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birdiewritessometimes · 4 months ago

Note

hii looooved the mattheo riddle fic any chance u cld plsssss do more bc i’m obsessed. like mattheo riddle x harry’s twin sister or smth would EAT

All His

A/N: Hi anon! Thank you so much for reading and liking my mattheo fic <3 thank you so much for this request, i hope you liked it <3

I used some promts for this writing, one was from @thepromptswhisperer 's "you're blushing" promts and the others were from @stormyskies-writes 's spicy romance promts. These really helped me with the banter for this story and these two have really good prompts if yall might need/want some prompts for your own stories <3

Also, i'm sorry Mattheo isn't as soft in this one, i tried something different and i hope you like it. I will probably write more of soft!matty because he is a cutie.

Also, also, I'm sorry for any mistakes i might have made, I usually come back to my stories a couple of days later with fresh eyes hihi <3

Also request something if you want to!

Pairing: Mattheo Riddle x Potter!reader

Themes/warnings: Cursing, slight suggestive, slight enemies to lovers but not really, bickering, so much bickering, McLaggen (he's a warning in himself really)

Word count: 4000 - ish

Please do not copy or translate my work!

It has been about a month since the school year started at Hogwarts. It was colder, leaves changing colour for green to yellow to orange. The familiar cold breeze sweeping through the castle, signalling that autumn really was here. Thankfully there were fires scattered around the castle to keep its inhabitants warm. You were sitting by one of these fires in the library. Its flames effectively warming you from the cold that was seeping through the stonewalls. You were working on an essay for your defence against the dark arts class. It was about sirens. You found the subject intriguing, aquatic life had always interested you, but you couldn’t for the life of you concentrate on your work. Your brother and his friend had joined you and Hermione but instead of studying they were glaring and huffing at a table all the way across the library. The table in question were occupied by a group of Slytherin boys notorious for picking fights with Harry and Ron. At what seemed like their hundred huff you lost your calm, feeling extremely annoyed by their disruptions.

“Really, boys just study instead of making googly eyes at the Slytherins.” You said with an eyeroll. “Or at least shut up.” You snapped. Harry rolled his eyes at your attitude, he was quite used to your attitude, having the privilege to grow up with it since he was your twin.

“We weren’t-” Ron started to defend himself, but you interrupted.

“I must admit, Mattheo is quite cute under all that annoying personality,” You sighed as you cast a glance at the brunette that was chatting casually to his friends, he was a picture of relaxed arrogance as he leaned back in his chair, arms behind his head, “but I didn’t think he was your type.” Harry made a face of disgust at your admission which you replied with a glare.

“Y/n, you can’t be serious? Riddle?” Harry said with that disgust distinguishable in his voice.

“I didn’t say I wanted his babies now did I, Harry?” You rolled your eyes at your brother.

“I don’t care who wants whose babies, just shut up.” Hermione hissed annoyed before she turned back to her own essay. You and Harry sent glares at each other, those types of glares only siblings seemed to be able to muster. Turning back to your essay you read through it. You noticed that you could add some facts to the last part of your text. To do that you needed a new book: An advanced guide to aquatic dangers. With a sigh you rose from your, the wooden chair creaking at your movement.

“Oi, where are you going?” Ron asked, accusingly, almost like he thought you were going over to the Slytherins. He eyed you suspiciously, making you roll your eyes for the umpteenth time.

“Relax Ron, I’m just going to get another book.” You said with a tired voice. You walked slowly through the old library, wooden floorboards creaking under your shoes as you browsed the shelves that held the books on water-beings. There was an unbelievable number of books on the subject, but you needed just one. Searching what you thought was your 50th bookshelf you finally found the book you were looking for. It was in a hidden corner near the table of boys your brother and friend had glared at moments earlier. As you reached for it you noticed that it was placed higher than you thought. You tried to reach it a couple of times to no avail. As you let out a groan of frustration a hand shot out from behind you, easily grabbing it. Another hand was braced on the shelf in front of you. It was adorned by two silver rings, one on the index with a serpent on it, and the other was a signet ring on the pinkie with the initials M.R. You swallowed quickly before turning around, coming face to, well, chest with the Slytherin you just referred to as ‘cute’. He still had the book in his hand, a smirk on his face and he leaned into the hand on the shelf, effectively invading you personal space even more. His presence wrapping around you like a warm blanket shielding you from the coldness of the castle.

“Reading up on your ancestry, Potter?” He asked with a smirk as he gestured to the sketched siren on the cover of the book. You narrowed your eyes at him confused, did he just complement you or insult you?

“Are you insulting me or complementing me, Riddle?” You couldn’t help but ask, your eyes still scanning him suspiciously.

“Isn’t that the same thing for you?” He answered, a cheeky grin on his face, “Hateful comments seem to be the way to your heart, Potter.” You sighed and rolled your eyes at the boy, was he always this annoying? You couldn’t believe you’d just called him cute. You wished you could take it back. Mattheo was quite the flirt with the girls of the school, but his latest target seemed to be you. It didn’t seem like it mattered what you threw back at him, he would always turn it into some weird way of flirting.

“Thinking of how much you want kiss me, Potter?” He interrupted your train of thought with a smirk, leaning in closer into your space, you could smell him now, he smelled good rich, but you would never admit that out loud.

“In your dreams, Riddle.” You huffed in feign annoyance, you would never admit it, but you quite enjoyed the back and forth between the two of you. If he wasn’t known for being a ladies man you might’ve considered going out with him, regardless of what your brother thought of him. It wasn’t a secret that Harry and Mattheo didn’t like each other. This was also a reason why you couldn’t figure out for the life of you why he had set his sights on you.

“Oh, trust me darling, in my dreams we do way more that just kiss.” He said while wiggling his eyebrows at you with a suggestive grin. You felt a blush rise to your cheeks in embarrassment from his insinuation.

“You’re blushing.” He said as he poked your cheek with a chuckle.

“Yeah, so? Never seen anyone fall for your charm before?” You asked sarcastically, rolling your eyes for good measure. He chuckled at that and handed you the book he was still holding.

“Always a pleasure, Potter.” He said, finally stepping away from you, cold air engulfed you when he pulled away, his hand falling to his side.

“I wish I could say the same, but I don’t think you’re capable of making a woman feel pleasure.” You said, you gave the boy a wink before turning on your heel, walking back to your table. You could feel your heart calming down as you neared your table as you weaved in and out of shelves on your way back. Sitting down on the uncomfortable wooden chair you gently placed the book on the table.

“What the hell took you so long?” Harry asked, curiosity getting the better of him.

“The book was just hard to find.” You said swiftly, you dared to cast a quick glance at the table across the library. He was already staring at you, his gaze was tracing your form, something alike hunger behind his eyes. You quickly looked away, not wanting to be caught staring by Harry or Ron. The rest of the evening you glanced over at him now and then. He was already looking at you every time. The look on his face unreadable but his eyes still had that hungry look. As the autumn weather really made its home on the grounds the lessons progressed. You had scored an ‘outstanding’ on your essay by Professor Snape. You were thinking about it late one evening around two weeks after your study session in the library.

You couldn’t sleep, which is how you ended up in the kitchens, a mug of warm milk in your hands. You were glad that it was a weekend, meaning that you didn’t have to be up early for classes. Your mind drifted from your grade on your essay to the boy who had helped you reach the book which had helped you. He continued to shamelessly flirt with you, ignoring your brothers warnings to stay away from you. You had to admit, his flirting was charming, in its own way. You had no idea how he pulled off half the stunts he did, like how he managed to get your favourite flowers on your bedside table. First of all, how did he know which flowers were your favourite? Second of all, how did he get them into your dorm? Or all the times you would find your favourite candy in your pockets or bag with a small note with his initials. You would lie if you said it didn’t work on you though. The banter whenever you would talk in combination with these sweet gestures really was the way to your heart and you had no idea how he had figured it out. When you had finished your milk, you thanked the houselves and started to make your way up the stairs that led from the kitchen corridor. Rounding a corner you slammed into a chest. Panicking, thinking it was a teacher, you started to utter out apologies and excuses as to why you were out of bed.

“Shut up, Potter or we will be caught!” A voice you so clearly recognised whisper shouted. Looking up you saw none other than Mattheo Riddle, the boy who was occupying your mind more often than not nowadays. Before you could retort you heard footsteps echo through the hall, nearing where the two of you were.

“Shit.” You whispered in unison. Realising where in the castle you were you grabbed Mattheo by the collar and dragged him in to a broom closet that was hidden right by the entrance to the stairs that led to the kitchens. The closet was small, the space felt cramped as you were standing chest to chest with Mattheo, your hands still gripping his collar. You stared up at Mattheo, eyes wide in fear of getting caught out of bed. Seeing your fear, he placed a hand on your cheek, rubbing your cheekbone slightly, in an attempt to comfort you. It did the exact opposite. Your heart was racing, not from the fear of getting caught, but from the way he was touching you. His hand was warm, his palm rough from quidditch but his touch gentle. You looked at him, really looked at him, his brown eyes soft, his curls sightly messy. You couldn’t help yourself as you shamelessly checked him out. He was looking at you now and it felt like the room got even smaller as a small smirk made its way onto his lips. You were so close, his body pressing against yours, his warmth surrounding you like a blanket. You were so close that your faces were centimetres apart.

“You like what you see?” He whispered, his breath hitting your face. Your brain couldn’t process what was happening right now. He let out a quiet, breathy laugh at your inability to answer him. When he quieted the tension flooded right back. His eyes traced your face, flickering to your lips for a split second before finding your wide eyes again.

“Is it weird that I really want to kiss you right now?” He murmured as his eyes found your lips again for a split second. Your mind went completely blank. All you knew is that you wanted him, needed him to kiss you.

“But I won’t, not until you ask me to.” He smirked before quietly opening the door to the closet. No footsteps could be heard. Cold air welled in, effectively breaking the trance he had you in. You frowned at him. He slipped out of the closet, and you sneaked out after him. You felt anger rise in you chest as you watched the back of his curly mop of hair descend the stone stairs to the kitchens.

“Fuck you, Mattheo.” You whisper shouted. You heard a chuckle from the stairs.

“Fuck me yourself, you coward.” He whispered back making you gape in the general direction of his voice in disbelief. You huffed in annoyance before turning around, sneaking your way back to your common room. The whole way back you thought about how soft his lips had looked and how angry you were with yourself for falling for his charms so easily. After this incident something shifted between you. The usual banter was mixed with something more, a longing, from the both of you. Insults was mixed with tones of want. He would also find ways to touch you more often after the incident in the broom closet. One thing you noticed in the middle of December was that he had not so much as looked at another girl while he was flirting with you. Hermione was even pointing it out. Saying that a few girls had tried to get with him but that he had ignored them completely. It was a beautiful snowy but cold day, and you had just been invited to Slughorn’s Christmas party, along with your brother and Hermione. You noticed that the grounds were covered in glittering white snow as you and Hermione were discussing who to go with on your way to ancient runes. You walked past Mattheo; him and his friends were also part of the so-called Slug club. You watched him as he laughed at something that his friend Theodore said. He really was gorgeous.

“I am going with Terry Boot, as friends, you should go with Harry, Hermione.” You said to Hermione when you had passed the boys.

“Oh, why didn’t I think of that?” She let out as she slapped her forehead in annoyance with herself.

“Are you going with someone else?” You asked amusedly. Hermione reddened, clearly embarrassed with her choice of date.

“Well, I was thinking about who would piss of Ron the most so I kind of asked Cormac.” She said as you let out a laugh. Hermione and Ron were having a rough time with each other at the moment, mostly because Ron was acting like an ass. She slapped your arm in annoyance.

“It’s not funny!” She said with a frown.

“It kind of is, Hermione.” You said, still chuckling.

“Well, I’m surprised that you didn’t go with Riddle.” She retorted.

“Why?” You furrowed your eyebrows.

“Because it’s obvious that you like each other.” She shrugged her shoulders as you walked into the classroom and sat down in your seat.

“We do not!” You said incredulously. She gave you a look of disbelief before bringing out her book and some parchment to write notes. Through the lesson Mattheo occupied your mind like he usually did nowadays. He was attractive, and sweet and he seemed to have changed his ways with girls. You were occupied by these thoughts even when you walked through the castle corridors to the great hall with Hermione after the lesson had finished. She was going on about how interesting the lesson was with you barley listening. When you were in the entrance hall you bumped your shoulder into someone and just as you were about to apologise you saw that it was none other than the boy who were occupying your mind.

“Stop daydreaming about me and watch where you’re going, love.” He said with a cheeky wink. Snapping out of your dazed state you narrowed your eyes at him, but not as sharply as you usually did.

“Please, any dream involving you would be a nightmare.” You rolled your eyes; you heard a chuckle from Mattheo’s friend Theodore. Mattheo sent a glare at his friend before turning back to you, that made you smile slightly.

“I heard you were going to Slughorn’s party with Terry Boot.” He stated casually. You eyed him suspiciously.

“Why? You jealous, Riddle?” You taunted him with a smirk on your face. He scoffed.

“Of him having to hold your sweaty hand? No, I think I’m fine.” He stated nonchalantly, you rolled your eyes at him.

“Oh, shut up.” You said, annoyance in your voice.

“You shut up.” He said back, getting closer to your face.

“Make me.” You retorted, staring him directly in his eyes.

“Okay, but you might moan a little.” He said with a shrug of his shoulders as he backed off slightly. You gaped at him. The audacity. His friends chuckled and he gave you a cheeky grin before casually sauntering off with his friends.

“You were saying something about not liking each other?” Hermione said, effectively rubbing salt in your wounds.

“Not a word.” You said grumpily as you made your way to the great hall in silence. The evening of the party arrived sooner than you thought. You were walking arm in arm with Terry. You wore a nice dress for the occasion, one that was accentuating your curves. Terry looked nice too in a suit and bowtie. When you entered the party, it was in full swing, people mingling and eating the finger food that was offered. You and Terry took the drink that was offered upon your arrival and went around and mingled with people. You looked around the beautifully decorated room, it was perfectly decorated for Christmas. Your eyes landed on a group of guys, Mattheo and his friends. You noticed that he didn’t seem to have a date. You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion. You were sure he would bring someone. Your eyes drifted to Cormac, alone, seeming to look for someone. You excused yourself to Terry. He let you go without any hesitation, continuing to talk with some other Ravenclaw boy. You looked around and saw two familiar silhouettes behind a sheer curtain. When you walked over you found Hermione hiding there with Harry, panic evident in his eyes.

