to work to breathe. No more work.

Her thoughts were jumbled, her mind running on the air she was breathing and nothing else, her conscious mind having no sense of what was going on.

She was sure there was a smaller part of her screaming somewhere. Sure that this tiny little part of her was banging on the walls of her heart, pushing the ideas, the air, out of her body. She was sure that this part of her was in agony- or something far worse -because of the promise she had made to herself.

But she wouldn’t think of it, sleep was far too important.

An epiphany she could not have. One she thought she might dream of if she could.

She often wondered if other people were struggling just the same as her, if other people were far too surrounded by the whirl of thoughts, by the promises, by the exhaustion, to even think of sleep. If they too, also felt that sleep was an epiphany that would never come.

She supposed that there wasn’t anyone else, and if there was, she wished their eyes would finally flutter into a peacefulness that they longed for.

She wished it was herself she was thinking of.

She couldn’t remember the last time she’d done anything good, the last time she had done anything to improve the state of her mind- hysterical, mad, running itself into a place where air was not a thing that could be achieved -to improve the state of her house, which of course was filled to the very edge with things she didn’t recognize. Things that she’d used weeks ago when she could think sane thoughts.

She wasn’t doing anything, she wasn’t sleeping, was barely breathing, she tried not to move. She sat in her silence, in the hot air of her room. She wondered when she would fall so far into this bed so that she would no longer be there, when she could finally sink into the hole that seemed was her life, when she could disappear so she didn’t have to wonder about anything at all.

No one could tell when it had started, when she had laid down and promised herself. If you had asked her, she wouldn’t have answered, she would have laid in the same spot, her body a corpse that was somehow still breathing, and kept quiet until it was too late for questions.

It had been weeks, surely it had, and no one had seen her. No one knew where she was.

No one had seen her in this state, this terribly fragile, desperate state.

She thought that she might like to keep it that way. She didn’t like to listen to that tiny voice that wanted her to let someone in, to let them help. She didn’t like that tiny voice.

It kept getting in the way of the vows she had made to herself. Foolish, unknowing of what she truly needed.

Sleep.

But, even still, sleep didn’t come. Even when she announced it was the only thing she needed, the only thing she wanted. Even when she thought she was screaming out into the world, begging the universe to take some mercy on her and give her that gentle release. Even when she thought that she didn’t have a voice to beg with anymore.

Sleep had not yet come. And she could no longer count the days that had gone by.

She didn’t want to anyway.

Pounding though. There was definitely pounding.

She could definitely hear that.

Different from the one that she heard in her head, different from the banging she was familiar with. No, that banging was a dear old friend she wished to greet at her door.

This pounding in the air was something else, something on her walls.

She barely felt herself groan, could barely tell when she ran a hand over her eyes, trying to weigh them down with sheer force.

“Y/N?” the pounding called, too loud when she was trying to fall asleep. Too loud when she was sure that it was the middle of the night. A voice accompanied it, following too far into the hallway to her bedroom.

She was trying to sleep, she wanted the epiphany. Pounding could wait, it would. It would just have to wait for her. Wait until she could sleep.

But, when her body was tingling so far off the bed, and suddenly irritation was crawling its way up her spine, wrapping her in its fury, suddenly she could get out of bed. For once. For what felt like the first time in weeks.

A strange epiphany she did not think about.

Still, she barely recognized how to walk, barely knew that her feet were still attached to her legs anymore, but still, fury followed her as she stormed her way down the hall, as she latched herself onto the wall for support.

As she stopped the sudden pounding that was burning that fire in her throat.

And while she was aware there was a voice. A raspy tenor tone coming from the other side of the door. It was one she might have known weeks ago before her promise, but because she didn't recognize it she was surprised when she saw the man standing in her doorway.

But, strangely enough, he looked more surprised to see her.

His eyes were wide, shock displaying on all of his features. Clearly, he hadn't been expecting to see the devil of a person that Y/N was. He’d been expecting the girl she’d been before, brighter, alive.

Spencer stood there for only a moment, taking in the breath of air that was Y/N. It had been three weeks since any of them had seen her since she’d stopped returning their phone calls. Finally, that morning Spencer decided he had to stop over at her apartment before going home, and it wasn't like anyone had tried to stop him.

There was clearly something very wrong.

Y/N winced at the light creeping its way into her eyes, winced at the sky, and tried not to think about how tired she was.

She sighed and looked up at Spencer, who was still standing shocked on her doorstep.

“What’re you doing here Spencer?” Her voice was an unfamiliar scratch to the both of them. A fraction of the voice she used to have.

Spencer snapped out of his shock, bending down so he could get a more clear look at her face. It took him one more moment before he got the courage to clear his throat and say something.

“Where have you been? Why haven't you answered the phone?”

When there was a lack of answer in the air, Spencer invited himself into her apartment. He knew well enough she wasn't going to do it herself.

He pushed past her into her living room, too focused on what he saw to notice how she struggled to stay up on her feet, how her eyes couldn't focus and her world turned black for a couple of seconds before she could look at him again.

No, Spencer didn't notice that. He was too stuck on the appearance of her apartment.

There were cups everywhere, papers and textbooks scattered around the floor, clothes on almost every piece of furniture. It was clearly very well lived in, but Spencer couldn't see anyone. All he saw were some ghosts sitting in his coworker's house.

“What happened?” He asked too quietly for Y/N to hear from the other side of the room.

Her mind was locked in her bedroom, in the hole that was supposed to be enveloping her at the moment. Her mind was focused on the screaming in her head, telling her

No, you can't. You cannot have that you cannot. Her mind was a repeat of all the things she wasn't doing, all the things she wouldn't do, the promises she’d made, the words that she’d been telling herself for days.

No, you cannot go back to bed. You’ve been sleeping long enough.

And so, she couldn't hear Spencer. Not over this demand. Not over this insisting she was inflicting upon herself.

“Y/N?” Spencer asked, now in front of her, looking at her with concerned eyes that she didn't want. “When was the last time you slept?” He questioned, grabbing her arm to keep her from falling.

Huh. She hadn’t even noticed.

Her mind was a glass of water, tipping off the edge.

“I don't remember,” she murmured, her thoughts too overwhelming to count the days back. To think of the weeks she had lost. To think about how much she might have missed Spencer, how she could be enjoying his company right now.

Too overwhelming to think.

“Your complexion is sallow, you’re blinking at an unusually slow rate, and you can't stand up straight.” Spencer paused, looking over as if he had just heard her. “You can't remember?” his voice was almost too loud. Much too loud when she was right next to him.

Y/N squeezed her eyes shut, her head still pounding even though she had left him in, her mind still yelling even though she had kept her promise. Her body was tired, her mind was almost gone, and it was hard to even stay focused on Spencer.

“When was the last time you ate Y/N?” Spencer asked, his voice now demanding and worried.

She just shook her head, letting him know that she still didn't remember.

“Shower?” he asked slowly, keeping his eyes on hers.

She didn't express a thing, just made an effort to keep her eyes on his. So that he would know she wasn't ignoring him.

Spencer sighed, keeping his hand on her arm and gently leading her to the couch.

Y/N tried to not think about how she would’ve liked to take a nap. Would’ve liked to get some escape from this moment. Even if it was Spencer.

You see, there had been a flicker between them weeks ago. Before the promise. Before Y/N couldn't sleep, couldn't breathe. When she used to answer the phone, they used to spend time thinking about each other, denying the daydreaming they did. Spencer used to stare at her over the book he was holding, his eyes trapped by her. Y/N tried to pretend she didn't do the same.

There had been a flick between the two of them weeks ago, and even now, Y/N wanted to show him that he cared.

Even when she could barely keep her own heart beating.

Spencer stared at her for a while, making sure that she was still breathing even if he looked away. He observed her dull eyes, her lifeless body, and the weak composure of her face.

He couldn't deny that he missed her, that he’d been worried before he’d even seen her. But looking at her, he wished he didn't have to see this. Wished that she wasn't a pile of flesh before him, wished that they could go back to weeks ago when she had smiled at him.

He finally went into her kitchen to get her a glass of water.

He wasn't sure if she would be able to keep anything else down, and frankly, he was more worried about her lack of sleep. Of how exhausted she looked.

“Do you want to take a shower? Hot showers help relax the muscles and nerves so that your entire body feels more relaxed. It might help you sleep.”

At the mention of sleep Y/N’s eyes went wide.

Her mind was begging begging begging, telling her not to do it. That she couldn't, wasn't allowed to. She didn't know why she was trying to torture herself, why she was inflicting this stone-cold pain on her own mind, erasing herself from everything.

She didn't know why she couldn't get these thoughts under control even when she was with someone else.

Not allowed. Can't.

Sleep was an epiphany.

A feeling she didn't want to feel anymore. Wanted to get rid of, throw it into the sun. Burn it to ash until she forgot about it completely.

She finally nodded, words frozen in her throat, her eyes falling so quickly now. Sleep was an epiphany she had not had for so long.

She would have to force herself to stay up any longer.

She would just have to ignore the voice, let him help you. Spencer.

Spencer helped her into the shower, making sure that she was secure before leaving. He smiled a sweet smile before walking out of the room, giving her something to imagine as hot water pounded against her skin, a feeling that had become so unfamiliar to her in the weeks following her promise.

Spencer waited a couple of minutes after. He didn't want to make her uncomfortable, but he also didn't want her banging her head on the tile while he was gone.

After he was sure she was staying awake, he preoccupied himself with cleaning up her apartment. Even slightly, by throwing away the trash and gathering all of her clothes into the hamper he had found in her closet.

He could see the pain and the desperation on her face, could feel it in the air when she was just looking at him and not uttering a word. He had to help, in any way he could, just so that she wouldn't feel that any longer. So maybe she would smile before he left.

He was interrupted by his phone buzzing in his pocket.

JJ was texting him, checking on Y/N, and asking him what was going on. He’d almost forgotten that he’d told everyone else he was going to see her.

Spencer waited a few brief moments, listening for the sound of the shower before he called her back. He wasn't sure if Y/N would want to know that they were all worried about her.

Spencer wasn't even sure Y/N wanted him there at all.

“Spence, is she okay?” forgoing a hello, JJ asked. Spencer could hear breathing in the background, two other people talking. He figured that the rest of the team was all gathered around the phone, acting as if they had nothing else to do but ask him what was going on.

“She's alive,” Spencer said, laughing bitterly at how relieved he felt about that. “She's taking a shower right now, she said she didn't remember the last time she’d had one.”

“What?” confusion littered the tone, and Spencer wished he didn't have to explain, but he also knew that no one else was going to take silence as an answer.

“She hasn't been sleeping enough, she doesn't remember anything she's done in the past few weeks- and she doesn't seem to mind that. She almost fell over just standing up, and it took her five minutes to come to the door. She's the clinical definition of fatigue.” He told JJ, sighing as he picked up papers from across the floor, textbooks that he was sure Y/N hadn't even touched.

“Did she say anything about why?” Derek’s voice flooded through the phone, Spencer clearly now on speaker.

“She could barely pay attention the entire time, she was completely withdrawn from our conversation.”

Spencer paused, hearing the water from the other room shut off. He almost felt worse now, and it was a lucky excuse that Y/N was going to come out.

“She just got out of the shower, I have to go.” Spencer rushed out, ignoring the arguing pleas that came his way. “I’ll call you later.”

By the time he had hung up, Y/N was walking out of the bathroom, a robe wrapped around her shoulders, her body curling into itself as she walked over to him.

Her mind was still yelling and the world was still pounding on her back, chipping her into little pieces.

And she could still feel that feeling, the one she had tried to throw away.

But, at least she was clean.

“Good shower?” Spencer asked, watching her as observed the newly cleaned living room. She nodded as she looked around, her voice still lost with the rest of her mind. “Are you okay Y/N?” Spencer blurted out, his voice thinking faster than his mind.

He was worried, even after she had managed to take a shower and fall asleep. Even if she looked more alive, and a little bit less in pain. She was still silent, and she still hadn't slept any.

“Can I go to bed?” She whispered, ignoring his question similar to how she ignored the yelling in her head telling her she

Could not would not cannot

She took a breath in, so familiar with remembering how to breathe.

Inhale, exhale. Keep your heart beating.

Spencer stood in front of her, still observing. She was avoiding his eyes, his careful hands, his thoughts so that maybe she could get away from there. She appreciated his company, she really did. As always.

But, she really just wanted him to leave.

“I think you need to eat something first,” Spencer whispered back, waiting for her reaction, hoping that he would just let him do this one last thing before she threw him out.

Y/N was barely listening, but still, she nodded, her disagreement clouded by the weight of the world on her shoulders. The promise she still had to fulfill.

The thoughts of the person Spencer used to know too powerful to avoid.

Oh, how she was ashamed that she had turned into this person unable to take care of themselves. Oh, how she was ashamed that he was the one that had to see her like this.

She just wanted to sleep.

“Chicken broth is rich with vitamins and minerals, which are useful against common ailments like the common cold, the flu-” Spencer paused, shaking his head. “Nonetheless, you just have to drink a couple of cups.” He told her, leading her back to the couch so that she wouldn't fall asleep standing like he was worried she would.

He then left the room, clicking on her TV in an effort to keep her entertained while he heated some water.

But Y/N didn't pay attention. She was too lost in the memories of the last few weeks, that black hold that was her bed, the pounding that was her life, the breathing that she still couldn't get right no matter how many times she practiced. That feeling she just couldn't get rid of.

She had no idea how she had abandoned everything so easily, how she could have ignored the common sense that she surely had. She had no idea how she had made a promise and still not fulfilled it.

Stress was a powerful being. A friend that knocked onyour door, said they didn't want to be a burden. A friend that kicked down all your walls and set your hair on fire, simply because they could. Stress was a victim you didn't want to get rid of, a person you were supposed to be taking care of.

Stress, had never really been her friend.

It had only ever led her down the path of pain, of exhaustion, of

Cannot, will not, would not.

She wouldn't sleep. No, just like stress had said, sleep was an epiphany.

“Here you go,” Spencer said, handing her a cup. She blinked rapidly, not even aware that he had walked back into the room. She grabbed the mug from him, her hand a deadweight carrying on to nothing.

Spencer stared, he wasn't sure what else he could do. Y/N needed to get cleaned, she needed to eat, and she needed to sleep. And Spencer could only be responsible for two of those things. He couldn't control it all.

Y/N took a sip of the broth, the liquid was both comforting and uncomfortable. After all, she didn't remember the last time she had eaten anything.

“I studied for three days before I went to bed,” she finally whispered, her words making no sense to Spencer. But still, he would listen. “And then, I couldn't fall asleep. I can't remember how long I laid there, hoping that maybe I would finally close my eyes.”

She almost wanted to sob against him, almost wanted to fall asleep in his arms.

Almost almost almost.

Inhale, exhale.

“And then I made a mess, I was so angry, I just threw things around. I spent a day making a mess of everything, promising myself I wouldn't leave until I fell asleep. And then I went back to bed.” her voice was gravel against the air, her tears burning her skin as they fell.

Spencer listened, not saying a word.

“And then you showed up, right as I was sure it was time to fall in too deep.”

And then the silence weighed in the air between them. Y/N was finished, and Spencer could finally start to make sense of what was going on. He could finally understand how a friend could become the worst betrayal.

So, he moved a little closer, put his arm around her shoulder in a brief moment.

And, as she barely ate, he held her close, reminding her he was there.

Sleep was an epiphany, a strange thing that hung itself in the dark, wrapped itself in the sky at night when the world could barely breathe.

It was a thing that could be blocked by the littlest of obstacles, a thing that she

Could not, cannot, will not.

“Come on Y/N,” Spencer whispered, noticing her eyes falling a little bit harder than they had before. He grabbed the mug from her hands and set it down on her coffee table. Taking her hand for the last time that night, he led her to her room.

He helped her lay down, wrapped her in underneath the blankets. He held her shaking hand, rubbed her back until she was no longer quivering from the cold.

He whispered words to her in the silence of her bedroom, reminding her that even with stress, even with all the things that she couldn't get out of her brain, he was there. And he still felt the same, still knew who she was to him. He let her know that he wasn't going to leave her alone again.

wasn't going to walk away.

He whispered words to her until her breathing evened out, and her eyes were shut.

And then, he stayed up, making sure she was still breathing. Caring for her in the only way he knew how.

And sleep,

She could.

my masterlist here.

#spencer reid smut #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid imagines #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds rp #criminal minds headcanons #mgg #mgg x reader #mgg blurb #mgg fanfiction

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jamespotterthefirst · 4 years ago

Text

Prelude (Ethan x f!MC)

Book: Open Heart, Book 1 Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Lilac Allende) Word count: 1.5 K Premise: Three moments leading up to their fateful meeting.

Author’s Note: In which I try to explain why MC didn’t know what Ethan, her medical hero, looked like. Also, my (late) fic for the book 1 replay. Thank you @aestheticartsx for pre-reading!

Three.

Harper frowns down at the file in her hand, her sharp gaze burning into the collated papers as though coercing them to solve their dilemma once and for all. From the end of the table, Cyrus lets out an inpatient sigh.

“It's very simple, Harper,” he drones. Ethan's fists clench reflexively at his sides, urging to remind Cyrus that Harper is the chief now and warrants more respect than his insufferable tone is offering. “The last spot should go to the candidate from Harvard. We are the best hospital on the east coast, after all. It only makes sense.”

Harper looks unconvinced and still, her pensive expression remains fixed in the file.

“An ivy league degree does not a good doctor make,” Naveen adds sagely into the ensuing silence. His smile is placid enough but Ethan knows the older doctor well enough to hear the warning edge in his voice. Evidently, even Naveen disapproves of Cyrus's lack of respect for their new chief.

Cyrus scoffs.

“And if you need further proof of that, Doctor Cyrus,” Ethan begins dryly, eyes boring into him. “Then look no further than your side of the conference table.”

A few attendings—at least the ones who have become increasingly tired of Cyrus's boastful proclamations about his alma mater—laugh quietly at the jab. Cyrus splutters, his face an unpleasant shade of red as he glares daggers at Ethan.

“This candidate,” Harper says at last, unaware or uncaring of what she had just interrupted. Her two lone words are enough to command the room's attention at once, but her hazel eyes are on Ethan. “You're convinced she's the best fit for Edenbrook?”

Ethan meets her eye and pauses.

It's the first time they look at each other directly since he ended their relationship two weeks prior. Despite the brief time apart and an unshakeable resolve to be professional, his stomach sinks heavy, like a stone.

Harper looks as graceful and dignified as ever, keeping every emotion in check. Yet, as she holds his gaze, Ethan can see a small flicker or sadness and his stomach twists with guilt.

“I'm positive, Chief Emery,” Ethan responds. “This candidate exhibits the type of potential we look for at Edenbrook.”

The use of her new title seems to snap Harper out of a reverie.

“She graduated top of her class and ranked in the top percent among our chosen cohort of interns,” Ethan continues. “I've also looked into her research and it's among the most promising I've seen. I recommend her without reservations.”

With a single nod and a sense of finality, Harper closes the file.

“Then it's settled. We have our last intern.”

“You're joking, Harper,” Cyrus blurts out, incensed. “We're giving a coveted spot to the candidate from UCLA?”

He says the name of the school with so much derision, Ethan feels his ears flare up.

“That Doctor Ayala?” Cyrus continues.

“Doctor Allende,” Ethan corrects, jaw clenched.

“Don't we have enough charity cases in the cohort already? This is token—”

But the vitriol is quickly interrupted by several things happening at once: Ethan darting forward, fists ready; a startled, collective gasp from the other attendings; Naveen, quietly intercepting Ethan and halting his steps with a steady hand, a feat that is impressive for a man much older and shorter; and Harper, also on her feet, directing a disgusted look at Cyrus she doesn’t bother to disguise behind professionalism.

“I would think very carefully about finishing that sentence if I were you, Doctor Cyrus,” she says, her voice low but with the impact of a clashing gavel. “And I ask that you address me as Chief Emery moving forward.”

Two.

“If you end up marrying someone with a Boston accent,” Laurel is saying with a devilish grin. “I will never be able to keep a straight face when they talk. Pahk the cah in Hahvahd Yahd.”

Her older sister peers at Lilac over the flaps of an open cardboard box, the glint in her eye growing wickeder still. “Imagine what they’d sound like in bed. You're so fucking gawgeous, dawctaw—”

Before her sister can escalate that impression into disturbing territory, Lilac silences her with a well-aimed pillow. It succeeds in hitting Laurel straight in the face but also in turning her laughter into a cackle.

“Are you going to help me pack or not?” Lilac says sternly, though the effect is entirely ruined by the smile that manages to break through.

Laurel raises her hands in defeat and returns to packing Lilac's books neatly. They work in companionable silence for a few minutes with nothing but their favorite music blaring from the speakers of Lilac's phone.

“Is this the book?” her sister asks suddenly, turning a worn textbook in her hands and studying it closely. “The one written by your medical crush?”

For some inexplicable reason, Lilac feels her face flare with heat. “He's not my crush.”

“You just worship the ground he walks on,” her sister returns, flipping through Diagnostic Principles. “Though, you're right. In order to have a crush you'd need to know what he looks like.”

Laurel reaches the back cover, frowning. “Why wouldn't he add an author picture?”

Lilac says nothing, biting the inside of her cheek. She can't blame her sister for being curious and a bit disappointed at the lack of visual representation. After all, Lilac had felt crestfallen when all she found in the author's information section was the green and blue Edenbrook logo.

“Maybe he's a private man and doesn't like his picture out in the world? Maybe he wants aspiring doctors to focus on his research and not his looks?”

“So he's either really hot or really ugly,” Laurel returns, unmoved by Lilac's impassioned speech. “Have you ever tried looking him up online?”

Lilac had been tempted many times, but she was fiercely adamant about keeping her medical hero a mystery outside of his work. It already felt invasive enough to track down his undergrad research and every other minor paper he'd ever written. When it came to Ethan Ramsey, Lilac had searched every corner of scholarly journals and databases, absorbing every piece of his work with an adoration that was already embarrassing enough.

Plus, she would never admit it out loud, but she was also afraid that knowing what the brilliant doctor looked like would somehow ruin him for her. Or at least, alter the image of him she had constructed in her head for so many years. It felt right to continue seeing Dr. Ramsey as the brilliant force that pushed her into her dream career and not as a definitive set of features.

“It doesn't matter what he looks like. He's the best and I'm going there to learn from him, not to judge his appearance.”

“I'm Googling him,” Laurel announces, already typing furiously into her phone. After a few seconds, her phone returns results and her eyebrows shoot up, staying suspended for longer than normal.

“What?” Lilac asks despite herself.

“Wow.”

“Wow what?”

“Just… wow.” Laurel stares down at the screen with such awestruck amazement that Lilac feels a powerful wave of curiosity. “He’s shirtless in some of these.”

“What?” Lilac yelps, feeling her face flare up at once.

“Yeah, apparently you’re not his only fan. Tons of people have taken his picture.” Her sister seems to blink out of a trance, turning the screen toward Lilac. “Here, see for your—”

But Lilac turns her gaze away almost out of reflex.

“No!”

The word comes out far more impassioned than Lilac intended. Still, she resolutely turns her head. “That feels...invasive, somehow?”

“Come on—”

“I'm serious, Lau. I don't want to see. I'm already nervous enough about this whole thing without having to worry about this wow-worthy revelation. And besides, taking someone’s shirtless picture without their consent and posting it online is already bad enough. It feels wrong supporting that.”

Laurel rolls her eyes.

“I'm going to see him in less than a week anyway. With clothes. In a professional setting. As I should. If I waited all these years, I can wait that long.”

A knowing, devious sort of smile pulls at her sister's face. She mumbles something over the music and Lilac can swear it sounds oddly like: “...worth the wait.”

One.

Ethan should have taken the broken and sputtering coffee machine in his apartment as an omen. His morning definitely declined from then on, starting with gridlock traffic and ending with an infuriatingly long line at his favorite coffee place.

The ultimate lack of coffee is probably his fault because Ethan had spent too much time deliberating whether or not he wanted to go with store bought coffee on what promised to be a grueling day. When he had finally made up his mind, however, the line was already out the door.

Irritated and caffeine deprived, he drives back to Edenbrook.

“You're earlier than we agreed,” Naveen says as soon as Ethan accepts his incoming call. “What was the point of rearranging the whole schedule if you were going to come in when you pleased anyway?”

“I'm not even through the gates yet. What are you spying on me?”

“No need. You forget how predictable you are.”

Naveen chuckles as he says this which eases some of Ethan's irritation. The older doctor had purposely scheduled him later in the day to give him some peace on the first day of the new intern cohort.

Naturally, Ethan arrived several hours early, as per his custom.

“Or maybe you know me too well by now.”

Naveen's benevolent laughter turns into a dry but lingering cough on the other end of the line. Instantly, Ethan's insides freeze over, his stomach sinking unpleasantly.

He opens his mouth to question his mentor about this persisting symptom, when sheer reflex prompts him to stomp on the breaks so suddenly, his body jerks forward then slams against his seat.

“Shit.”

Something—or rather someone— had crossed the parking lot road right in front of his car, standing mere inches away from his front bumper.

“Ethan?” Naveen asks through the speaker.

When Ethan recovers and regains movement of his arms and legs, he feels the spike of adrenaline give way to pure annoyance.

The offending pedestrian is a young brunette clad in blue scrubs, a medical intern by the looks of it. She stands there in the middle of the road, her mouth hanging open in a way that would have been comical to Ethan if he wasn't so irritated.

They stare at one another, though Ethan is convinced she can't see much through the tinted glass.

Then, right before his eyes, she seems to recover from the shock. Drawing herself to her full height, she glares at Ethan. At least, he thinks she's glaring through the dark lenses of her sunglasses.

Ethan almost scoffs.

She has the audacity to be angry when she was the one who made the rookie mistake of aimlessly crossing in front of him?

Who the hell does she think she is?

“Asshole,” she mutters, the word quite audible through his windows.

Before a stunned Ethan can respond, she turns on her heel and rushes toward the hospital, a curtain of dark hair dancing behind her.

“What was that?” Naveen asks, still on the call.

“I hate interns,” Ethan responds much to the older doctor's amusement.

Bonus:

Author’s Note: In other words, my MC was late to her orientation because of Ethan and that’s how she met him in the waiting room lol. Thank you so much for reading!

*Tagging Separately

#open heart #ethan ramsey #ethan x mc #Ethan ramsey x mc #ethan ramsey fanfiction #choices fanfiction #open heart fanfiction #Oph book club #playchoices #My writing

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whatifxwereyou · 3 years ago

Text

The Oncoming Storm Part 25: Home

Liu Kang x Reader and Kung Lao x Reader (gonna do both, two paths!)

Oh no. That's all I have to say. Also, Chen is a delight.

A/N: This chapter was so long that I actually cut it in half to post it over two separate days instead. It was 12 pages and I figured that was a bit much. Though, 8-12 is what I average when I'm writing fiction for publishing so... haha <3 love you guys! hope you are all doing wonderful!! Also please, please make dick jokes in the comments. PLEASE lol.

Part 24 Part 26 Chapter Index

It was a struggle to open your eyes even if you were awake. You had rolled onto your side and were facing the window. You could see the light of the morning peeking in from along the seams of the dark curtains of the hotel room. Somewhere throughout the night, you’d readjusted and now you were the little spoon. You could feel his soft, even breath on your shoulder, warm and comforting. His arm was tucked beneath you, the other wrapped tightly over yours that rested over your chest.

You didn’t want to get up, so you closed your eyes again and sunk into his arms, clearly not thinking. Your back was pressed against his chest, your hips pressed square against his too. He tightened his arm around you, and nuzzled into the side of your neck, a hot sigh tickling your sensitive bruised flesh. More importantly, you could feel him pressed right against your backside in all his glory. There he was. Liu Kang. You snapped your eyes open and were as stiff, well, as he was, afraid that you would make it worse if you moved even if you were incredibly curious.

Just what kind of good dreams was he having?

Then you had to try not to laugh. You carefully turned to bury your face in the pillows, and it was so hot that you swore you might be burning alive. Liu Kang and his inherent warmth against every single part of your body was killing you.

You were going to suffocate. Or catch fire.

Deep breaths. Breathe through his hand gently clutching yours. You could do this.

Okay.

No big deal.

Liu Kang was wrapped around you, pressed against you, and you were trapped in his arms and trying desperately to think about anything other than that. The impure thoughts were rampant.

Chen would have been screaming your victory throughout the temple. She also would have told you to just go for it. Make that complicated ride that much more complicated. Poor choice of words, brain. Chen had gotten into your head. And all the tension you’d built up with Kung Lao and Liu Kang had no release to speak of.

“Liu?” You decided the best thing to do would be to wake him up. Sneaking out of his arms would have made things both awkward and worse.

He stirred at the sound of your voice and pulled you tighter. It took everything inside of you not make a sound of surprised delight at the impressive mental picture he had very clearly painted. Oh, god there were so many jokes popping into your head. Sarcastic defense mechanism, go away! You had to keep it together. No laughing. No moaning. No jokes.

Your face had never been redder. He was waking up. Thank god. His lips brushed against your shoulder, and he nuzzled right against the side of your neck, nose pressing just behind your ear. This was hard. Ah, damnit brain. No jokes! With a soft moan just against your neck, he shifted.

Then, very suddenly, Liu pulled his arm out from beneath you, let you go and rolled onto his back, knees bent so that the blankets didn’t reveal any secrets. Yeah, the secret had more than been revealed already. You appreciated his modesty anyway. You carefully scooted onto your back, careful not to brush against him in any way and fanned your face. There was no talking down the redness in your cheeks, no hiding what had happened.

“Sorry,” he managed, his voice still gruff and sleepy. He stared at the ceiling and seemed to be coaching himself through his own deep breaths. You sat up and adjusted your shirt that had become unbelievably crooked. Some of the buttons had even come undone. Jeez, you’d certainly been busy while you’d slept. “You… sleep alright?” He pinched the bridge of his nose and the fact that he was trying to have a totally normal conversation like that hadn’t happened was hilarious.

No laughing.

“Yeah, it took a while to get to sleep but I basically blacked out when I did. Feels like I could sleep for another year though.” You somehow managed to act normal. As normal as you could with your face as red as it was and your eyes as wide as they were. You could barely have a conversation about where you were relationship-wise, so you were pretty sure that you weren’t ready to discuss his morning wood.

You needed Chen in that moment. You needed Chen to help you uncomplicate this yarn ball of chaos in your head. Then again, Chen would have just told you to go for it. To reach around and give it a go. You had to close your eyes and try not to laugh again. “What about you?”

You didn’t laugh. Kudos to you.

“Tired this morning.” It was the first time that you had ever seen Liu Kang looking like he could have slept longer than you did. In fact, he was a little pale. Not terribly so, but then again, all the blood in his body was busy somewhere else. It took every ounce of your strength not to ask him if he was okay. He would tell you if he wasn’t. “I need a shower. Will you be okay alone?”

“Yeah. Go ahead.” You purposely turned toward your own bed to offer him modesty, but you might never be your normal color again. Red forever. You waited for the sound of the bathroom door closing before you flopped back on his bed and stared at the ceiling. You’d changed your mind. “I can never ever tell Chen this happened.” The teasing would have gone on forever.

While he was in the shower, you changed into some of your new clothes and then cleaned yourself up. In the mirror your cheeks were finally turning back to a normal rosy color. You checked on the jade to make sure that nothing had changed during the night, and then you packed up, opened the curtains to the hotel room, and straightened up while you waited for Liu, doing anything in your power to stop your renegade thoughts.

“Do you need to stop anywhere before we go back to the temple?” Liu joined you moments after you were dressed, clothed in his familiar black and white gi, and back to his old self. Still a little pale though.

“Hmm?” You had just finished tucking the jade into your bag.

“You didn’t really get the chance to pack up your things to stay with us. I figured you might need to do some shopping.”

He was so damn thoughtful. “I actually went shopping before I met with you yesterday morning.” You patted the bag. “So, I’m okay. Thank you for offering though. I really did need a few things, especially since I keep destroying everything I wear with ink.” You patted his shoulder as you walked past him to sneak into the bathroom now that he was finished. You had to make yourself presentable and enjoy these modern amenities one last time before you returned to the temple.

Afterward, you stopped at a food stall on the road and grabbed breakfast. Then you hiked up the mountain just far enough so that Liu could summon Raiden to bring you back. You still weren’t quite sure how they did that. Was it a prayer? It looked like a prayer. He was a God, after all. Liu had used a flourish of fire, but Kung Lao had just closed his eyes and then boom. Lightning.

You were back in the temple in a flash. You pulled the bundle of jade out of your bag and offered it to Raiden while Liu Kang updated him on what you’d gone through. It felt weird to be back but not in a bad way, necessarily. This was your home now, you guessed. You hadn’t really talked about it. Everything had happened naturally and without question.

Raiden peered into the shirt and then allowed the jade to fall onto a second pedestal that had been placed a few feet away from the first one which was currently encased in glass. “Good.” Raiden seemed impressed, and you beamed. He really did have a fatherly presence about him. “I need time to examine these artifacts and attempt to unravel their purpose. The wickedness and power that has been infused within them continues to elude me.” You had expected him to need time, but you had also expected him to be able to figure it out. Again. He was a god. These things took time, you figured but you also had no idea how to process what you were up against. It was still way above your head. “From what I’ve devised from the dotaku, it was used in a dark ritual. It is tainted beyond my sight with dark energy. You two will check into the infirmary on and off for the next few days. Kung Lao has come down with a terrible fever since his return. I suspect it’s the curse on these objects causing it.”

Liu gave you an accusatory look as if to ask if you were hiding something from him. You shrugged and shook your head to his silent request. “I’m bruised all over but other than that? I feel fine. And that bell was all over me. We were much more careful about the jade. Trust me, if I had a high fever then you would know it. I’m a big baby about fevers.”

“Even if it turns out that you are immune to the impact of these objects, I would like you both to make certain that you keep a watchful eye on your health and report all symptoms to those in the infirmary.”

“Yes, of course Lord Raiden.” Liu Kang bowed respectfully before him.

“When I’ve uncovered anything of note then I will call upon you.” Raiden spoke more to you than to Liu and you bowed your head as you had learned to do. You were grateful to him for trying to help you at all. Raiden very well could have just let you die and had someone else take the mark from you. This was still beyond your understanding. Gods, curses, magic. You’d jumped into it all headfirst and had embraced the chaos, but there were moments where your logic-brain said ‘excuse me’ and you had to sort out the nonsense there.

You were trying your best, but it always came back to thought that you were very likely going to die because of this. Raiden turned away from you, dismissing you without a word. Liu nodded toward the doorway and you walked with him, dragging your bag behind you. Being out in the world for a few days had been nice. You weren’t sure how long it would take to acclimate to life in Raiden’s Temple. Right now, you were just hoping that you’d have the time to figure that out.

You made your way into the infirmary and Chen practically ran to you and gave you a hug. You were a little surprised by it but returned the affection. “Welcome back!” Chen smiled brightly and then bowed to Liu Kang respectfully. “Raiden has orders for us to keep an eye on the two of you. Please take a seat.” Chen led you to one of the empty benches, so you sat down there together.

Chen examined Liu first, taking his vitals and writing them down in a notebook she had nearby. You sat awkwardly, tapping your forefinger against your knee. Chen sat back up after she was done and then rested her hands on her knees.

“You have a fever, Liu Kang.” She tapped the paper and he blinked in surprise.

“I feel fine.” He insisted, looking to you as if he had to justify it after all his accusatory glances. He’d worried about you so much that he seemed to think that the tables were about to be turned.

“Just over 100. But if Kung Lao is anything to judge by then this isn’t the worst of it yet. I recommend rest and fluids.” Chen then frowned and narrowed her eyes. “Not that I can force you to rest, of course. I suggested the same to Kung Lao and he said, and I quote ‘I will take it into consideration’ except that his fever was spiking up to 104.”

“That sounds right.” Liu sighed but you felt suddenly on high alert. That was one hell of a fever! You’d have to check in on him. “I’ll rest and if I feel worse then I’ll check back in. If not, then I will be here in the morning just in case.”

“Thank you.” Chen slumped her shoulders as if this were a relief in comparison to having dealt with Kung Lao.

“Y/N?” Chen looked to you disapprovingly as if you were about to be just as stubborn.

“I feel fine! Why doesn’t anyone believe me?”

“You often say that you’re feeling fine when you are not, in fact, fine,” Liu whispered, and Chen snorted with laughter while taking your vitals.

“Well, I am legitimately fine right now. Honestly! And I don’t mean to lie about that stuff. The last few weeks have been weird so my definition of fine has kind of changed.” You pouted. You hadn’t meant to give anyone a false sense of how you’d been feeling but fine one day had meant that you could use your arms again and fine another meant that you’d had a vision but were still functioning. Chen glared at you, trying to discern if you were hiding something. Then she made a little note in her book. You craned your neck to try and read it and so did Liu. You gave him a look to silently scold him, and he returned it. You tightened your lips not to laugh but couldn’t hide your grin.

“She’s not lying. No fever. In fact, your temperature is even a little low. This is the most normal checkup you’ve had since you’ve been here, Y/N. I want you to come in for bloodwork later but for now… you’re okay.” Chen still seemed suspicious and Liu did too.

“Wow, you just can’t believe I’m the finest in the land right now.” You teased and Liu laughed and then shook his head as if embarrassed that he’d laughed at it. It had been a terrible joke, to be fair.

“Thank you.” Liu stood and bowed politely to Chen. You joined him and waved at Chen.

“Y/N? Could I talk to you for a second?” Chen called you back just as you’d made it outside the infirmary and back to your bag.

“I’ll be two seconds.” You told Liu who leaned against the wall of the doorway. Now that you knew he had a fever, his pale face made sense. Your hurried over to Chen. “What’s up?”

“So…?” Chen nodded toward Liu Kang and then gestured to you. You stared in disbelief.

“Are you kidding me? Right now?”

“Umm, yeah right now.”

“It’s complicated.” You rubbed your temples in annoyance. “And I obviously don’t have time to talk about it right now.”

“Oh, thank god that it’s finally complicated!”

“It has always been complicated, Chen. Get your mind out of the gutter.”

“I can’t. But this is disappointing news.” Chen sighed in obvious frustration. Why was she frustrated? You were the one surrounded by a sea of hormones all damn day! “Come chat with me when you get the chance. I want to know how it went and also what complicated means.”

“Can I please go now, Chen? Please? He’s just standing behind me waiting for me while you gossip.”

“Yeah, he is, isn’t he? He hasn’t taken his eyes off you once by the way.” Chen sighed dreamily but her expression quickly shifted. “On a more serious note… I’m worried that you aren’t having symptoms the way that they are. I have a bad feeling again. Keep checking in with me, okay?”

“You are a surprise every time I talk to you.” You gently grasped Chen’s shoulder. “I’m going now.”

“You better find me later!”

“You’re a terrible monk,” You whispered and then pointed at another monk who had been very obviously listening in, silently nodding your head as if to add in that he, too, was a terrible monk.

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sapphic-yearning-lesbian · 3 years ago

Link

A Modern AU

Namaari is randomly assigned a night shift in the ER where she meets a patient named Raya, who appears to be suffering from broken ribs. However, the shift takes a turn when Raya flatlines, and Namaari pushes herself to save the girl whose smile is engraved in her head.

Word Count: 2199

Warning’s: Major character injury, and a temporary death

Raya and Sisu are being walked into a patient room by an ER nurse called Atitaya.

Sisu loudly states, “Stupid! All these injuries were caused by stupidness!”

Raya glared at her as she held her sternum; she felt a lot of tenderness and trouble breathing. She couldn’t see, but she was sure that her rib cage would be bruised if she lifted her shirt. It’s just a few broken ribs, she thought before answering, “Tong was looking at me funny!”

“He smiled at you…because you tripped,” Sisu replied, rubbing her face with her hands as they entered the patient room.

Once entering the room, Raya quickly jumps onto the patient’s bed, resulting in her groaning in pain. “The details on how the fight broke out don’t matter. I WON: I broke one of his front teeth, his nose, and made it nearly impossible for him to have children again”. She answered as she licked the inside of her left cheek, tasting iron. She must have bitten the inside of her lip when she received a punch to her face.

Both Raya and Sisu noticed the nurse was now nervous. Then again: Who could blame her after what she just heard. But no matter how scared Atitaya was internally, she still placed a pulse oximeter on Raya’s left index finger and a blood pressure cuff on her right arm. Before taking an oral temperature.

“Remember, I work here, Raya! Please don’t scare my coworkers,” Sisu pledges as she looks at Atitaya smiling before sitting down. “Tong should also be a patient of yours tonight. I know this sounds crazy, but we’re all great friends.”

Suddenly Tong’s voice is echoing through the ER hallways. “ARE YOU OKAY, RAYA” Atitaya jumps as she finishes taking Raya’s temperature.

“I’M ALRIGHT! SORRY TONG, I HOPE YOUR MANLY HOOD WASN’T LOST,” Raya screams back, smiling, as his laughter is filling the hallway once again. She turns to look at Sisu, who is practically crying in the chair from embarrassment.

“Ms. Hart. I’m going to have to ask you to not scream,” The nurse says in a calm voice, trying not to smile.

Raya begins to nod in agreement before she starts clenching at her chest before gasping for air. The pain is excruciating. Yet, she is still hopeful it’s just broken ribs, and they haven’t punctured her lung; because that would hurt way more...right?

Atitaya was about to excuse herself from the room to locate Namaari, the nurse practitioner who can order an X-ray and medicine. Yet as she unbadged herself from the computer, she hears three knocks on the door. A tale sign that Namaari was about to enter the room. The three knocks are a secret signal she uses with all her nurses to know of her presence.

“Hello. My name is Namaari; I’m the nurse practitioner this night shift. I heard the screaming and your very muffled voice. Could I take a look at your injury?”

Raya’s head jerks in the direction of the knocks spotting the new nurse, Namaari. She smiles widely. The new nurse is wearing a white coat over grey scrubs. Her scrubs were tightly fitted, showing that under, she had a muscular figure. Her skin was golden brown, with piercing brown eyes. She also had a very attractive undercut screaming, ‘Sapphic.’

Raya also notices a tattoo cuff on her left ear, probably because it’s a safety hazard to wear jewelry in hospitals: They can easily be pulled by angry or upset patients--She lightly bites on her bottom lip before answering, “Are you sure my voice was muffled? Maybe you were just attracted to my voice and needed a reason to come in here,” She felt pretty winded after that finishing her sentence, but she was still able to lift her left eyebrow.

And yes, Raya was dam aware she shouldn’t be hitting on the hospital staff, but come one. She’s hot.

“RAYA” Sisu screamed from the corner of the room.

Namaari stood at the door frame with a gentle smile on her lips.

Raya assumed the flirting attempt went over Namaari’s head. She couldn’t bear to think the gorgeous nurse was choosing to ignore her. “I would have gotten myself injured sooner if I knew this godly woman would show up to rescue me,” Raya struggles to say as she winks.

Seconds later, Raya’s body was overwashed with a painful sting “ah fuck” she states as she curls into herself, gripping at her right ribcage.

Namaari was used to patients flirting with her; It comes with the job. However, It’s usually easy for her to ignore flirtations. Yet Namaari wasn’t blind; this patient was gorgeous even in her physical state.

Raya was beaten, a purple bruise appearing on her left cheek, her clothes dirty from the struggle of her disagreement.

Namaari cannot deny how Raya’s smile made her feel some weird sensation in the pit of her stomach: People call that feeling butterflies.

This patient was trouble, but that somehow excited Namaari.

Suddenly Namaari remembered the other voice in the room and turned to see Sisu, jumping from her seat running over to Raya. She didn’t necessarily consider Sisu, a friend. Still, she often saw her in the ER because she is part of the psychiatry department. Sisu would often come and evaluate patients for hospitalization. “Quite ironic, how a trauma nurse is in the ER for a trauma injury,” Sisu hummed as she ran her hands through Raya’s hair.

Namaari forced herself out of her thoughts and walked over to Raya. Looking up at the vital machine monitor. Her pulse was high, resting in the 110s, and her blood pressure was also abnormal. “Call for an X-ray and tell them I okayed it.” She finally says, looking straight at Antitya, who nods and exits the room.

Namaari walks over to the computer in the room, quickly badging in and ordering her some narcotics to give Raya once the broken or fractured ribs are conformed by the X-ray.

Sisu is just smiling at Namaari from afar as she consoles Raya, who is cussing in pain with each of her breathe’s.

“Can you please lay back on the bed so I can look at your injury” Raya hears the attractive nurse say. She hums as Sisu lets go of her stepping back, her place now replaced by Namaari smiling gently at her. Raya tried to shift her position to lay herself on the bed, but it hurt so much to do it.

Raya felt as she was being punched in the lungs if she moved even an ounce. To distract herself from her pain, she watched as Namaari, who looked over at the vital machine, and for a moment, panic showed on her face. Nevertheless, Namaari’s eyes meet hers again as she smiled, trying to comfort her, which she did.

However, seconds later, Raya felt her brain becoming fuzzy with the pain radiating all over her body, her breathing very labored as she gasped for air. Raya knew she was about to pass out, but she never felt safer. She knew she was in Namaari’s hands, and something deep down within her knew she would be okay.

Namaari watched as Raya’s pulse shot up to 140, while her Oxygen dropped to 87. This wasn’t just a case of broken ribs anymore.

Namaari quickly walked towards the wall and pulled on a red switch, the rapid code. Its unique alarm went off, and she knew that the call light was flashing red outside. Both these tools allow for the other medical staff to be informed the patient in that room is deteriorating, and further assistance is needed.

Raya’s vision was becoming blurred with speckles of black as she was consumed by her agony. All she wanted to do was scream or even cry, but the pain was so immense that her body forced her to stay silent. Raya felt like a prisoner in her body, unable to communicate what she was experiencing.

Soon enough, Raya was overwashed with a need to close her eyes; it’s like her body was promising her that if she went to sleep, the pain would stop. She wanted to give in to this promise, but she fought it for now.

Raya couldn’t move, but she felt as the nurse slowly guided her down onto the bed as Sisu cried in the background. The rapid alarm echoed throughout the room, and she couldn’t help but laugh in her mind as this time it was pulled for her. Most times, Raya was running the rapid codes saving people’s lives, yet right now, her life rested in that beautiful nurse’s hands.

Those were Raya’s last thoughts as her mind went blank, properly passing out.

Once Namaari guided Raya to lay on her back, she quickly placed an oxygen mask on her as the room was suddenly swimming with more staff members. Everyone trying to help in some way, taking blood pressures, starting an IV, calling for a portable X-ray machine, and calling for an OR in case of emergency surgery: as it seemed, Raya did have a punctured lung caused by her broken ribs.

Suddenly Atitaya was next to Namaari. “I told Sisu to wait in the waiting room; she didn’t want to go, but I showed her out” OHH, yea Raya’s girlfriend, Maari thought.

Apparently, Sisu was screaming in the background, which she completely blocked from her head. Namaari’s excuse being that she was trying to save Raya’s life. “I should have known she was high on adrenaline, and It was muting her pain symptoms--” Atitaya whispered to Namaari.

Namaari knew her nurse was blaming herself for something she didn’t think about either. She let the girl’s beautiful coffee eyes distract her. And now she’s watching her vitals plummet.

Suddenly a women’s voice screamed, “She decompensating. She’s about to flatline someone start compressions NOW.” Namaari didn’t look up to check who ordered that; she assumed the order was from a resident. Namaari quickly crouched and pressed on the CPR lever under the bed that laid the bed completely flat. She quickly placed her left hand over her right interlocking her fingers after standing up before placing her hands on Raya’s sternum. She began compressions, two inches deep each time. Simultaneously, Atitaya was bagging Raya so she could breathe for her.

After the first round of 30 compressions; The resident speaks again, “Turn her onto her side Namaari” Namaari did as she was told, recognizing the voice to belong to Amba. Anyways, another staff member slipped a flat board under Raya’s back. Once it was in place, Namaari quickly laid her back down and continued compressions. Soon a tiny monitor was placed below Namaari’s hands, which actually told her if her compressions were deep enough.

After about 3 minutes of constant compressions, Namaari’s compressions weren’t deep enough. “Switch,” She states as Atitaya takes over compressions and Namaari begins to bag Raya.

Only once Namaari stopped compressions did she notice the room was full of various staff members; the rapid code was now a code blue, a whole different sound echoing through the room.

It’s crazy, but you don’t hear these changes during an emergency. You only listen to what’s essential to saving the patient’s life.

As Atitaya performed more compressions, the sound of one of Raya’s ribs breaking under her force was heard. Atitaya flinched, realizing she caused her recovery to be longer if she survives. But that sometimes happens; you hurt the person you’re trying to save. Most people don’t mind a broken rib if it means you saved their life.

Namaari was snapped back into the present when she heard “charge to 100” before “CLEAR.” That’s all it took. Raya’s pulse came back. Namaari felt so relieved: She’s always happy to save someone’s life, but today, right now, she’s overjoyed.

Nevertheless, Namaari doesn’t understand how two sentences from this patient had her heart throbbing within her chest.

She doesn’t know how or why the relief she’s currently experiencing is so overpowering.

With all these inner thoughts, Namaari still smiles as now she has the chance to get to know Raya. UGHHH, no, you cannot get to know her! She’s dating Sisu...

Stop overthinking Namaari. SNAP OUT OF IT!

“Thank’s, Namaari. We’ll take it from here,” Amba, the surgical resident, says; As a portable x-ray machine is brought into the room to scan Raya.

Once a resident or doctor from a different unit takes over, Raya is no longer her patient, and she needs to let her go and help another patient. Even so, she left the room and waited outside it to listen in. “She’s punctured her left lung; we need to rush her into emergency surgery, page Pengu. He’s the best cardiothoracic surgeon!”

Namaari exhaled as she watched nurses and doctors from the surgical unit transport, Raya, off the emergency unit to the operating room.

Namaari had gotten Raya’s heart to pump again, but the surgery will decide whether she lives or dies. Knowing this, she rested her head on the wall regaining her posture, putting a smile on her face as she heard her name being called from another patient’s room.

Let me know if you want me to continue it! :)

#namaari #disney raya #Disney Namaari #raya x namaari #Namaari x Raya #rayaari #raya namaari #RatLD Raya #raya and the last dragon #ratld #ratld namaari #ratld incorrect quotes #raya of heart #namaari of fang #rayamaari #sisu

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strikethematch18 · 4 years ago

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Dadzawa x F! Reader - Over Worked & Tired Part 1

It was now reaching the hour of at least 3 in the morning in Japan and you still hadn’t finished your paper proposal that you have been working on for hours on end. It certainly didn’t help that it was weeks overdue with only a few days until the end of the semester for your college courses back in America.

You’re an American based student attending U.A. High, but also completing your bachelor’s degree at a college back in the states. Highly intelligent, as you were a member of Class 3-A and still in high school but only have one more semester until you finish your B.A. in English, about the same time you would graduate high school. Unfortunately, the time difference between the US and Japan has screwed with you reaching deadlines and a symptom of overusing your quirk is a lack of focus, something that you didn’t even tell your homeroom teacher, Mr. Aizawa. You were determined this was something you could do on your own.

Lately, you’ve been feeling like you have something to prove, almost like you’re somehow less than your peers as if your quirk wasn’t as useful or not powerful enough. As if your instant ability to feel empathy and affect emotions as well as being trained in formal combat in a similar fashion to Aizawa and his scarf. In fact, he was the one who worked with you and trained you with it.

None the less you still felt like you were on your own with this and felt like you had to overdo yourself in training exercising. Quite frankly, you were on the serious verge of burn out, you wanted nothing more than to just curl up in your bed and watch a little TV after a nice hot shower. But non the less you had to push those desires aside to finish your college semester out strong.

You take another drink of your contraband energy drink, as a student at esteemed high school U.A. things like those were highly frowned upon as they were enhancing your energy to perform due to their abnormal amount of caffeine. Right now, you didn’t give a damn, you were going to be up all night and had early morning training with Aizawa and you are exhausted either way. Just trying to pull these long nights to finish on time. The dark circles were aware to you and your sluggish movements during the day meant a lot more effort on your quirk.

The door to your dorm room was still open allowing light from the outside room to shine into your room as well as your small little desk lamp providing you with a little bit of light for you to write and research on your laptop. You had a light but warm blanket wrapped around you as you were cold and it was around you very similarly to Aizawa’s sleeping bag come to think about it. You were generally cold a greater portion of the time but this felt a little different than normal, you were starting to become congested, never a good sign.

You sighed as you dropped your pencil on your papers and took your hands and rubbed your face and sat there for a moment just resting them there. You could hear footsteps down the hall and took it as someone getting up to go to the kitchens for something, it was an often occurrence. It did slip your mind that teachers would take shifts to do monitoring at different times in the night just taking a stroll down the hallways making sure everything was alright. Honestly, most teachers just slacked on it most of the time so it wasn’t a regular thing. It didn’t really dawn on you that the footsteps were getting closer to your room and the kitchen was the opposite direction.

Usually, hallway patrols took around 10 minutes for teachers to complete which is why they were skipped so often, but Aizawa actually decided to do his tonight. And to his surprise, he saw one door open compared to the rest closed. His first thought was thinking about what was wrong and quickened his pace. But when he reached your door he couldn’t help but examine your hunched over posture wrapped in your blanket and head in hands, surrounded by loose papers, post its, pens, books, and laptop.

He knew you had a little extra course load normally but he didn’t realize it was something you would be doing well into the night, he just figured you were about to balance everything extremely well as you never complained and usually performed well in classes. However, thinking back to the last week you have seemed a little more tired and in a daze resulting in more quirk effort. The overuse of quirks segment of your student file was blank and he never made the effort to find out.

He continued to stand at your door for another minute and saw the can of energy drink beside you knowing you were a good kid and wouldn’t resort to something as foolish as that without it being a last resort. Aizawa briefly knocked on your door to alert you of his presence. He did have a soft spot for you compared to Midoria or Bakoguo so he was a little more gentle with you.

“Hey kid, what are you still doing up?”

Startled out your state you did a small jump in your desk chair, “Just trying to write this essay. It’s a few weeks overdue and the end of the semester is soon so I need to get this in.”

He took a few steps into your room and stood behind you, “12th-century convents and monasteries in Italy. Hmm, that doesn’t sound very interesting. What kind of class is this for?”

“It’s for my Origins of western though class, medieval through the renaissance. And trust me, it really isn’t, especially when you can’t focus on it at all,” you replied.

“You’re having trouble focusing?” he asked genuinely concerned, he had never heard those words come from you before.

You put your face back in your hands and simply said, “Quirk overuse.”

Aizawa was taken aback for a short moment, you were never one to complain or let someone know when there was something going on, “God kid how long has this been going on?”

“This time? At least since last week.”

“This time? So this isn’t something new?” he was a little shocked since this was the first time he heard of any of your overuse symptoms.

“God no, there’s also an extra degree of fatigue and the occasional headache. Night terrors are kinda common too.”

“Shit Y\N why have you never mentioned this before?”

“It just never seemed to be all that important really, I’ve handled it by myself for years why start before now?”

“When was the last time you got a decent nights sleep, you’re starting to look like me. You’ve even got the whole blanket thing going for you,” he asked looking at your form sitting at your desk as you shifted in your seat to look at him.

“Uh, you know, that’s a really good question and it’s been long enough that I can’t fully remember. To be truthful, I just want to finish this so I can take a warm shower and go to sleep.”

When you looked at him he got a better look at you. To be truthful you looked horrible and he started to feel bad because it was evident you were working yourself to death, and keeping up with both school lives on top of his added one-on-one training sessions were taking a toll on you. He had also noticed the congestion in your voice, that was never a good sign.

He put his hand on your forehead and you leaned into even though it felt cold to you it still felt nice, “Kid you’re burning up, you have a fever, why don’t you stop for the night and get that shower you want and you can crash on my couch tonight so I can keep an eye on you.”

“With all due respect sir, I need to finish this, my professor has been on me for weeks on end on this. I have to finish it tonight. And I couldn’t possibly bother you with just congestion and small fever.”

Aizawa sighed and took a seat on the edge of your still made bed, “Listen, kid, I’ll let you finish. I'm going to sit here until you're done and you’re coming with me.”

You put your head down as you knew there was no way out of this one. He took a book off your nightstand and began reading it as you continue your work. It took you about 2 more hours and he had managed to doze off wait for you. You look back at him sleeping quietly and simply close your laptop for the night and lay your head down and close your eyes for just a second truthfully, you felt horrible. In the absence of your typing, Aizawa woke up and saw you with your head down and got up and put a hand on your shoulder feeling the elevated body heat from your fever radiating through you.