“What’s going on?” You asked your brother as you saw Hermione stuffing her mouth with the dragon ball tarte. You scrunched your nose at this, since it was notorious to make your breath stink.

“Hermione is trying to ward of McLaggen.” Harry said with a laugh at the girl who was clearly suffering. You gave the girl a look of sympathy.

“Oh, here he comes.” Hermione said, panic in her voice, as she quickly escaped out the other side of the curtain, Harry hot on her heels. Leaving you alone to fend of the sleazy boy.

“Where did she go?” Cormac asked.

“To the ladies room.” You swiftly lied. You gave him a small, polite smile before you tried to pass him to rejoin the party. He stopped you by grabbing your upper arm rather harshly.

“Well, she is a real minx, your friend. But seeing as we’re here, alone, we might as well.” He said, a greasy smile on his face. You frowned at him, but you were gagging on the inside. You tried to yank your arm free from his grip, but he didn’t let go. You were about to tell him to let you go when someone else got before you.

“Get your hands off her.” A cold voice came from behind Cormac. You looked over his shoulder and you saw none other than Mattheo Riddle standing there, face stoic apart from the muscle that was popping from his jaw. He looked deadly. Cormac’s grip faltered but he didn’t let go.

“Look man-” He started, but Mattheo didn’t let him finish.

“There is nothing you could say that won’t make me break your face if you don’t get your slimy hand off of her in the next 2 seconds.” Mattheo got out through gritted teeth. Seeing Mattheo so angry made you feel some type of way. Cormac let you go slowly, his face pale as he excused himself. He knew better than to mess with the beater of the Slytherin team. The boy notorious for fighting anyone who pissed him off without a second thought. Your eyes met Mattheo’s under the low lights as he took slow steps towards you. He was handsome in his suit, the top buttons of his dress shirt unbuttoned. His face was still cold as he stopped in front of you. His hand moved to gently touch your arm, where Cormac had gripped it rather harshly. His rings were cool against your hot skin, sending shivers down your spine. The way he was looking at you made you feel hot. He closed his eyes as he forced a breath through his nose.

“Are you okay?” You asked him in a low voice. His eyes shot open as he studied your face.

“I should be the one asking that, but I’m fine.” He let out tensely. You narrowed your eyes at him.

“You’re not.” You stated as a matter of fact.

“I am.” He was still sounding extremely tense.

“That’s not the truth, tell me the truth Mattheo. What were you jealous?” You threw the words out, but when you said them, it dawned on you. Could he have been jealous? His eyes narrowed this time.

“I was not, I just don’t like slimy guys.” He muttered irritably he looked like he would snap any second now.

“You’re such an asshole. If you weren’t jealous, why would you threaten Corm-”

“Okay, fine! I was jealous. I was so jealous that I could rip his throat out for just talking to you, let alone touching you. I was jealous when I saw you walking in with Boot” he spat his name, “because he had the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen as his date” he gestured to you, “I was jealous because whatever I do, I will never be that guy to you. I shouldn’t be jealous, because you aren’t even mine, yet here I am.” He was breathing heavily after he was done with his rant. You were smiling shyly up at him as you took a couple of steps closer to him, invading his personal space. Your hands found the planes of his stomach before they travelled slowly up his chest and around his neck. He let out a low groan at your actions.

“Kiss me, asshole.” You whispered; he closed his eyes at your words. Your mind was immediately brought back to the almost kiss in the broom closet and how sure of himself he sounded when he had said that he wouldn’t kiss you unless you asked.

“The problem is, if I kissed you, I don't think I'd be able to stop.” He murmured back his hands finding your hips, gripping them tightly.

“Maybe I don’t want you to.” You replied simply and it was like all restraint he had in him flew out the window. He smashed his lips to yours. The kiss was desperate, lips and teeth clashing, his tongue fighting with yours as his hands moved from your hips to your waist, giving it a squeeze. Yours found his hair, pulling on the strands on the back of his neck. Eliciting a moan from him. The kiss was far from sweet, but you didn’t want it any other way. It felt like months of feelings and want was poured into the kiss. It was as if he kissed you hard enough you would understand his feelings for you. You kissed him back with just as much fervour, as if you too were trying to convey your feelings through the kiss.

“My eyes!” You heard a shriek from behind you. You and Mattheo broke apart, startled from the sound. Turning around you saw Harry and Hermione standing there. Harry had the most disgusted expression you had ever seen, and Hermione looked awfully smug.

“Really y/n? Riddle?” Harry said in an annoyed voice to which you rolled your eyes.

“Shut up Harry, go away.” You said, annoyance in your own voice, Hermione didn’t say anything as she slowly pulled Harry away, but she still had that smug smile on her face. You turned back to Mattheo, who had your lipstick all over his lips, and he was looking at you with a look you’ve never seen before. His eyes were soft, tender, a small smirk was on his lips. The look made you feel weak in the knees. With your heart hammering you snaked your arms around his neck again.

“You can be as jealous as you want, asshole, because I’m yours.” You whispered, your eyes finding his. His smile widened as he took one of your hands of his neck and took it in his. He took off his signet ring, where his initials were carved, and put it on your index finger.

“There, all mine.” He said softly before kissing you again, softer this time. His lips were gentle against yours, his hands tracing your back as yours raked through his hair.

“All yours.” You murmured against his lips, to which he groaned.

“I could listen to you saying that all night.” He said, his voice sounding strained, and he parted from you a little, needing to collect himself. You were still at Slughorn’s party after all.

“If you play your cards right maybe you will.” You said seductively as you pulled him back to you by his belt. He groaned, which he covered up by coughing when a teacher walked by on the other side of the curtain. You giggled at this.

“Well, handsome, I’m going to rejoin my date for the party.” You said, a teasing smile on your face. He looked at you bewildered.

“I might be yours now, but I wasn’t when I agreed to be Terry’s date for tonight.” You said a teasing note in your voice.

“I’ll see you tonight.” You whispered into his ear before placing a kiss to his cheek and slipping out the curtain. It would be a long night.

#fan fiction #harry potter #x reader #slytherin boys #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle x potter!reader #mattheo riddle fanfic #potter!reader

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timmyyyturner · 10 months ago

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Dm's: Jason Todd x Fem! Reader

TW: Alcohol.

jasontodd: I'm in love with you.

y/nl/n: i literally have no idea who you are.

It started a few months ago when you were followed by some random guy on Instagram. He had a racking of 28 Million followers and you were just a girl with 2K posting GRWM's and make up tutorials.

jasontodd: you looked so pretty in your livestream like MARRY ME TF??? ♡ liked by y/nl/n

y/nl/n: thank you, baby ♡ liked by jasontodd

You didn't get why you were so special.

y/nl/n: *voice memo* I'm serious like is there a reason you think I'm soooo pretty? ♡ liked by jasontodd

jasontodd: Damn. Even your voice is hot.

jasontodd: I'm sorry for inhaling the same oxygen as you🙏

y/nl/n: LMAO

It was kinda cute, kinda stalkery. Every single thing you posted he liked, seconds after. Praising you like you were an absolute goddess. At first you thought maybe it was a fake account but no, he was the real deal (he sent you a picture of his ID with blurred out details). When you Googled his name, you didn't expect his adoptive dad to be the BRUCE WAYNE. You might not be Wayne obsessed but everyone in Gotham know who Bruce Wayne was.

jasontodd: You busy??????

y/nl/n: no, why?

It was late almost 3 in the morning and you'd been occupied by messaging some guy who slid into your dm's six months ago. You were surprised when a incoming video call notification popped up on your phone. You were hesitant to but answered it. "Hello?" His camera was moving a lot but it was quite on his side, you could hear how heavy his footsteps were. You were laying in bed cozied up holding your pillow in your arms, another propping up the phone.

"Gimme a second." You watched him set the camera up in his bathroom, toothbrush hunging from his mouth. "There." He continued brushing his teeth. "Where are you going dressed so handsomely?" He snickered. "Well, pretty lady. It's not where I am heading but where I've been. I just got home from a friends after party."

"Probably using the art of back bending to bring home chicks?" You tilted your head. "Unless the chick was you, pretty, Ion want her near me." You smiled, He yawned causing you to do the same. "Dick is making me brush my teeth cause I threw up in his car and now my breath stinks." You nodded, listening to his little rant. "He's getting me a bucket so I don't choke on my vomit in my sleep, how many people do you think died like that?"

"Well-" You attempted to answer but he cut you off unintentionally by throwing up off screen, thankfully before returning to the screen, rinsing his mouth and rebrushing his teeth. "Who's Azealia Banks? Is she a influencer?" You smiled. "She's in the music industry, a real controversial person." He hummed.

"Who are you talking to?" Jason picked up his phone. "My girlfriend and you can't see her cause she's mine, your brain will hurt with beauty." Jason kissed the screen before you heard Dick approach him. "C'mon Jay get in bed now."

"No." You watched Dick attempt drag Jason— who was throwing lowsy kicks and punches at Dick— to bed. You giggled watching the camera angle change in the hands of drunk Jason before the phone fell somewhere. "Get. In. Bed."

"No." It was funny hearing Jason have an actual sibling bond. "Fine, I'll just call in the big guns. ALFRED!" You could hear Jason mumble a 'fine' before a ruffling of blankets as he got in bed. "NOT ON YOUR STOMACH!" Dick yelled, picking up the phone, looking at you. You waved at him sweetly. "Jason, there's no way you pulled her. She's so pretty and nice and you're... Jason." Jason snatched the phone frowning. "I don't like you." Jason laid on his side, Dick was on his way out of the room before turning to Jason to say something. "Hey, Y/n, do you wanna get married tommorow?"

"Uhm, I'll discuss this with sober you, okay baby." Jason hummed. "Can you stay with me until I fall asleep?" You smiled. "Okay." Dick smiled leaving the room.

He fell asleep a little over a hour later. You pressed a kiss to your screen before hanging up and going to bed. He woke up with a throbbing headache. He grabbed his phone seeing you posted on your story 30 minutes ago. He opened it seeing a picture of him and you on a video call. Did he call you last night?

"don't go! what if I choke on my drunk vomit and die?!" - jason todd. He chuckled reading that. He liked the story immediately getting a reply.

y/nl/n: alive then?

He smiled.

jasontodd: Sorry about last night lol.

y/nl/n: lol don't worry about it :))!

After that you sent him a picture of lots of you cooking, which he liked. What you did next though surprised him.

y/nl/n: 📍live location

y/nl/n: join me? we can discuss our marriage, boyfriend ;)

He never got out of bed faster.

#jason todd #jason todd x fem!reader #jason todd x reader #red hood #Drunk Jason Todd #he makes me so soft #timmyyyturner

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greengoblinswifey · 27 days ago

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Forbidden Flame

pairing— dad’s best friend!nicholas chavez x fem!reader

summary— the move to LA allows you to meet your dad’s best friend you’ve always seen on the big screen and who he always speaks about. what you don’t anticipate is the tension and connection between you that inevitably boils over on vacation after much teasing. based on this request.

warnings— age gap(reader is 19, nicholas is aged up to be 40)teasing and flirting, praise kink, choking, sir kink, oral(m&f receiving), fingering, degrading kink, unprotected sex, creampie, aftercare.

Part II

Your dad had been best friends with Nicholas Chavez for years—decades, really. They’d grown up together, gone to the same schools and stuck by each other through all of life’s twists and turns. Nicholas’ move to Los Angeles to chase his acting dreams hadn’t changed that. Despite the distance, they talked almost daily, keeping their friendship as strong as ever.

You’d only met Nicholas once when you were younger, during one of his rare trips back home. You were about twelve at the time, and while you vaguely remembered his tall frame and sweet smile, he hadn’t left much of an impression. Over the years, though, you’d grown more familiar with him through your dad’s endless stories, their calls, and the movies your dad insisted you watch.

“You should be proud,” he’d say, nudging you as another one of Nicholas’ films played on the TV. “That’s my best friend up there.”

Your dad would occasionally fly out to California for Nicholas’ premieres or events, but you’d never felt inclined to join him. It wasn’t until university brought you to Los Angeles that your paths finally crossed again.

When your dad divorced your mom, he decided to move to California to be closer to you. He bought a house in Hollywood, offering you a place to live while you attended university. You didn’t mind, you’d always been closer to your dad, and his laid back, supportive attitude made sharing a house easy.

Being in the same city as Nicholas meant your dad finally had a chance to see his best friend more often, and you heard him mention Nicholas’ name even more in passing.

“He’s coming over soon,” your dad told you one afternoon. “Haven’t seen him in person in ages. Thought we’d catch up.”

You didn’t think much of it—until the night Nicholas arrived.

The dinner table was a culmination of clinking silverware, stories and laughter. The kind of laughter that made the years between old friends feel like seconds. Your dad beamed as he embraced Nicholas, who stood in the foyer looking effortlessly charming.

“There he is, the big shot actor!” your dad teased, giving Nicholas a pat on the back.

Nicholas chuckled, his voice deeper and smoother than you remembered. “You haven’t changed a bit, man. Still know how to make me feel like a show off.”

And then his eyes fell on you.

“And who’s this?” he asked, his gaze sweeping you up and down with a hint of curiosity and something more.

“This is my daughter, Y/N,” your dad announced proudly, gesturing toward you. “You haven’t seen her since she was, what? Twelve?”

You swallowed hard, feeling pinned under Nicholas’ attention. His brown eyes lingered just a second too long before his lips curled into a slow, polite smile.

“You’ve grown a lot,” he said smoothly, extending a hand. “Nicholas Chavez. Though I suppose you know that.”

You managed to stammer out a soft, “Nice to meet you,” shaking his hand. His grip was firm, and his touch sent a strange spark down your spine.

Dinner was filled with nostalgia and catching up. Your dad recounted old stories from their youth, embarrassing moments, spontaneous road trips, and the mischief they’d gotten into. Nicholas laughed freely, though every so often, you caught him glancing at you when he thought you weren’t looking.