He quietly sighed and in his general monotone voice said, “Come on kiddo let’s go, grab some comfy clothes and you can shower back at my room.”

You compiled and went to stand up but immediately the word was spinning and you had to grab onto the desk to steady yourself. He had immediately put a hand around your waist and only your shoulder not wanting you to fall in your sick weakened state.

“Okay, new plan, We’re going straight to my room, I’ll just give you some clothes and you can take a sitting down shower. I don’t want you to exert any more energy and risk you falling and hurting yourself, so I’m going to carry you, is that okay?”

You gave a small nod and he put one arm under your knees and one on your mid-back and you put your arms around his neck and snuggled into his chest feeling small. And quite truthfully, Aizawa did notice you were a little nighter and a little bonier than he expected before, almost as if you had been skipping meals.

Walking with you down the hallway still wrapped in your blanket ha=e quietly asked, “Kid I need you to be honest with me, are you eating?”

You give a small groan in response, “I accidentally forgot for a few days I’ve just been too busy and didn’t realize.”

Aizawa sighed and realized how work-oriented you are, stopping for nothing and not accomplishing things for your health, “I’ll make you some soup while you’re in the shower okay, then will you please eat a little bit of it?”

You simply nodded your head in his chest resulting in a lack of verbal response.

Once making it back to his living quarters he opened the door and was greeted by a cat waiting for him to get back. He closed the door behind both of you and took you to the bathroom and sat you down on the toilet and told you to undress and take a shower, and he would leave clothes and some towels for you in a bit.

As you did that and carefully sat down at the bottom of the shower and turned the water on you immediately felt the warm water hitting your skin rinsing some of the sick away and you let out a small cough, which didn’t go unnoticed by your teacher leaving a pair of black sweatpants and a charcoal grey sweater that will be much too large for you but are clean clothes you should find comfortable.

#boku no hero academia #my hero academia #aizawa #shota aizawa #aizawa shota #dadzawa #anime #short stories #myheroacademia #my hero academia short story #boku no hero academia short stories #bnha #mha #aizawa father #aizawa teacher #easerhead #earserhead story

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satsuma-saturn · 4 years ago

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Lemon - Beelzebub x Reader

A/N: I haven’t written fanfic in years, so apologies if this is poorly written :’)) I just wanted to get back into the scene and I hope Beel isn't too ooc, since I’ve never written him before. I hope y’all enjoy :’))

Reader is gender-neutral, unless otherwise specified

WC: 2174

Warning(s): Reader deals w/ depression

Fic below the cut :)

Lemons were sour, a no-brainer. You remember sucking on a lemon as a dare when you were younger, your friends laughing at the puckered face you made when the sour juice made contact with your tastebuds. After that, you’d sucked down an entire glass of water, in an attempt to rid yourself of the taste, yet it lingered. Another time, you were preparing fresh lemonade to sell at a lemonade stand, but when it came to tasting, it was horribly sour. Your grandmother gave you the advice to scoop some sugar into the lemonade, as it would sweeten it. She was right.

You laid in your bed, staring at your ceiling. It was dinnertime and you hadn’t left your room in...you didn’t even know how long. Some time earlier, Beel had popped his head in your room, letting you know that it was time for dinner. After his announcement, he remained in your doorway, seemingly waiting for you to walk with him to the dining room. With a small sigh, you had told him you’d be downstairs soon. He had frowned, like he didn’t really believe you, but he was hungry, so he stepped out and closed your door behind you. That was around half an hour ago and you hadn’t budged an inch. Your head hurt and you felt...empty.

Like the taste of a lemon, the empty feeling lingered inside you. It grew stronger the longer you laid there, staring at your ceiling in the dark. You squeezed your eyes shut, curling up in the fetal position. Your fingers ran up and down your sheets as you tried to take deep breaths.

“One...two...three…” Your eyes burned and you rubbed them with your fists, trying to wipe away the hot tears that threatened to spill out. Too late. A sob that welled up inside your chest escaped your throat, sounding akin to a dying whale. Fuck. Why were you like this? Why were you crying? You clenched your fists, your nails leaving behind crescent-shaped indents in the palms of your hands. Shaking, you slid under your blanket and rolled up in it, as if you were a human burrito. Hiding away in a blanket burrito was safe and warm, but you knew you couldn’t hide away forever. Someone would come to get you. If not that night, then they would the next morning, since you had school. Would Lucifer let you stay home if you claimed to be sick? You did feel sick, after all. Even if you weren’t physically sick, there were still physical symptoms.

When your door opened and a towering figure silently stepped in, you didn’t notice. In fact, you only noticed his presence when your bed suddenly shifted, rolling you into him. Sniffling, you peeked out from your blanket. It could only be Beel. Who else was the size of a fucking tree? He must have come back after waiting for almost an hour for you to come back downstairs. You did tell him that you would be downstairs for dinner, only you hadn’t actually moved from your bed, so he was probably worried about you. Oops. Maybe you should have waited until after dinner to cry yourself to sleep.

“You’re crying,” he mumbled, as if you didn’t already know that. The room was dark, but you could feel his violet eyes drilling into you, waiting for you to speak, to say anything. You were silent for the longest time, though, unsure of what to say. What could you say? Sure, you could just be honest and spill your guts, but you weren't positive he would understand. It wasn’t that you thought he was dumb, because he wasn’t, but demons were decidely different than humans. Still, Beel was more emotionally intelligent than any of his brothers, so even if he couldn’t empathize, perhaps he could sympathize.

Wiping your nose, you sat up and reached over to turn on your lamp. The light scorched your eyeballs, since you’d been sitting in the dark for who-knows-how-long. When your eyes adjusted, you focused on Beel, who was watching you expectantly. You still owed him a response. Swabbing your tongue on your dry lips, you thought of what to say, how to explain how you were feeling that would make sense to him.

Swallowing, you finally found your voice. “Yeah, I am crying. I’m just...not feeling very well right now--”

He interrupts you, his voice laced with concern. “Are you sick? Do you need medicine? I’m not really sure if we have medicine here that humans can stomach, but I think we can figure something out. Do you need a cold pack? Or maybe a hot cloth?”

If you didn’t feel so miserable, you could’ve cracked a smile at his million mile questions. “No, Beel. I don’t need any of that. I’m just sad, that’s all. You don’t need to worry about me.” Your lips curved up in a small smile, but your eyes remained melancholic. That was bound to worry him even more, but you were still thinking of ways to explain it in your head. The cogs in your brain were rusted, though, refusing to budge.

His jaw tightened, his eyes boring into yours, as if he was thinking of how to respond. After several moments of silence, he took your hand in his and leaned in to speak, his voice low. “You’re sad? Did someone make you sad? If so, I’ll make them pay. Or was it me? If it was me, I…,” he swallowed, “I’ll do anything to make it up to you, promise.” You loved this man (demon?), but he was never going to need another leg day from all the jumping to conclusions he was doing.

“Beel, let me talk.” You paused for a second, waiting for his affirmation before resuming. “No one is making sad--”

“So why are you sad?”

“You’d find out if you stopped interrupting me every two seconds,” you say, your tone tinged with annoyance. You didn’t mean to get annoyed, but he wasn’t listening when you were trying to tell him something important. A sigh escaped you before you continued. “I’m just sad just to be sad. There’s no rhyme or reason behind it, but that’s just how my brain functions. Sometimes, I get headaches and nausea from it, like right now. It causes me to want to isolate myself and just generally sleep and cry a lot. Does that make sense?” You tilted your head, silently watching his face. It was your turn to wait for a response.

Slowly, he nodded. “Yeah, that’s depression, isn’t it? I don’t know that much about it, other than what I’ve read in one of Satan’s books. I got bored, though, because reading about the human brain hurt my brain.” He carded a hand through his ginger locks, sighing softly. “So, that’s what’s going on? Why didn’t you say that before? You were really starting to worry me, pumpkin.” Pumpkin. That little pet name he gave you always melted your heart when he said it. Pumpkins were stupid because you couldn’t even tell if they were a fruit or a vegetable, but you liked hearing him call you that.

“I‘m sorry,” you mumbled, hugging yourself and bowing your head. You felt ashamed. Ashamed that you were alone in your room, crying. Ashamed that you hadn’t gone to Beel when you started feeling that way. After all, you didn’t want him thinking that you didn’t trust him. He was one of the most important people in your life and you didn’t know what you’d do without him. Your shoulders shook as a sob wracked through your body. You were so stupid.

“Hey,” Beel said, softly. “I’m not mad at you. I was just worried, I guess. I should’ve known something was wrong the first time I was up here, but I was too hungry to pay attention to anything else, other than getting to the dining room for dinner. I’m still hungry, actually.” Right on cue, his stomach growled and he frowned. “Everyone else is done with dinner, so we can go to the kitchen to get something to eat. Maybe Mammon’s left some cake in the fridge or something. Let’s go check.” He held out his hand and you quickly wiped your eyes before taking it.

Somehow, none of the other six brothers spotted the pair of you sneaking to the kitchen. It wasn’t very late, so they were all still definitely awake. Well, most of them were definitely still awake. A certain twin was probably fast asleep somewhere in the house. You trudged behind Beel as he raced towards the fridge, desperate to find something to eat. Seating yourself on the counter, you watched him rip open the refrigerator door, pulling out random food items and muttering to himself. He wasn’t above eating his brothers’ food, but you knew Mammon’s would be the first to go if it came to that, especially after the Custard Incident, which left you without a wholeass wall.

“Hmm...Levi’s got something here, but I don’t trust anything from him,” you heard him say, as he searched, which was valid. “Ooh, pudding!” His tone was excited as he pulled his head out of the refrigerator, narrowly missing slamming his head. “Looks like it’s...mine!” His voice was excited as he grabbed a spoon and opened a container. “Here, take a bite. Food always makes me feel better and I thought we could share this. You’re the only one I’d share with, though.” He brought the spoon towards your mouth and you took a bite, but it was hard to swallow. Your appetite was nonexistent, but you were willing to humor him.

“Mmm, thank you. It’s good,” you said, flashing him a small smile, but he returned it with a frown. Why was he frowning? You weren’t lying about it tasting good.

“You’re still not happy. Am I doing something wrong?” He asked, taking a bite of the pudding. Even as he worried about you, his hunger could not wait. Something about that was endearing, but you couldn’t quite put your finger on it.

In response, you shook your head. “No, you’re not doing anything wrong. I just need some time to deal with my emotions, but we can still eat pudding together,” you replied, leaning towards him. He took that as an opportunity to capture your lips in a kiss, wrapping his free arm around your waist. You could taste the pudding on his lips as the pair of you kissed, and it was sweeter than it had been before.

After a few moments, he pulled away from your lips, still holding onto your waist. “You taste like pudding. I could eat you up,” he mumbled, burying his face in your shoulder. Normally, ‘I could eat you up,’ was something cute to say and it would’ve made you blush, but hearing it from Beel was mildly concerning. “I’m not going to actually eat you, don’t worry. I mean, I could, but I’m not going to.” His voice was muffled by your shoulder, but you were still able to make out what he said. It didn’t really make it any less concerning.

“Okay, well, we have some actual pudding to eat here, and I’m surprised you haven’t already inhaled it yet,” you quipped, picking up the bowl. Beel yanked the spoon out of the bowl, thrusting it in your direction. You were confused about the mild aggression, but you shook your head, raising your hand to block the spoon. The one bite of pudding had been enough.

“Eat.” He held out the spoon, waiting for you to take a bite. “You didn’t eat dinner and you can’t go to bed hungry. That’ll just make you more sad. I know I’d be sad if I went to bed hungry.”

Shaking your head again, you said, “I’m not hungry, though. You can have the res--”

“Pumpkin,” his voice was firm, but not angry or mean. It was strange, as you’d never heard him like that before. “Even if you’re not hungry, you still have to eat. I love you and I don’t want you to get sick.” Love? He loved you? Sure, you were seeing each other and he obviously liked you a lot, but you didn’t realize that he loved you.

“You love me?” You made eye contact with him for the first time that night, your heart feeling like it was going to thud out of your chest.

His eyes widened, as if it had just occurred to him what he’d said. Maybe he wasn’t planning on telling you yet. Oh well, too late. You knew. “Uh, yeah, I do love you. I love you like I love food, which is a lot.”

You cracked a smile, a real smile, for the first time that night. “I love you too, Beel.”

Depression lingered like the sour taste of lemons, but the warmth of Beel’s love softened the blow, just as sugar sweetened the taste of lemonade.

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lucas-koh · 4 years ago

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Stitches - Bryce Lahela x MC II

Also uploaded to Ao3! Go check it out there if you’d like my user is margotmuses

Doesn’t follow canon, but elements of canon. FWB.

Song: Feel Real - Deptford Goth

Rating: M

Word Count: 3409

Please check out chapter one first if you haven’t already!

Taglist: @lahellacute @tyrilsnightbloom @bubblelaureno

Chapter Two: Suki’s Flip-Flop, Intensive, Very Long Day

On a pretty big whim, Sienna, Jackie, Aurora, and Elijah had decided to look at apartments and move in together on the walk home from Donahue’s. Turned out none of their current living situations were ideal, and as crazy as it sounded, Suki felt like this might just work out. Weirder stuff had happened, right? She’d lived with complete strangers in college, so this was no huge thing, really. Over the following week they scored themselves an absolute bargain of a stunning top level apartment which overlooked the classic Boston skyline. Somehow, they’d managed to convince the landlord to rent to them for cheap, and soon enough everyone started to move their stuff in.

To celebrate their gorgeous new apartment, the group decided that they would throw a housewarming party at some point in the next few weeks. Planning was immense - everyone wanted to do something different, plus finding time where everyone would be off work was difficult. Elijah had never thrown a house party before, so he was overlooking most of the planning, while Sienna and Suki did tasks such as stocking up on cheap booze. Aurora didn’t really want to get involved in the planning side of things, too focused on her studies, but was looking forward to the party all the same. She was crazy grateful to be able to move away from her overbearing aunt. Jackie also wasn’t so involved in the planning, but more out of lack of interest in making plans. After a week or so, they’d decided on a date. All that was left to do was to invite everyone. And, yeah, that pretty much meant everyone.

Suki’s mind had been pretty occupied, mostly by a certain sun-kissed surgeon who’d swayed her to The Stone Roses. Since that first night, Suki had only seen Bryce in passing in the corridors, always taking lunch breaks and the like at different times due to the different demands of their jobs. He’d wink or grin at her and for a moment she’d be completely focused on only that. Not to mention the all-consuming sexual chemistry they had with each other being sparked each time they merely passed by one another. She was continuously bothered by the strange familiar feeling she felt with him, increasingly frustrated that she couldn’t pin it down.

About two and a half weeks in, Suki was suffering from an absolutely awful day. None of her patients were looking at a positive outcome, and she was feeling utterly helpless about it all. Existentialism: Doctor’s edition. She’d shut herself away in a supply closet to be alone with her thoughts. And to cry. What good was being doctor if you couldn’t save lives? And everything felt like a minefield. One wrong move and it could all implode. Misdiagnoses were so easy to make and so incredibly dangerous, she could prescribe someone a medicine they were allergic to and make their symptoms broaden, or even just upsetting someone because there was nothing she could do. She worried she wasn’t ready for this job. It was all very well reading up about illnesses and treatments, but actually putting it into practice? Dealing with real life people? So incredibly intimidating.

Abruptly the door creaked open and Suki jumped back.

“Oh! Sorry, I didn’t… think anyone was in here.” It was Bryce. Of course it was. He looked just as good as ever, framed in the dark by the light from the hall. “I just needed to get some suture kits...”

“It’s fine, just shut the door,” her voice cloyed but she tried to subtly wipe the tears from her eyes.

He did as she asked and came closer towards her. Even though it was dark, he noticed the red rings round her eyes and wet cheeks.

“Hey, hey. What’s going on?” His voice was soothing and gentle, his usual cocky demeanours put on a shelf.

“It’s just… I feel like I have too much power. I pretty much get to decide who lives or dies. I get to decide which words to use to ruin someone’s life I-“ she couldn’t help it as the tears began to pour out again. She wasn’t sure why she was baring her soul to Bryce, but something in her knew he would know what to say. He stood and listened, watching patiently. Bryce stepped in so he was closer to Suki.

“If I tell someone I’ll save their life, but I can’t, how am I supposed to live with myself? How do I tell a parent their six-year-old will never see it to seven? Bryce…” she continued, her eyes were wide and glassy as she stared up at him. Hearing her say his name like that stirred something in Bryce he wasn’t quite comfortable admitting.

“I know. But you’re damn good at your job, Suki. If you tell someone you’ll save their life, and you do, how do you not believe in yourself? How do you tell an old man he’s in remission? There are so many good parts to this job. It’s hard as shit, yeah, but we knew that. It was never going to be easy.” He lifted up his free hand and ran his thumb softly along her eyes to clear her tears.

“But it’s my fault. If I fail a patient... Maybe I shouldn’t be here.”

He laughed a brief hearty chuckle. “You made It through med school, climbed your way to the top of the medical interns at Edenbrook, and you really think you’re in the wrong place? I’ve seen those rankings, Moore. You’re good crop.”

She gave him a lopsided smile. His confidence had a way of rubbing off on her.

“Every doctor has their moment of doubt. It’ll pass.” He continued.

“How do you do it?”

He shrugged. “I just know I’m damn good at what I do. It’s still early days, Suki. Just let it come and go.”

She nodded and felt the desire to hug him. Lucky for her, he held his arms out to her and she collided with his hard chest, again. She still had her arms crossed in front of her, but moved to cradle her head into the crook of his neck, shifting her body so she was leaning into him. Bryce’s arms enveloped her, like a large, hard, teddy. She felt like a baby, cocooned and cooed at by the light soothing motion Bryce was drawing down her back. It felt like the most natural thing.

“Shit. I guess you are damn good at what you do,” she said. Her voice was muffled by Bryce’s scrub top, but he heard her all the same, and couldn’t help but grin at the girl in his arms.

“I told you, I’m a talented guy.”

She pulled her head back after a minute, looking up into his brown eyes, which were honey like his skin usually, but deep and alluring in the dimmed light of the supply closet. His arms still cradled her.

She suddenly wanted to tangle her fingers into his hair and kiss him passionately. Because despite the snark, the ego, the cockiness, he’d made her feel better after an incredibly difficult day. And there was definitely something scandalous about being in a supply closet together. The thick sexual tension that had been whirring for two weeks now was at an all time high. Her eyes flirted down to his plump lips, still ghosted with a smile. Her heart was pumping right out of her chest, she was surprised he couldn’t feel it against his own. The chemistry could be cut with a knife. She tightened her arms around herself as she made the flash decision. Without giving him too much time to back out, Suki swiftly moved forward and pressed her lips to his.

He hesitated at first, still as stone, giving Suki a moment to freak out – shit, he doesn’t want to be doing this. I made the wrong call - before he pushed his lips back into hers with fervent want. They reacted to each other like it was something that had been simmering for way longer than just two and half weeks. Their mouths clambered almost clumsily around each other. Bryce’s hands moved up her back and to her neck with a caress, before he steered her round and pushed her up against the shelves. A few bits of equipment fell down, but they didn’t care. Suki pulled him as close to her as she could, hands gripping his waist. She could feel his muscles move under her fingers as they kissed, which sent a jolt through her stomach. She was actually kissing him. For some reason, the idea felt unattainable and the fact that it was happening felt fantastical.

His lips were soft but applied pressure, his tongue demanding and dominating. Suki let out an unintentional moan, causing a gruff noise from Bryce’s throat, and she could feel him smiling against her lips. Caught up in the passion of the moment, and wanting to savour every part of this, Suki lifted up a leg and wrapped it around Bryce’s hip. He responded by pressing his body tighter against hers and removing a hand from her neck to support her leg, copping a feel of her backside on the way there.

Suki didn’t even care that the shelves were digging into her back. All she cared about in that moment was getting as much as she could out of Bryce. Because, god, was he hot. His kisses were practised and skilled, clearly something he’d done a lot. She pulled him closer towards her, and he removed his lips from hers to burrow his face into her neck and suck at that sweet spot. She gasped at the sensation, earning a cocky chuckle from Bryce. If he gave her a hickey, she was dead.

To avoid that possibility, she pulled his face from her neck to meet her lips again, deepening the kiss, and finally threading her fingers through his floppy hair in the way she’d wanted to before.

A loud creak and unexpected light falling on her shut eyelids indicated that the door had been opened. Suki opened her eyes wide and looked over to the door to see an older Doctor. Oh god. She knew this guy. Dr Zaid Mirani – her attending. The leg which had been round Bryce’s hip dropped immediately.

“Can you give us a minute?” Bryce asked, frustrated, eyes shut and forehead against Suki’s, not giving a single shit that they’d just been caught in the act, not even bothering to see who it was.

“I need some scissors. Don’t let me stop you,” Zaid snapped.

At this, Bryce sighed and stepped away from Suki. Suki tried turning away coyly so that Zaid didn’t see her face, moving away from the shelves to give him access. There was a deafening awkward silence as Zaid rummaged through the shelves to find what he needed, Suki looking anywhere but at either of the men in the room. Bryce’s eyes watched her, flattening her hair down on her head and smoothing down her clothes.

After what felt like far too long, Zaid left without a word. The door shut behind him and Bryce and Suki were sent back into dim light. She looked over to Bryce finally, who was leaning against a cupboard with his hands in his pockets, a humorous smile playing on his lips. Even in the dark he looked good, hair ruffled from her fingers and lips swollen from relentless kissing. Ah, shit. He looked so good. Unlike Suki, he hadn’t taken the time to refine his appearance. But, she kind of liked it that way.

“That kinda killed the mood,” he said, pushing off the cupboard.

“…yeah. We should get back to work, anyway,” replied Suki. She was hot from embarrassment, again. This boy sure knew how to get her flustered, both unintentionally and intentionally. That kiss sure had some intention behind it. It had been a nice distraction, and admittedly she felt much better, but it was time to get back to reality.

He chuckled and scratched his thumb over his chin. He didn’t seem embarrassed at all. Then again, asking a resident to leave so they could continue their steamy make-out didn’t strike Suki as something someone who was easily embarrassed would do. Unluckily for her, Suki was a stickler for humiliation. Maybe hooking up with Dr Bryce No-Fear wasn’t something a blubbering blushing mess should repeat.

Bryce walked toward Suki, and she almost jumped back, worried he might try again. For a couple of reasons: worried they’d be caught again, and Suki would never live it down with herself, but also worried she wouldn’t be able to stop at a sensible place. He was too sexy, and too experienced. But he reached behind Suki to grab a suture kit. The whole reason he’d even been here in the first place. He held it up to show her, before making his way to the door.

“You’ll kill it out there, Dr. Moore,” he reassured before opening the door, letting the light flood the room again, and shutting it behind him once again leaving Suki in the dimness.

She crept out of the supply closet, not looking where she was going and accidentally ramming straight into Jackie.

“You look a mess!” Jackie laughed, noting Suki’s scruffed up hair and creased scrubs.

Suki cursed herself internally as she once again started to sweat.

“Oh! Long day, is all. I’m only halfway through, too!”

Jackie side-eyed her blustery response. “I’ve got to get this shot to this patient. You’re lucky this time, Moore.”

—-

A couple of hours later, Suki was finally grabbing a bite to eat when she received a page from Aurora.

Suki rushed into the room, where Aurora was already debriefing the resident. Shit. It was Zaid. She prayed that he hadn’t caught her face before, that it had been too dark and she’d turned away quick enough that he hadn’t recognised her.

“Hey, Aurora. What’s the situation?” She breathed out, exhausted from speeding up there. Aurora looked grateful as she turned to Suki.

“Moore,” Zaid greeted tightly. Something told her that he had definitely seen her face earlier. He didn’t seem like the type to bring it up, though.

“Ms. Redford was admitted for a broken neck, but her blood work looks incredibly strange…”

—-

“So, Dr Mirani’s a pretty grumpy guy, but why do I feel like there was a reason he was short with you earlier?” Aurora asked as the walked down the corridor to their next patient. Damn her for being smart and perceptive.

Suki weighed up whether or not to tell Aurora. It might be quite nice to have someone on her side, to tell all the awkward stories. She hadn’t done the whole secret make-out since college, and back then, she had a roommate to gossip about it with. At the end of the day Suki still barely knew Aurora; sure, they lived together, but they hardly even had a chance to be at the apartment together with their different shifts and the like. And when they weren’t at work, they were sleeping or eating. Maybe that meant telling her would feel like less of a big deal? Then again, even the idea of saying it was making her cringe. Plus, Aurora was great but she might not be too impressed that Suki had been taking time out of work to make-out with a surgical intern. In a supply closet which anyone could walk in on. And, had walked in on. A senior attending. She decided against it.

“I don’t know. I just don’t think he likes me much,” she wasn’t a very good liar, which Aurora seemed to glean; but she didn’t push further.

—-

After what felt like the most exhausting day ever - having difficult patients, a mental breakdown in a supply closet, a hot make out session in the same supply closet, being caught by her attending, and then having hours more of gruelling work – Suki threw herself onto her bed dramatically. It felt like her whole body, including her internal organs, was on fire. She eventually got up to change into her pyjamas, clean her face, and brush her teeth. There was a knock on her door. She opened it to reveal it was Elijah.

“Hey, what’s up?” He asked, it looked like he’d been home a while. Suki was happy to see him nonetheless.

“Just winding down after work, you know.”

“Yeah, today was a long one,” he added awkwardly.

“Tell me about it.”

He seemed like there was something he knew, or wanted to say, but didn’t.

“Movie?” Elijah asked.

“Sure, I might pass out though.”

She followed Elijah to the sofa and let him load up Netflix. She pulled off the fluffy blanket from the arm and snuggled into the crook of the sofa, next to Elijah’s chair. They put on a classic romcom and settled in to watch it, everyone else either asleep or working. Suki and her other roommates had become close quickly, but she still felt she wanted to bond more with them, get to know them better. She truly loved each one of them, and they each had their own personal qualities which enriched the group.

“So-“ Elijah finally came out with about a quarter of the way in, only to turn and see Suki had passed out.

Elijah tucked her in on the sofa and shut the TV off so she wouldn’t be disturbed. He would have to talk to her again another time. He wheeled away into his own bedroom.

—-

Around an hour later, Suki woke with a stir, taking a moment to recognise her surroundings. She must’ve fallen asleep here, and she noticed how she was tucked into the blanket. Elijah. How was she ever going to bond more with her flat mates If she couldn’t even stay awake to watch a movie with them? She sighed, folding up the blanket to place on the sofa arm again, and made her way into her own bed.

In the dark of the night, Suki’s thoughts wandered to Bryce’s lips on hers, his hands on her neck, his lips on her neck, his body close to hers…

She thought about that smirk and that laugh, the way his hair felt under her fingers, his taut stomach muscles under her hands. The way he tasted clean, faintly minty, the smoothness of his lips on her own. The feeling of her leg wrapped round his hip. If Zaid hadn’t interrupted when he had, Suki wasn’t sure she would’ve been able to stop. Truthfully, it had been a while since she’d slept with anyone, and a while since she’d actually been so sexually attracted to someone.

But she tried not to think about it. He’d helped her out of a tight spot earlier, and she’d thanked him. Now, she would have to put in all her effort to be a better doctor. Not try to sleep with the other interns. No matter how sexy their body and face and demeanour was. She wondered why he’d been so kind to her, taken the time to reassure her and validate her thought. Perhaps just a ploy to get that kiss, or something more, but Suki wasn’t really sure she cared if it had been. Even so, he’d seemed genuine. She supposed he was a doctor after all, helping people was second nature to him.

Come to think of it, the way they’d kissed in the supply closet struck that odd feeling in her again. How did she know him? Did he know her? Was she just superimposing someone else on to him to make him more appealing to her carnal desires and more of a mystery to solve? Maybe it was that if she let herself get hung up in this completely farcical idea, she could ignore what she was really thinking about deep down: her failures as a doctor.