“So,” your dad began, shifting the conversation, “she’s doing theatre arts and creative writing. Wants to get into the business—creative side of things, you know?”

Nicholas raised an eyebrow, turning his attention fully to you now. “Theatre arts? Creative writing? That’s a great combination. What’s the end goal?”

“I—uh—I want to write scripts,” you admitted, feeling nervous under his intense gaze. “Maybe work on sets or be an actress, just get my foot in the door somehow.”

“Well, you’re in the right city for it,” he said with a small smile. “And, hey, if you ever need some experience, I’d be happy to take you under my wing. Help you learn the ropes.”

Your breath caught, and you fumbled with your glass, bringing it to your lips to hide the warmth creeping up your neck.

Your dad laughed, oblivious. “Hear that? You’ve already got a mentor lined up. I always knew you’d be useful for something, Nick.”

Nicholas smirked, his eyes still on you as he raised his glass. “Happy to help.”

The rest of the evening passed, but your mind kept replaying his words. Take you under my wing. It was nothing inappropriate—perfectly professional. Yet something in the way he’d said it made your stomach flip, as if there was an unspoken undertone you couldn’t quite place.

By the time the night ended, Nicholas was standing at the door with your dad, exchanging plans for future meet ups. He glanced back at you one last time, his expression unreadable but lingering.

“Goodnight,” he said, his voice softer now, just for you.

“Goodnight,” you replied, and as the door shut behind him, you exhaled a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding.

Your dad clapped you on the shoulder, oblivious to your spinning thoughts. “See? Told you he’s a good guy. You’ll learn a lot from him.”

You weren’t so sure what you’d learn having a man that attractive around you, but one thing was certain—Nicholas Chavez was going to be hard to forget.

The next day, your dad picked you up from campus, his energy high as he tapped the steering wheel with excitement. “Nicholas invited us over to his place,” he announced. “Thought it’d be nice for us to hang out. You’ll love his house, it’s insane.”

Your stomach flipped. Spending more time with Nicholas already had you on edge, and now you’d be in his home? You glanced down at your outfit, a cute red and white crop top paired with high waisted shorts. You’d worn it to class without a second thought, but now the exposed skin felt too revealing.

By the time your dad pulled into the driveway of Nicholas’ mansion, your nerves were in overdrive.

Nicholas greeted you both at the door, his smile welcoming as hugged your dad. “Good to see you, man,” he said warmly, stepping aside to let you in.

Then his eyes landed on you.

For a moment, he just looked, his gaze sweeping over you in a way that felt deliberate. His jaw tightened slightly before his expression softened. “And you,” he said, his voice dipping lower, “looking even more beautiful than last time.”

You stared back, trying to keep your breathing steady. Up close, Nicholas Chavez was impossibly good-looking. The sharp lines of his jaw, the way his hair framed his face, the confident way he carried himself—it was overwhelming.

His hand brushed against your bare back as he stepped aside, sending a shiver up your spine. “Come in,” he said, though his eyes lingered for just a second longer.

The inside of his house was stunning. Bright sunlight poured through massive windows, highlighting every detail of the sleek, modern décor. Your dad let out a low whistle. “This is incredible, bro. You’ve really done well for yourself.”

Nicholas chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Thanks, but it’s just a house. A place to unwind, you know?”

“Unwind?” your dad teased. “This place looks like a movie set.”

Nicholas smirked but didn’t respond. Instead, his eyes flicked back to you. You met his gaze, your stomach tightening at the look in his eyes. For a moment, it was like the world around you faded, leaving just the two of you. His lips parted slightly, as if he wanted to say something, but he quickly turned back to your dad.

“Speaking of unwinding,” Nicholas said, his tone casual now, “I thought we could hang out by the pool for a bit. I’ve got drinks and food.”

“That sounds great,” your dad said, clapping his hands together.

Nicholas glanced at you again, his expression unreadable. “You good with that?”

“Yeah,” you managed to say, your voice a little too soft.

“Perfect,” he said with a small smile. “I’ll get everything set up.”

As he walked toward the kitchen, you couldn’t help but watch him go. The way he moved, so confident and self assured, only added to his appeal. You exhaled slowly, trying to shake off the heat crawling up your body.

Your dad caressed your arm, snapping you out of your thoughts. “See? This is gonna be fun. Maybe you’ll even get some acting tips while we’re here.”

You nodded, forcing a smile, but your mind was elsewhere. The way Nicholas looked at you, the brush of his hand against your skin, the charged silence that hung between you—it all left you wondering what, if anything, it meant.

Seeing as you didn’t have your swim suit, you opted to just dip your feet in the water. Your dad could get one of Nicholas’ swim trunks. A few minutes later, Nicholas returned, a bundle of fabric in his hands.

“Here,” he said, holding it out to you.

You tilted your head, confused, as you took the neatly folded bikini. “What’s this?”

He shrugged casually, but there was something in his smirk. “Ordered a few things online a while back, and this one accidentally came. Figured it might fit you, though. You can keep it.”

Your fingers brushed over the soft fabric, noting the vibrant color and skimpy cut. “Oh, uh, thanks,” you said, a bit shy now.

“Don’t mention it,” he said, his voice smooth. “It’s better than swimming in your clothes.”

Feeling the heat rise to your cheeks, you nodded and got up. “I’ll go change.”

The pool house offered privacy, but as you slipped out of your clothes and into the bikini, you glanced at yourself in the mirror. The top hugged your tits tightly, barely offering coverage, while the bottoms sat high on your hips, leaving little to the imagination. It wasn’t something you’d typically wear, and the thought of walking out in front of Nicholas made your stomach flutter.

When you stepped back outside, the air felt cooler against your exposed skin. Nicholas was leaning against a lounger, sipping beer, but when he saw you approach, his movements stilled.

His eyes swept over you, and for a brief moment, his breath hitched. “You’ve—really grown up,” he said, his voice low and a little rough.

Flustered, you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “It’s just a swimsuit.”

“Still,” he said, his gaze lingering for a second too long before he cleared his throat. “It looks good on you.”

You managed a quiet “thanks” before sliding into the pool, letting the water cool the heat creeping. Nicholas joined you and your dad shortly after, but even as they talked and laughed, you could feel his eyes on you.

It wasn’t obvious—his gaze flicked back and forth between you and the conversation, but every time your head turned, you caught him watching. The weight of his attention made your heart race.

By evening, the three of you had dried off and gathered around the dining table. The smell of roasted vegetables and perfectly cooked steak filled the air.

“Wow, Nick,” your dad said, cutting into his meal. “This is impressive. Never thought I’d see the day you’d learn to cook.”

Nicholas chuckled, sitting back in his chair. “Had to pick up a few skills along the way. Can’t survive on takeout forever.”

Your dad teased, “Guess that’s what happens when you don’t get married. No one to cook for you.”

Nicholas glanced at you then, his dark eyes steady and unreadable. “Maybe I just haven’t met the right girl,” he said, a slight edge to his tone. Then, with a small smirk, he added, “But when I do, she’ll find out I’ve got all the skills she’ll ever need.”

You swallowed hard, the double meaning not lost on you. His gaze lingered second longer before he shifted his attention back to his plate, leaving you wondering how much of that comment was intentional.

Your dad laughed, shaking his head. “Well, if she’s out there, she’ll be lucky to have you. Who knew you had all this domestic talent?”

As the conversation carried on, you found yourself quiet, focusing on your food and the occasional glance Nicholas sent your way. The air felt heavy, but whether it was in your head or something more, you couldn’t be sure.

The wine Nicholas poured had loosened you up, and by the time your dad excused himself to use the bathroom, leaving you and Nicholas alone, the air felt thick and suffocating.

You tapped your glass idly, the boldness of the wine coursing through your veins. “So, is this how you usually spend your evenings? Hosting your old friends and their kids?” you teased.

His lips curved into a slow smirk, and he leaned back in his chair, swirling his own drink. “Not usually, no. But tonight’s—different.”

You decided to push, emboldened by his tone and the way his attention seemed to settle solely on you. “Different, huh? Maybe because you’re spending time with someone younger? More interesting?”

Nicholas tilted his head, his tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip. “You’re bold tonight,” he said, his voice low. “I like that.”

“Oh yeah? Maybe you like more than that.”

He opened his mouth to respond, his expression enticing, but the sound of your dad returning broke whatever moment had formed. He shifted in his seat, clearing his throat, and you quickly sat back, pretending to focus on your glass.

“Alright,” your dad said, clapping his hands together. “She’s got an early class tomorrow, so I think it’s time we head out. Thanks for dinner, Nick.”

Nicholas stood, composed. “Anytime, man. You know that.”

Your dad reached for his jacket, but when you stood and approached Nicholas to say your goodbyes, you couldn’t resist one final moment of boldness.

“Thanks for dinner,” you said sweetly as you stepped in for a hug. But instead of the polite embrace he might have expected, you pressed yourself flush against him. One hand slipped up around his neck, fingers grazing through the soft strands of his hair, while your hips brushed against his. You felt the way his breath hitched, and there was no mistaking the hardness you’d pressed against.

Nicholas’ hand hovered near your back before resting lightly, as if trying to maintain control. His voice was low, barely audible. “You’re playing a dangerous game,” he murmured, his lips brushing close to your ear.

You pulled back to meet his gaze, your voice equally quiet. “So are you.”

Before either of you could say more, your dad turned back to you, oblivious. “Ready, sweetie?”

You smiled innocently and stepped away, pretending nothing had happened. “Yeah, dad. Goodnight, Nicholas.”

“Goodnight,” he said, his voice steady but his eyes stayed on your ass as you walked out the door.

That night, you lay in your bed, staring at the ceiling, your thoughts racing. The interaction replayed in your mind on a loop, his sharp, chiseled features, the way his breath faltered and his dick got hard when you touched him, the low, gravelly tone of his voice.

It was wrong, you knew that much. He was your dad’s best friend, for God’s sake. The kind of man you should steer clear of, not fantasize about. But the very thought of how forbidden it was only made it more intoxicating.

Nicholas wasn’t just handsome, he was magnetic. His success, the way he carried himself, it all checked every box you’d ever had. And then there was the age gap. You had a taste for men who were older and Nicholas embodied everything you craved.

You pressed your thighs together as the memory of his body against yours sent a rush through you. The way his voice dropped, how he’d let his guard slip for just a moment, it made your heart race and your core throb.

“This is bad,” you whispered to yourself, but even as you said it, you knew the truth. You didn’t want it to stop. If anything, you wanted to push further.

And, deep down, you hoped he felt the same way.

Friday came faster than you expected, but the days leading up to it were anything but dull. Earlier in the week, Nicholas had texted you out of the blue, and the conversation quickly veered into dangerous, flirtatious territory.

Nicholas: “Miss me yet?”

You: “Should I?”

Nicholas: “You tell me.”

You: “Maybe a little.”

You smiled at your screen, biting your lip as you typed out your next message.

You: “You like having me around that much?”

Nicholas: “You have no idea.”

His response made your pulse quicken, but you weren’t about to let him have the upper hand so easily.

You: “Guess you’ll just have to wait.”

Nicholas: “Not sure I can.”

Your heart was racing, and just when you thought the conversation couldn’t get any more suggestive, his next text came through.

Nicholas: “Keep your phone locked.”

You raised an eyebrow, staring at the message for a moment before replying.

You: “Why? Are you planning on sending something?”

Nicholas: “Only if you want me to.”

You: “Hmm, maybe.”

You could feel the tension even through the screen, but after he replied, you left him on read, smirking to yourself. A part of you wanted to follow up, but you were content letting him stew in his anticipation.

For the next few days, you didn’t respond to any of his subtle messages, leaving him to wonder if he had pushed too far. You stayed busy, keeping things light and casual whenever you tagged along with your dad and Nicholas during their outings. The tension was always there, simmering, but you played it cool, knowing full well that you held all the cards.

Then Thursday evening came. Your dad burst into your room with the kind of excitement you didn’t usually see from him.

“Pack a suitcase,” he said, grinning.

“What?” you asked, looking up from your laptop.

“We’re going on a trip,” he said, leaning against your doorframe. “Me, you, and Nicholas. We’re heading to Miami for the weekend. Figured we could get away, hit a resort, relax a bit.”

“Miami?” you repeated, your mind already racing.

“Yeah. Nice beach, warm weather. Get a little fucked up for the weekend,” he added with a laugh.

“Dad,” you groaned, rolling your eyes. “Don’t say it like that.”

He laughed. “Just pack something nice. We leave tomorrow.”

Excitement bubbled inside you as you started packing. You made sure to include a few outfits that would undoubtedly turn heads, particularly Nicholas’. Tight dresses, short skirts, and bikinis that barely covered anything, they all made their way into your suitcase.

Later that night, as you sat on your bed scrolling through your phone, you decided you’d teased Nicholas long enough. You called him, and he picked up almost immediately.

“Finally,” he said, his voice deep.

“Did you miss me?” you teased, twirling a strand of your hair between your fingers.

“Maybe I did,” he admitted. “I was starting to think the trip was the only way to get you alone.”

“Technically, it’s not,” you countered, smirking to yourself.

“Well,” he said, his tone dropping slightly, “I’ll make sure to get you alone at some point.”

Your breath caught at the implication. “See you Friday,” you said quickly, hanging up before he could say anything else.

Friday morning, Nicholas’ driver arrived to pick you and your dad up. You wore a simple yet flattering outfit, a short skirt that showed off your legs and a fitted top that hugged your tits. When Nicholas greeted you at the private hangar, his eyes lingered just a little too long, sliding over your body before meeting your gaze.

“Morning,” he said, his voice casual, though his eyes betrayed something else entirely.

“Morning,” you replied lightly, pretending not to notice how he was looking at you.

Your dad clapped him on the shoulder, grinning. “You’re spoiling us with this, man.”

Nicholas laughed, his gaze flicking to you again. “You deserve it, you’re my brother. Besides, what’s the point of having nice things if you can’t share them?”

You followed them onto the jet, your jaw dropping slightly at the sheer luxury of it all. The plush leather seats, the spacious layout, and the private rooms in the back, it was a dream.

“Not bad, huh?” Nicholas teased, catching your expression.

“Not bad is an understatement,” you muttered, shaking your head.

Once in the air, your dad fell asleep almost immediately, leaving you to sip on a cocktail in the small lounge area. You scrolled through your phone, trying to act casual, but your mind was already racing.

A few minutes later, you heard footsteps. Turning slightly, you saw Nicholas leaning against the doorway, his arms crossed and a small smirk on his lips.

“Don’t worry,” he said, his voice low. “Your dad’s out cold.”

You raised an eyebrow, setting your drink down. “Why would I worry? What’s going to happen?”

Nicholas chuckled, his gaze dropping briefly to your bare thigh before meeting your eyes again. “Anything you want to happen.”

Your heart skipped a beat as his eyes lingered, his jaw tightening briefly before he looked away.

“You always this confident?” you asked, tilting your head slightly.

“Only when I’ve got a reason to be.” His smirk widened as he stepped closer, leaning on the back of the seat across from you. His voice dropped as he added, “You’re making it hard to behave, you know.”

“Who said you have to behave?”

His eyes darkened slightly and he shifted, running a hand through his hair. “Your dad’s my best friend,” he said, almost to himself, though his gaze never left yours.

“And?” you challenged, your voice softer now.

His lips quirked up into a small smile. “And—you’re trouble. I can see that already.”

You leaned back in your seat, crossing one leg over the other deliberately. “Maybe you like trouble.”

Nicholas exhaled sharply, shaking his head, though he smiled in amusement. “You’re something else, you know that?”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

He shook his head, his gaze not wavering. “You should,” he murmured, his voice low and steady.

You stood, crossing the small space between you and Nicholas in a few deliberate steps, until you were right in front of him. His eyes flicked up and down your figure, his jaw tightening slightly.

“You’re not very subtle, you know,” you teased, tilting your head as you caught his eyes trailing over your legs and the hem of your skirt.

“I’m not trying to be,” he replied.

You took a step closer, your voice dropping just enough to make him lean in. “You can look and touch,” you whispered, grabbing his large hands and placing them gently on your hips.

Nicholas hesitated, his fingers barely pressing into your waist. “This is a bad idea,” he muttered, though he didn’t pull away.

“You’re such a pussy,” you said, shaking your head and giving him a challenging look.

That seemed to snap him out of his hesitation. His hands tightened on your hips, pulling you closer in one swift motion, and suddenly his grip was firm. His other hand slid up, fingers grazing the side of your neck before settling at the base of your throat, applying just enough pressure to make you gasp.

“Not so bold now, are you?” he murmured, his lips just inches from yours.

You swallowed hard, your heart pounding against your ribcage, but you weren’t ready to back down. With a final burst of boldness, you pushed him onto the chair then swung your legs over him, settling yourself in his lap so you were straddling him. The movement seemed to catch him off guard for a moment, his eyes darkening as he looked up at you.

Your breaths mingled, the air between you filled with so much tension. His hands rested on your hips, his fingers pressing into the fabric of your skirt. You leaned in slightly, and he mirrored the action, your faces so close that your lips were slightly brushing against each other.

The kiss came almost naturally, slow and testing at first, as though either of you could pull away at any second. But when you didn’t, when you leaned in just a little more, it quickly deepened. His lips moved against yours with a hunger that made your head spin, his hands pulling you closer against him like he couldn’t get enough.

Your fingers found their way to his hair, tugging lightly as the kiss grew more urgent, more ferocious. He groaned softly against your mouth, and you felt the sound vibrate in your chest, sending a thrill down your spine. Then the plane shook.

You both froze, pulling back just slightly. His hand stayed on your waist as you both caught your breath, your faces still close enough to feel the warmth of his skin.

Nicholas cleared his throat, his voice quieter now. “We should probably stop before this goes any further.”

You nodded, slipping off his lap and standing in front of him again. “Yeah,” you said softly, smoothing out your skirt.

His eyes lingered on you for a moment longer, and then he stood, straightening his shirt. “Get some rest,” he said, his tone gentler now. “I’ll see you when we land.”

Without waiting for a reply, he turned and walked back toward the main cabin, leaving you standing there with your heart still racing. You took a deep breath, shaking your head as you went back to your private area.

As you closed your eyes, the lingering heat of his touch still burned on your skin, and you wondered how the rest of this trip would unfold.

You stirred awake hours later, feeling the gentle sensation of fingers brushing through your hair. A lazy smile tugged at your lips as you mumbled, “You’re being bold now, aren’t you?”

“Bold?” a familiar voice replied. Your eyes fluttered open to see your dad standing over you with a raised eyebrow. “Sweetie, we’ve landed. Time to get moving.”

Blinking away the sleep, you sat up quickly, your heart beating fast. “Right. Thanks, Dad.”

The ride to the resort was quick, and you were immediately struck by how massive and luxurious it was. Each of you had your own private room, and you couldn’t wait to explore. After setting your bags down, you wasted no time pulling out a swimsuit—a sexy two piece that hugged every curve, and headed out to meet your dad and Nicholas by the private pool.

When you arrived, heads turned, and you couldn’t ignore the stares and the occasional whistles from passersby. Nicholas stood nearby, clearly irritated by the attention you were getting, his sharp jaw tense as he greeted fans asking for his autograph. You caught the way his eyes flicked to the men looking your way, his annoyance evident.

“Not a fan of the attention?” you teased, stepping closer to him while your dad busied himself at the far end of the pool flirting with a woman.

Nicholas’ gaze bore into you. “Not when it’s them giving it to you,” he muttered, his tone low.

You grinned, deciding to push your luck. “Jealousy doesn’t suit you.”

His eyes narrowed, but the corner of his mouth lifted in a faint smirk. Before he could reply, you held out a bottle of sunscreen. “Do me a favor and get my back?”

He hesitated, glancing over to where your dad was preoccupied. “You’re a tease, you know that?”

“Am I?” you asked, turning around and presenting your back to him. “Then don’t help me.”

He sighed but took the bottle from your hand. His touch was firm as he worked the sunscreen over your shoulders and back. When he reached the small of your back, his hands faltered for just a second.

“You’re awfully quiet,” you said over your shoulder, playfully.

“Trying to focus,” he replied, but his hands moved lower, brushing over the curve of your hips and your plump ass.

You shifted slightly, making your ass jiggle beneath his hands. His breath hitched audibly, and he muttered under his breath, “You’re going to kill me with this shit.”

You giggled, biting your lip as you turned to face him and took the bottle back. Without breaking eye contact, you squeezed some sunscreen onto your hands and began rubbing it over your chest, your fingers grazing deliberately over your tits.

His jaw clenched, his eyes darkening as he watched you. But before he could say anything, you gave him a sly smile and walked toward the pool, leaving him standing there visibly hard.

You dove into the water, and moments later, he joined you, swimming a few laps before suggesting, “Why don’t we head down to the beach? It’s quieter there.”

You nodded, glancing over at your dad, who was still deeply engrossed in conversation with the woman. Nicholas called out to him, and your dad waved him off with a grin.

“I’ll be busy this evening, maybe even tonight,” your dad said, his tone suggestive. “You two have dinner without me. I’ll make it up to you tomorrow.”

Nicholas laughed then muttered, “Always the womanizer. Some things never change.”

You laughed softly. “Don’t worry, we’ll be fine. Have fun.”

The beach was stunning, with the sun beginning to set, casting everything in a golden glow. As you walked along the shore, Nicholas’ eyes kept wandering, lingering on your ass and the way your bikini hugged your figure.

Finally, you turned to him with a teasing smile. “See something you like?”

“Definitely,” he said, his voice steady, though his gaze was anything but.

“Good,” you said, stepping closer, your heart racing at the way his eyes raked over you.

The water was warm as it slapped against your body. Nicholas stood just a few feet away, his eyes locked on yours as the golden light of the setting sun reflected off your dark skin. You moved toward him, closing the space between you, and without hesitation, you wrapped your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist. His large hands instinctively gripped beneath your ass, holding you steady as he swayed you gently in the water.

You giggled at the way he playfully moved you around, the water rippling around you both. His gaze softened as he looked at you, a faint smile on his lips. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmured.

Heat went to your cheeks, and you instinctively buried your face into the crook of his neck. “You can get shy now,” he murmured, his voice dropping to a teasing tone, “but don’t be shy when I’m fucking you.”

The words rolled off his tongue so smoothly, so confidently, that it sent a shiver down your spine. Your breathing quickened as you pulled back, your eyes locking onto his. The look in his eyes made your heart pound, and without a second thought, you leaned in and pressed your lips to his.

The kiss started slow but quickly turned desperate, your mouths moving against each other as the water swirled around you. Nicholas’ grip on you tightened as he deepened the kiss, his tongue brushing against yours, leaving you breathless.

“I need you so bad,” you whispered against his lips, your voice trembling.

He groaned softly, his forehead resting against yours. “I need you more,” he said, his voice rough and full of hunger. His eyes roamed your face. “Fuck, look at you.”

You kissed him again, your lips pressing against his like you were trying to convey everything you couldn’t put into words. He pulled back slightly, his breathing ragged. “At this rate,” he muttered, his voice strained, “I’ll fuck you right here, right now. But we can’t—not yet.”

Before you could respond, he adjusted his hold on you and began carrying you toward the shore and you admired the way his muscles flexed under the golden light. Once you reached the sand, he set you down gently and handed you a towel, his eyes lingering on you as you dried off.

The two of you returned to your rooms to freshen up for dinner. You slipped into a stunning white dress that hugged your curves perfectly, the gold jewelry you chose glinting against your dark skin. When you stepped out, Nicholas was waiting for you in the hallway. His eyes widened slightly as he took you in, and he let out a low whistle.

“You look—” He trailed off, his gaze sweeping over you. “You look breathtaking.”

“You clean up pretty well yourself,” you said, glancing at the fitted shirt that accentuated his broad shoulders.

He offered his arm, and you looped yours through it as the two of you made your way to one of the resort’s restaurant. Inside, the air was intimate, with dim lighting and the soft hum of music filling the air. Nicholas pulled out your chair for you, a small but thoughtful gesture that made your stomach flutter.

As the meal progressed, you noticed he couldn’t take his eyes off you. His gaze lingered on your lips when you spoke, on your hands as you picked up your glass, and on your cleavage.

“You’re staring,” you teased, setting down your fork.

“Can you blame me?” he replied, leaning back slightly in his chair. “You’re making it hard to focus on anything else.”

You smirked, sliding off one of your heels under the table. Slowly, you let your foot brush against his leg. His eyes flicked to yours in amusement. “What are you up to now?”

“Nothing,” you said, innocently as your foot moved higher. When it pressed against the growing bulge in his pants, he let out a low chuckle, his hand running over his jaw.

“You’re such a bad girl,” he murmured.

“How big is it?” you asked, your tone filled with need.

He raised an eyebrow, his smirk growing. “Come to my room and find out.”

“Maybe I will,” you replied with a sly grin, withdrawing your foot.

By the time you both made your way to the elevator after finishing your meal, you knew the dam would burst.

The doors had barely closed when Nicholas turned to you, his eyes blazing. Without a word, he pushed you gently against the elevator wall, his hands gripping your thighs as you jumped into his arms, wrapping your legs around his waist. Your lips crashed together in a deep kiss, your fingers tangling in his hair as his hands roamed over your back.

The elevator dinged, but neither of you broke apart. Nicholas stumbled down the hallway, fumbling with his keycard as your lips moved against his, both of you breathless and desperate. Finally, the door clicked open, and he carried you inside, kicking it shut behind him.

His lips never left yours, the kiss deepening with every step. When he reached the large bed, he laid you down, his body hovering over yours as he took you in.

“I’ve waited so long for this,” he murmured.

Your chest rose and fell quickly as you looked up at him, your own desire reflected in his gaze. “Fuck,” you breathed, your voice trembling. “Me too.”

His hands moved to the hem of your dress, and with one swift motion, he hiked it up, revealing your bare pussy. His eyes darkened when he realized you weren’t wearing anything underneath. He let out a low, groan. “You’re so fucking naughty,” he said, his lips curling into a smirk.

You bit your lip, your voice dropping into a sultry tone. “Only for you, sir.”

That one word made him pause, his gaze snapping to yours. He arched a brow, his smirk deepening. “Sir?” he repeated, the word rolling off his tongue with deliberate slowness. “I like that.”

Your teeth sank into your bottom lip again, and before you could respond, he leaned down, his lips trailing down your stomach with kisses. The heat of his breath against your skin sent shivers racing through your body, and anticipation built as his hands slid up your thighs, parting them gently.

When his mouth finally found your wet pussy, your back arched off the bed at the first touch of his tongue. The sensation was otherworldly, every nerve ending in your body sparking to life. His tongue moved with practiced precision, alternating between slow strokes and quick flicks that left you gasping for air.

“God, you taste amazing,” he murmured against you, his voice full of praise.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging slightly as you squirmed beneath him. Every flick of his tongue sent waves of pleasure crashing through you, and you couldn’t hold back the moans that spilled from your lips. “Nicholas,” you whimpered, your voice breathy and desperate.

“That’s it baby,” he murmured, slipping two fingers inside you with ease. His touch had you squirming, and he moved them in sync with his tongue, building your pleasure higher and higher. “You’re so perfect,” he praised. “So responsive. Taste just as good as you look.”

Your breathing grew erratic, your pussy tightening around his finger as the sensation became overwhelming. “Sir,” you gasped, your grip on his hair tightening. “I’m gonna—”

“C’mon baby,” he encouraged. “Cum for me, beautiful.”

His words tipped you over the edge, and with a cry, you fell apart beneath him. Your body trembled as the orgasm washed over you, and he didn’t stop, working you through every wave of pleasure until you were left breathless and trembling.

As you relaxed, his lips trailed back up your body, leaving soft kisses. When he reached your face, he smiled down at you, his thumb brushing over your cheek. “You’re fucking amazing,” he whispered.

You caught your breath, still trembling from the pleasure he’d just given you. You tilted your head up to meet his eyes, a small, mischievous smile on your lips.