So, maybe she didn’t know Bryce at all. She just liked how he looked and wanted there to be something. They say if you desire something, it pops up everywhere. So, those feelings of déjà vu, maybe they were all in her head. Or maybe she was just spiralling, after the ridiculously lengthy and eventful day. Her eyelids started to drop unintentionally. Maybe she would think about this tomorrow, instead…

#bryce lahela #open heart #open heart fanfiction #bryce lahela fanfiction #bryce x mc #playchoices open heart #open heart fic #oph spoilers #choices open heart #oph #choices: open heart #open heart fanfic #choices fanfiction #choices #choices: stories you play #bryce lahela x mc #dr bryce lahela #bryce Lahela fic

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bibbykins · 5 years ago

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Drown Me So I Can Breathe (M)

A/N: Tumblr rlly failed me when I was trying to post this three hours ago buuuuut whatever. I hope y’all enjoy just as much as I would/always enjoy hearing from you all! Hope you all are having a great day/night!

Pairing: (Soft) Yandere! Jungkook x reader

Word Count: 8.6k

Warnings: anxiety, anxiety attack, toxic relationship tendencies, unhealthy relationship, vaginal sex, non-penetrative sex

Summary: You stumble in crashing waves, but you don’t lift your arms for help. You gave that up long ago. There is no breath of fresh air that you can attain. But what if there were a savior with the prettiest lock and key you’ve seen? Would you even be able to see it among the murky waters that drown you?

Don’t worry, you don’t have to see it. You just have to take his hand. You’ll fall into his arms soon enough. Well, not literally fall, of course.

Right?

The crowd was loud in the amphitheater where drunk college festivities took place. You didn't even want to be here in the first place, but alas, you were the ball being shoved back and forth between crowds. It was all the joys of getting seasick without the aid of the actual sea, being too meek to stand your ground in the hustle and bustle, you were pushed, shoved, and it wasn't until you had been shoved roughly on the concrete floor, you made it your mission to get through the crowd alive. You felt the sting on your legs as you remained tossed around like a rag doll until a pair of strong hands set you on your own two feet, unmoving, unwobbling, and under his control.

Jungkook would be a liar if he said he hadn't been watching you the entire time. He didn’t mean to be so transfixed by you. He only went to these things to satisfy his sexual needs. Beyond an orgasm, he wasn't planning on feeling anything tonight.

Plans change.

Tonight was some college prom frat and sorority members who peaked in high school thought would be fun. It had drinks, pounding music, and sweaty people despite a cold environment. It was basically a club with a king and queen. Jungkook, despite his broody and less than forthcoming nature, was a shoo-in for the king. He was young, hot, and despite how selfish he was, still a good lay. He had everything he could want. He had a blossoming job as a sound engineer for the upperclassmen Min Yoongi’s company. Jungkook also gained popularity in his potential singing career with songs he randomly dropped here and there, his place in the seven campus princes furthering his fan count.

He was the youngest of the princes, but he was also the coldest. Jungkook was stone-faced around everyone but his fellow adonis friends. Some admirers chalked it up to him being cute and shy, others made him out to be a grungy broken broody man. You on the other hand, just figured he was a guy with a personality who happened to be cute.

You seldom paid him mind. Yes, he was cute, yes, you would say yes in a heartbeat, but you had a little too much pride to pine after him as many people did.

He was intrigued by you though. You always ended up in one of his classes somehow. At first, he figured you were some fan who somehow figured out his schedule, but this idea was quickly dampened.

You were a good student. A fashion major, he discovered. You had high attention to detail, sometimes to a damaging degree. You sat in the front or back row, sometimes too shy to face the front, but you always had your eyes glued to the professor or book. Even when you and Jungkook had been in a group together, you arranged everything through text message, never going off-topic.

You were a good student. How boring it was for you. You smiled, did work, avoided socializing, and went home. This was your routine. You didn't favor making genuine friendships, it was too complicated. You wanted to date, love, and finally fuck, but the odds of finding a mate who would tolerate being the only person in your life, was slim to none. Of course, you had guys you thought were cute, Jungkook caught your eye the most for obvious reasons, plus he was pretty much a loner already, but he didn't seem like the type to dish out the all-consuming love you craved.

You had been right, Jungkook wasn't until he met you. After the first encounter, to say he had become a tad obsessed would be no lie. At first, it had been his pride, wondering what person wouldn't try to fuck him, but then he realized you were no plain person. You were his ideal girl. You were sweet, and it was genuine, but he could tell you craved something more than smiles and pleasantries. You wanted something more, he just knew it, and he wanted to give it to you. He wanted to give you everything as the time of him keeping tabs on you went on.

With this want, also came the want to keep you all to himself. Once or twice, he's been forced to threaten a few guys dumb enough to say anything about you or asking you out. His friends poked fun as Jungkook once had to Taehyung when he was pining after his current girlfriend, and now he understood his feelings.

Taehyung had told Jungkook he would know when the time to make his feelings known was right to which Jimin confirmed while holding his girlfriend at his side. Jungkook recalled this as he watched you play the role of the ball in a game of crowd ping pong. You were trying to politely squeeze toward what looked like the bathroom as you had your arms close to your chest. Watching how helpless you were, he decided now was the time to begin the love story of his lifetime.

Jungkook rushed into the crowd, people being smart enough to step aside at the sight of his camouflage jacket, and he grabbed you from behind by your shoulders and set your teetering feet back on the ground. You jumped, still wobbly, but thankful to be still for once.

However thankful, you felt sick, super sick. The pressure being in the crowd as well as being shoved for almost 30 minutes straight was rushing back to you, and you stumbled forward, only to be pulled back by the strong set of hands. There was too much going on, too many people, and you felt sick. You were riddled with the feeling of instability and ridicule. You had no sense of ground until the man stabled your stance.

“Can you walk?” The mysterious savior whispered in your ear, and you shivered at the proximity.

You nodded, words getting lost in your choke for air, wondering why people were stealing glances in your direction. You began to walk towards the exit, until your legs gave in, causing you to nearly crumble to the ground, the mystery man being quick to catch you.

The voice scoffed, “Just say no.” He spoke when he went next to you to scoop you up in his arms like a princess.

You wanted to squirm and yelp, but something felt so right about being in his arms. You wanted to be the only one in his arms, staking your claim on this spot you craved to keep. It was this flurry of sensations that made you realize you hadn't looked up to see who this mystery man was, and when you got the courage to, someone bumped into your legs and you nearly fell out of his arms. Out of Jeon Jungkook’s arms.

“Watch it, dick!” He snapped at the culprit, but only gripped you closer, “Fuck, hold onto me, okay?” He whispered in your ear as you nodded, interlocking your hands behind his neck as the lingering stares of the crowd turned into blatant gaping. He walked you towards the exit as you tucked your head into his chest and closed your eyes, trying to be unseen.

Jungkook smiled at your movement. This is what he wanted. He wanted you, enveloped by him, safe, his. The crowning of king and queen had begun while he held you firmly in his arms.

“And the king is… Jeon Jungkook…” The preppy girl paused, “Uh… who is busy, so in the meantime, the queen is…”

You heard the crowd fade as Jungkook waltzed you away from the humid area to civilization and crisp fall air. Suddenly, you could breathe again, “Congratulations.” Your voice was muffled in Jungkook’s shirt.

He snorted, “Congratulations?”

“You're king, yay.” You weakly offered, still muffled as you heard doors open.

He chuckled and you felt his chest vibrate on your cheek, “Gee, thanks, princess.” It seemed he began climbing up steps.

Suddenly, the anxiety that had been bubbling in the pit of your stomach, poured out tears that threatened to spill. You felt like shit. You couldn't handle a crowd, so you ruined Jungkook’s night. He didn't even have a chance to get crowned all because he was being polite.

“Sorry.” You broke the silence that held in the air for a few minutes as he walked, your voice cracking from embarrassment.

Jungkook frowned, “No, no, sweetheart, none of that.” He damn near cooed.

You heard another door open, and when the door closed again, it was silent. It was silent until you began sobbing, “I'm so sorry.” You cried eyes screwed shut while Jungkook sat down, you still in his arms, his collar tight in your fists.

You were ashamed. You were overwhelmed. You had been so scared, so helpless, and despite being thankful, you felt like such a burden.

Jungkook’s heart shattered. He went into panic mode. The love of his life was sobbing in his arms, apologizing. Initially, he wanted to go back to the amphitheater and beat the shit out of every person who so much as bumped into you, but he'd be damned if he would ever leave your side. Now, he just wanted to see you smile. He just wanted to tell you it was okay, and he loves you, and at the moment he lacked the ability to deem such thoughts irrational.

He had taken you to his apartment near the amphitheater. You had been in and out of sleep for most of the walk, so when Jungkook reached his room above the lobby, taking the stairs to avoid the elevator startling you, he wanted nothing more than to do what he was at that moment. Hold you.

Jungkook rocked you back and forth as you cried it out, shushing you each time you apologized. In the medical record of yours he happened to come across, completely by chance, of course, he saw you had certain symptoms of social anxiety. He figured the crowd must have sent you into a mild anxiety attack, and he just wanted you safe. The safest place was in his arms.

“Don't worry, princess, you're okay.” He spoke lowly, soothing you as he sat down on his bed with you in his lap.

“W-Why are you doing this?” You cried. You could very well ask yourself the same question. It wasn't like you to break down like this, not in front of people, let alone the hottest and meanest guy on campus. Yet this hot, mean, guy was talking you down. You loved it. You craved this for so long, and you wanted to keep it like this. You wanted Jungkook. You realized at that moment, Jungkook must be the one for you. He had to be. Nobody had ever taken any effort to so much as check up on your well being. It was all small talk and half-empty compliments, but Jungkook was full of emotion.

“Oh, y/n, sweet, sweet princess,” He mused and to his delight, your muscles relaxed as he stroked your hair, “It should've have been like this since I first laid eyes on you.”

“Wha-”

“Shh, calm down fully first, questions later.” His soothing voice ordered and you nodded, submissive. You didn't want to think too hard about the logistics of this moment anyway, you would only confuse yourself, “Right now it’s just me and you, that’s all that matters.”

"Me and you…" You echoed.

You both stayed like this for a while until your breathing went even and you relaxed in his embrace and let your eyes drift closed.

The dreams you had were whispers from a lonely past that haunted more often than naught. They held you underwater and left you to face yourself with the nothing you had surrounded yourself with. The eerie symbolism your subconscious brought worried you as you spent your years in a mirroring emotional solitude.

But tonight was different.

Tonight you drifted above water, breathing in a much fuller atmosphere than you were accustomed to. Two muscular arms kept you afloat as puffs of air hit your neck ever so softly. Cologne held you in emotional comfort as you soaked up the air in a paradise you never properly acknowledged as yours to breathe in.

You felt a hand on your hip as you took it in your own, bringing it to your cheek. It was comfortable, a loving silence enveloped you in the wisps of consciousness. You wished to stay like this, not wanting to face the obligatory awkward morning full of confusion and hazy answers to rock-solid questions.

However, you still had some of your logic left as you turned your body to face Jungkook. He was sleeping still as you looked at him. It was funny how relaxed he looked yet how tightly he gripped you. Not that you minded, of course. He was a beautiful man, this much you knew to be true. He had the softest features when not so on guard.

You looked past him to see the time was half-past nine and you had a class in a half-hour, “Shit!” You cursed softly, causing Jungkook to wake up under the assumption you were hurt.

“You okay?” His voice was deeper and groggy and it made your entire body quake.

“I-no, I have a class soon, so I have to go.” You sighed forcing yourself up before pulling the covers off only to see your short dress, “Oh goodness, it's going to look like a walk of shame.” You huffed at your thigh highs that fell to under your knees.

“Not if you borrow something of mine.” Jungkook was stretching as he spoke and you could see the outline of his biceps. You gulped, nodding mindlessly, “I have some joggers and a shirt that-”

“I'm wearing thigh highs and black heels.” You whined, “I'll look insane.” Jungkook chuckled at this before thinking for a moment. Your outfits always had a very evident amount of effort in them, and it was endearing to see how much you cared.

“My shirts may be longer than your dress though.” He stood, going to his closet as you followed suit, “I have a flannel since it's cold.” He presented the black and red garment to you.

“Perfect!” You giggled as you pulled up your thigh highs, making the male in front of you gulp, “Oh...can you unzip me?” You felt your cheeks heat as you turned.

Jungkook gulped once again as he grabbed the delicate zipper and pulled it down. He wondered when he would be able to repeat this action with a more sultry mood. Your skin looked so soft. He wondered how it would feel on his lips.

Once you felt the dress slacken and Jungkook pull away you slipped the flannel over your arms, buttoning from top to bottom as you let the dress fall from under it. He almost wanted to scold you for being so blatant about showing your body, but he couldn't help but find your naivety endearing as well. You left the top two buttons apart as you slipped on the pumps you wore last night. He watched you maneuver the shirt to expose your collarbone that he wanted to run his lips across too,, “Okay, how do I look?” You turned to Jungkook and damn near took his breath away.

You were wearing his shirt like a beautiful dress and he fought the giddy smile from how proud you looked in doing so. The shirt had a very distinctive J.K. on the sleeve and he loved that you were branded by him, “Beautiful.”

You smiled softly, “Thanks,” You broke the trance once you saw the time creeping closer to your class, “Well I should go, I'll see you later!” You missed before grabbing your purse with the intent to buy a notebook and pen for the lecture and rushed out the door.

Jungkook smiled giddily as the door shut. Fuck, you were cute. Part of him was sad that you were in such a rush to leave, but so long as you wore his shirt, he found peace. He turned to gather his things for a shower. He first grabbed his phone to see that you were typing on the messenger. He texted Namjoon a bit for useless advice before his door opened. Before he could turn, two arms wrapped around his stomach.

Before he could instinctually think to pry the person off, he saw the familiar embroidered initials on your sleeve, “Thank you so much for last night.” You mumbled in the fabric of his shirt, “I could never repay you.”

Jungkook enclosed his arms around yours as he looked at the embroidered initials you held on the cuff of the flannel, and he smiled softly, “You doing this is repayment enough.”

“We have to meet up later, because I have a lot of questions, and I'm sure you do too." You nuzzled into his back before letting go, “I'll message you, okay?” You reached for the door.

“I'll look forward to it.” He called before you shut the door. He broke out into a goofy smile as soon as he heard your heels click on the carpeted halls of the apartment and to the front door before shutting it.

The cab you took back to campus cut the 15-minute walk to a 5-minute drive that gives your fast walk a chance to buy the notebook and pen you planned to get and get to class on time. You hated this class actually counted attendance towards a grade since it prevented you from a blissful morning with Jungkook.

Jungkook. You had to pause your thoughts for a moment to properly assess that the fact was Jungkook a factor in your mind that wasn't rooted in fantasy. He had talked you down and held you like it was his obligation, but the craziest part is that it was his choice. You hadn't spoken with him much beyond casual texts, so what inspired such compassion from him.

You propped your head on your palm as your anthropology professor’s words were put to your new notebook. It was the same formula in each class. He would lecture and then pose a question to discuss with someone for five to ten minutes and then lecture some more. Wash, rinse, repeat. The question was to discuss one's theory of evolution and you sighed before turning to your seat neighbor in the lecture hall.

“So, evolution happened, right?” Jisoo, a notably perky and preppy girl, looked at you as you nodded, “Cool, so we got the same theory right?” You shrugged, “Okay, anyway, why are you wearing Jungkook’s shirt?” She smirked at you.

You balked, “Wh-What?” Was all you could muster in the midst of the shock that clouded your brain.

“I know that signature monogram on the sleeve anywhere.” She pointed to your left sleeve and you gasped at the very blatant JK in white, “It cannot be replicated. Taehyung's girlfriend has a crazy precise hand and Jungkook’s family started buying from her.”

“What the hell?” You murmured as you studied the eloquent calligraphy that you somehow missed.

“No stress, I'm not some wannabe campus princess to the princes.” She went on, “But my annoying roommate is and I would just kill to tell her that another has been snatched up into monogamy.” She jeered lightly.

“Well, I-we-” You paused to try and find the words to explain the situation.

“Holy shit, you're the girl he was carrying last night, right?” Jisoo squealed among the hushed conversations of the students around you both, “You so are!” You felt your face heat, “The world is on my side today.” She beamed, “My roommate's sorrow fuels me.”

“Jungkook and I are not…” You didn't want to deny it because the possibility could be there if you played your cards right and prayed to each deity, so you settled with, “We aren't official or anything.” You said with a slight sorrow in your voice, “We didn't even… do anything last night.”

“He never gives his shirts to one night stands.” Jisoo stated matter-of-factly, “Plus he hasn't had anyone in like a month, it's only a matter of time before the other shoe drops.” She noticed your concerned look, “Yes, my roommate is this obsessed and never shuts the fuck up.”

“But we-” You were cut off by your professor bringing the lecture back into rhythm.

“Thank you, y/n, you've honestly made my day.” She held your hand briefly before returning to her notes.

As the day went on, you noticed something odd. You were being gawked at. If you were in a musical, all those whispers would be a very good intro into a song. However, you were not in a musical, because even this was just too outlandish. It was constant whispering and side-eyes. Maybe it would have been easier if you and Jungkook had a label so that you could say an answer to the occasional interrogation you faced instead of sputter a non-committal one.

Finally, you finished your classes for the day and confirmed with Jungkook you would meet at his place. The day was breezy, so you figured a walk wouldn't kill you. That is until you saw Jungkook in the courtyard walking away from the usual table he frequents with a smile plastered on his face.

Maybe it was the way the light hit him or the fact that he was so breathtaking you felt your throat dry. A wave of embarrassment that neglected to hit you this morning engulfed you. For goodness sake, you were parading around in his monogrammed shirt with nothing but your bra and underwear beneath it. Not to mention the fact you were stockings too. What the fuck was going on? You are not his girl, so why were you even entertaining the idea? The shame you felt for even feeling like you could be something was drowning your short-lived self-confidence quickly. You wanted to run back to your dorm and hide.

On second thought, that sounded like a great idea.

You opted to make a beeline for your dorm as inconspicuous as possible, seeing as it was in the direction Jungkook was heading in. You assumed he was going to his car in the student lot that was in front of your building. Go figure.

Your lack of knowledge when it came to Jungkook’s feelings for you did you in. He had tunnel vision. He swore it was some unspoken soulmate connection that always seemed to train his eyes right to your meek form not so subtly fast walking past him. A small smile formed on his face as he jogged up to you.

Your anxious tunnel vision prevented you from noticing the man walking next to you with a grin slapped onto his face, “Slow down, princess, I'm in some pretty heavy combat boots.” His deep voice made you jump and completely miss your footing, making your knee strive to make contact with the concrete. Strong hands held you up before that could happen, though. This lead you into a half-kneeling position before those hands pulled you upright.

“Sorry.” You huffed out, watching your breath dissipate in the air.

Jungkook looked down at your chest unsteadily rising and falling, “Hey, hey, it's okay.” He spoke softly into your ear as his hands reached for yours from behind and he pressed against you so you could feel his chest as he breathed deeply. He smiled at how you relaxed ever so slightly, “Good girl.” He mused as he watched your chest rise and fall a little more steadily.

“People are staring.” You mustered shyly, “They might think-”

“I want them to.” He stated firmly and it made you shiver, “Come on, let's go talk.” He stepped next to you, his left hand remaining intertwined with your right one as he pulled you lightly in his direction.

Your feet moved on their own accord as your mind tried to add up how the hell Jeon Jungkook knew how to: 1. Recognize when you were plagued by the bubbling of an anxiety attack and 2. Bring you back down from boiling over. There was too much going on and the shame that was squeezing at your throat began to loosen its grip as your tightened on Jungkook’s.

Jungkook smiled at you as you both walked through campus and to his evidently expensive car, “It's a bit much, but I bought it when I was 18, what do you expect?” He chuckled a bit as he opened the passenger door for you. You silently cursed to yourself at how weak in the knees he made you.

“My car predated me before it was totaled.” You chuckled a bit at the stark difference between every aspect of you and Jungkook.

Jungkook chose not to ask you what you meant by totaled. He didn't want to bring back harsh memories of what he could only assume was a death-defying car crash. All the signs were there from the way you tense when somebody yells or some idiot crushes a tin can obnoxiously. He's watched you long enough to know how to put two and two together. Almost everything you do has a reason.

The seats in his car were a deep black leather that reminded you of some cosmic wormhole you could get lost into. It was like a portal into another realm, but there was a slight sting in your nerves at the thought of how many women have sat in the same seat as you with a much heavier mood than this one.

Heavy.

It was now that the weight of your situation hit you harder than ever. Jungkook’s hand had made its way onto your own at some point. Odds are, the way his thumb was rubbing on your palm was the only thing keeping you from dry heaving the anxiety attack you've been swallowing down for the past 10 minutes. You wanted to hate yourself for being so susceptible to his touch. It felt so pathetic. Like you were some charity case or minor piece of some teen movie bet he made with his friends.

There was no way this shit could be real.

That's what you kept repeating to yourself the whole way to his apartment. Even when walking through the very nice building and waiting for the glass elevator. Up the 7 floors, you unintentionally counted and finally to the mahogany door that read 709 in gold numbers.

The living room was quite wonderful. A color palette of black and white reigned throughout. It was very indicative of the serious side of him. However, occasional knick-knacks and posters told you there was a side of him most people don't see, one that you have only seen a small semblance of.

All this, unfortunately, wasn't enough to quell the tightness in your chest as you tried not to obsess over how taboo this all feels.

“Jungkook.” Your mouth spoke before you could stop it. The man in question snapped his head up at the sound of his name, but more so the sound of your voice. Now with his undivided attention, you had no words.

This isn't right.

What is going on?

Is this some sort of sick joke?

Do you always do this?

Instead, all that came out was, “Wh-Where'd you get this candle?” You could beat the shit out of yourself and still not be satisfied as you pointed at the strawberry mint candle with the shakiest of hands. You made a complete 180 as you faced your back to Jungkook to admire the glass candle that obviously had a store name on the label.

Jungkook smiled knowingly. You were so cute. So nervous, scared, confused, and all you could ask was where he got a candle. You were on guard, and he was sane enough to understand why. It made sense. However, sanity only stretches so far between him and his group of friends.

There was an overwhelming presence in the air around you and you couldn't pinpoint why it was so apparent until you felt a rock hard torso press into you, “It was a gift.” Your breath hitched at the gruff voice behind you as you felt Jungkook's nose survey your neck, “But I don't think you care about it that much, hm?” You shuddered when you felt the vibration of his question against your neck.

“H-Hm…” Was all you could muster as your knees nearly locked.

“Fuck.” Jungkook growled as his hands locked in the front of your hips, pulling you flush against him, “I'm really trying to take it slow here, and you are making me so fucking hard.”

You gulped and only then did you realize you were salivating, “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to.” You said before immediately regretting it. Why couldn't you ever go with any flow?

The tension snapped with a hearty laugh and a kiss on the top of your head, “Son of a bitch, you are so cute.” He mused, spinning you to face him, “I'm sorry if I scared you, I just…” A hint of red dusted his cheeks as his brown eyes darted across the room, “Feel so much for you.”

While you could infer as much considering the past 24 hours, you could not deduce, “Why?” You blurted out, “Not to sound annoying, but I genuinely don't get it.”

“You are so genuine.” Jungkook looked in your eyes, more confident now, “Everything about you is so honest and yet there is so much more I could only see now that I am this close to you.” It was then you realized his nose had been touching yours and there was an almost magnetic pull that caused you to tilt your head up and flutter your eyes closed.

This was it. This was his chance to burst out laughing and talk about how dumb you look. It was now or never, really. He still had time to pull back and kick you out. It would be so much easier for both of you.

However, your thoughts were quickly shut down by plush lips meeting your own. Jungkook's hands gripped your hips as he brought you closer and deepened the kiss. This spurred you to travel on hand up to his chest and the other to the back of his neck and you brushed through his hair, making him groan into your mouth. Before you could even think, your tongues were intertwined, no fight for dominance needed. It was a dance and you happily gave Jungkook the lead.

After a millennia of exploring each other's mouths, you both pulled back ever so slightly to breathe, “I don't want anyone else to see this much of you.” Jungkook's breathed as his hand went to stroke your warm cheek, “Too precious, so beautiful.” He mused, “I want you for myself.”

“Me?”

“You.” Jungkook confirmed, “Be mine.”

“This doesn't make sense-” You shook your head, trying to break from the trance he had you in but his hands that cupped your face kept you trained on him.

“Do you want to be mine?” He asked firmly, “Because I know I want to be yours more than anything.” This made your breath hitch, “I want to be the only one who can touch you, kiss you, hold you, fuck if I had it my way I would be the only one able to even look at you.”

“Jungkook where is this coming from-”

“Do you want to be mine?” He asked sternly, “Answer me honestly, princess.” He spoke firmly as you were forced to look into his eyes.

“I do, but I-” You were cut off with a heart-melting kiss. The only thing you could think of was that you were his.

The kiss was Jungkook telling you everything you needed to hear. He was pacifying you and it was liberating to be cared for. It had been you looking after yourself for so long. His hands went under your thighs and you wrapped your legs around him. He held you so tightly, you felt safe. You felt safe as he kissed down your neck

You were lost in the feeling of his lips against your skin until you heard your shoe drop, "Kook." Was all you could muster but it was enough for him to pull away for a moment, breath heavy and pupils blown. The sight of him being so fucked out after just kissing shook you to your very core, "D-Don't trip on my shoe-" You sputtered as your other shoe fell too, "Shoes, I mean." You smiled sheepishly as you watched the corner of his lips twitch before a cheesy smile sprung into his face. The mood in the room shifted dramatically and cursed yourself, "Oh I didn't mean to fuck up the mood, I want to do...it...with you-" You paused and huffed in frustration, still avoiding eye contact, "I sound so dumb, can you just… shut me up?" You finally gained the courage to look at him, pupils still blown, mouth agape in a short smirk, and his tongue made an appearance to swipe across his bottom lip.

Jungkook simply shifted you to where you could feel his bulge against you clothed core and you gasped at the sensation, "Oops." He shrugged before diving back into your neck.

"Shit." You moaned out, pressing yourself harder against his erection. With this movement, you felt the vibration of a growl against your neck as your back pressed harder against the wall.

In this frenzy of sensations, your eyes only shot open when one of Jungkook's hands slipped past your underwear to rub your sex, fingers instantly coated in your juices. Both of you groaned in tandem at the sensation.

Jungkook could barely work through his thoughts. Everything he had been doing was purely primal. The innate ecstasy of having your lips on his clouding his mind and when he felt how wet you were, he could no longer hold himself back. His filthy thoughts were coming to a head as one of his fingers slipped into you with such tantalizing ease. He leaned his head up to lick the shell of your ear and you let out another delicious gasp at your own sensitivity, "Fuck, you're so wet." He growled into your ear, finger pushing in and out, "I slipped in so easily, and yet, your pretty little pussy keeps sucking my finger back in." He pushed another finger in, "What a greedy little thing you are, hm?:

Your mouth popped open, tongue sticking out ever so slightly as Jungkook fucked your pussy with only two fingers. Your face was red from his explicit words in your ear, but you by no means wanted him to stop, "Please, Kook, I want you inside me."

At your pleading, he curled his fingers up, "What?" He mused tauntingly, "This isn't enough?"

You shook your head, "I want you so bad." You moaned out as he slipped a third finger in.

"How bad?" His voice was husky in your ear before turning to look at your face. His resolve to tease you was shaken drastically at your lewd expression.

"I need it!" You cried out, feeling your high creeping closer, but not wanting to achieve it before you became one with him, "I want your cock inside me so bad!" You moaned out and in an instant, Jungkook freed his hardened erection out only to rip your panties to rub around your exposed opening.

"Ask nicely." He teased, despite his voice very evidently being strained.

"Please fuck me, Jungkook!" Your eyes rolled back as you felt him push inside you with a satisfied grunt when you were filled to the hilt.

The feeling of being so full was intoxicating and when he began thrusting something awoke within you as your arms locked around your neck to allow you the leverage to bounce up and down as he held you up in the air, "Fuck, baby." He moaned out as your hips worked wildly on his dick, "So fucking good to me." He managed before moaning out again as your nails dug into his shoulder.

He felt the need to put you in your place as he turned to lay you both on the sofa, him above you, pounding mercilessly hands ripping the flannel on your body open, the clatter of the buttons falling on deaf ears as he pulled your bra down to suck on your nipple while he fucked you into oblivion, "I've waited so long to feel you around me, fuck." He was in bliss as his hips snapped against you.