“I wanna please you too,” you whispered, your voice soft.

“Yeah?” he asked. “Wanna be my good little cock sucker?”

Your breath caught at his words, but the flush of desire through your body made you nod without hesitation. “Yes,” you murmured, but his smirk widened.

“Say it properly,” he demanded. “Yes, sir.”

You swallowed, your gaze never leaving his as you obeyed. “Yes, sir.”

“Good fucking girl,” he said. He leaned back slightly, giving you room as you slid off the bed and sank to your knees before him. The sight of you looking up at him from that angle made his jaw tighten, but he maintained control, watching you with focus.

Your fingers moved to unbuckle his belt, your hands steady but your heart racing. As you tugged it free and unzipped his pants, your pussy dripped. When you finally freed his cock, your eyes widened, and your lips parted in surprise.

Nicholas smirked down at you, clearly pleased by your reaction. “Now you know how big it is,” he said, his tone dripping with arrogance.

You glanced up at him, still slightly stunned, but you couldn’t help the small, breathy laugh that escaped you. “It’s—a lot,” you admitted, your voice teasing.

“You can handle it,” he replied confidently, wrapping a hand gently but firmly in your hair. His fingers tightened slightly, enough to guide you.

Leaning forward, you began slowly, your lips wrapping around him as you took him into your mouth. He moaned softly at the first touch. “That’s it,” he murmured. “Just like that. You’re such a good girl for me.”

The sound of his praise spurred you on, and you moved with more confidence, hollowing your cheeks as you took him down your throat. His grip in your hair tightened slightly, guiding you at a steady pace. “God, your mouth feels amazing,” he muttered, his head tilting back for a moment before his gaze returned to you.

“You look so beautiful like this,” he continued, his voice strained but steady. “Sucking my dick so well. Just like I knew you would.”

You couldn’t help but moan softly at his words, the vibrations pulling another groan from him. His free hand reached down to cup your cheek briefly before sliding back into your hair, his touch firm but still careful.

“Such a perfect mouth,” he murmured, his voice rougher now. “You’re making me lose my mind.”

You glanced up at him, your eyes meeting his as you continued, and the look in his eyes sent a shiver down your spine. The way he looked at you—like you were the most intoxicating thing he’d ever seen—only made you want to please him more.

Your tongue slid across his shaft as you moved, every glide eliciting a deep, guttural sound from him. You moved your head faster and massaged his heavy balls, his breathing turned uneven, and his grip in your hair tightened. “You’re such a good little cock sucker,” he muttered, his voice rough.

Just as his cock throbbed, and you thought he was close to letting go, he grasped your hair gently but firmly, pulling you back. “I’m not gonna cum in your mouth tonight,” he murmured, his eyes dark and unwavering as they locked with yours. “Next time, I’ll fill that gorgeous mouth of yours. But right now, I need to be inside you. Need to fill your pussy up first.”

Nicholas hovered over you, brushing a thumb across your lips as he looked into your eyes. “Are you ready? Are you sure you want this? I need to hear you say it.”

You nodded, your breath shaky. “Yes, sir. I’m sure.”

He smirked faintly at your words, though his gaze softened with something deeper. “You know there’s no going back from this,” he murmured, his voice low. “And no one can ever find out.”

“I don’t care about anything else right now,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “I just want you.”

His expression flickered, caught between control and desire. Slowly, he leaned down to kiss you, taking his time as though to savor the moment. His hands moved over your body, caressing your skin and pulling off your dress fully leaving you bare.

“You’re perfect,” he murmured, his breath warm against your collarbone as his lips trailed lower. “So beautiful and all mine.”

“All yours,” you echoed.

He lined the leaking, heavy tip with your entrance and rubbed it along your folds. He was so big, probably the biggest you’d ever had. That’s one of the things you loved about older men.

He stared into your eyes as he slowly pushed his cock inside you. You gasped for air, the feeling of him filling you inch by inch taking your breath away. It felt like he was so deep and he just started.

“Breathe baby, you can take it.” You nodded, biting your lips as he could only get half way in but that was enough. He started snapping his hips to meet yours, the friction against your clit making you shiver. His raw cock dragged along your walls and you could feel every vein.

“You’re fucking me so good,” you croaked out, getting lost in pleasure.

“Yeah? Only I can make you feel this good,” he smirked.

He pushed your legs back even further, and the new angle had his cock going even deeper. Your pussy clenched tightly around him and he moaned, increasing his pace. “I can’t get enough of this wet fucking pussy,” he groaned. You wrapped your arms around his neck, grinding against him as he fucked you.

You couldn’t contain the loud moans that left your lips feeling him snap harshly into you, his cock practically kissing your cervix. If you had felt guilty about fucking your dad’s best friend before, it all went out the window as you felt an intense orgasm approaching.

“Gonna cum for me baby? Yeah? Do it. Cum all over my cock,” he growled.

Your entire body shuddered and you stared into his dark eyes as a rush of liquid spurted from your pussy, soaking his raw cock. He continued pounding into you, guiding you through your high until he flipped you so that you were on top of him.

You cried out as he positioned his cock back inside your aching pussy, your nails digging into his chest.

“Fucking ride me like the slut you are,” he said.

The stretch was intense, your pussy twitching as you sank down on his cock, taking him deeper, every inch filling you to the brim. Your pace was wild, desperate, and you screamed feeling his cock repeatedly hit that perfect spot deep inside you.

Nicholas’ hand wrapped around your throat, his grip firm, cutting off your breath just enough to make your head swoon. Your tits bounced with each thrust and he reached up, tangling his fingers in your hair, tugging your head down to make you look at him. His eyes were locked on yours, dark and possessive, as he forced you to glance down at your own stomach to look at the bulge in your belly where his thick cock was buried deep inside you.

“Look at that baby. Look how deep my cock is inside you,” he teased.

“S-so deep sir,” you screamed, lifting your hips and dropping back down.

The sight of him in your guts, being on top of his muscular body, it was all enough to send you over the edge. Tears spilled down your cheeks as you moaned his name and came on his thick cock. Your entire body convulsed as you did, muscles contracting around him, gripping him tight. But Nicholas wasn’t done. He fucked you even harder, his hips snapping against yours with brutal precision as you whimpered on top him.

“Oh shit. I’m gonna cum inside you, take it. Take it like a good little girl.”

You collapsed on top of him and he wrapped his big arms around you, bucking his hips deep inside you. Soft whimpers left your lips as you felt his hot load fill your insides and you were almost sure you came again from just that. Your pussy clenched down, milking him of everything he had and he continued thrusting slowly, making sure every drop went inside you.

He held you close, kissing the top of your head as you both caught your breath, relishing in the afterglow of the moment. Nicholas leaned back slightly, brushing a damp strand of hair away from your face. “You okay?” he asked softly.

You nodded, catching your breath. “I’m more than okay,” you replied with a small smile.

He grinned back at you, running a hand through his tousled hair. “That was incredible. You’re the best I’ve ever had.”

A soft laugh escaped you. “I could say the same,” you admitted, cheeks warm as you avoided his intense gaze.

He lifted you off him then stood, stretching before heading to grab a towel from the bathroom. You watched him move, his broad shoulders, his strong back and felt a familiar heat start to build again. By the time he returned and gently cleaned you up, his touch so attentive and tender, the idea of another round was already teasing the back of your mind.

But you stayed quiet, watching his face as he finished and leaned over you, planting a kiss on your temple. “You don’t regret this, do you?” he asked.

You shook your head quickly. “No. Do you?”

“Not at all,” he said immediately, a reassuring smile on his lips. Then he sighed, running a hand over his face. “But if your dad ever finds out—”

You placed a hand on his chest, cutting him off. “He won’t,” you said firmly. “He can’t. He would never forgive you.”

Nicholas nodded slowly. “Yeah. We’ll keep this between us, then.”

The unspoken agreement hung in the air for a moment before you sat up, reaching for your clothes. As much as you wanted to stay wrapped up in him for the night, you knew better. “I should go,” you said reluctantly, slipping your dress back on and smoothing it down.

Nicholas leaned back against the doorframe, watching you with a smirk. “You know, you don’t make it easy to say goodbye,” he teased as you slipped on your shoes.

You walked over to him, pressing a lingering kiss to his lips. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” you murmured against his mouth.

He grinned and gave you one last kiss before opening the door. “Goodnight princess,” he said, his hand sliding down to give your ass a smack. You shot him a look over your shoulder, smirking as you stepped out into the hallway.

But the moment you turned, your stomach dropped. There, just a few feet away, was your dad, stepping out of his room with the woman from the pool earlier.

Your heart stopped.

His eyes flicked between you and Nicholas, who was now standing in the doorway behind you, and you forced a smile, hoping your face didn’t betray the panic building in your chest.

“Hey, sweetheart,” your dad said casually, his arm around the woman’s waist. “What are you doing up so late?”

You fumbled for words, glancing back at Nicholas, who gave you a subtle nod before stepping back into his room. “I, uh, I couldn’t sleep,” you managed, swallowing hard. “I was just getting some air.”

Your dad narrowed his eyes slightly but didn’t press. “Alright,” he said, his tone light. “Well, get some rest. We’ve got a full day tomorrow.”

“Of course,” you said quickly, forcing a smile. “Goodnight, Dad.”

“Night, kid.”

As he turned to head back into his room with the woman, you let out a shaky breath, your pulse still racing. You hurried back into your own room, your mind spinning. You couldn’t believe how close that had been.

In the bathroom, hot water cascaded over your body, soothing your muscles but doing little to quiet your thoughts. You leaned against the cool tile of the shower wall, closing your eyes as you tried to steady your breathing. The memory of Nicholas hovered like a spark in the dark. You could still feel his hands on you, the way he moaned your name like it was a prayer, and the look in his eyes that made you forget anything outside of that moment existed.

You knew this was dangerous. You knew you should stop before it spiraled out of control. What’s done in the dark always comes to light, you reminded yourself, the words playing in your mind like a warning.

But then his voice echoed in your head. The thought sent a shiver down your spine, and you groaned softly, pressing your forehead to the wall. “What am I doing?” you muttered to yourself, the guilt swirling in your chest.

Still, no matter how much you tried to rationalize, you couldn’t shake the pull he had over you. The way he made you feel alive, craved, wanted, it was intoxicating. You bit your lip, your cheeks heating even as you stood under the water.

The truth settled heavily in your chest. You couldn’t stop. Not now. Not after the way he made you feel, the way he fucked you like you were his very fantasy come to life. The way he held you, kissed you, worshipped every part of you. You needed more.

You turned off the water and stepped out of the shower, wrapping yourself in a plush towel. As you stared at your reflection in the foggy mirror, your mind wandered back to the way Nicholas had whispered your name, the way his lips had trailed over your pussy. A quiet voice in your head reminded you of the risk, the possibility of your dad finding out, the fallout it could bring.

But as you looked at yourself, you found a strange sort of clarity. You weren’t going to let Nicholas go.

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿

Tags: @blackynsupremacy @hoffmansgirl @nicholaschavezslut69

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reiderwriter · 8 months ago

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Unfair We're Not Somewhere

Chapter Eight of I Can't Help Myself

Summary: With a little bit of help from someone who could relate a little bit too closely to your situation, Y/N tries to come clean. Tries.

Warnings: Mentions of pregnancy symptoms/ general pregnancy things, unsub mentions, plot.

A/N: Chapter Eight! I'm so excited for where the rest of this series is going to go, though I do feel like people are going to be a bit annoyed by this one lmao. Let me know your thoughts in the comments below or in an ask! Don't be too mad...

Masterlist || Add yourself to the tag list

You sat quietly in the clinic as you waited for the pharmacist to fill your prescription - a simple pregnancy multivitamin that was supposed to help your food go down, make your hair shinier, and fix all your problems.

You wondered if the bottle could tell Spencer you were pregnant. You wondered if it could make him magically okay with that and prepare him for fatherhood, too.

Your phone buzzed, and you surfaced from the field of thoughts you'd been lost in as you checked it.

“Outside,” an unknown number had sent. You took that as your queue, stood up, and left the clinic, trying your best to avoid looking back at the small boy Spencer had been playing with.

You weren't sure if you were going to have a boy or a girl yet. You didn't mind either, though you'd always envisioned yourself with a big enough family that you assumed at least one of each was inevitable. Though even you had to admit how stereotypically nuclear that was, and how only 18% of the country was living that was lying anyway.

You shoved psychology from your head for a few minutes and let yourself breathe.

“Y/N!” JJ signalled from the driver's side of her still running SUV. She waved slightly, and you smiled politely as you quickly paced around to the side of her vehicle and got in.

“Hi,” you said, unsure if you should introduce yourself or not. She'd been in the office the day you'd been taken into custody (protection), but you still had yet to speak to her. She'd been exempt from protective duty so far due to her status as a senior field agent and the fact that she had two kids and a husband at home waiting for her.

You were sad she was the anomaly in the BAU, the only one with someone waiting on her.

“I'm Y/N,” you said, still unsure if you should hold out a hand or not. You hadn't made the best impression on most of Spencer's colleagues, and while you didn't think there was much point in trying, you still couldn't bring yourself to be intentionally blasé.

“I know, you're all we've been talking about for weeks,” the woman laughed, pulling out of the clinic car park and smiling at you.

“Oh, right. Case. Of course, I've heard you probably know more about me than I know about myself.”

“We have a profile, sure, but that's not what I meant.”

You nodded awkwardly and stared out the window for a second, the sky darkening slightly as it prepared to rain.

You drove for a few minutes before JJ spoke up again.

“I don't know if Emily told you, but it's actually my day off today,” she said, turning off into a cul-de-sac you'd never seen before.

“Oh, oh my god, I'm so sorry. I could've just got a taxi or something or just… gotten over myself. You didn't have to-”

“Yes, I did,” she looked at you for a second, cocking her head to the side in a gesture that said, ‘and you know why.’ It was a look only a friend would give, and you felt an instant connection with her.

How had Spencer found so many wonderful, big-hearted women to surround himself with, and how could you get in on it?

You supposed, by letting him get you pregnant, you'd probably found a cheat code for whatever the answer might have been.

“Anyway, it's my day off, so I promised my boys a fun day at home with mommy. We're doing finger painting and macaroni art. I hope you don't mind getting messy.”

“Wha-? Me? Oh. No, not at all,” you tried to seem nonchalant, but your heart suddenly beat faster now that you were faced with this unexpected opportunity. As a lecturer, you'd been surrounded by kids professionally for years now. 18 to 21 year old kids. The kind that already had defined morals, world views, and, secretly, alcohol tolerances. The last time you'd encountered any kind of child younger than 18 was when you yourself were under 18.

The joys of toiling away at a doctorate for the better half of your adult life. You knew how to talk to professors and scholars. You were absolutely scared shitless of interacting with a kid.

“H-How old are they?” You asked, trying to sound polite but falling somewhere between anxious and terrified with a simple stutter.

“Well, Henry is turning 8 in November, and Michael is just about 22 months. He's just about talking, which is as fun as you can expect.”

Her voice was tired, but there was genuine affection there, love for her kids and pride. You wondered if your voice would change if you'd suddenly begin speaking like that, too, about something other than a paper submitted to a journal or a job opportunity.

She pulled into a street parking space and turned off the engine as two bright haired little boys came bouncing up the path of their garden to greet her, stopping at the gate.

“Mommy! Michael got glitter on the carpet, and Daddy said we shouldn't tell you.”

“And you have no sense of loyalty when a pretty face comes around, do you?”

Hopping out of the car, you heard JJ's husband drawl as she greeted him with a kiss. She'd probably only taken half an hour to pick you up, but they were still greeting each other so warmly. For a second, you wondered what that would be like before you remembered throwing yourself into Spencer's arms the night before. Your face heated as you stood awkwardly at the side of the car, trying not to cradle your stomach as you watched the family interact.

Would your baby ever get that tall? Would it have brown eyes like Spencer, or one's more similar to your own? His hair was curly. Maybe your baby would get hair that waved like his, too.

After all, JJ's kids seemed like perfect compromises between her and her husband. Other people's kids didn't, though. You wondered a lot of things before JJ gestured you over again.

“Henry, Michael, this is Aunt Y/N. She's going to do those crafts with us today - after we've locked away the glitter and thrown away the key.”

You laughed as she wrapped an arm around your shoulder and pushed you forward into the chaos of two kids under ten.

You were a little startled as the smaller one - Michael - grabbed your hand. He had a pacifier in his mouth, though he was probably outgrowing it, and he stared up at you with big, wide eyes, blinking and sizing you up as he toddled along beside you.

Your heart grew three sizes, and you felt sorry for ever being afraid of interacting with the kids.

JJ whispered to her husband quickly as you entered the LaMontagne household, and he greeted you quickly.

“So you're Spencer's lady friend. It's nice to meet you. It's nice that you're real. Honestly, I was getting a little-”

A look from JJ cut him off, though he did still seem a bit confused.

“I'm sorry, am I under the wrong impression? JJ said you were pregnant with Spencer's baby, y'all aren't…”

“Oh my god-” you whispered, suddenly panicking again but whispering just in case. You weren't sure if the pair was religious, and though you certainly weren't, it probably wasn't the best time to blaspheme. You needed as much god as existed in the world.

“So, does everyone know?” You asked JJ, trying to keep your voice bright and calm, so Michael didn't take too much of an interest and grow frustrated by hushed tones. You knew enough about child development and psychology, it translated over, right?

“Everyone who's observant. Luke noticed the pregnancy vitamins in your bag, Tara was talking about your mood swings in the office the other day. I guess you told Emily earlier, and I have two kids.”

You nodded at the answer.

“And Spencer?”

“You haven't told him yet?” JJ asked, slightly surprised.

“If I told him, you'd know.”

“Well, you're right on that. He's not the most easy-going during pregnancy,” JJ laughed and steered you into the living space, where your de facto art studio had been set up for the day, along with the offending glitter bomb.

“Really? You thought you could keep that a secret?”

“Well, of anyone was going to find it, it was going to be my beautiful, smart, funny, profiler Wife,” Will said, giving her a small peck on the cheek as she rolled her eyes at him. “I'm clocking in now. Call me if you need anything.”

You waved him off, and sat down with the kids.

JJ started the craft and then planned your hasty escape as the two boys were enraptured by making the perfect macaroni necklace, dusting it in objectively too much glitter as they proudly created their art.

In the kitchen, she handed you a mug, and you sipped it quietly as she began again.

“So, you're not dating?”

“Nope.”

“And he doesn't know you're pregnant?”

“No.” You took another sip and shifted from one foot to the other.

You knew what was coming next. It was what you'd gotten next from Emily, from Penelope, from yourself when you'd thought about it for longer than ten seconds. You needed to tell him.

“Okay. What's your next move?”

You were so shocked you almost splashed the hot tea over the mug you held, close to burning yourself as you turned to face her.

“I… what?”

“Well, what's your next move? You're what, five months along? You're not going to be able to hide it for much longer. And you have to think about maternity leave, your hospital stay, and names, and who's going to drive you to the hospital. And obviously, how you're going to pay the hospital fee, and then custody and child support.”

“Oh god…”

“And you also have to sort your relationship out with Spencer. So where are you starting?”

It wasn't a question that didn't have an answer. JJ was staring at you, waiting for one as you opened and closed your mouth, head suddenly so empty you almost forgot what you were talking about.

“He doesn't like me,” you suddenly blurted and wished you hadn't, face crumpling as you physically cringed at your own words.

“Y/N, he was telling us about your toothbrush yesterday. Part of the office has a theory that he made up this case as a reason to get closer to you.”

Again, you felt the heat blossom on tour skin as you looked away, taking another sip.

“We don't do anything but argue.”

“You do at least one other thing,” JJ said, hands on her hips as she confronted you.

“No, that doesn't count. We were still arguing while we were doing…that.”

“TMI,” she groaned as you fanned yourself. “Y/N, I know for a fact that Spencer is at least half in love with you. If you're absolutely sure you don't feel the same way, you need to at least let him down easy.”

“I…. I don't know. He's infuriating sometimes, but then he's so smart and annoying. But he's pretty great at comforting me. And the, uh, the other stuff, that was good, too.”

“Don't need to-”

“Like really good. Like, I'm not surprised I ended up pregnant practically first time good-”

“Back on topic, please!” JJ whisper shouted, throwing her hands up as you zipped your mouth shut.

“You like him,” she said.

You sighed and finally gave in.

“Yeah. Yeah, I like him.”

“Great. What next?”

“Next, I tell him I'm pregnant and make him hate me for a while.”

She patted you on the back and poised you another mug of tea before leading you back over to the kids and sitting beside them at the table.

“We can plan something later. For now, macaroni art is calling.”

You weren't sure if it was the stern, practical pep-talk from JJ or the little tiny grasp of your hand from Michael. Maybe it was even Henry's goodbye of ‘see you soon, Auntie Y/N’ that had you suddenly invigorated, but you suddenly kicked yourself into gear.

The pregnancy wasn't going to put itself on pause while you worked up the courage to tell Spencer about it. You had to do it.

JJ dropped you off at home at 6 p.m., knowing that Spencer would be back at the apartment shortly.

“You're sure you don't need me to stay up there with you? The commute can get a bit long this time of night, Spencer could be anywhere between 15 and 45 minutes.”

“No, I think… I think I need some time to think about how I'm going to do this. I need some alone time.”

She nodded quietly and sent you off after calling Spencer and giving him an update on your whereabouts.

You paced the apartment wondering what the best option was.

You could go for the bookshelf again, though it was still organised into your first message. You'd not moved a book in that stack at all, and surprisingly, neither had Spencer.

Running into your room, you grabbed the pair of baby shoes you'd thrown into your bag from your apartment. Maybe if you left them on the shelf next to the books…?

You put them there and frowned, wondering if he'd be able to see them from the door when he walked in. He was so used to the surroundings of his house that he really didn't check for irregularities.

You moved them to the coffee table. Then you wondered if you should just hand them to him when he walked in.

“Spencer. I am..pregnant,” you practised, looking into the bathroom mirror as you tried to force a smile.

“Spencer. We're pregnant. No, not a chance,” you sighed.

“Spencer, I have a parasite growing in me. I've had it for five months now, and then I'll have it for another four and hopefully a long time after that as well.”

That one was mostly a joke. Mostly.

“Spencer, I… We're going to have a baby.” You looked down at your bump again and decided that was probably your best option. It wasn't a state. It wasn't a condition or a parasite. It was a baby.

You rubbed your stomach again and looked up, wiping away tears from the corner of your eye as you composed yourself again.

The doorbell rang, and your heart race picked up. It was time. Spencer was home, and you were going to tell him.

Suddenly, you were filled with excitement, with happiness. You ran to the door, stepping on the sofa to get there quicker as you ran to pull it open.

Maybe it was the pregnancy brain fog, but you forgot where you were.

Spencer Reid lived in this apartment. He didn't need to knock on the door or ring the doorbell. He'd never done it before. But you'd already swung the door open quickly, and you were so relaxed and ready for it to be him that when a hand extended and covered your mouth with a cloth, thick with a scent that had your body protesting, you could do nothing but crumple to the floor with your hands cradling yourself, protecting the life growing within you.

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undressrehearsal · 2 months ago

Text

a bite of luxury

summary: you decide to look for a sugar mommy and stumble across this strange girl that seems to have more to hide

tags: sugarmommy!ellie, rich!ellie, vampire!ellie (yep, we got it all) alcohol, reader is poor lmao, reader uses she/her and is referred to as a girl once or twice, no smut in this one sorry gotta establish the world first

word count: ~8k

a/n: it's been so long since i posted a fic lol working full time and trying to finish my book is killing my schedule BUT i hope y'all like this this was my fiancee's idea and i'm running with it i got a LOT of plans for this one - plans i think y'all are gonna love

also the drawing in the cover is made by @nramv seriously go check out their work they're so talented!!

if you wanna be added to my tag list just lmk!

You hadn’t been searching for a sugar mommy.

Truthfully, when your best friend had sent you the link, you had dismissed it immediately. She had been joking about it for months, talking about how much easier it would be if you just found a nice older woman to take care of you. You hadn’t even opened the link - you only rolled your eyes, replied with a middle finger emoji, and left it at that.

And yet things kept piling up. The stack of bills on your kitchen counter was growing to a concerning height, a mountain of unanswered responsibilities that was getting harder to ignore. Your landlord kept calling you - you no longer answered, just watched the phone ring until it finally stopped and ignored the increasingly angrier voicemails. Your apartment was an absolute disaster; you could never be bothered to clean it, because by the time you got home from working both of your jobs, you only had enough energy to eat a bowl of leftovers and promptly pass out in bed.

The link kept popping up in your mind, each bill in your mailbox a gentle reminder. You found yourself scrolling all the way up the text chain to find it again during sleepless nights. So many times you would only stare at it, your thumb hovering over the blue letters, before you closed the chat and threw your phone down.

It was stupid, of course. But as time went on, the idea of letting yourself get buried alive under a mountain of debt - of getting evicted from your apartment and having to crash on your friend’s couch - seemed all the more stupid.

So, late on a Thursday night, after you had had another anxiety attack staring down at your bank account, you went back up the text chain, and you clicked the link.

www.seeking.com

It didn't take long for the messages to start coming in. You should have been flattered, honestly - you had at least a handful of people in your messages practically begging you for the honor of paying your fucking rent - but you really just felt like you were playing a part that you hadn't even read the script for. You had curated your profile with all the things that made you appear more cultured than you actually were: going to museums and pondering over Baroque art and reading poetry over a pretentious cup of coffee. Sure, these were all things you had done - you had photo proof, after all - but somehow you didn't recognize yourself. It felt like you were looking at pictures of a stranger living a life you wanted but couldn't reach.

Most people were fine - charming, even. You got maybe one or two that felt like they would lure you into their sex dungeon to murder you, but that was expected with any dating site. You even went on a few dates, scrounging up the nicest dress you owned and getting pampered at a five-star restaurant or going for a ride on an older woman’s personal yacht. One person even took you for a helicopter ride, which was fun but she was a little too handsy on the first date to warrant a second.

One name kept popping up though, a name that was becoming far too familiar in your notifications.

ellie: meet me at 8 <3

When she first messaged you, you had thought she was like you: somebody searching for a partner to pay their bills. Her pictures didn't exactly scream sugar mommy material. Her first picture was just a normal selfie taken outside; she wore a worn out leather jacket, her short hair tangled from the wind and green eyes squinting in the sunlight. She had stupid pictures of mushrooms and candid shots of her browsing a science museum, looking far too excited in front of a t-rex skeleton. Hell, in most of her pictures she looked like she was wearing clothes she had found at a thrift store.

You had thought she was like you, until she sent you a picture inside her fucking Rolls-Royce.

“Fuck,” you audibly cursed into the quiet of your room. You had been talking for a few days, and she had begun to do that - sending you small selfies throughout the day. In the last one, she had taken a picture in front of the mirror at the gym, flicking off the camera, her lean muscles glistening with sweat. Before that, it had been a blurry picture of her dog, Riley - a huge German Shephard - splayed on her back at a park, leaves stuck in her fur.

So, yeah, when you found out Ellie was not only rich, but rich enough to casually have a Royce, you were more than a little surprised.

The selfie was cute, you couldn’t deny that. Her hair was wind-swept, catching in those long ass eyelashes. Ellie’s nose was scrunched up, freckles popping against her cheeks, holding up a peace sign.

She was fucking adorable and you already knew it. But seeing her worn out leather jacket and messy hair against black and white leather seats that looked like they, alone, cost more than your entire apartment complex combined - it was a little jarring.

And when she asked you out on a date soon after - after finding out she wasn’t Iike you but rather searching for someone like you - how could you say no?

Ellie offered to pick you up - like a gentleman, she had said - but frankly, you weren’t quite convinced yet that she wasn’t some blood-thirsty pervert trying to lure you into her dungeon, so you politely declined. Instead, in your nicest dress and heels you hardly wore because they pinched your toes, you called an Uber.