His hand went to pinch your other nipple as you began to tighten around him. His hips were beginning to stutter as you both approached your orgasms.

"You gonna cum around me, princess?" He began to thrust harder as you could only let out a choked moan, trying to nod in response, "Do it, baby, cum for me." You didn't need to be told twice as the swirling in your stomach snapped and your well-deserved release came as your vision went white, a scream ripping from your throat.

Feeling you around him was intoxicating. He could hardly control his hips as he ground against you, needier than he had ever been in his life. He was chasing his release, but he also wanted to be inside you like this forever. You were panting as his mouth wrapped around your nipple and you clenched around him. This spurred Jungkook to reach his peak that much quicker with his hips barreling into you until he came with a low moan, hips thrusting spastically as you and he rode out the sensation together.

Your chest heaved as you tried to regain your senses. Jungkook pulled out slowly as you grimaced at the sensation.

He let out a breathy chuckle against your ear at this, "Trust me, baby, I'd kill to stay inside…" He trailed off jokingly as you scrunched your nose with a laugh.

He smiled at you before he made quick work of the condom you hadn't even known was there before redressing himself. You fell asleep, memories of him dressing you in a large T-shirt and slipping a pair of boxers up your legs hazy at best.

Finally, for the second time in 24 hours, you were carried to his bed.

Jungkook slept like a rock with you in his arms, knowing that you were safe and finally his. He wouldn't be surprised if a pleased smile was brushed across his mouth the entire night. The post-sex glow only adding to the grandiose pleasure of carrying you into his bed again. He had been so close to losing you so many times, but in the end, it only proves you both were meant to be. He loved you. He knew that much, and confidently. However, that confession would have to wait. He didn't want to even think of overwhelming you or scaring you away.

You woke up much more naturally than you were used to. You flicked your eyes upward only to see the sun void in the sky. You looked at Jungkook's clock to see it was 4:00AM. You sighed dreamily as you looked at Jungkook. He looked more boyish when he was asleep, his domineering aura not present at the moment. You propped yourself up on your elbow as you studied his face at the moment. You lightly poked his cheek with an amused glance.

Not wanting to seem creepy, you opted to get water and then go back to bed. You softly tossed the covers off your body, and all was well until you stood up. Your standing time clocked in at 5 seconds and your walking time at 2 as you crumbled to the hardwood, thighs slapping against it, "Shit!" You blurted, forgetting how long it's been since you had sex.

Jungkook woke up immediately. He sprang into a sitting position as he looked around the darkroom for your form once he realized you weren't next to him, "Baby?" His voice was so much deeper, sleep still present and you would've been a lot more turned on if you weren't on the floor, "Y/n?!" He was growing more panicked until he heard you.

"Here." You raised your hand and his eyes darted to the direction if your meek voice.

"Princess?" He was more confused this time as his legs swung over the bed to reach your crumbled form, "What are you doing here, huh?" He looked down as you, legs splayed on either side, "Not trying to run from me, are you?" He laughed nervously.

You didn't catch his tone and shook your head, "Can we just say I like the floor and not that I can't walk straight?" You lifted your hand, asking for help. You could see his smug smirk as he leaned down to pull your arms so he was holding you much like he was not long ago, "I just wanted water." You mumbled through pouting lips.

"We can go get some." He held the smirk on his face as you clung to him. He walked with you to the kitchen like that, setting you on the counter before handing you a glass. He stroked your thighs as you tipped the glass between your lips.

You gave him a smile, wet lips glistening as you offered him the glass, "Want some?" He shook his head with a blissful smile as he gave you a slow kiss.

You pulled apart, sipping on the water while Jungkook watched the skin of your thighs in his hands. He squeezed them, enjoying how you looked under his touch, how liberating it felt to touch you all he wanted, "You're so fucking beautiful." He breathed, leaning down to place a kiss on top of your right thigh, before moving to the other. It was softer than he envisioned.

"Kook?" You questioned as you set the glass down on the granite. He placed his hands on your knees, spreading them slowly, placing kisses up your knees. You breathed hitched as he reached your inner thigh, only to deflate when he moved to the other knee.

"Your skin is so soft." He nearly moaned against your thigh, and it wasn't until he was just a couple kisses from your core that he let out a hearty moan, "You smell so fucking good." He growled out as you felt his nose press against your clothed pussy. He stretched the material of the briefs and you felt the pressure of the taut fabric against you. You bit your lips at this, "Can I eat you out, baby?" His nose stayed at your center and you wondered how you weren't grossed out as his strongest hands spread you further, "I am a little… parched now that I think about it." He pulled away to give you a devilish smile as he put your legs over his shoulders.

"Can we at least go to the bedroom?" You whined, "This countertop looks really nice." Jungkook breathed a small chuckle.

"I guess I can wait just a little bit." His eyes flicked back up to you from the definite wet spot on the white boxers he gave you, "Hold on tight."

Your eyebrows scrunched, "What do you- OH MY GOD!" Faster than you could blink, Jungkook grabbed you by the thighs and held your pussy against his face, legs locking behind his neck, and hands frantically going into his hair as you became much taller than you could ever imagine.

He groaned as you writhed against him, his mouth catching kisses upon your lips through the increasingly annoying item of clothing. You squeaked each time as he skillfully maneuvered his way back to the bedroom. His arms had locked against your thighs, keeping you on his shoulders as he shamelessly pressed you up against the wall to lick you through the fabric. The soreness was easier to ignore as you let bliss and pleasure overtake your senses.

"Not enough." You whined and felt Jungkook chuckle against you.

He laid you on the bed, "You're such a brat when you're horny." He teased before moving the boxers so quickly off of you he tore them.

"Rich coming from the Hulk here-FUCK!" You threw your head back when Jungkook licked a thick stripe on your clit.

"What was that, baby?" He placed a hand flat on your sex as you writhed against him.

"Please, Kook." You let out a strangled moan when the nickname sent him into a lovesick frenzy on your pussy. His mouth found home on your clit, and he groaned at the squeal that left your beautiful lips.

Jungkook could do this all day, all night. You were so undeniably gorgeous, and you tasted like heaven. You were his awakening. You were his savior. But most importantly, you were his. His main goal seemed to be memorizing the feel of you under his tongue. This was the most selfish head he has given to someone who was enjoying it so much. His dick was absolutely twitching at each time you squirmed, he tried to pull himself through his boxers and give himself relief, but he could only moan when his hands left his own appendage to hold your hips still. He almost lost it when you let out the cutest whine as he left your clit to kiss up your body.

"I was so close." You murmured, hands on your eyes. He wondered how you were still so shy despite screaming his name only moments ago.

He pushed the shirt up as his mouth set its course to your own, stopping to grab your breasts, tongue going to each nipple as you let out a soft gasp each time the muscle twirled around the sensitive buds. His mouth reached your neck as he sucked with a ferocity that would surely leave a mark. He licked the area of busted capillaries with a satisfied smile you could feel against your neck. Your arms lay on his shoulders, hands in his hair as his mouth lay on yours. You almost stopped him, not wanting to taste yourself, but you relented. His lips looked so kissable, and he actually wanted to kiss you. You pulled him closer to you, feeling his bare dick on your equally bare core.

You gasped at the sensation. You both knew there was no way you could handle being penetrated again, but when his hips instinctively bucked, grinding his length along you, an alternative arrived. You nodded lightly, nibbling on his bottom lip. He grunted as his hips moved hesitantly again. He took your moan into his mouth and as a sign to keep going. He ground down hard and you almost threw your head back.

"Fuck." He growled as pressed himself against you, "You got me so fucking hard for you, princess." His lips moved against yours, "Can you feel how much I want you, baby?"

"Yes, yes!" You were being fucked into the bed and you loved the sensation of your body bouncing against him, his shaft against your clit making a delicious sensation for you, "I want you too, I-I-" You cut yourself off with a gasp of pleasure as your eyes rolled back. The very act of getting off by just grinding was so erotic, you could barely keep your tongue in your mouth, the heavy atmosphere too much for you not to taste.

"Oh, shit," He grunts as he rutted against you, "You what, baby, hm?" His hips moved expertly as you could feel yourself getting closer. You were losing your mind as he went to capture your lips again.

"I-fuck!" You moaned out as his thrusts became more desperate, "I love you so much, Kookie, fuck!" You lost your mind. You hadn't even thought of the words before they left your mouth with a moan.

Jungkook nearly saw white when he heard you say those words. Those wonderful little words. You were just like him, weren't you? So lonely, yet so sure of what you felt. You had to be, right? You were his, after all. You would continue to be.

He sped his movements up in the chase for his high and excitement at your confession, "Yeah? You love me?" You nodded weakly as the bed shook, "I love you so fucking much, baby." His lips moved against yours as he spoke, "Fuck, fuck-AH!" He cursed as he came, ropes of cum decorating your pelvis as you came, legs enclosing around his muscular body to keep him pressed against you. His hips moved ever so slightly as you both rode out your highs, chests heaving against one another.

When the morning came, Jungkook found empty sheets next to him, inciting another wave of panic as he sat up, checking the floor frantically. When you weren't there, he sprang up, ripping his bedroom door open, causing your form on the couch to jump, "Oh my!" You gasped, halting movements, needle and thread in hand along with a familiar flannel in your lap, "Never startle a seamstress." You placed your hand over your chest.

Jungkook was relieved, walking over to you wordlessly to plant a kiss on your lips and you smiled into it, "Never scare me into thinking you left." He mumbled against your mouth, stealing another kiss.

You nodded as he pulled away, "I'd never leave you, Kook." You smiled blissfully, "I may be a little crazy, but I'm not stupid."

Jungkook plopped on the sofa cushion next to you, "I know, baby." He was all too satisfied with your answer, "So what was so important I woke up alone?" He was still a bit pouty and you rolled your eyes.

"Well somebody, not gonna name any names," You glared at him, "Likes to rips things, such as buttons, off of a very lovely shirt." You gestured to the flannel in hand, "Ironically enough, you're a clothes ripper with a clothes fixer as a girlfriend who loves you enough to use said skills." You teased as he watched your hands expertly attach the buttons to the shirt.

"Well, I love you too, angel." He planted a kiss on your cheek as you reddened, "You don't have to fix the clothes, though." He pointed out and you shrugged, "Whatever I rip, I'll buy you an even better version of it." He breathed against your ear and you giggled. You almost forgot how unbelievably wealthy he was.

"Well, I like this shirt." You admired your work of the buttons, "It has sentimental value." You mused as you placed it and the sewing materials on the table.

Jungkook to the chance to pull you into his lap as you let out a squeak. He brushed his nose along your neck, admiring his markings before you laid your head against his chest, "You're so fucking cute." He sighed as you buried your head in his chest, "I hope you know I mean it." He breathed, "I love you."

You sighed dreamily, "I love you, Kook." You mused, "I never knew I did, but it feels like I always have."

He squeezed you a little tighter, "And always will." You nodded with a smile and your eyes closed, missing his serious expression.

Jungkook was not messing around anymore. You were his now. He had everything he needed, and he would go to the ends of the Earth to keep it that way. You would hardly leave his sight, and he would give you the world. All you had to do was love him, be with him, stay near him, and he could ensure your wildest dreams would come true. You were his wildest dream, after all, it's the least he could do to pay you back for spending the rest of your life with him, right?

#yandere bts #yandere jungkook #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook #yandere smut #bts fanfic

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blossom-hwa · 4 years ago

Text

Attach - MARK |Swing!|

I wrote 50k words in 10 days I think my brain is going to shut down

THANK YOU @deathbykpopboys FOR GIVING ME THE IDEA TO CONTINUE THIS FROM THE ORIGINAL DRABBLE (here). I LITERALLY OWE YOU MY LIFE. THIS STORY WOULDN’T EXIST WITHOUT YOU I SWEAR. THANK YOU FOR LETTING ME USE YOUR IDEAS, YOU DESERVE THE W O R L D

One more thing: a long time ago I promised @zhengtongue (fari love u) that all further Mark stories I wrote would be dedicated to her :) :) here’s the first Mark story I’ve written since then :) :) dedicated to you and @deathbykpopboys :D

Pairing: Mark x fem!reader

Genre: fluff, angst, Spiderman!au

Triggers: a lot of cursing, mild violence, some descriptions of sex (as in like. sex ed. no one actually does it), PANIC ATTACKS IN FUTURE CHAPTERS (I in no way meant to romanticize these triggers. If you feel I did, please let me know and I will fix it.)

Word Count: 9.2k

A disastrous field trip to OsCorp leaves you and Mark with two spider bites and a decision to make.

Attach >> Arc { 1 - Drifting Apart | 2 - Coming Home }

NCT Masterlist | Swing!

You wake up with a misplaced sense of excitement that makes you even grumpier than normal. It’s six in the fucking morning, finals and AP exams are in a month and a half, so what the hell is there to be excited about?

Then you open your eyes enough to see the permission slip sticking out the top of your bag and it clicks.

The field trip to OsCorp is today!

A grudging smile comes over your face. It might be six a.m., but you’re about to go on a field trip to one of the biggest biotech corporations in the world – you have a right to feel excited. You may be in high school, and some may say that getting excited over field trips is for little kids, but it’s OsCorp. Not Stark Industries, but still pretty damn close.

Quickly, you shower and dress, careful not to wake up your older brother. As you pass by his room, you feel a stab of guilt. Johnny worked another late shift last night, and he’ll probably have another one tomorrow. And here you are, taking a field trip.

Mood slightly dampened, you head out the door, locking it behind you with a quiet snick. In the lobby, you wait a few minutes for Mark to arrive. Exactly three minutes later, you hear his feet pounding down the stairs.

Any guilt you felt washes away at the sight of your best friend smiling behind his round glasses. Mark is what people might call a typical nerd – you’re a little too confrontational for that label – but you’ve known him for over ten years.

He’s so much more than that.

“Ready for OsCorp?” Mark pushes up his glasses, grinning widely.

You smile back just as eagerly. “Fuck yeah.”

The smiles stay throughout the train ride to school. Mark’s gets slightly smaller when Flash rolls through Midtown High’s gates and gives him that stupid smirk, but you distract him with talk about the labs you guys will get to see. The bus ride passes without fanfare – though Mark gets into a spat with your friend, Haechan, about the merits of computer science versus physics, fucking nerds – and soon enough, you’re is pulling into the huge parking lot at OsCorp.

Even Flash, who was griping about not getting to see Stark Industries and having to “settle for” OsCorp, is stunned by how immense the building actually is from the inside.

It’s fucking amazing. Pristine walls surround your classmates, while people in lab coats and business suits mill around beyond the huge lobby. Conference rooms with walls of glass let you see people giving presentations with complicated diagrams you’re itching to see.

Beside you, Mark catches his breath in delight. When you turn to him, he grins with so much excitement in his face that your heart melts for a moment.

He deserves a break. He deserves this excitement. With that, you link arms with him as a cheery intern starts the tour.

. . . . .

There’s nothing Mark would trade for being at OsCorp today. Even though he can’t go everywhere, the tour guide, Joy, makes the most of the places she has access to. With each new lab Mark enters, his wonder only heightens.

If this is OsCorp, he thinks, how cool is Stark Industries?

The tour ends with a video about what you all could do as future scientists and world leaders, and then Ms. Wilson herds the class back into the lobby to wait for the bus.

Mark has to use the bathroom. Though Wilson clearly isn’t happy about it, she lets him go with a stern warning to hurry.

He finds the bathroom quickly and starts to head back. But at some point, he takes a wrong turn or something because he’s now in a stark-white hallway that he hasn’t seen before.

Oh, come on. He doesn’t need Wilson to hate him any more than she already does. Confused, he looks around for someone to ask for directions, but there’s no one in the hall. In his frustration, he rolls his eyes towards the ceiling.

He barely suppresses a scream at the dangerous looking blue and red spider sitting up above him.

Normally, Mark just leaves spiders alone unless they get too close. He doesn’t have much love for insects or arachnids, but he doesn’t enjoy killing them. They just want to mind their own business, like he does.

This one, though, just oozes malicious intent.

Other spiders just want to do spin webs and eat bugs and stuff. Not this one.

Before he has time to yell, this one fucking leaps, silk tracing behind it, lands on his arm, and bites him.

A sharp sting races up his arm and the spot where the stupid arachnid bit him starts to throb. Belatedly, he starts shaking his arm to get rid of the thing, but it’s already climbing back up the wall and onto the ceiling.

For a moment, Mark just stares at the spider, clutching his arm.

“Mark?” Your voice jerks him out of his daze. Relief floods his veins, but terror and worry soon replace it. He opens his mouth to tell you to get away, but he can’t fucking speak. Then you turn down the hall.

Too late.

“Dude!” You jog forward, ignoring or misinterpreting Mark’s outstretched arm trying to push you away. “The bus is here! We need to –” You stop talking, finally realizing something’s wrong. Your eyes go to his arm, which is now bright red. “Mark? What’s –”

His vocal cords take that moment to start working. “Look up,” he whispers.

The spider leaps without warning, barely after a second after your eyes have even registered it. It settles on your arm quickly and you yelp.

It must have bitten you too.

Thankfully, you have more of a destructive instinct than Mark does. Your arm smashes against the wall with a resounding thud and the crushed spider drops to the ground. A spatter of liquid stains the white paint. You wipe your arm against the wall.

For a moment, you and Mark just stare at the spider’s corpse. Mark can feel the blood draining from his face.

“It bit you too?” you finally ask.

Mark nods tightly. “Yeah.”

You take a glance at your arm and blanch. Mark winces, seeing your skin already darkening with inflammation. With trembling fingers, you untie your jacket from around your waist. “Hide it,” you tell him when he looks at you questioningly. He numbly pushes the sleeves of his hoodie down.

Ms. Wilson yells at him a lot when he gets back, which he takes with a bowed head and many apologies. He barely hears it, though. The throbbing in his arm is almost overwhelming, and his mind is racing too fast to comprehend much of anything. When you all finally board the bus, you drag him to the back where the two of you sit, silent and scared.

That spider wasn’t from any lab he visited today, which means it was probably from some classified, secure experiment. Well, one that was supposed to be secure.

It was bright red and blue. It attacked without provocation.

Clearly, it wasn’t meant to have gotten loose.

Why was OsCorp even making these things?

Mark sneaks a glance at his throbbing arm. He doesn’t dare look under the hoodie sleeve for fear that someone else will see, but it hurts.

What effects will that bite have?

Can I even treat it?

Dread pools heavy in his stomach. Some spiders are extremely venomous.

Am I going to die?

Mark’s hand reaches over and grasps yours tightly. You try to give his hand a reassuring squeeze, but your hand is clammy and cold with anxiousness.

Any residual excitement from visiting OsCorp is gone. Only terror floods his veins.

. . . . .

The spider bite doesn’t go away for seven days, and with every hour that passes, the stupid thing only looks like it’s getting worse.

You try to ignore it at first. After all, you can’t exactly call in sick for a bug (or arachnid, whatever) bite. If you did, that would a) sound stupid and b) make your brother worry, which he really doesn’t need. So for the first three days, you grit your teeth, cover the bite with long sleeves even as the days begin to warm uncomfortably, and trudge to class.

The only thing that keeps you going is that you’re not alone. If anything, Mark is panicking a lot more than you. With every day that passes, he grows more and more outwardly concerned with the spread of red inflammation and the aches all over his body.

At least at first, you’d like to think that you hide your concern better than Mark. But by the third day, the inflamed part of your skin is about the size of your hand and hot to the touch, and you’re sure you don’t look much better than your best friend.

Mark comes over after school that day because Johnny’s working late and the two of you want to talk, alone. But at first, you don’t even speak – just lie on your bed and stare at the angry red spots on your arms.

“Are we going to die?” Mark finally mumbles, somehow sounding both panicked and resigned.

You want to reply with a ‘no, definitely not, stop overreacting,’ but the aches feel horrible and you have the strong urge to vomit. Neither of you have looked up your symptoms because the spider was clearly unnatural and WebMD will only make you feel worse, but you don’t need to be a genius to know that something is very wrong.

Nothing gets done that night, and it’s with a sinking feeling in your stomach that you hug Mark tightly before he walks up the several floors to his own apartment. Not wanting to eat for fear of it just coming back up, you messily scribble some answers to your homework and pass out.

You wake up the next morning and vomit all over the floor.

Johnny wakes up to the sound of crying and retching and immediately calls in sick for both of you when he opens the door to you trying to drag yourself to the bathroom, studiously avoiding the pool of sick on your floor.

Bleary-eyed and lightheaded, you text Mark and tell him you’re not going to school. He doesn’t reply until several hours later. He went to school but got picked up early after he threw up in class.

By day five, you have a high fever and Johnny has to take another day off. Luckily, it’s Saturday. You don’t have school. You hope you feel better by Monday.

But on day six, Sunday, you’re shivering and aching all over and the fear of death breaks you down. Tears stream down your face as you toss and turn in bed, intermittently yelling and muttering gibberish that Johnny can’t understand. At one point, you become aware of him sitting on the side of your bed, silently crying. With the last of your energy, you touch his fingers and squeeze lightly, tears still running down your cheeks.

You hope desperately that Mark feels better than you do.

On day seven, you feel slightly less disgusting. You stop vomiting sometime in the afternoon, and the redness of the spider bite has started to fade. The aches are still there, but they’ve concentrated in your stomach, back, and legs, so you don’t hurt everywhere anymore.

You wake up the next morning, already resigned to missing another day of school. But something immediately feels very, very wrong.

You don’t hurt. At all.

This makes you panic even more than when every part of you was in pain.

You roll out of bed with a frantic thud and practically rip off the blanket to check your arm. No redness. No heat. No sign of inflammation.

Your back doesn’t ache. Neither does your core. But wait, what the fuck - are you taller?

Everything’s clear, you realize. No blurriness from your near-sighted left eye, even without your glasses. You can see every leaf on the scraggly tree just outside your bedroom window.

You might have stopped vomiting, but this all still makes you feel like dry heaving. A hand goes to your stomach and you freeze.

Peeling up your shirt slowly, you look down and almost scream.

You have abs.

Abs.

With shaking fingers, you pull out your phone and dial Mark’s number. You know he’s fine enough to pick up – you and him were texting sporadically yesterday. He answers with a groggy, “Y/N, what the fuck.”

“Mark.” You try to breathe. “Do you hurt at all?”

Dead silence on his end.

“... No.”

“Is the bite still there?”

“... No.”

“Do you have fucking abs?”

“No – what the – Y/N, what the fuck is going on, what the fuck?”

He might be hyperventilating at this point. You can’t blame him. You think you’re about to vomit your guts out again.

“Meet me outside,” you snap, hastily changing your clothes. “I don’t know what the fuck is going on, but those spiders at OsCorp were... they weren’t fucking normal.”

That’s an understatement.

It takes ten minutes to convince Johnny you’re fine, you really are, you swear, you’re not vomiting and you can’t miss your French quiz today, you’ve already missed a week of school, yes you promise you’ll call him if you throw up again. When he finally lets you go, you race down the stairs faster than you’ve ever gone before.

Mark’s already there. For a minute, you two just stand outside the ratty apartment building with similar looks of shock and panic on your faces. Quickly, you tell Mark about what’s happened to you. He confirms it all.

“Are we like. Fucking. I don’t know.” You pull on your hair out of frustration. “Superhuman? Spider-people?”

On any other occasion, Mark, lovely logical intelligent Mark, would laugh and ask you if you were feeling all right. But now?

He shrugs, but you can tell he’s at least considering your words. “Maybe?” he replies in a very small voice, and then you realize he’s shaking.

The overwhelming need to protect your best friend rises up in you, but you can’t protect him from the spider venom in your veins. Frustration bubbles up in your chest and you clench your fist, but one look at the lost look on his face drains the panic from your body and you just envelop Mark in a hug that he immediately returns. “We’ll figure it out, Mark,” you mumble in his ear. “We’ll be fine. No matter what. Okay?”

“Okay,” he whispers in your ear.

“Good.”

Then you find that you can’t fucking detach yourself from him.

It’s not that you don’t want to. You literally can’t. Your fingers are somehow stuck to the back of his shirt and you have a feeling that if you yank hard enough to pull yourself away, a patch of cloth is going to come off with your hand.

“Mark? Try to let go of me.”

It turns out he can’t either.

“Mark, we have ten minutes before the next train leaves.”

Long story short, you miss the train. And as the two of you sheepishly walk in late to homeroom, you have a terrible feeling that you’re going to be missing many more trains in the future, too.

. . . . .

That first hug, sadly, does not bring an end to the adventures of Mark and Y/N sticking (literally) together.

Mark tries to be careful, he really does. He knows you’re trying too. But you’re both so used to linking arms, hugging, and holding hands that it’s difficult to remember that touching literally anything could result in a whole stupid fiasco.

You two are late to homeroom every. Single. Fucking. Day. Of. That. Week. Because neither of you can remember to keep your stupid hands to your stupid selves.

On Tuesday, it’s the hug.

On Wednesday, he grabs your arm to avoid a group of rushing passerby.

On Thursday, you playfully shove him.

On Friday, Mark wakes up praying for one day of peace, just one fucking day before he can bury his head in his pillow for two days straight and dream that this never happened.

And it would’ve been perfectly fine if you hadn’t fallen asleep on the train.

It’s not your fault, not at all. The night before, you were up so late trying to fix a bug in your computer science assignment that you almost fell asleep waiting for the train. Almost as soon as you board, you’re passed out.

Mark is stupid.

Normally when one of you falls asleep, the other will hold their hand or arm to keep them from slumping over completely. It’s basically instinct now, so when your head lolls onto his shoulder, Mark quickly grabs your hand and nudges you upright.

Then he realizes his mistake.

Fuck.

His slight jolt of realization shakes you awake. Mark’s heart sinks as your tired eyes open and immediately zero in on their linked hands.

You’re wide awake now.

You try to tug away. It doesn’t work.

“Fuck,” you say eloquently.

Mark winces. “Sorry. I swear I didn’t mean to, it’s just…” He winces again. “Habit?”

Honestly, after a week of this, Mark would have thought the two of you would get better at detaching from each other. But every morning, without fail, it’s been exactly like this – flailing limbs, anxious yanking, clothes threatening to rip.

The two of you stumble into the train station still stuck together. With his free hand, Mark checks his phone and groans.

“We have five minutes.”

Unsticking takes fifteen.

Mark is normally a pretty mild person. He can take a lot more of Flash’s shit than you can without batting an eye, and his teachers usually like him for his calm demeanor. But as he slips into his seat, face hot and ears undoubtedly bright red, he thinks he’s going to lose his mind.

Four late days in a row. Four fucking days.

He stifles a groan. If you two don’t figure out this sticking situation soon…

The bell for first period rings literally minutes after he sits down. With a sigh, he reaches down to pick up his bag, praying that he won’t stick to it, when Mr. Thomas, his homeroom teacher, calls for you and him to stay behind.

“Someone’s in trouble,” Flash sneers as he passes by.

Mark wants nothing more than to punch him in the face.

Thomas is a cool teacher, as far as Mark has known. He’s chill, likes to make jokes, and has two kids of his own – he knows and cares for his students. This knowledge just makes Mark feel so much worse, and as the two of you walk up to his teacher’s desk, he readies himself to make an apology.

“So, I’m sure you two know why I wanted to talk to you today.” Mr. Thomas’s mild voice contains a hint of reproach, and Mark winces. Next to him, he sees you do the same. He opens his mouth to apologize.

“I understand.”

Both of your heads snap up. How does he know?

“First love can be very overwhelming, especially at your age.”

Mark blinks. Then he blinks again.

His teacher just smiles benevolently. “Believe me, I would know. I met my wife when I was in high school, and we had some crazy memories. First love is a beautiful thing.”

Mark doesn’t want to hear anymore. He can already feel the redness creeping up his cheeks.

Please, Earth, just open up and swallow me whole.

“But let me give you some advice.” Mr. Thomas leans forward slightly, looking the two of you in your unwilling eyes. “Romantic rendezvous in the morning shouldn’t be more important than getting to school on time.”

A sort of strangled eep comes out of his throat just as you sputter, “Romantic rendezvous?!”

“You both are very intelligent and hardworking students, two of the best this school has ever seen, and I do think you two are a good fit for each other,” Mr. Thomas continues as if he hasn’t heard anything. “However, it’d be a shame for such good students to give up on your schooling for a boyfriend or girlfriend.”