You had never been to this side of town. You had plugged in the address Ellie gave you - had double and triple checked it while your awkwardly chatty Uber driver tried asking you about what you do for a living - but the streets here were so unfamiliar you may as well have been in another city. You looked at the foreign buildings rising up around you, large windows giving you a glimpse of the life inside them. People were sitting outside in the chilly air, laughing over wine and dinner. Looking at them - with perfectly sculpted hair and clothes you would have to spend several entire paychecks on - you felt like a cheap impersonator dressed up in a costume.

The Uber pulled up in front of a hotel, and your heart stopped. Surely, this wasn’t where Ellie had sent you - leading you to some fucking hotel room when you hadn’t even met yet?

You turned to the driver, your home address at the edge of your tongue, when the car door opened.

You had practically been leaning against the door to peer out the window, and nearly lost your balance when it was suddenly gone without warning. You looked up, ready to yell at whatever pretentious prick in Prada was trying to fuck with you - but your voice died in your throat.

Ellie was shorter than you thought she'd be, honestly. In all her pictures, she had this commanding energy, like she would tower over you in person.

Which, to be fair, she was. She had her arm propped on the doorframe above your head, leaning over so she could meet your eyes. Her hair was pushed back from her face, a few stray strands falling over her forehead, and she was looking at you with an intensity that hadn't quite translated through her pictures.

Ellie smiled - that adorably crooked smile you had seen in all her selfies - and said, “Hi.”

And the only word you were able to get your mouth to form was, “Fuck.”

Ellie blinked at you for a moment - long enough that you could feel the flush creeping up your neck and were ready to walk home if you had to - before she finally laughed. That wasn’t like what you had expected either; she had this deep, rough laugh, almost like she was trying to hold it in.

She looked up at you through her lashes - you tried to ignore the way your heart inexplicably skipped - and said, “I’ll take that as a compliment?” Her voice tilted up at the end like it was a question. Ellie ducked her head down further, looking past you to meet the driver’s eyes, and pulled cash from her back pocket. With her most charming smile, she handed it to the driver and said, “Thanks for getting her here safe.”

You didn’t see how much money she gave him, but after she took your hand and guided you out of the car, you turned back just in time to see his grin before he sped off.

“Thanks for coming out.” You looked back at Ellie and found yourself speechless once again. (You, thankfully, were able to hold in the expletive this time.) The worn out jacket that had featured in just about all of her pictures was missing, replaced instead by a pristine, white satin shirt, the top few buttons undone to expose a sliver of collarbone and a gold chain beneath. Despite the chill in the air, she had a classy black jacket hanging from her arm as though it were an accessory. Ellie smiled and looked down, licking her lips before saying, “You’re quite the sight for sore eyes.”

You tried to smile at her but found that your eyes kept flitting behind her, looking at the looming monstrosity of the hotel. It was a nice hotel - the kind that had a huge fountain right in front of it and a chandelier in the lobby that sparkled through the window - but it was a hotel nonetheless. Despite the set in your jaw, traitorous tears stung the corners of your eyes; you wanted to kick yourself for actually thinking that Ellie might be different.

Ellie followed your gaze over her shoulder, her smile dropping, before she quickly turned back to you with panic in her eyes. She stumbled over her words as though her tongue weren’t cooperating: “Shit, I’m sorry, this looks really bad doesn't it?” She grimaced and squeezed your hand she was still holding, scratching awkwardly at the back of her head with the other. “Fuck, this isn’t the first impression I wanted. I could promise it's not what it looks like, but maybe it'd be better if I just showed you?”

You honestly did think about telling her to fuck off. She was a complete fucking stranger that you only really knew from a dating app, and she was trying to lure you into a hotel in a part of town you were unfamiliar with - really, only an idiot would follow her.

But she was looking at you with wide green eyes, the lights around you shining back like stars. While searching for the constellations, you found yourself saying, “Okay.” You blinked, pulled from a trance, and added, “But you should know, I do have a taser in my bag.”

That pulled a shocked laugh from Ellie’s lips. She gently tugged on your hand, pulling you towards the door, and said, “Smart girl.”

You knew that the hotel was outside of your price range because a perfectly groomed doorman opened the door for you, waving you inside with a gloved hand. You didn’t take much time to process the interior - the chandelier was just as grand as it had seemed from outside and elaborate columns rose to the ceiling - because Elllie was pulling you towards the elevators. It was like she wanted to ignore the fact that she had brought you to a hotel at all. You couldn’t decide if that was reassuring.

In the empty elevator, you gently drew your hand back and leaned against the wall opposite her. You tried to ignore looking at the way her pinstripe slacks hugged the curves of her thighs, the fabric straining when she propped one booted foot on the wall behind her.

“So,” you started in a desperate attempt to fill the awkward silence, “if you’re not leading me into a seedy hotel room on the first date, then what are we doing?”

“Okay, one,” Ellie said, chuckling, “this is anything but a seedy hotel. And two, what kind of a date would it be if I ruined the surprise?”

“And what if I don’t like surprises?” you countered.

Ellie grinned. “I think you’ll like this one.”

When the elevator doors opened, Ellie held her hand out to you as though it were a question. You hesitated for only a moment before placing your hand back in hers and letting her lead you out into open air.

You nearly choked on a gasp.

The bar itself was beautiful - fairy lights stretched above your head, twinkling like stars and casting the rooftop in a warm glow. Wooden tables and plush couches were spread artfully around the space, far enough apart to provide the patrons scattered about with some privacy.

The bar was beautiful - but the view was fucking breathtaking.

The city stretched out beyond the railings, open in a way you had never seen before. The skyline rose around you, each building shining like its own little galaxy amidst a sea of stars. The city lights blocked out the actual stars - a fact that never failed to piss you off - but you could see the crescent of the moon rising over the city, casting a quiet glow like a veil.

You looked back at Ellie, and whatever your face held made her grin. She leaned in just enough so that her murmur was for your ears only: “So, was I right?”

You blinked, momentarily distracted by her proximity - she smelled intoxicating, spicy and warm with a hint of tobacco beneath - before you finally said, “What?”

Ellie snorted, breaking whatever spell she had put you under. “The surprise,” she said, leaning away enough for your head to clear. “Was I right?”

You bit the inside of your cheek, pursing your lips as though you had to think about it. You couldn’t take your eyes away from the skyline stretched before you.

You finally said, “That depends on how good the drinks are.”

When Ellie laughed, her eyes crinkled in the corners, her nose scrunching. It was a full, rich sound, hanging in the air above your head like helium. It made something in your chest tighten, and you wanted nothing more than to hear it again.

She squeezed your hand, a twinkle in her eye, and said, “The old-fashioned's to die for.”

You pursed your lips again to hide your smile.

Ellie didn’t bother checking in with the host, simply shot her a smile and a wave as you walked by - you tried to bite back a giggle when you saw the host’s face turn red, her eyes tracking Ellie as she led you to a table right along the edge of the railing. She pulled the chair out for you - “Such a gentleman,” you laughed - before taking the seat opposite you.

As she waved over a waiter, you took a moment to lean your head over the railing. It was made entirely of glass, giving you a clear view of the city below. You could hear the distant sound of traffic, cars racing below you like shiny beetles, but it was like it was coming from a different world altogether. Everything seemed impossibly, wonderfully small from up here.

You looked up at the sound of your name to find a groomed waiter wearing a fucking waistcoat standing before you. Ellie was looking at you with laughter in her eyes, her lips twitching.

“Shit, sorry,” you said, immediately flinching at your own curse. You suddenly couldn’t remember the proper etiquette in a fancy bar, feeling out of place and underdressed even in your nicest outfit. You looked between Ellie and the waiter, wracking your brain for any kind of drink that wasn’t a trashy cocktail you’d find at a dive bar.

Seeing you floundering, Ellie gave you a reassuring smile and said, “Do you like wine?”

Relief washed over you as you nodded. Turning back to the waiter, Ellie ordered something that you couldn’t even hope to pronounce, charm lifting the corner of her mouth. She spoke to the waiter with the steady ease of familiarity, laughing at some inside joke; you briefly wondered just how often Ellie came to this bar. Surely, a nice place like this - at the very precipice of the world, looking down at the stars - wouldn’t be a regular stop on anyone’s schedule, but Ellie and the staff spoke like old friends.

When the waiter left, tussling Ellie’s hair playfully, she turned back to you and the awkwardness of a first date finally set in. Sure, you had been texting Ellie every day for a week now, but you still hardly knew the girl. You knew she liked mushrooms and hiking. You knew that most of her clothes were from the thrift store even though she could afford any designer brand she wanted. You knew her favorite video game was Dishonored. But nothing you knew was enough for a relationship.

But you weren't exactly looking for love, were you?

After a moment of silence, Ellie cleared her throat, looking out over the city. “It's nice out here.”

You snorted before you could stop yourself, covering your mouth; it didn't cover the laughter in your eyes. You said, “You're really talking to me about the weather?”

Ellie opened her mouth, an indignant sparkle to her eye, before shutting it again. It was like she was malfunctioning, opening and closing her mouth yet no sound came out. She furrowed her brows, looking at you as though you were something new and interesting, before finally chuckling, looking away. “Yeah, I-I guess I am.” When she looked back up at you, her eyes were surprisingly sheepish. “Not making a great first impression, am I?”

You couldn't stop the smile that crept up to your eyes. You leaned closer, propping your chin in your hand, and said, “I think you're doing okay so far.”

Ellie laughed that wondrous laugh again, her nose scrunching up, and the cord in your shoulders loosened.

“Okay,” she sighed, her eyes still alight with residual laughter. “Okay, damn. Tell me about yourself.”

“Well now this just sounds like a job interview.”

Ellie threw her hands up in mock frustration, trying to stifle her own grin. “Okay, fuck, knock me down again! You're obviously an expert, so show me how it's done.”

She leaned back and crossed her arms, looking at you expectantly, and it was the perfect moment for your drinks to arrive. Ellie did, in fact, order an old-fashioned. The waiter set two wine glasses on the table, producing a bottle seemingly from thin air. He held it out, explaining to you in rehearsed prose the year, acidity, and complexity in words that passed straight through you. You nodded along even as you didn't process a single word he said.

When he left, you turned back to Ellie and said, “How did you find this place?”

Ellie took a sip of her drink. The lights of the city danced in the amber glass. “Just an old haunt of mine, I guess.”

You took a sip of the wine, taking the distraction. It was warm on your tongue, tasting of wood and fruit and something spicy just underneath. The wine you usually drank was the stuff you could find in your nearest grocery store, often tasting concerningly like bug spray and bought with whatever tips you had managed to scrape together from work. It was usually shared with a friend on your kitchen floor, the walls and thoughts spinning over your head.

You much preferred wine like this: The taste of warmth and fire on your tongue, the cool air brushing your shoulders at the edge of the sky, and a beautiful person sitting across from you.

When Ellie lowered her glass, you could see amber droplets of whiskey clinging to her lips before her tongue darted out to catch them. You tore your eyes away, but her smile said that she had caught you staring. A chill ran up your spine that you were sure was just from the cold.

Seeing you shiver, Ellie wordless reached behind her where she had tossed her jacket over the back of her chair. Standing, she rounded the table only for a moment, only long enough to place the coat over your shoulders. Her hands lingered there for a second too long before she retreated, sliding back into her seat as though she had never moved.

“So, why are you here?” she finally said.

You pulled the jacket around your shoulders, distracted by the smell of it. The same smell that must be her perfume clung to it, spiced and warm like an open fire, but something else clung to the fabric too. It was strangely metallic, sharp and intoxicating, and you couldn’t quite put your finger on it. It was shockingly warm against your skin.

“I’m here,” you said, raising a brow and ignoring her real question, “because you sent me this address and told me to meet you here at eight wearing my nicest dress.”

The corner of Ellie’s lips quirked, a grin she was trying to hide. She clasped her hands, leaning across the table so you could smell the whiskey on her breath. “And you agreed to meet a stranger at a seedy hotel,” she murmured, mocking your remark from earlier. Her grin revealed itself when your cheeks flushed. “But why are you here - what are you seeking?”

You huffed out a laugh, shaking your head. “That’s kind of a dumb question, don’t you think? It’s pretty obvious why I’m on the app.” You cocked your head, leaning across the table, feeling a strange thrill when her eyes flashed. Your heart fluttered at the proximity, and you couldn’t remember when you had become so easily starstruck. “The real question, Ellie, is why are you?“

Ellie’s eyes darkened, and you weren’t sure if you just imagined her eyes flicking down to your lips. She looked back up at you through her lashes, her voice rough when she said, “That’s a third date kind of question.”

Your eyebrows shot up. “What makes you so sure you’ll get a third date?”

Ellie tilted her head, a slow smile pulling at her lips, and said, “Call it a hunch.”

The waiter came to check on you, appearing at your shoulder like a ghost. You hastily retreated, leaning back in your chair as though the electricity in the air had shocked you, and took a sip of wine that was more than a little overzealous. You tried to choke it down as Ellie waved the waiter away with that heartstopping crooked smile. What happened to you? Since when were you so easily charmed by freckles, green eyes, and smart-ass comments? You couldn't remember the last time you had been so infatuated during a normal date, let alone one with these kinds of strings attached.

“So you don't want to be in an interview,” Ellie said once the waiter was out of earshot. “I guess all my typical getting to know you conversations are out of the question.”

“I didn't say that,” you countered, your throat still burning from your accidental wine waterboarding. “But come on - what girl are you going to impress by asking her questions like ‘Tell me about yourself,’ or ‘Why are you here?’ or ‘Why are you more qualified for this position?’”

“Okay, okay, goddamn,” she said, laughing. Grabbing the wine bottle, she looked at you for permission before pouring you another glass.

You brought the glass up to your lips, taking a sip to hide your smile. The flush in your cheeks was surely from the wine and nothing else. “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“I hardly know you.” On one hand, that felt entirely untrue - but especially after this recent discovery, you really knew nothing about this girl. “Tell me about you.”

Ellie laughed that same rough laugh and your heart jumped. “Oh, so you're allowed to be the interviewer.”

You nodded, twirling the glass between your fingers and looking at her expectantly.

After a moment, Ellie rolled her eyes and ran a hand through her hair, but you could see the humor in her eyes. She downed the last of her old-fashioned and, like a good sport, said, “What do you want to know?”