“We’re – we’re not dating,” Mark protests. “Mr. Thomas, seriously –”

His teacher holds up a hand. “Mark, Y/N, if you two can’t control your… urges, you should at least be safe. I trust that you two both know that.”

There’s a stapler next to Mr. Thomas’s computer. Maybe he can staple his hand and go to the clinic. Or he could bash his head against the edge of the desk and knock himself out. Maybe grab those scissors in that cup of pens and just slit his throat right then and there.

Some sort of croaking noise leaves your throat. Mark doesn’t need to look at you to know how you’re feeling.

Mr. Thomas sighs. “But beyond that, school really should be your first priority.” He flashes a smile that Mark can’t find the presence of mind to return. “That’s all I wanted to say. I’ll give you two passes for next period. What do you have next?”

Passes in hand, the two of you stumble into the now-empty hall. Mr. Thomas’s parting words – “Remember my advice!” – rattle around in Mark’s mind.

That didn’t actually happen. There’s no way Mark’s homeroom teacher just gave the sex talk to him and his best friend who happens to be of the opposite gender. This is all just a really, really long nightmare, and Mark will wake up in a few minutes, wrapped in warm blankets.

He pinches himself. It hurts a lot.

Not a nightmare.

“That has to be illegal,” Mark mutters. “Fucking… what the fuck even was that?”

“I want to die,” you mumble.

There’s a bit of silence.

“Well…” You swallow hard, resolutely looking anywhere but Mark’s eyes. “I’ll be… going to class?”

He nods dumbly, then watches you disappear down the hall. The closing of the door jerks him out of his daze and he turns around, heading to his own class.

Head down, he hands the pass to his teacher and takes his seat, ignoring Flash’s smirk and Haechan’s look of worry. He grinds the heels of his hands into his eyes, trying to wake himself up from this real-life nightmare.

Could this day get any worse?

. . . . .

You honestly think, after leaving homeroom, that nothing could make this day even worse.

By third period, you’re cursing your naivete.

It’s like the stickiness is on tenfold today. Your fingers glue themselves to everything – textbook pages, the disgusting desks, pens, even a whiteboard marker from when you go up to solve a problem in calculus.

It takes a five-minute tugging match for Mr. Garcia to finally peel the marker off of your skin. The giggles of your classmates join the vestiges of Mr. Thomas’s “advice” in bouncing around your brain like a million vicious ping pong balls.

After that, you avoid raising your hand to answer questions at all.

By the time you meet back up with Mark, you two have come to a silent agreement to not touch each other whatsoever. You studiously ignore each other all throughout English, and at lunch, you sit across the table, not next to each other like normal. At the same table, your friends look like they want to remark on the situation, but they wisely keep their mouths shut.

When you get up to throw your trash away, Diana, a girl you know but don’t really talk to, walks up as well. “Hey, Y/N,” she greets.

“Hey.” You try to smile.

“Um, I just wanted to ask.” She bites her lip, looking sympathetic. “Did… did you and Mark break up?”

You can almost hear the Windows shutting-down noise as your brain short-circuits.

How could you have broken up if you were never dating in the first place.

With an effort, you turn to her and swallow. “We were never dating,” you enunciate carefully. “So we never broke up.”

Diana immediately flushes bright red. “Oh, fuck, sorry. It’s just, Flash told everyone the two of you were together? And you guys seemed super close and all so it really looked like you were. I really did think you guys were dating, you looked super sweet together. But you didn’t talk much today, and you two looked pretty worked up this morning, so people thought…”

You’re going to kill Flash. You’re going to beat him up behind the school and slit his throat with your own nails.

“Well, we’re not.” You smile as best as you can. “Um, yeah.”

It just doesn’t stop. Until now, you never realized this many people actually paid attention to your personal life. Five more people have come up to ask if you and Mark are okay by the time chemistry rolls around, and as you take your place behind the cramped lab table with the boy everyone thinks you’re dating, you can practically feel the steam billowing out of your ears. Mark doesn’t look nearly as angry as you, but he looks a lot more confused and annoyed.

You brush fingers a few times as Mark pours out the acid and you try to set up the buret for today’s titration. Thankfully, you don’t really stick this time.

But then Mark gets his hand stuck to the Erlenmeyer flask and you have to spend ten precious minutes trying to tug it off, causing you to almost not finish the lab and earning both of you another black mark in Ms. Wilson’s mental book.

You ignore anyone who tries to ask you or Mark anything as you all but run out of school, only relaxing once you’ve thrown yourself onto a seat on the train. Mark slides down next to you and puts his head in his hands.

“Tell me this is all a nightmare,” he mumbles.

You don’t have the heart to tell him the truth.

By the time you’ve walked up the stairs to your apartment, you think you’re going to pass out. It’s been a long day. You don’t care if you have homework or if Mark’s staying over for a bit – you just want to lie in your bed and sleep away the horrors of today.

Then Johnny opens the door before you even have the chance to unlock it and you just know from the glint in his eye that everything is about to get ten times worse.

“Y/N, Mark. What a lovely surprise!” Your older brother is all welcoming words and terrifying smiles. “I got a very interesting call today from a certain Mr. Thomas. Mei did too –” and at this, poor Mark looks like he’s going to faint right then and there – “but she couldn’t leave work, so she asked if I could come home early and give you both a talk.”

You think you’re going to vomit.

“Johnny, whatever Mr. Thomas told you, it isn’t true,” you plead. “I swear on my life –”

“So you two haven’t been late to school every day this week?” Johnny raises an eyebrow.

You think you’re going to die. “Well, yes, but –”

“Have a seat.” Johnny gestures grandly at the small kitchen table, where he’s pulled out two chairs. To your horror, it looks like he’s enjoying this. “Mei and I think it’s time we gave you The Talk.”

If your day was bad before, Johnny gleefully takes it straight to hell.

“So boys have appendages that are called penises,” he begins sagely, “and girls have vaginas. You may know these by more colloquial terms, but those are a bit crass for my household.”

Bullshit. Johnny calls his co-workers dicks and Ten an ass every other night.

“Both of these are integral to the process of sex, and thus, baby-making,” Johnny continues. “During sex, the male – or whatever they identify as – will put the penis inside their partner’s vagina. Of course, that’s traditional. Other forms of sex include oral and anal…”

You’re five seconds away from putting your hands over your ears and just screaming bloody murder. Mark is looking down, fists screwed into his shirt, and his face is so red that he looks like he might implode.

Meanwhile, your evil older brother is grinning like the Joker. It’s infuriating and terrifying. You really, really want to reach out and punch him and just brawl like when you were younger, but your feet feel rooted to the floor.

Johnny’s spiel pauses for a second as he takes a dramatic breath. Immediately, you’re on guard. Whenever Johnny wants to be dramatic, it’s never a good thing.

“So in anal sex,” Johnny starts, “the appendage goes in the –”

Oh my god.

“We’re not fucking!” you finally explode.

Mark breathes a sigh – you think it’s one of relief, but you can’t be sure – while your brother just blinks. “Pardon?”

Your face burns hot, but you grit your teeth and stare Johnny in the eye. “Mark and I are not fucking,” you repeat carefully.

“Who said anything about you and Mark?” Johnny raises one perfect eyebrow.

Oh, you want to punch him so badly.

“But thank you for bringing that up!” Johnny smiles benevolently like a teacher rewarding you for doing something good in class.

You groan, knowing you’ve just made things so much worse.

“You two are hormonal teenagers, so you’ve undoubtedly already started to feel those urges.” Johnny keeps smiling pleasantly, even as you’re having war flashbacks to this morning in homeroom. “That’s perfectly normal. So – and I’m not saying you’re fucking –” he gives you that look that means uh huh, I totally do not believe you, but I’ll drop it for now until you prove yourself wrong – “but if you do become sexually active, you should always get tested for STDs and STIs first, and take preventative measures such as using condoms and birth control.”

That’s it. You’re just going to die. Slit your own throat with, you don’t fucking know, the pencil lying by Johnny’s arm. Maybe you’ll just grab that piece of paper over there and cover yourself in tiny papercuts and bleed to death. That couldn’t possibly hurt as much as hearing Johnny talk right now.

“Now back to anal sex!” Johnny smiles.

Mark lets out a small groan and buries his face in his hands. If anything, Johnny’s smile grows wider. “Anal sex is when –”

“Jesus Christ, Johnny!” You grab the pencil you wanted to slit your throat with and hurl it at your brother. The blunt point pokes him harmlessly in the chest and falls to the floor. “I don’t know what the fuck Mr. Thomas told you, but I – we –” you gesture helplessly between you and Mark – “we’re not doing anything! And I know all of this, dude, I go to high school!”

Even after that excellent point, Johnny still goes on for another ten minutes before he allows you to drag Mark to your room and slam the door shut.

“I’m so fucking sorry,” you mumble into your pillow.

Mark just makes a little pained noise in his throat.

The two of you do end up passing out for the best part of an hour before spending the rest of the afternoon finishing homework. Mark can barely look Johnny in the eye when he says goodbye, and as soon as the door shuts, you round on your older brother.

“What the fuck did Mr. Thomas say on the phone?” you snap.

Johnny raises his hands in a gesture of surrender as he stirs pasta in a pot. “He just said you and Mark have been late to homeroom every day this entire week, and he was sure it wasn’t much because you are both stellar students, but he worried that the two of you were becoming distracted because this wasn’t normal behavior.” He scrunches his eyebrows. “He might’ve mentioned… romantic rendezvous?”

You sink to the floor with a groan.

“I was just messing with you earlier.” Johnny’s words make you open your eyes to catch his teasing smile. “Seriously. I think I know you and Mark well enough to trust you not to do anything stupid.”

Suddenly, you become very aware of the spot on your arm where the spider bit you, the stupid thing that caused this whole mess in the first place. “Uh huh.”

“But I do want you to be careful.” Johnny’s eyes turn serious. “Mark is still a teenage boy, and you’re still a teenage girl. I do trust you, but things can still happen, even if they’re unexpected.”

Internally, you gag. Outwardly, you just nod. “I know.”

“Good.” Johnny turns back to the pasta, then quickly looks back at you. “Doesn’t it look like Mark filled out a little?”

Your heart literally leaps into your throat. You hadn’t really thought about it before, but the spider venom has caused you both to pack on some muscle overnight.

Sure, part of you is worried that Johnny is catching on to something weird. But something else is also making you sweat.

A memory of your linked hands from the morning flashes through your mind. In it, you realize, Mark’s arms are bulkier. A lot more than before.

Heat rises in your cheeks. You want to fling yourself into the void. “Y-yeah,” you squeak.

“Y/N, dating your best friend isn’t anything embarrassing –”

“We’re not dating!” you protest.

Johnny just gives you The Look again as he pours the water out of the pasta. “Okay.”

For the umpteenth time that day, you will whatever god is listening to just smite you down right then and there.

. . . . .

There are a lot of things that come with being a sort of spider-person that neither you nor Mark realized would happen, but in hindsight, they kind of (not really) make sense.

. . .

One: the sticking thing. It does make sense. Spiders walk on walls and other vertical surfaces by sticking to them with the little setules on their legs. Mark hypothesizes that maybe there’s some sort of electrostatic force between your skin and objects around you that makes you stick. After a moment of thought, you agree.

Doesn’t matter. Mark never wants to go through that ordeal of the first week over again.

He used to idolize Johnny. Johnny was something between another parent and the older brother he never had, embarrassing but cool and kind and so, so strong. Even after your parents died and he had to drop out of university to take care of you, he always stayed strong.

But now? After that disastrous Friday, Mark knows what you mean when you complain about Johnny being a menace to your health and well-being.

And of course, that’s not the end of it. Aunt Mei just has to get her hands into it too. The literal day after The Talk, you walk up to his apartment to work on a research paper together for the lab you two volunteer in. When he takes your laptop to read something, the device somehow gets stuck to his skin.

Mei comes home early that evening and walks in on you practically straddling him, trying to yank your laptop away.

Even Mark knows that it definitely doesn’t look that way from her perspective.

But all she does is say, “Use protection,” and close the door behind her.

(You leave early that evening, rushing out of the apartment with a face hot with embarrassment and lowered eyes. Mark slinks out of his room at some point to get something to eat, and Mei just gives him a smirk.)

Thankfully, after a couple more weeks, the two of you more or less figure out how to stop sticking to every goddamn thing you touch. It’s more of a thing that happens when either of you are nervous or stressed, so as long as you two keep calm and purposely remind yourselves not to stick to stuff, you’re fine.

Mr. Thomas still gives you a few looks, but now that you’re coming in on time to homeroom, he doesn’t say anything.

Thank fucking God for that.

. . .

Two: both you and him somehow buffed up overnight. Well, probably during the time that you two were sick. That explains the aching muscles in his stomach and his back – he has abs, and he’s definitely taller. So are you.

Spiders are strong. Relatively. So the new muscles kind of makes sense, even though it’s hard for Mark to get used to at first.

What doesn’t make sense is how much strength these muscles actually contain.

The first casualty is Mark’s apartment doorknob. You go to open it one day after visiting the lab and it just… fucking… twists all the way around. Mark finds himself staring at a doorknob in your hand and an open door with a hole in it.

You squeeze your eyes shut and sigh heavily. Mark rubs a hand over his face. “Mei is going to kill me,” he groans.

The two of you spend five panicked hours fixing the doorknob instead of working on the research paper and Wilson’s lab report. When Mei comes home, she doesn’t notice anything (which really is a miracle), but from that day on, whenever the doorknob squeaks or stalls or does anything weird in his vicinity, Mark freezes.

A trail of broken things starts littering your paths. A stapler he pushed down too hard. His locker door, which now has a dent in it. One of your bedroom floorboards, though you hide the crack in the wood under a pile of clothes. Someone’s old MP3 player on the sidewalk literally shatters beneath his feet. Pens, pencils, and highlighters break in your hands. No one wants to lend either of you supplies anymore, so he becomes more vigilant about his own.

Oh, you also “accidentally” step on Flash’s calculus binder, flattening the metal rings and breaking the covers. But you don’t regret that.

It’s like he’s a toddler again, hiding broken toys or messily fixing them with scotch tape and glue. The only difference is now, he uses duct tape and superglue and is somehow even worse at hiding things than before.

Mark starts putting away all of his and Mei’s valuables into high-up cabinets with the excuse of keeping them safe from his clumsiness. He advises you to do the same. Eventually, you two learn to control your strength and the number of things you break slowly dwindles to zero.

Of course, there are accidents. One time in PE, you run the mile a little too fast (which is an understatement – you beat everyone else in your group, which has never happened before), and now Coach wants you to join the track team. Then Mark squeezes a glass buret a little too hard in chemistry one day and the thing just fucking shatters onto the table. While he hastily grabs the broom and starts sweeping up the pieces, you tell Ms. Wilson he accidentally dropped it while Flash keeps insisting that he saw Mark snap it with his bare hands.

Ms. Wilson might vehemently dislike you and Mark, but she now thinks Flash is insane. The one spot of joy Mark now finds in chemistry comes from Ms. Wilson narrowing her eyes at Flash whenever he says something remotely stupid, like she’s thinking of sending him to the school psychologist.

After all, who would accuse spindly, nerdy Mark of having the strength to shatter a reinforced glass tube in his palm?

He’s never particularly liked the stereotype people placed him in, but now he’s pretty thankful for it.

. . .

Three: he has reflexes sharper than he’s ever had before.

It’s not the same as, say, having his senses enhanced. They are enhanced – both of you can see clearly without glasses, he can hear things he’s never been able to before, and his nose wrinkles at smells no one else can detect. Sometimes it’s overwhelming and he has to duck into a quiet shop to escape the bustling noise of New York City.

But this new sixth sense reflex thing? It’s different.

It isn’t fake. Like, Mark could say he’s developed a sixth sense for when Flash wants to be a little shit, meaning he hears when Flash snorts or shuffles around in the back and knows to duck his head.

But this?

Mark first realizes it a few weeks after the spider bite. He’s minding his own business, talking with his friends before class, when Flash decides to be stupid and throw an apple at his head.

Mark doesn’t see Flash. He doesn’t see the apple. He doesn’t hear any swoosh of wind or feel anything in the air. But something in his head screams DANGER DANGER DANGER and he whips himself away from the apple, which smacks into his locker.

The hall falls awkwardly silent as Mark tries to process what just happened.

He didn’t even notice Flash’s arm or the apple. He didn’t see it, didn’t hear it, didn’t feel it. But somehow, he knew something was wrong. He knew to duck away.

You recover a few seconds later. “What the fuck, Flash?” Then you pick up the apple, throw it back with far more force, and the hall descends into its normal levels of chaos. You all go to class, but in his peripheral vision, Mark can see you raising an eyebrow at him.

“What was that with Flash?” you ask later, when you two have boarded the train home. “I know you didn’t see that apple coming. Your back aas completely to him.”

Mark shrugs. “I just felt… I don’t know, really. I didn’t see him or hear anything. Just, something in my brain screamed danger and I just kind of moved.”

You look around, making sure nobody is paying attention. “Spider thing again?” you whisper.

“Maybe?”

For the next week or so, nothing happens that would trigger whatever the hell that was again. Mark makes sure to keep everyone he talks in sight, not allowing anyone to get behind him or to surprise him. He only ducked away that first time, but is surprised again, he has a feeling that his reactions could be a lot worse the next time. Like more violent.

The two of you are walking home from the lab when you hear scuffling in a nearby alley. Common sense tells Mark to keep walking, but as you two pass by, he can’t help but look. You stop walking too.

It’s a mugging, but the muggers clearly don’t have a lot of experience. Sure, they’re in a mostly-empty place, but the sun’s barely gone down and they’re trying to get money from a teenage girl who probably doesn’t have much on her. But one of the two has a gun.

He should just walk past and ignore it. Things like this happen all the time. Cops would just escalate the situation, and he’s too weak to help much.

The realization hits him with a jolt. But he isn’t weak anymore.

Mark feels your gaze on him and he turns to meet it. You raise an eyebrow, cocking your head slightly toward the alley. He nods.

He’s always been light on his feet, but the spider bite seems to have made him almost soundless as he steps into the alley. The muggers don’t notice either of you at first, they’re too focused on their crying victim.

It happens quickly. You dart behind the unarmed man and pull him into a chokehold. His partner has fast reflexes though and immediately aims the gun at Mark.

DANGER DANGER DANGER DANGER –

Mark drops to the ground seconds before the bullet sinks into the wall behind him.

Together, you subdue the men, leaving them groaning by the side of the street. Under the blanket of darkness that’s now fallen, Mark crushes the gun with his shoe, hoping nobody is paying attention to the dark object under his feet or the cracking noises. The girl thanks you effusively and runs off, and the two of you head on home.

This is what gets him thinking. You two are strong now, sticky, and have a sort of sixth sense for imminent danger.

It terrifies him to think of it, but the more he does, the more it makes sense.

You guys could keep doing this. Patrol the city, help people get around safely. Everyone knows the NYPD and the justice system aren’t shit. They couldn’t charge the drunk kid with a rich daddy who killed your parents. They couldn’t find the thief who shot his uncle. People will keep committing crimes, and the NYPD won’t be able to stop them.

But maybe, just maybe, Mark thinks, you could.

. . . . .

Mark is the one who brings up using your newfound skills – you refuse to call them powers, that’s just a step too far – for the good of the neighborhood.

“Think about it,” he says, looking at his hands. His face is pale, but he keeps going. “We have these, uh, enhanced abilities. Remember how we helped that girl get away from the muggers? What if we could do that for more people?”

You’re usually the brash one in most situations, but here, you take a step back. “There’s a lot of things to think about if we want to do that, Mark.” You chew your lips, thinking. “We can’t get caught, or else we could get arrested too. We need to be able to get away quickly and without injury, or Johnny or Mei will find out. We can’t afford a lot of hospital bills, either. We would need to move fast. Really fast.”

Mark nods. “I know. It’s just…” He looks at his hands again. His fingers are just as slim and graceful as they used to be, but both of you know the strength that now lies within them. “I don’t feel right, being able to help people but not doing it. You know.” He looks at you, and though his face is pale and his voice a little shaky, he’s resolute. “You and I have always tried to help people whenever we could.”

There’s bitterness there and you echo it, remembering the inept, corrupt legal system that couldn’t even bring justice to your family. The same law enforcement that couldn’t bring justice to Mark’s.

You could help prevent that. You could prevent the crimes in the first place, find the criminals and tie them up for the police to put away. Help make sure no one else has to deal with what you and Mark went through.

“Okay.” You rest your chin on your fist. “All right. Let’s say we hypothetically do this. We need to be able to mask ourselves as much as possible, keep our DNA away from the scene. This can only happen when Johnny and Mei are doing late shifts, so they don’t catch on.”

“First aid,” Mark adds. “We’ll probably get into scrapes and things. But we’ll also need to be able to immobilize the criminals and get away fast…”

Silence falls as you start thinking. Ropes are bulky and get heavy. Chains are even worse. Carrying them around would slow you down, so there’s no point. What you need is something lightweight and sticky, but strong.

An idea begins to form in your mind. You and Mark volunteer in labs at a nearby university. Professor Wang in the organic chemistry lab is really chill and lets you perform experiments with polymers and stuff he doesn’t need anymore. Mark works in mechanical engineering with Professor Tuan, who lets him build things out of scrap plastic and metal.

Spider bites.

Spider webs.

You could create synthetic webs, while Mark could make something that lets you shoot them out. There’ll be a lot of test trials and you’ll need to find an empty space for that, but if it works?

It’ll be so worth it.

Your mind races with possibilities. You could immobilize criminals, stick them to walls or the ground. You could stopper guns, or at least slow bullets down. You could trip people up with webs on their legs, keep them from punching or shooting with some on their arms.

And you could swing from buildings, which solves the travel problem.

“I have an idea,” you say. Mark raises an eyebrow.

A smirk grows on your face. “But we’re going to need to work on your fear of heights first.”

. . . . .

Mark thinks he’s going to have a heart attack, and he’s not even the one jumping first.

The two of you have taken a day off to go to Central Park – not for fun or anything (well, you insist it’ll be fun. Mark has other opinions), but to test out the strength of your web fluid. You’ve already done some trial runs with inanimate objects and you think it’s strong enough to hold both yours and Mark’s body weights, but you need to check.

Mark wants to argue that you have the rest of summer break to check, but you insist on doing it as early as possible. “We need time to fix mistakes,” you point out. “Plus, the earlier we finish this, the earlier we can... start doing stuff.”

He can’t exactly argue with that.

The web shooters are working well, Mark is finally thankful to say. Every single time he remembers the first test trial, he wants the earth to just open up and accept him into the void.

(He didn’t realize just how strongly the shooter would actually eject your “webs.” He also didn’t know how to aim very well. Long story short, you got a glob of polymers right to the face and Mark consequently wanted to die right then and there. The ensuing purple bruise on the side of your face made you the subject of several kinky jokes on Flash’s end.

They stopped when you picked up his new calculus binder and hit him over the head with it.

At least you found out the webs were indeed sticky enough.)

“I’m going!” you yell, startling Mark from his thoughts. You’re at least twelve feet up in a tree in Central Park, looking determinedly at a sturdy branch poking out from another trunk around ten feet away. Mark’s heart flips when he sees how high up you are.

Jesus Christ. Twelve feet, and he already feels like he’s going to start screaming.

What’s going to happen when he possibly has to swing off a building?

With shaking hands, Mark holds up his phone, fingers poised over the record button on the camera app. For whatever reason, you’d insisted on recording each “trial” like it was an actual laboratory test. Mark just goes along with it.

“Ready?” he yells.

“Yeah!”

He presses the record button.

For a second, you stand on your branch, staring steadily ahead. Then you raise your right arm, shoot a line of webbing to the next tree trunk, and leap.

Mark’s breath catches.

A screeching yelp tears itself from your throat as you swing through the air, using your momentum to rise back up and land neatly on the tree branch. Mark holds his breath as you wobble back and forth slightly, then drop into a steadier crouch. He sighs in relief and stops the video.

“Holy shit!” You climb down the tree and run over. “Holy shit! That was so fucking cool, Mark!”

“I’m sure,” he replies in a faint voice, looking at the tree you leapt from.

Twelve feet. It’s just twelve fucking feet, not like the monstrosity that is Trump Tower. It’s not even as high as his apartment building.

And yet he still wants to die.

Fucking acrophobia. Mark squeezes his eyes shut and forces himself to take a breath.

Your hand goes to rest on his shoulder. “Hey, Mark.”

He looks at you.

“If you’re really not ready today, it’s fine.” The excitement in your eyes is gone, replaced by calm concern. “We can do this another day. Or we can figure out another option closer to the ground.”

God, what did Mark even do to deserve a friend like you? Even after all the work you put in to making the synthetic webs – a stroke of genius, by the way – you’re willing to put it all aside for him. Just for him.

He steels himself. “I’m good. I’m fine.” He flashes you something resembling a smile and starts hauling himself into the tree. “I can do this,” he mumbles once he’s on the branch.

Then he looks down and almost throws up.

Placing a hand on the tree trunk, he looks away and forces himself to take a deep breath. He’s fine. He’ll be fine. He trusts in his web shooter to be accurate. He trusts in your webs to be strong enough.

He trusts that even if he falls, you won’t let him get far. He trusts that you’ll keep him safe.

“Ready?” you yell. Mark looks down again to nod, but the world isn’t spinning anymore. He locks his eyes onto the tree you jumped into and aims his web shooter.

“Ready!” he yells back. Faintly, he hears the beeping noise that signals the start of the recording.

Thwip. Web fluid shoots out and latches onto the branch. Before he can lose his nerve, he jumps.

A yell rips from his throat as he hurtles to the ground. Air rushes past his face as he swings his body up, up, until the branch is in view and he can plant his feet against it, using the last of his momentum to pull himself up. He wobbles a bit, then plants his arm against the tree trunk to steady himself.

He gasps shakily. The ground still looks so small from here, but the drop feels a fraction less frightening than it used to be. He takes one more deep breath, then starts to slowly climb down the tree.

As soon as he reaches the ground, you race over and engulf him in a strong hug. “You did it, Mark!” you all but yell into his ear. “You did it!”

Despite himself, Mark lets out a trembling bout of laughter, hugging you as close as he can. “Holy shit,” he mumbles, drinking in the steadiness that you bring to him. “Holy fuck.”

The two of you spend the rest of the afternoon in the secluded spot, leaping from the tallest trees you can find for longer and longer distances. You take notes as Mark pulls the sticky but mostly solidified web fluid from the branches, analyzing how some of them seem to have solidified and cracked a little under stress. “They need a little more flexibility,” you tell him as the two of you pile the web fluid into a bag. You think you can recycle it to make more. “With the adjustments you make on the shooters, I think they’ll be even better next time.”

“Yeah.” It’s all Mark can say. As he sits down next to you on the subway, he suddenly feels so drained and tired that he automatically slumps and places his head on your shoulder.

A small, surprised laugh sounds next to his ear, and he feels your hand go up to pat his head. “You did great today,” you murmur.

He smiles. In that moment, while your hand continues stroking his hair, he feels like he could do anything.

Anything for the world.

Anything for you.

79 notes · View notes

def-initely-soul · 4 years ago

Note

Can I get the 'arm doesn't bend that way' and the 'cannibalism' thing with mark (got7) ? ^-^

of course bb ^_^

a/n: inspired by that one Halloween episode of Community so please show understanding. warnings, mild spoilers for the series!

pairing: mark from got7 x reader (f.)

prompt(s): “I don’t think your arm is supposed to bend that way.” & “Oh yeah, I’m totally into cannibalism.”

genre: humour; crack; zombie au; angst

warnings: mature language; gore; minor character deaths; mentions of drug use; mentions of alchohol use

words: 3.5k

“Mm, weird,” you state once the first bite of those weird tacos hits your oesophagus. It’s Halloween, in what could be the first Halloween party ever thrown by the Dean himself as a way to bring the spirit of the holiday over the campus. Or more precisely cause he didn’t have anything better to do on Halloween night.

Mark cocks an eyebrow at you as he drags away his hand with the freshly bitten taco. Tonight requires Mark’s unwilling assistance, seeing as you’re dressed as Edward Scissorhands and your hands are, well... scissors.

Safety scissors to be precise! Which, of course, had prompted a series of laughs to emit from your friends as the attempt to dress as Edward Scissorhands has left you with poorly dyed-black safety scissors.

Your friend in the James Bond costume takes a bite from your bitten taco. Oh, he’s gonna pay for this. “Your tendency to dress up in things that limit the use of your hands? I’d say alarming, though definitely weird,” Mark says in midst of chewing your taco and gloats when you try to take it back and fail spectacularly.

Damn your scissor-hands.

“Ha-ha, and what are you supposed to be, some hot guy with money that has sex with girls and never calls them back?” you throw the sarcastic jab while trying to cross your hands on your chest. Not with very much luck.

Mark smiles at your comment. “That’s exactly it! How’d you know?” he says with a cocky grin and you groan at loud. Sometimes he’s just insufferable.

“Ugh, gross, I swear you’re more tolerable once the sun is up, like some kind of asshole vampire that craves sex instead of blood,” you comment, eyes searching the crowd for either Yugyeom or Bambam (as they usually go together and are the most fun ones in the group) or even Jinyoung.

“That... sounds awesome actually. Anyway, you said weird. Weird as in?” Mark redirects the conversation back to where it began before you let it go off the rails.

“Oh, right. Weird as in “Weird, this taco doesn’t taste like a real taco”,” you say as you lean in for one more bite. Mark gives you a judging look you choose to ignore, nevertheless, he brings the taco closer letting you have one more bite.

You chew slowly, letting the taste infiltrate your taste buds as you struggle to understand what kind of meat this is.

At that moment, the overly cheery collection of songs coming through the speakers stops to give way to another usually overly cheery voice that now sounds entirely too panicked.

“EVERYONE STOP EATING THE TACOS! PUT THE TACOS DOWN NOW! THIS IS A STATE OF NATIONAL EMERGENCY!” comes the shaky voice of the Dean and everyone turns around to look at each other weirdly.

Your eyes find Mark’s. “Okay, there’s definitely something weird with the tacos.”

Mark scoffs dismissively. “Yeah, but it’s not like we’re gonna die or something, right?”

Pause.

The Dean’s voice comes back on.

“WE’RE ALL GONNA DIE!!!”

And it’s pandemonium.

It’s been two hours, thirteen minutes and...

And...

Fuck, you messed up the counting again.

“Y/N, stop counting the seconds since the outbreak took place!” Mark hisses as he, you, Yugyeom and Jinyoung try to barricade one of the study rooms, currently the only one empty and therefore safe.

You ignore Mark, as you put up more chairs on top of the couch in front of the doors to keep them from opening. To be fair you’re not counting the time since the outbreak took place.

Only the time since you took the first bite of that taco.

When the Dean made that announcement (although it sounded more like a cry for help), you started realizing things you hadn’t before. That girls dressed as Harley Quinn and Poisson Ivy that seemed to be making out weren’t actually making out; the Poisson Ivy girl was biting into Harley Quinn’s neck. That guy that looked like he was making a pretty good impression of Tommy Wiseau wasn’t actually high; he was zombified.

And all because of that questionable taco meat that both you and Mark had eaten. Symptoms included: itching all over the body and particularly on your palms, absence of pain, sleepiness and more importantly a sudden, violent desire for human flesh. And it takes about four to three hours for the symptoms to take action since consuming the probably mutant meat.

Which means you and Mark don’t have much time.

“Okay, I think this will do,” Jinyoung exclaims once he’s certain there’s no way the door will open. Yugyeom looks around with fear in his eyes, as he tries to look for any possible way someone may break in.

You can see though he’s still weighed down from losing Bambam in the crowd. Amidst the mayhem of everyone trying to escape (or barf the recently eaten meat) Yugyeom and Bambam got separated and you haven’t heard from him since. You just hope he’s okay.

“So what do we do now?” you ask, crossing your hands on your chest freely now that you got rid of the safety scissors. How can you fight a zombie pandemic with safety scissors for god’s sake?!

Mark settles down on the floor, grabbing a beer. “Have a nice cold pint and wait for this all to blow over?”

You resist the urge to scoff as Jinyoung steps forward. “Wait for this all to blow over? Do we even know what this is?”

“It’s a zombie outbreak,” Yugyeom murmurs somehow detached.

Jinyoung rolls his eyes. “Okay, I know you have a thing for movies but this thing out there is real, people we know are getting ill, or worse, dead! We can’t just sit back and wait for this all to blow over!” he claims, mocking Mark’s suggestion and you and him exchange a wary look.

Mark takes a swig of his beer. “And what do you suggest we do?”

Jinyoung levels his gaze. “Get out there.”

At that, your eyes almost bulge out of their sockets. “Are you mad? That instantly means getting bitten! Plus if we go out now, they’ll know where we’re hiding!”

Mark scoffs, taking another sip. “That seems like a great idea, because, oh yeah, I’m totally into cannibalism,” he sneers almost to himself.

Jinyoung doesn’t seem deterred as he takes a step closer with a confident look on his eyes. “Not if we don’t use the front gate.”

There’s a silence as you struggle to follow his train of thought, when Yugyeom looks upwards and gasps.

“The vents.”

Jinyoung smiles. “Precisely!”

The weight of getting through the vents fell to you and Yugyeom so now you find yourself with the other boy, trying to fit through the vents to scout the rest of the library building to find any survivors or any means for escape.

So far you’ve passed by three study rooms which were all full of the infected, not one survivor on sight. Things aren’t looking good.

And your palms are starting to itch. Definitely not good.

“Do you think Bambam is somewhere out there?” Yugyeom whispers from behind you as you crawl through the vents. You bite your lip, not having much hope for your friend but not cruel enough to diminish Yugyeom’s hope too.

“Yeah... Probably hiding. You know how good he’s at hiding...” you say in a terrible attempt to comfort him. If he sees through your bullshit, he doesn’t say it.

Fuck, goddamnit there’s another itch on your palm. How much longer till Yugyeom sniffs out what’s going on? Fuck you gotta tell him and Jinyoung at some point.

You soothe the itch by shaping your hands into fists, letting your nails softly scratch against the irritated skin.

You pass all the study rooms which are currently swarmed with the infected, your only hope lying on the abandoned library cafeteria. The cafeteria had been closed off for “renovations” for the last couple of years, so you can only hope no one managed to break through to it.

And lo and behold, as you reach the open vent above it and look down, you find in joy the abandoned area to remain as such. Completely empty, chains locking the doors next to the entrance to the basement where the boiling room is.

You make a little cheering sound at your discovery as you and Yugyeom decide the place is perfect and make your way back to inform Jinyoung and Mark.

But on your way back as you pass by the second study room, the itch returns and for one second you forget yourself and scratch the open palm with one hand, an almost moaning sound breaking free from your lips.

When you realize what you’ve done it’s too late.

Yugyeom stops behind you with alarm in his eyes as he looks at your palm. “Y/N, what are you-?”

A loud groan interrupts him and you both look down the vent into the second study room to see an overly familiar face looking for something to eat. Or someone.

Your eyes widen as you watch Bambam walk around aimlessly with bloodlust in his eyes. Yugyeom sucks in a breath and leans in further to get a better look.

“Yug, be careful! We don’t know what they can do yet!” you warn him, a part of you sad for seeing your friend become one of them yet another part relieved for Yugyeom’s distraction.

Yugyeom doesn’t listen though. His eyes find his best friend and murmurs softly his name.

Bambam, or what used to be Bambam, turns his head upwards at Yugyeom’s voice and for a moment you’re afraid he’ll alert the others and that will be your doom.

But he only looks at Yugyeom with a tilted head and bloody eyes before-.

“Must. Prank. Jinyoung.”

Yugyeom almost cries with relief. “He’s still in there! He’s still in there! Maybe there’s hope for them!”

You stare at zombie Bambam for a moment too long, entirely taken aback from the revelation. That means that maybe this situation is reversible. That, maybe, both you and Mark have a chance.

You drag Yugyeom away after that, still needing to inform the others of the empty cafeteria. You finally reach the study room, Yugyeom going down first and waiting to catch you but when you move to go down, your costume gets caught in the vents, resulting in you falling down the vents in a weird angle.

Yugyeom doesn’t catch you right away, resulting in you falling on top of one of the chairs barricading the door before falling on Yugyeom and dragging him down in the process.

Yugyeom groans from underneath you as Mark gives out his hand to help you up and with terror, you realize you feel no pain from the fall. Even if your arm seems broken, to say the least.

Mark’s worried eyes find yours, cause if you’re in that stage that means there’s not much time for him either.

“Ugh... Y/N? You okay?” Jinyoung asks cautiously as he leans back to look your over.

“AHahahha, YEah! Why?” you say entirely guilty, trying to hide your broken arm with not much success.

“Because I don’t think your arm is supposed to bend that way,” he comments, all seriousness and Yugyeom’s eyes widen.

“You’re infected! She kept scratching her arms on the way here!” he observes out loud and Jinyoung’s eyes widen as well.

Mark turns to look at you before he sighs and takes a step forward. “Actually guys, it’s my fault. I was eating a taco and made her take a bite because it tasted weird,” he claims, taking more than half the blame when both of you know it’s not quite like that. You’re left staring at him in shock as Jinyoung gasps.

“You’re infected too?! Why didn’t you tell us? Or were you waiting until the last minute to get us infected as well?!” he asks full of anger as he takes a step further away from you.

Yugyeom takes his turn to talk. “I think they were just afraid.”

“Well, they’re stupid too!” Jinyoung snaps back and you shrink into yourself.

“We found a safe place. The abandoned cafeteria. No one made it in yet,” you share with the rest, out of guilt. Mark turns to look at you with shocked as Jinyoung’s anger fades away little by little.

Yugyeom confirms your statement. “It’s true! It’s after the rest of the study rooms but it’s there! Not a single soul inside!”

Jinyoung looks between the three of you, anger, sadness, disappointment in his features. “Then I have no choice. Yugyeom and I will go to the cafeteria, see if there’s any way out. You two stay here. I’m sorry guys but we might as well be the last two non infected in the entirety of the campus.”

You feel your throat closing up and yet you nod to show you understand. Mark’s jaw is clenched as he looks at you, his nostrils flaring up with anger before he turns to Jinyoung. “So what, you’re just gonna leave us here for dead?!”

“Maybe if you weren’t so stupidly selfish, thinks would be different!” Jinyoung yells back but then he regains his composure. He takes a deep breath, looking at you and Mark with sorrow in his eyes. “I’m really sorry but there’s no other way. Come on, Yugyeom, we’re leaving,” he states with finality in his voice as he climbs into the vent.

Yugyeom takes one last look at the two of you before he follows Jinyoung out the vents.

Leaving you and Mark alone.

Time passes by and the itch grows, spreading to your whole body as Mark begins experiencing the side effects as well.

“Okay. So. We’re screwed,” you comment, voice too panicky for your liking as you scratch behind your neck.

“Oh, I wouldn’t say screwed. More like doomed to spend the rest of our human lives in complete agony before we turn into violence-craving monsters that feed on the flesh of humans,” Mark casually comments as he scratches his left thigh.

You groan at him, throwing one of the couch’s pillows at his face. “Is everything a joke to you?”

He groans back at you. “What else am I supposed to do, huh? Cry over my pitiful fate on the last few hours of my existence? No thanks, I call that a normal Tuesday night, I’d rather get drunk and not think,” he shoots back at you, going for his beer but he already took the last sip. He shakes his bottle on top of his tongue for any last drop of liquid but with an annoyed sound, he throws the bottle at the other side of the room.

You stay quiet at that, instead scratching your arm as you avoid his gaze. Who would’ve thought you’d spend the last minutes of your life alongside Mark?

Which reminds you of how he covered for you earlier in a completely uncharacteristic behaviour of him.

You clear your throat to get his attention once more. “Um, thanks... for before... You didn’t have to cover for me like that.”

Your words have him take a wary glance at you before he shrugs nonchalantly. “It’s no big deal.”

You cock an eyebrow at his blatant display of macho-ness. “Really? Cause the Mark Tuan I know would never have done that.”

He sighs tiredly, eyes avoiding yours. “It was the safest way to admit I was infected as well, I was saving my own ass...” he says, eyes still away from yours as he crosses his arms on his chest.

Your eyebrows furrow. “That-” doesn’t make any sense. But judging by Mark’s look on his face you know that bringing up that now will one give you the opposite result of what you want. So you say nothing.

A second passes before-. “We saw Bambam,” Mark’s eyes turn to you in interest, “Yugyeom and I. He’s...” you take a breath, “He’s one of them, but he seemed to show aspects of his human side while being a zombie,” you ponder scratching your jaw as if you’re thinking over it.

But really the itch just spread to your jaw as well.

Mark seems interested in that. “What did he do?”

You swallow a snort. “He kept saying he must prank Jinyoung.”

Mark blinks as your words, too taken aback for a second before he proceeds to laugh his ass off. His genuine laughter brings out your own and in a manner of seconds, you’re both laughing like lunatics all over the floor.

Once your giggles die down, Mark wipes a hypothetical tear from his eyes. “Ah, classic Bambam. I hate to say it but I’m bummed I won’t get to see what kind of pranks zombie Bambam might pull on Jinyoung,” he whispers as he shuffles closer to you to bump your shoulder with his.

You bite your lip to hide your smile at his attempt to make you feel better though you’re not very successful. Though your smile is quick to fall when the itch reappears, along with the first signs of sleepiness, ultimately reminding you of what’s coming in less than an hour.

“Mark...” you whisper quietly, waiting for him to acknowledge you before you continue. He hums softly, showing he’s there and you take a deep breath.

“I’m scared,” you finally admit, letting an exhale leave your lungs, feeling somehow relieved the words are finally out and an incredulous chuckle escapes you. “I mean Jinyoung was right; we don’t really know what this thing is or what’s gonna happen to us after it happens, or if we really can survive this...” you mumble, the exhaustion and sleepiness slowly taking over you as you rest your head on Mark’s shoulder.

You feel his shoulders rising and falling, indicating the intake of breath. Then his hand slips into your own, fingers interlacing and squeeze your palm softly as if to say “you’re not alone in this” without saying it out loud, as if to comfort you.

Strangely enough, it does.

“I’ll be honest, even though we both know honesty isn’t my strongest suit,” he chuckles at his inside joke and you do as well, “I don’t really think we will survive this,” he admits, his voice grave as he runs soothing circles with his thumb at the back of your palm and you suck in an accepting breath.

“But amidst of all this despair at least I’m glad I get to spend my final moments with you...” he admits quietly, almost in a whisper. You feel your heartbeat increasing at his words, refusing to read too much into them just yet and you move your head slightly to look at him.

Only to find him already looking at you.

Both of you remain silent, staring into each other eyes, not daring to break the comfortable silence just yet.

A shaky exhale escapes you before-. “Me too.”

Mark takes another breath. His other hand travels to rest on your cheek, to bring your face closer as he leans in.

His lips are soft on top of yours, caressing them tenderly as you kiss him back as well. The kiss is gentle, comforting and contrarily sweet among the chaos around you. It’s a chaste yet passionate kiss, warm and long enough to distract you from the reality you’re going through, and yet you can’t get enough.

He leans back, interrupting the kiss and resting his forehead against yours, both of your breathing heavily against each other, his hand still on your cheek, your hands still intertwined.

And as your eyelids grow heavy, you rest your head once more at his shoulder.

“Thank you...” you whisper softly as you feel sleep taking over you.

The last thing you can feel is Mark’s soft lips pressing against your palm.

The whole campus is swarmed by paramedics, checking people’s temperatures, taking care of open wounds and giving the necessary shots for people that need them. The Dean looks at the whole debacle from outside the library building, relieved the whole situation came to an end without many casualties yet still traumatised from the night’s events to get close to any student.

Jinyoung sees Youngjae from across the lawn, walking confusedly towards him, still trying to gather his surroundings. The two friends look completely out of it. They ask each other what happened. None of them knows. None remembers.

On the other side, near the paramedics’ tent, Yugyeom is finally reunited with his best friend as Bambam sits next to him while getting treated for some weird scratches in his arms. They don’t remember either.

Across from them, near the cafeteria’s entrance is Y/N and Mark, bickering as usual with no recollection whatsoever of tonight’s events, forced to hide the truth from each other for a little while longer.

Everyone shares the same mark on the inside of their elbow, like a puncture wound no one remembers getting, which means it was successful.

And among the students, walks around the older Jinyoung, known also as JYP, campus’s resident grandpa. He asks when the music is gonna come back on. Everyone tells him to shut up, they all know his internet history.

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boltsandbonecharms · 4 years ago

Text

Cyberpunk 2077 Prompt Event - Day 2

Prompt: Drunk/high as a kite. Would be a good idea to call someone, right?

Pairings: Past V x Vik, implied/reference V x Dum Dum

- - - - - - - - - - -

About a quarter of seven in the morning, Vik’s agent pinged. A text from V.

[You up?]

V only ever asked that when she was planning to talk. So when he replied, he expected a call to follow shortly after.

Aside from brief messages checking in on her – clinical questions which received appropriately clinical answers – V had been radio silent for the past week. She had answered him well enough when he asked how she was doing; noting her symptoms or lack thereof, how often she was taking the blockers, how they were working; but she offered nothing more than that.

This was the first time she had reached out since… everything.

After a couple minutes, her call came through on holo.

“Hey V,” he answered. “Everything okay?”

“Hey Vik,” she replied, light and hazy. “’m fine. Winding down. Just… wanted to talk.”

The black makeup around her eyes was smudged and her hair – usually neat and styled back – fell over her forehead in a choppy fringe.

“Long night?”

She huffed a little laugh. “Yeah something like that.”

Using holo was a rarity for her, and the look on her face was just as rare. Relaxed, eyes lidded, a barely there smile. Sleepy and dazed, in a pleased sort of way. He’d seen something like that before, once or twice, while sharing a cigarette after a particularly… vigorous session. She looked well enough, but Vik suspected she’d been drinking.

“Sure you’re alright?”

“Yeah. All good. Nothing dangerous last night. Just… busy.”

He told her to come by for a checkup soon, and she hummed her agreement. There was a lull, and then she asked:

“Why’d we stop hooking up?”

Ah. She had definitely been drinking.

“V, you drunk?” It was a doctor’s question; she was allowed to have her fun, but between the blockers, the chip, and the three bullets he pulled out of her not too long ago, excessive amounts of alcohol was not a good idea.

“Nah,” she drawled. “Still pretty fucking high though.”

Even worse. He’d seen her tipsy more than once – she lightened up and loosened up when she was riding that edge – but never outright wasted. And never on anything illicit.

“We had fun, didn’t we?” she asked, “Hooking up?”

Yeah, they’d had a lot of fun. A little too much fun, that he was a lot too damn old for. Twenty-five, thirty years ago, she would have been perfect. But now? V was too much for him, plain and simple.

She was also high as a fucking kite, so there was really no point in having this conversation now, if they were going to have it at all. “Yeah,” Vik said with a sigh, “We had fun.”

“So why’d we stop?” God she sounded young, her voice soft with a hint of a pouty whine. She looked it too, with her smudged makeup and messy hair. Those two things combined… it may’ve been the first time Vik had seen her actually looking her age.

Incidentally, that was also a part of why they had stopped.

“We can talk about it later if you want,” Vik said. “Look, I gotta get to work, and you need to get some sleep. Doctor’s orders.”

Thankfully, that distracted her from the topic. She yawned, covering her mouth. “Yeah, I do. See you later?”

“You going to be alright? What have you been taking?”

Predictably, V dismissed the question with a wave. “Be fine. Just tired. ‘m home, safe and sound.”

“V,” Vik said firmly, “What were you taking? If there are any interactions with–,”

“Would’ve happened by now,” she interrupted. “’m on the downside of it. I’ll be fine.”

Vik sighed. There was also no point in this conversation. He was either going to have to take her word for it, or go over there and make sure. Aside from the obvious, she did seem fine – her eyes were focused, she was cutting words short but not slurring, her movements were coordinated.

“Alright, kid, if you’re sure.”

She nodded, and it was interrupted by another covered yawn.

“I’ll see you later then,” Vik said. “You know where to find me. Call if you need something.”

V nodded again, mumbled something too soft to make out, and ended the call.

Vik sighed, took his glasses off and rubbed his eyes. He didn’t have the patience to deal with anyone inebriated these days, and the fact that it was V somehow made it worse.

With her… condition, he supposed it was understandable if she wanted to escape for a little while. But if she was going to find a way out of the mess she was in, she couldn’t afford time wasted getting wasted. That thought lit a spark of anger in him; he stamped it out. V was a grown woman and she could make her own choices, good or bad.

As long as it didn’t become a habit, or worse, then he wouldn’t give her any trouble about it.

And if it did, well… at least an addiction was something he knew how to treat.

- - - - - -

It was late when V woke up.

She’d slept hard and didn’t dream; it felt like she had only just closed her eyes, so she didn’t understand why the alarm on her agent was ringing. She felt around for it blindly and turned it off. After a minute, the disorientation cleared enough for her to remember what the alarm was for, and she propped up on her elbow and felt around for the bottle of blockers too.

The shutters were closed and the lights in the apartment were off, as they always were, so she handled the pills and water bottle by touch alone. She was too tired to open her eyes for more than a few bleary seconds anyway. Pill swallowed and bottles recapped, she flopped over on her back to nap for a while longer.

The feeling of the sheets and her clothes across her skin was irritating, it was too warm, and most of her was hurting. Not bad, but enough to be uncomfortable; cuts and scrapes and bruises. Enough to keep her drifting on the edge of sleep, dozing here and there.

A short trill from her agent snapped her back to wakefulness. A message, not important. V laid there for a while before she rolled over again – god she was sore – and picked it up to check the time.

Almost nine p.m. Several messages.

Fuck, it’s late.

She dragged herself to the edge of the bed, and then to her feet, and then to the bathroom. The lights came on automatically; too bright even on the lowest dimmer setting. Her mouth was dry, her eyes were dry… all of her skin felt hot and dry too. She rinsed her mouth out, splashed water on her face.

She was in last night’s clothes too. Or, underwear and shirt at least. Underneath the smell of sweat, spilled alcohol, and… everything else, there was a hint of her own blood. She really should have showered when she drug herself home in the morning.

Still squinting in the light, she thumbed through the messages while the shower warmed up. Most from fixers, cars and jobs, which she marked as read. Two that warranted replies. The first was from Vik.

[Vik: 8:38pm: Doing alright?]

It was a little fuzzy, but she did remember calling him that morning. If she had been half as fucked up then as she was most the night, he probably had a reason to be worried.

[V: Fine. Just woke up.]

[Vik: Come in tomorrow?]

She left him on read. He knew she was alive, that would do.

The second was from… someone new. Someone who could wait. V got into the shower, clothes and all.

V had spent the better part of the night and early morning at Totentanz. Partying with Maelstrom may have been the best bad idea she’d had in a long time. She hadn’t been there an hour when a familiar ‘borg found her; he’d offered her a hit of Lace, and oh, that was exactly what she had been needing.

The rest of the night was spent in a haze, Dum Dum pressing an inhaler to her lips every time she started to come down. She didn’t pay him for it in eddies, and she had been needing that too.

V wrung her shirt out and draped it over the sink to dry. Wrapped in a towel, she opened the other message.

[Hollow-point: 1:12 pm: hows the hangover?]

V’s lip quirked up and she exhaled a puff of air in amusement.

[V: Slept through it. Sore as fuck tho tyvm.]

[Hollow-point: i bet u r]

[V: Haven’t had it that rough in a while. Just what I needed.]

[Hollow-point: anytime princess]

#MoxWrites2077 #i apologize for the formatting #cp2077 fic #my post #no beta we die like men

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laceymorganwrites · 5 years ago

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Hot lead singer

Word Count: 1,506

Pairing: kinda Kid x fem!reader

Warnings: cursing, Symptoms of anxiety, alcohol abuse, sadness

Summary: Kid is fed up with the band life, but starts to have a crush on a certain someone who is Always at his shows

Kid sat on an uncomfortable couch backstage, spreading his legs and resting his elbows on his knees. He had his hands folded and his head laid in them. He groaned. Fuck was he sick of this. Of his bandmates, their fans, their stupid fucking manager, everything. It was too much, the success, it made him feel more machine than human and he´d be destroyed if he didn´t deliver. But who did he even deliver to? Nobody cared about his music, not one soul on the planet. The worst thing were the fans, those hypocrites, singing along at his shows and not knowing what the words meant. Nobody understood, nobody got him. And that frustrated him, greatly. Why did he even care? He just felt so empty and numb, it made him sick to the stomach. He wanted so badly to feel, anything at all. Kid sighed and stood up sluggishly only to stretch his arms and throw his head back. Then he proceeded to walk up the few stairs until he reached the stage. He could already hear the crowd´s screams and feel the vibrations of their voices as he made his way into his position. He grabbed the mic, the lights went on, blinding him and then he sang. Every time he did, time went still. The only thing he remembered afterwards was him getting off stage and then driving to some club to get drunk and laid. The club his band and him were in tonight was pretty decent actually and Kid went straight to the bar to order anything which would make him feel alive.

After a few drinks however he got sick of the people clinging to him and decided to go home.

Sleep didn´t come to him however, so he took out his sketchbook and drew a bit, he painted the blurry crowd he saw every night, the only face he drew clearly was yours, he painted you in a red atmosphere, you always stood out to him somehow.

You were a fan of his music and Kid saw you singing his words back at him with passion every night and it made him flash you a crooked smile, it made him happy.

It was weird being happy, honestly, he never was before, he just barely got by.

And now some stranger he never even talked to was occupying his mind, clouding the rest of his thoughts.

Kid needed some outlet for his thoughts and emotions, he always did, ever since he was a child. Back then he just excelled in utter violence, beating people up was all he needed, call it revenge,

what the hell did he care.

Over time however he accustomed to writing down whatever was on his mind, be it lyrics or that stupid diary he told himself he´d never write into. Now there were already seven of those.

He needed to be busy, otherwise his mind would take over and make him feel actively shitty.

Of course he hated himself, he was self-aware after all, his subconscious always made him feel like complete crap, but he didn´t need to actively think about that, because if he did it would stop him from being of any use whatsoever.

Whenever he was in an active state of self hatred and awareness, he was numb, the agonizing screams of his victims and all the insults he got, got louder than gunfire, he saw the faces of those he brought misery clearly, he saw their shaking disappointed heads and tears.

And then he saw you, smiling at him.

At this point he found himself in complete silence and back in his home.

Those were the times he came up with new lyrics and melodies, practicing and trying new things all night, switching from piano to drums to bass to guitar.

The piano and the guitar were reserved for songs about you, Kid wrote a lot of those recently but never had the guts to share them with anyone, not even with Killer.

It was silly, he didn´t even know you.

And yet he felt a weird connection to you, your face was the only clear and genuine one he made out ever night. Kid didn´t know what it was about you, but somehow he felt like you were the only one who gave a shit about him. Not even his music or lyrics per say, but him as a person. Which was weird since you were complete strangers. But still, it was a comforting thought.

In a world full of people who hated him and let him know, full of people who feared him and therefore ignored him, people who wanted to please him and were afraid of getting on his bad side. He got so mad because of all the people who looked at him with disgust.

Kid didn´t know why but the next time they played a show, backstage before they went on, he had a word with the band.

“Um, guys… I need to talk to you about something. So, I´ve been a fucking asshole lately, I mean I always am but you know what I mean. And I wanted you to know why. I don´t know if you´ve noticed, but there´s this girl at every one of our shows, she´s not a groupie, she´s just kind of there. Fuck that sounds stupid. But she always sings along and looks so happy and it´s really cute. Eh, anyway. I just wanted you to know that in case you were wondering why I was so distant lately, it´s because of her, cause I´ve been sketching and writing about her” Kid awkwardly rambled on, watching the amused faces of his bandmates. He felt his cheeks flush in embarrassment as they started laughing.

“You mean (Y/N)?” Killer asked, making Kid look confused.

“Is that her name? And how do you know that?” he asked, nothing came to his mind that would make sense.

“Well, she talked to us at the bar a while ago, complimenting us. She´s really sweet, she likes you, you know?” Killer commented.

He would never forget you, usually the only ones who talked to them were the groupies who just wanted to get laid, but you were different.

You actually really liked their music and the way they played, making you very liked among the members. You would have long and meaningful and fun conversations with them and they really liked that.

In those conversations you let it slip multiple times that you thought Kid was cute and the others would always joke that he´d kill you if you told him that. And not only did you find him cute, you also loved his lyrics and found him incredibly hot.

The band members promised you not to tell Kid, but oh well, if he was too dense to notice it himself. It was his fault that he missed you anyway.

“You´re fucking shitting me...” Kid exclaimed as Killer told him how and that they knew you.

Before the argument could commence though, it was time for the show.

And again, there you were, singing his words back to him. And again his heart started racing and he could feel the adrenaline pumping like you transmitted it directly to him.

He couldn´t help but smile like an idiot, jumping around stage like a fucking madman, his sweaty hair got in his face, but he didn´t care. On the one hand he never wanted this moment to end, he felt way too good seeing you, but on the other hand he wanted to talk to and get off this stage as soon as possible.

After they were done, he ignored all the groupies and hurried to get backstage and to pack away the equipment.

To his surprise you were there with the rest of the band, laughing with them as you also helped get the instruments ready.

“So you finally get to meet our lead singer” Killer smirked, nudging your shoulder. You weren´t prepared for this situation, so you could only imagine how bright red your face must´ve been right now.

“Um...hi...it´s nice to meet you” you quickly grinned at him, reaching out your hand for a greeting.

Kid still was in shock of seeing you so suddenly, looking at you in confusion.

“Eh, sorry, that was weird. Who the fuck does handshakes with bands?” you giggled in your nervousness after Kid didn´t react.

“Anyway. You´re amazing, your lyrics are just great and I swear the front row gets pregnant every time you do this...” you impersonated his moves on stages in your awkwardness, making him laugh out loud. It was flattering, really. But only from someone as cute as you.

“And, oh fuck how could I forget the way you play guitar? Fucking amazing! And your hair looks so fluffy, I just…. you´re amazing, okay?” you told him, almost out of breath from your rambling.

Kid just chuckled, looking over at Killer with the biggest fucking smile on his face.

“Can we keep her?” he asked cockily.

#one piece #one piece imagine #one piece oneshot #one piece kid #one piece kidd #eustass kid #eustass kidd #kid x reader #kidd x reader #op #op imagine #op oneshot #op kid #op kidd

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pjstafford · 4 years ago

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A Look at my 2020

The end of the year is upon us. It’s been a tough one for all of us. It is a year we will all remember forever. I want to do a positive reflection of this year. I will probably write a blog about what I hope our country’s New Years Resolutions should be. The thoughts on that have been rolling around my head for a few days. But today, December 16, at 4:30 a.m. and unable to sleep, that 2020 familiar dread of what will happen today waking me early, I want to look at some positives. I want to unwrap the positives of 2020 like a Christmas gift before Christmas so that I can wrap myself in them as a blanket of warmth. One thing that I have been truly impressed with is the resilience of the human spirit. Let’s call this a resilience exercise.

Counting my blessings one by one...

1. I am alive. Surviving is a cause for celebration. As far as I know I have been COVID free...although there were a few days in April or early May when I was sick with something and in Feb I had the strangest cold in my life and this time last year weeks of fatigue ended in frozen shoulder syndrome on Christmas Eve. See, I want to be thankful, but I don’t want to be naive in my retrospection. Best to be honest. I’m not sure if I had COVID or not, but if I did I survived with relatively minor symptoms. Every cough or sniffle I feared in a completely irrational way was COVID. There was the week I walked around sniffing everything to make sure I could still smell. It dawns on me it is going to be difficult to write a honest and, yet, positive, retrospective of 2020. I am alive, but I have never been less healthy. I’ve gained weight. I haven’t had the physical exercise to which I am accustomed and now when I try to take a long walk I realize my stamina is gone. It will take years of concentrated effort once things are “back to normal” for me to become normal again. It wasn’t that I didn’t try. I did yoga daily in the Spring and switched to an online Tai chi class in the summer, but I don’t live near beauty or anything interesting so wasn’t motivated to walk and just my everyday life of lockdown in a studio apartment meant less movement. All of which sounds even to me like not very good justification. Did I mention though that I survived. I am alive. I will take that as blessing number one.

2. No one I care about very deeply has died or even been seriously ill from COVID. Doesn’t March 2020 seem far away? I don’t want to be dismissive of 300;000 dead especially with more to come. I or someone I love could still be gone by New Years Day. But in March and April we held our breaths for an apocalypse and at some point most of us decided to take a breath. I don’t know really if it’s good or bad that we have simply adjusted our normal and the number deaths we are willing to accept. It’s bad, what am I saying? It’s bad. But how long can we wait in fear? So I don’t know, but I want to count as a blessing that those I love have all survived to date. I cannot vanquish the fear, but I can be grateful for survival.

3. I have maintained employment in a bad economy and have mostly been able to work from home. There have been some struggles. Sometimes the work I do is depressing. Sometimes I feel I don’t make a difference. There has never been a worse time to be an advocate...or a person with disability, or a caregiver, or a provider agency, or a health care professional. I have maintained employment.

4. I count among my blessings the fact that I had a wonderful 2020 before....remember there was a 2020 before. I love when my work takes me to Santa Fe for a prolonged time. A friend came out in Feb for a wonderful weekend. Another friend came to Albuquerque to see me for my birthday in early March. I remember thinking how social I was in those first ten weeks in 2020. It’s as if I somehow knew....it sustained me.

5. I count among my blessings that when I felt my mental health despair getting at its worse...the strain of living alone in a studio apartment, working from that same apartment and following the Governor orders not to go or do anything. ..that I had friends and two weekends of “risky” behavior; a friend who came for the Fourth of July holiday and an out of state trip to Durango in late September. I’m fortunate that when I had to have human contact my closest friends were there for me

6. I count as my blessings that Biden won the election. It’s not simply a matter of politics. I’m not sure if the last eight months of the Trump Presidency wasn’t worse for my morale than the pandemic because Trump kind of lost whatever semblance of sanity he had. Part of the trepeditation over what each new day will bring is what Trump will say, do, tweet, exacerbate. I still fear revolution in the street before Jan 20. The pandemic is not the worse of what America has gone through. That’s the oddest thing about this year.

7. Here is the blessing which probably will be unpopular. The lockdown and stress of all we have experienced is tough, but the slowdown is a blessing for me. My life had gotten pretty busy. While I miss travel, it’s ok for a year not to have had the time suck that travel for work entails. I will be so happy the first work trip I get to go on, but I feel like 2020 has given me the gift of time. It’s odd because, like many, my creative sense has suffered. I have written almost nothing. Still, I often think of a Dylan lyric, maybe in the next life I will be able to hear myself think. I could hear myself think this year. Unfortunately I thought about the existentialist angst of the meaning of life and my failures as a human being and I don’t think there is enough time still to process the effects of the pandemic and I’m sick to death of the sound of my thoughts, but....I have been given this unique gift of time. Even on December 16th I am not rushed to shop, to cook, to decorate, to go to a zillion parties. It’s a different year. The Holiday will still come. It is pleasant not to feel urgency over, let’s face it, non-urgent things. I am mentally and emotionally fatigued, but not nearly as physically exhausted as I was this time last year

8. The next one is a big one. The gift of living in the moment. I have spent my entire life since 7th grade when Miss O’Neil gave me a copy of The Rubyait of Omar Khayyam trying to live with the philosophy of living for the now. Clear the cups of past regrets...tomorrow, why I may be myself with yesterday’s seven thousand years. The only time I have ever truly experience this is in a handful of concert experience. Even now, I fear for my future and I blame myself for my mistakes. Still, my relationship with time has changed. There is the sun rising and setting and that is a day. Seasons will change. But the gift of time means I can approach my day differently. When five o clock comes on a workday, a needed nap is a step away. No where to go on a Friday night... no where I can go...means the weekend rhythm exists only as I define it. The simple pleasures we always take for granted mean something more now. There is a coffee truck that stops near me on Fridays and Saturdays. When it first started stopping I was over the moon that I could walk and get a latte with fairly little risk. If I go to the grocery store and have a conversation with a stranger, it is different than it was before. Mindfulness exercise and meditation is one thing, but nothing can compare with this year to further my lessons in this pursuit. May I take the lesson with me into years to come.

9. Zoom...yes, of course I have zoom fatigue. But five friends in five different states having a monthly drink together on zoom is a benefit of the pandemic. I watched a movie this year with someone who lives in Brazil. I celebrated a friend’s sixtieth person even though I couldn’t be with her. I’ve attended book discussions and readings in New York and I already have tickets to an event in March. Kind of love New York. I’ve never been there in person. Just a lot happens there. Educationally and socially the world is now open to me. I am not limited to what is going on in my community. I hope this doesn’t completely go away.

10. Finally, storytelling and music. I found it hard to read new things in the lockdown for a while, but in March friends asked me to a virtual book club of three books I already read and we reread them together which took us into the summer. I rediscovered the Foundation series of Asimov and suddenly I could read again! My favorite book I’ve read published in 2020 is Jess Walter’s The Cold Million. I did read a digital advance copy of David Duchovny’snew book due out in 2021 and it is, in fact, the breakout novel I knew this hot young writer would eventually write. Looking forward to 2021 book club! I finally binged Breaking Bad and The Travelers as well as The Queens gambit and watched Peanut Butter Falcon. I am doing a disability focused watch on the X Files and I better kick it it the rear because I’m presenting on it in Feb. at a conference. My God, Dylan put out his first original music in eight years. It will take me eight years to fully ingest it and enjoy it. You see, no matter what happens, humanity will tell its stories and gather to make its songs. It’s that human resilience. Creation of art is not trivial. It’s vital. It has continued in this odd and strange year. It is humanity’s greatest gift and I have definitely used it this year as a resilience and growth tool.

Those are my top blessings in this horrific and, yet, wondrous year. However, you have been impacted, what we all share in common is that In a very short time it will be a memory of a year in the past.

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rogerina-is-hotter-than-me · 5 years ago

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“Their Blood is Upon Them” Catholic!Lucy: Part 1

((My masterlist))

Pairing: F!Reader x Catholic!Lucy

Word count: 3,500

Recommended playlist

Synopsis: Growing up Catholic, you knew that certain things were right and certain things were wrong: you knew that God made the heavens and the earth in six days, that you’d never develop a taste for unleavened bread, and that love was between a man and a woman. You’d never struggled with these facts before. That was until you met Lucy.

Warnings: Dramatic angsty gay shit, smut in future chapters, FxF content, Catholic guilt, homophobia, internalized oppression

A/N: A little something for my lovely queer ladies! I’m aware that FxF content may not be as popular as my usual FxM stock but I worked very hard on this gay cheese and any feedback would be greatly appreciated. Love you thotties! (Yes this is re-uploaded I’m a dumbass and accidentally destroyed the formatting)

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:**:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:**:･ﾟ

You knew who you were as you stood in the art gallery.

The statue had done it. A statue of a veiled virgin; gossamer straining like sinews across the face and stomach, falling smooth over her white breasts. Her features were masked beneath opaque veins of alabaster, her thighs poised just-so. Her skin looked so real that you wanted to touch it. You imagined it gliding smooth and satiny beneath your hand. You imagined raising tiny goosepimples--a shiver, a flutter of lashes, a feminine sigh. And that made you think of Lucy.

It was with that conflation that you finally knew. That quick, knee-jerk reaction that had occurred before you could pack your mind with a distraction. This wasn’t something that came from navel-gazing, like all those nights you’d spent beneath your pilly cotton blanket, wondering if you’d just thought yourself into a rut. This was instinctual. And as you watched the lines of marble melting against the smooth, milky skin, you realised that you were too tired to fight it anymore.

It was difficult to put your finger on when the symptoms had started. That’s what Sister Evangeline would call them: symptoms. As though desire were an illness, something that could be remedied with prayer. You were often thankful that Sister Evangeline couldn’t read your mind, that she had no inkling of the tiny flames that danced in your stomach whenever you saw a pretty girl walk by, of how your dreams were occupied by supple curves and girlish moans, of how hard you had to push to join your dorm-mates in fawning over the handsome priest. You had starved these thoughts, tried to crush them down. Some days this was easy, and some days you had to battle it. That’s why you were so surprised when your defeat came in the quiet, white cool of the art gallery, as though someone had covered your mouth and slid a blade between your ribs. A silent, understated demise.

The rest of the group were oblivious to your state. Most had flocked past the naked statues for fear of being caught ogling by Sister Evangeline, and had opted for the Medieval Madonnas, giggling at how old and strange baby Jesus looked. You glanced across to them, weak and swaying on the balls of your feet. Sheets of shiny hair rippled as they spoke; most girls liked to grow it long and tie it in damp braids at night. Bottle green blazers swamped each narrow set of shoulders, and stockinged legs protruded from long plaid skirts.

Lucy stood out like a sore thumb: blunt hair, short skirt, blazer tied around her waist. You hated how effortlessly she leant all her weight on one leg. That smug ease. Perhaps an anti-climax was befitting—she had teased the crippling epiphany out of you with nonchalance. There was no need for ceremony.

You felt like you were paralysed above a deep stretch of blackness. All you could do was watch her, unable to tear your gaze away. She idled by the exhibits, listless as a house fly. You felt a sudden guilt at ogling her.

‘Y/n, whatever’s the matter?’ Sister Evangeline was beside you. To have teased sympathy out of her meant that you must look ghastly. You met her eyes, your feelings so hot and full that you were sure she could read them. The sight of her lined, humourless face and mannish eyebrows at least cooled you down. ‘You look like a bled calf. Are you ill?’

You shook your head and swallowed, composing yourself. ‘Just feel a little lightheaded,’ you said hoarsely. In all honesty, it wasn’t just your head that felt light; you felt so suddenly hollow that you were surprised your ugly brogues were still managing to anchor you to the floor.

‘Perhaps you need some fresh air,’ she said, turning into the next room of the gallery. You knew that she was scouting for Muriel—the school prefect and your best friend, whose Girl Guide-administered First Aid training would be enough to remedy your dizziness—but she’d long since moved out of the sculpture hall. ‘Where on earth have they—Oh, Miss. Boynton.’

Your heart seized in your chest. Whatever nausea you were feeling before increased ten-fold. Lucy, who had been busy looking at a framed Turner painting, turned towards you. You felt another stab— this one somehow sweet and dreadful—as you were reminded of how beautiful she was. Sister Evangeline was beckoning her over.

‘I’m fine, Sister,’ you managed, trying not to belie your desperation. Lucy, casting one last look at the painting, walked towards you. ‘I’m feeling much better actually. I’m fine.’ Evangeline looked towards you, noting the moustache of perspiration that had suddenly beaded your upper lip. She raised a bushy eyebrow and ignored you.

‘I’m sorry to disturb you, Miss. Boynton,’ she said, as Lucy neared. She gave you an icy up-and-down look. A shiver rolled through your body, ending in your stomach. ‘Y/n isn’t feeling well. Could you take her outside for some fresh air?’

Lucy didn’t answer straightaway. Instead she looked at you, cocked her head to one side and asked: ‘What’s the matter?’

‘Nothing,’ you said, mouth dry. ‘Just a bit lightheaded.’

‘How come?’

‘I’m anaemic.’ The lie was out of your mouth before you could stop it. For a sick split-second you wondered if Sister Evangeline was going to expose you, but she didn’t seem to be listening.

‘Can you take care of her for me?’ she asked, her gaze in the next room, where the troupe were pointing, scandalised, at Simone Soloman’s “Sappho.”

‘Sure,’ Lucy said. Without warning she took your arm and yanked you towards the nearest fire exit. ‘I needed a fag anyway,’ she murmured, once she was out of Sister Evangeline’s earshot. Her arm was warm and smooth against yours. Every brush of skin on skin felt tickly, making you want to both twitch away and move closer. Your heart thudded in your chest. Lucy pushed the door open and you squinted in the sudden glare of sunshine.

‘You should sit down,’ she said, backing onto the pavement. You obediently dropped into a sitting position on the floor, scooting on your hands until your back was pressed on the hot stucco of the museum’s walls. Little grits of dirt bit into your palms. You couldn’t look at Lucy. Instead you watched her legs, long and inky-black in their opaque tights. Traffic sped by and kicked up dry dust, powdering them a little.

‘How have you still got that on?’ Lucy asked.

You wanted to speak but your mouth was so dry that you were unsure if you’d be able to summon the words.

‘Hello? Y/n?’ You were glad of the sting in her voice. You wanted her to be cruel. It was what you deserved.

After a few seconds you were emboldened enough to meet her gaze. She was stood over you, shading her eyes from the sun, hair glowing and tossing in the hot breeze. ‘What?’ you asked quietly.

‘Take your blazer off.’

Something hot rushed through you. Close to panic but a little sweeter. ‘What?’

‘Take your blazer off. It’s boiling out here. Probably why you feel so faint.’

‘Oh,’ you said, and quickly scrambled to rid yourself of it. From the way she was looking at you, you wondered if she was going to start laughing. ‘What?’ you asked, disturbed by her inquiring eyes.

‘Is that all you know how to say? What, what, what.’ Then, without warning, she pulled her skirt up. You flinched as though she’d just hit you.

‘What—what are you—’ you began, before her chuckle cut you short.

‘ “What”,’ she parroted, her laugh as high and clean as the peal of a bell. It took a little while before you noticed the rectangular lump in the waistband of her tights. You tried not to flit your eyes down to the thighs, covered as they were. ‘Want one?’ she asked prematurely, pulling a box of Silk Cuts from the elastic. Her skirt streamed down in a delicate motion.

‘Oh um—no thank you,’ you said, relieved that she was covered again. A few silent seconds elapsed in which she lit up, cupping the flame with her palm.

‘Not giving those up for Lent?’ you asked, at a loss of what else to say. She gave you a sidelong glance, cheeks hollowing around the cigarette. The tip pulsed bright amber.

‘No,’ she said, exhaling. Everything suddenly felt lucid: the razor-sharp shadows, the smell of the smoke, the sound of Lucy’s voice: ‘I’ve given up masturbation.’

It was only by the quirk of her eyebrows that you realised she’d said something inappropriate. You grappled for a definition, totally pre-occupied with the sweet haze of cigarette smoke, the light that shone on the edges of her profile like cut glass. ‘What?’

She rolled her eyes. ‘That’s not funny anymore,’ she said.

‘I’m serious,’ you insisted, a little hostile. ‘What do you mean?’

She stilled completely, eyes wide with intrigue. ‘You’re serious?’

You nodded. As though by reflex, she took a deep drag on the cigarette. Her slightly sullen gaze was now cast to the passing traffic. ‘Never mind,’ she said in a low voice. ‘I forget that some of you have been raised with this shit.’

All at one you thought of how stupid and bovine you must look to her—another pristine, clueless Catholic girl. You bristled a little, folding your blazer in your lap. ‘It’s a sin, right? Masturbation?’ you said, pulling from your hazy recollection of old R.E lessons.

She gave a humourless, one-syllable laugh. ‘What isn’t?’

‘Good point.’

She looked towards you, and you thought you read a little flash of fondness in her eyes. She cocked her head to one side. ‘It’s proving difficult, you know. Abstaining.’

You nodded, wanting to look collected. Her cigarette stub was hardly two inches long. You watched it smoulder between her two fingers. Realising that you weren’t going to respond, Lucy continued. ‘It really is; temptation is everywhere.’

‘Well, that’s what Father Alec would say,’ you said, rolling your eyes. Your dislike for the priest was in no way feigned; he was a dull, drawling, caterpillar-eyebrowed man who all your friends had an inexplicable crush on.

You seem to have said the right thing, for Lucy started laughing. ‘Father fucking Alec,’ she said, shaking her head and flicking what left of her fag onto the asphalt. She drew her eyebrows into a low scowl and adopted his low monotone: ‘ “Remember girls, if you stick your fingers in your pussy you’re going straight to Hell.”’

Her impression was so spot-on that you couldn’t contain your laughter. You contorted your own brows into a frown and shadowed her: ‘ “Remember children, the Lord is always watching. If your skirts are more than a fingers’ width above your knees, you’re destined for the flames.”’

“Destined for the flames” was an actual term he liked to use every now and then. You noticed how it always reduced Lucy to fits of giggles in Mass, and it did likewise here.

‘If you say the Lord’s name in vain, you’re destined for the flames.’

‘If you sneeze, you’re destined for the flames.’

‘If you think impure thoughts, you’re destined for the flames.’

‘I used to think Father Alec could read my mind, you know,’ you said, breaking the train. Lucy’s eyebrows shot up.

‘Oh yeah? How come?’

‘It was the first time I took confession. I think I was seven or something, and my brain kept repeating this one line from “Cinderella.” I kept trying to stop thinking about it, I thought I’d get told off for not taking it seriously enough.’

Lucy blinked at you, her expression divided between humour and disgrace. After a few seconds, she shook her head. ‘Catholics,’ she muttered, raising her skirt again to fish out another cigarette. ‘They’re all fucking nuts. No offense.’

‘None taken.’ Once she’d extracted the cigarette, you watched her try and ignite it. Her short-nailed thumb crunched on the sparkwheel. The lighter was silver, with a horizontal rainbow stripe down the left side. ‘So, the last school you went to,’ you started. ‘Was that not Catholic?’

She took a deep drag, lungs expanding, before puffing it out. ‘No, it was. I just wasn’t raised Catholic. Not until my parents got into the whole “Born Again Christian” shit.’

You nodded slowly, taking this in. Your eyes drifted to her collar, where a large crucifix stood stark against her throat. Despite her obvious abhorrence for religion, Lucy wore a black, plastic rosary necklace that threw her delicate beauty into relief. When she’d first arrived in her parent’s car—with plans of reformation and a reputation that had sent every face flocking to the windows to watch her arrive— she’d been berated for loading herself with too much costume jewellery. You had watched over Muriel’s shoulder as the new girl unhooked her earrings and wiggled her fingers out of her rings before dropping them in Sister Evangeline’s palm, her mouth hard and cold. Since then she’d been squeezing through every loophole she could find, contesting over the length of skirts and arguing that any accessory with a crucifix on it was legitimate. You remembered the look on Sister Evangeline’s face when one of the crosses in her lobes had been upturned, either accidentally or not.

‘I don’t know why you think you’re exempt from the rules, Miss. Boynton,’ she’d said, as Lucy had airily taken the studs out. ‘But this isn’t a fashion show. There is to be no makeup, no unnatural hair colours, no jewellery, and no long nails.’

‘I wouldn’t worry about that, Sister,’ Lucy said, fixing her with a look as she deposited the earrings into her weathered hand. ‘I keep my nails nice and short.’

It was the wink that led to her first detention.

‘Why did you come here, then?’ you asked, once she’d had a few more puffs. You watched her lips fasten on the end, her throat straining as she inhaled. Her collarbone stuck out like two white hyphens.

‘I got kicked out. Look, are you sure you don’t want one? I feel kind of bad just stood here.’ She gestured with the cigarette.

‘No thanks. Why did you get kicked out?’

It was difficult to tell if Lucy looked interested or evasive. She watched you as she inhaled again, buying herself some time, you thought. ‘I’ll tell you if you take a drag.’

You laughed. ‘No way. I’ll cough.’

‘That’s exactly why I want you to do it.’

You tensed up suddenly. Merely the mental image of you inhaling wrong and spluttering in front of Lucy was enough to make your face burn with embarrassment. On seeing your hesitation, she spoke.

‘It would be less intense if we shotgun it.’

‘What does that mean?’

‘It means I just blow whatever’s left into your mouth.’

Your stomach knotted. That lightheaded feeling was back, and your mind felt so loud and busy that you were scared you were going to blurt something stupid. ‘Alright,’ you said instead, getting to your feet. Your blouse was sticking to your back a little. ‘Why did you get expelled, then?’ you asked, rising to your full height. You knew that to avoid eye contact would be to belie how nervous you felt, so you looked at her squarely, watching her pupils dilate slightly despite the arid sunshine.

‘You really want to know?’

‘I do now.’

She paused. ‘You promise you’re not going to freak out on me?’

The knot in your stomach tightened. ‘I promise.’

‘Okay. So last year I was staying at St. Mary’s. It was an all girl’s school, kind of like this, but it was more relaxed. And it wasn’t a boarding school.’

You nodded, wondering why she was stalling with so much detail.

‘It was me and this girl Isabelle. She was the vicar’s daughter. A real good girl, you know. They had this idea that I “corrupted her,” or something, but that’s not true, I mean she was always—basically, we got caught in the disabled toilets together.’

She’d begun rushing towards the end. You could tell straightaway that she regretted the anecdote. Still, a current of curiosity forced you to ask: ‘Together?’

She flicked her eyes up to you and took a steadying breath. ‘Kissing,’ she said, shrugging. ‘That was pretty much it. I had my hand under her shirt but that’s as far as it went. It’s stupid really, isn’t it? A stupid reason to expel somebody.’

Silence hung between you for a few seconds. You could feel Lucy’s tenseness. In a way it felt gratifying, to have that power over her for once. You could have responded the way Muriel might, by wrinkling your nose and calling her disgusting and refusing to have her lips anywhere near yours. You’d be met with a “Fuck you,” and would shake it off and step back into the sterile white of the art gallery, already reducing the strange experience to a memory. Or you could show compassion. Not solidarity, not affirmation, but aloof understanding, like those new wave Christians that Muriel swooned over.

‘It’s not the stupidest reason someone’s got expelled,’ you said after a while. You liked how unfazed your voice sounded. Lucy looked towards you, relieved.

‘Isn’t it?’

‘No. A girl once got suspended for a week for having a nosebleed in the middle of a prayer circle. I’m not joking. They wrote her a letter home saying that she couldn’t come to school because she was possessed by a demonic presence.’

Lucy burst into laughter. ‘Jesus.’

‘I know.’

Lucy stayed laughing for a few seconds longer, though your delivery hadn’t been that funny. You sensed that she was grateful for your reaction—despite the whole impervious act, she was still the new girl. She was the victim of incessant rumours, she sat alone in the lunch hall, she was picked last for cricket. Perhaps she was more in need of a friend than you realised.

‘Look,’ you started, leaning back against the sunned stucco. ‘Are you going to the Easter dance with anyone?’

Lucy quirked an eyebrow. ‘Why?’ she asked, voice coquettish. ‘Is this a proposal?’

You couldn’t tell if she was being serious or not; the Easter dance was a famously chaste affair, occurring under the strip lights of the church hall and watched hawkishly by the Sisters and the statue of the crucified Christ. Still, it caused a yearly stir due to the allowance of own clothes and the boys from St. Peters, who were invited and permitted to put their hands on the girls’ hips and spin them in awkward, arms-length circles. The worldlier girls found ways to invite their crushes, but the rest merely awaited the big day, hoping that their options would be less acne and halitosis-riddled than they were last year.

‘Well, yeah,’ you said. ‘I mean, me and Muriel and the rest of the girls all get ready together and stuff. It can be good fun.’

‘Right,’ Lucy said, with a slightly humoured smile.

‘Just don’t want you to go alone, that’s all,’ you said, bristling slightly. You stopped yourself short of saying: “It just seemed like the Christian thing to do.”

‘Well, that’s sweet of you.’ You dropped your gaze to the floor, dragging the sole of your foot through the chits of asphalt. There was a small gasp, as if Lucy had just remembered something.

‘Almost forgot,’ she said, and from your constricted view, you saw swirls of cigarette smoke changing their course. A hot prickle seared up both shoulders as you realised what she was doing. Sure enough, the two-inch stub of the cigarette was wedged between her lips, and she was giving it a deep pull, causing the tip to swell with a sudden throb of amber.

Before you knew it, her face was darkly near and her eyes were closing and her smoky breath was tickling your lips. Her mouth sealed over yours. Everything was wound tight as the tobacco sighed into your parted lips. She’d put her hands on your hips. Casually, platonically. The kind of tactility that wouldn’t raise eyebrows at a teenage sleepover. A reflexive image jumped into your head, of Lucy hooking her fingers into the waistband of your skirt and yanking you towards her until your stomachs collided. The idea frightened you so badly that you gasped, flattening the smoke against the back of your throat.

Breaking away, you coughed and spluttered. Lucy stayed still, allowing her arms to fall back to her sides. Your hands were shaking. It wasn’t supposed to feel like that, you knew. Not with a girl. You were sick. You were just what Sister Evangeline said: sick.

‘Are you okay?’ Lucy called, after blowing what was left of the smoke skywards. You watched it curl up and peter into nothingness, blitzed by the sunshine.

‘Fine.’

Two days in and you’d already broken your Lenten sacrifice; you’d vowed to give up lying.

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