Turns out, there was a lot to know - more than a simple dating app would tell you. Ellie had an older sister, Sarah, who lived in Dallas. Her dog was named after her childhood best friend. Her jacket wasn't thrifted after all, but had been her dad's. Speaking of which, she used to go hunting with him every season (“I haven't been in years, though,” she said, her eyes distant). On the weekends, she'd go to antique stores to look for art and trinkets to fill her house - her favorite antiques were from the 17th century. She hated horror movies and was a sucker for a good romance.

In return, you caved and answered her pressing questions. You told her about your best friend - Ellie laughed when you told her that your friend had sent you the link to the app in the first place. You told her about your favorite show that you binge-watched whenever you felt like you were spiraling. You did not tell her about your apartment that was probably the size of her closet or the fact that you'd have to watch your budget after taking the Uber tonight, not to mention the extra $30 Uber to get home later. You did tell her about your family, and a strange, unexplained sadness crept into the creases around her mouth. You did tell her about your job, but didn't mention the second one you worked to afford groceries. You told her you were hoping for a real, human connection, yet didn't mention that you couldn’t imagine finding it in a fucking sugar mommy.

All too soon, the wine bottle was empty and your chest was comfortingly warm. The lights strung across the bar danced above your head like fuzzy stars, and Ellie's smile was the brightest amongst them. Her glass was still empty, her wine glass dry, and yet her eyes told you she was intoxicated by something far stronger.

“Sorry,” you said, giggling despite yourself. “I didn't mean to drink it all.”

“Don't worry about it, darling,” she said, her voice silky smooth, reminding you of melted chocolate sliding down your throat. She tilted her glass, letting the remnants of melting ice clink against the side. “I wanted to make sure I could drive home okay.”

The waiter arrived then, pulling the bill from his pocket and handing it to Ellie. You couldn't read the number upside down, not through the haze of the wine, but the number of digits made your stomach clench. Ellie dropped a black card into the folder and handed it back to the waiter.

“How much do you want me to Venmo you?” you asked when she turned back to you. You clenched your hands in the hem of your dress, already calculating the extra shift you'd have to pick up to afford it.

Ellie tilted her head, her brows furrowed. “Nothing,” she said, as though it were obvious.

“That wasn't exactly a cheap bottle, Ellie,” you laughed. “Let me give you something.”

Ellie hummed, propping her chin in her hand and looking at you with those same intense eyes; it sent a dangerous shiver down your spine. “I like when you say my name.”

You blinked at her. “Excuse me.”

“I want to hear it again. That's how you can repay me.”

You rolled your eyes. “Ellie, I-”

“Okay, now we're even,” she interrupted, smiling that crooked grin that you had started to crave. The waiter returned with her card and Ellie produced cash from her pocket, handing it to the waiter directly. He thanked her profusely before making his exit, grinning. When Ellie looked at you again, you were still watching her expectantly, dumbfounded. She finally rolled her eyes. “Seriously, what kind of date would I be if I made you pay?”

“You're not making me, I'm offering.”

“And I'm saying no.” Ellie stood, straightening her shirt; when she tugged at it, the collar fell a bit, exposing sharp collarbones beneath.

Rounding the table, she offered a hand to you, pulling you gently to your feet. You pulled her jacket tighter around yourself, knowing you needed to give it back yet unwilling to part with it just yet.

Taking your arm, Ellie leaned in close enough that your breath caught in your throat and said, “I know why I found you on Seeking, okay? So, if it's alright with you, let me spoil you. Even if that just means one bottle of wine.”

You laughed, but it sounded breathy even to your own ringing ears. “One very expensive bottle of wine.”

Ellie shrugged, a sparkle in her eye. “It's a small price to pay for your company.”

You were silent in the elevator, but you held on to her arm as though afraid to let go. You couldn't figure out why, but something in you urgently wanted nothing more than to be close to her. You couldn't remember the last time you had felt such a pull from somebody.

Back on the street, the lights of the city seemed so much brighter than they had before. Ellie released your arm, turning to face you, and there was a strange pinch between her brows that you couldn't translate.

“Do you want me to call you an Uber, or do you want me to take you home?” she asked, and your brain short-circuited. When you could do nothing but stammer, tripping over your own tongue, Ellie laughed. There was no mockery behind it, only quiet, bright amusement. “I meant I can drive you to your apartment so you don't have to drunkenly sit in an awkward Uber that smells sickeningly sweet and the driver tries to make mind-numbing small talk.”

Your sigh of relief came out more like a laugh.

Ellie tilted her head and stepped closer to you, her hand reaching out to graze your fingers, and that sigh was sucked right back into your lungs. Being so close to her made your head spin. Her breath fanned against your cheeks, smelling of warm whiskey, when she said, “Unless you want to come to my place?”

It had the uncertain tilt of a question, and Ellie wouldn't quite meet your eyes.

“We don't have to do anything,” she continued in a rush. She scratched anxiously at the back of her head, a nervous laugh slipping between her lips. “We can just sit and talk more. Or watch a movie - my dad had this huge collection. I'm not gonna - You know, I'm not going to do anything you don't want.” She finally interrupted herself with a groan, rubbing a hand over her eyes. “Fuck, sorry, I wanted it to sound more suave than this.”

And you would be a fucking idiot to go home with this impossible stranger. You had been taught better - never get into a stranger's car, and for the love of God, never let them take you to a second location. You could let her take you back to your apartment at least - you were admittedly incredibly tipsy and didn't particularly want to endure another ride with an annoyingly talkative Uber driver. You could go home, back to your claustrophobic, quiet apartment, and maybe - maybe - text Ellie about setting up a second date.

You were not stupid enough to go home with somebody on the first date.

Except clearly you were, because you took the hand that was still grazing your fingers and looked up at Ellie - the contours of her face were shockingly etched with insecurity. And your dumb mouth said, of its own volition, “Okay.”

You had expected something flashy, like what a wealthy person would own in a movie - like a penthouse overlooking the city with too-white walls and electric guitars hanging, unused, on the walls. Maybe she had walls completely made of windows so it felt like you were on a pedestal overlooking the world.

You hadn't expected a house that was older than your great-grandparents.

When Ellie pulled into the driveway, you were sure she was just pulling in someplace to turn around, that she had missed her turn somewhere. But she put her stupidly-expensive car into park and killed the engine, shooting you an awkward glance.

“Sorry,” she said, chuckling. “I know it’s not much.”

You could only look at her incredulously, speechless, before looking back up at the house before you. You couldn’t even call it a house really - estate would be more fitting. Maybe mansion. Fuck, her house was the size of your apartment complex. It towered over you, three stories of intricate woodwork, warm brown beams wrapping around the structure like an elaborate skeleton. With beautiful eaves winding around the roof and an entire turret reaching for the moon, it looked like something that had stepped right out of some 1800s southern gothic novel.

Ellie cleared her throat, startling you from a trance. You looked back at her and, for some reason, couldn’t stop yourself from laughing.

”Shit, sorry,” you said, covering your mouth with your hand. “I just - I’ve just never seen anything like it.” When Ellie’s eyes clouded over with uncertainty, you added softly, “It’s beautiful. Besides, Ellie,” you added, laughing again, “‘not much’ doesn’t really suit you.”

Ellie opened and closed her mouth and yet no words came out. She was looking at you again as though you were something interesting - something new and exciting. Nobody had ever looked at you that way before, and the way your heart clenched at the sight was more than a little dangerous.

Ellie finally smiled, huffing out a laugh - your heart was pretty satisfied with how often you were able to make her laugh - and said, “Do you still want to come inside?”

And, surprisingly, you said, “Yeah, I do.”

As Ellie got out, rounding the car to open your door for you, you discreetly checked that the taser was still in your bag. Sure, you had agreed to go home with a practical stranger, but you couldn't be too careful.

The porch steps creaked as she led you to the door - double doors (of course), with stained glass and twisting vines carved into the wood. When Ellie opened them, it felt like you were transported to a different time on an entirely different world.

The grand staircase caught your eye first - how could it not? Warm wooden steps covered in a blood red runner, a white banister winding up, those same vines that seemed to be the house’s signature carved into it. You could see a large, stained-glass window at the landing before it curved to disappear to the second floor. Moonlight splintered through the window in broken relief.

As though in a trance, you wandered further into the house, walking to the fireplace situated right beneath the stairs. The wood stacked neatly inside was cold, untouched by a flame. There was a large mirror set atop the mantle, its gold frame a work of art alone. In the reflection, you could see the flush to your cheeks, and tried to convince yourself it was only from the cold. You still wore Ellie’s jacket, and you pulled it tight around your shoulders, as though it were a shield.

You watched Ellie’s reflection as she walked slowly towards you, a small smile gracing her lips. She came close enough to touch - close enough that you could feel her cool breath against the back of your neck - and yet she didn’t put a hand on you.

“There’s a lot more to see than the foyer,” she murmured, the words brushing your skin. “If you still want.”

And you couldn’t stop your own smile as you turned back to her, your heart skipping at her proximity. “Show me.”

She took your hand, her fingers shockingly cold, and led you into what must have been her living room - sitting room? Despite the fact that the house felt more like a museum - like you would get scolded for touching anything - the room was surprisingly cozy. A large, plush sectional was situated in front of another fireplace- this one also unblemished. Blankets and quilts were thrown over the couch and the accompanying chairs, leaving this time capsule looking strangely welcoming.

“Okay, I have to ask,” you said, turning back to Ellie. She was watching you carefully, gauging your reaction with soft eyes, and you lost your train of thought. You opened your mouth but no sound came out; you weren’t sure if that was more or less embarrassing than the several curses you had said earlier in the night.

Ellie hummed, raising her hand as though she wanted to touch you. She stopped only inches away from your cheek and dropped her hand, saying, “I’m an open book.”

You had to turn away to collect your thoughts, wandering across the room if just to catch your breath. The opposite wall was lined with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. You ran your fingers along the spines of vintage classics, an array of science books, and comics, enjoying the irony of seeing Savage Starlight in the middle of all this history. You picked up a copy to keep your hands busy.

“How, um,” you started, stumbling over your words, “how did you end up here?”

Ellie hummed again, and you heard her footsteps following you. “Here as in this town, this country, this world? You gotta be a little more specific.”

You sighed, giving in and turning to look at her. She kept a careful distance, standing a few feet away from you with her hands in her pockets. “You know what I mean, smartass.”

Ellie chuckled, but her eyes had grown distant, her smile not quite reaching her eyes. She took a few more steps closer to you, looking at the comic book in your hands. On the app, she hadn’t struck you as the type to get easily bashful, and yet she had proven you wrong a few times already.

“My family lived here,” she finally said, quiet as a secret. You watched her carefully, jumping at the opportunity to stare at her without those intense eyes looking back at you. Her brow furrowed and she pressed her lips together as though she was in pain, her green eyes shining. “It was just… passed down, I guess? It’s kind of always been here ever since I can remember. I’m not entirely sure when it became mine.”

You tucked the comic book back into its spot between The Iliad and The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. You said absently, “How old is this place anyway?”

”It was built in 1816,” she said automatically, as though it were memorized.

“It’s an awfully big house for just one person.” You looked up at her through your lashes as she stepped closer - close enough that you could smell that same metallic warmth that seemed to cling to her.

“It is,” Ellie murmured, smiling. She reached out again, and this time she allowed herself to touch you. Her cold fingers brushed against your cheek before she gently cupped your jaw, tilting your head so you’d look at her properly. Her green eyes were downright intimidating. “But I keep good company.”

You rolled your eyes, yet you couldn’t convince yourself to look away. “Is that what you say to all the girls?”

Ellie hummed, bracing her other hand on the bookshelf behind your head, and murmured, “No, I don’t.” She pressed in closer, her gaze dropping to your mouth, and you felt like your heart was going to leap from your throat. Ellie huffed out a laugh as though she could hear it pounding against your chest. When her thumb brushed your bottom lip, your lips parted on instinct. She didn’t look away, transfixed on the point where her skin touched your mouth, and you almost didn’t hear her when she said, “Can I?”

And you had never been the kind of person to kiss on the first date, but she was looking at you with eyes hooded with want, her breath fanning against your cheeks. When she licked her lips, you couldn’t stop your eyes from following the motion. Her lips glistened, parted and plump, looking so impossibly soft. Somehow, past your haze, you heard yourself say, “Yes.”

Ellie took her time in kissing you. She pressed you back gently, your shoulders pressing into the bookshelf behind you, and touched her nose to yours. She took a deep breath, breathing you in. Her hand was soft against your cheek, tilting your jaw up, and you hardly had to move to finally kiss her.

Ellie tasted just like she smelled - spicy and metallic, the old-fashioned still hanging on her tongue. Despite the cold of her hand on your cheek, her mouth was impossibly warm, her breath slipping between your lips; it was intoxicating in a way that the wine couldn’t compare to. Her mouth moved against yours, soft and slow as a dance.

Your hands reached out as though of their own accord, circling her waist and gripping at the slippery silk of her shirt. She pressed in close, crowding you against the bookshelf; you could feel her chest pressing against you, her hips on yours, the line of her body against yours making your head spin. And when Ellie’s tongue pressed against your lips, a gentle request for access, you felt like you’d faint altogether.

Her tongue slipped between your teeth and you couldn’t stop the breathy sound it pulled from your throat. You could feel that infuriating smile against your lips and suddenly wanted nothing more than to wipe it away. You balled her ridiculously expensive shirt in your hands and pulled her impossibly closer, nipping at her bottom lip, and you wanted to swallow her gasp.

Ellie pulled away, chuckling, but she didn’t go far. She pressed a kiss to your cheek, her lips trailing down to your jaw, and she could probably feel your pulse jump beneath her tongue. You could hear the smile in her voice when she said, “Do you do this often?”

Her teeth grazed the sensitive spot below your ear, and it took you a few moments before you could respond. “Do what?” Despite yourself - despite the way your fingers gripped her shirt, your head swimming and an unexplainable want burning in your veins - you couldn’t help but laugh. “Go on a date with somebody I met on an app for sugar babies and go back to their ridiculously old mansion on the first date and-“

You cut yourself off. You weren’t sure exactly what was happening, and you were afraid that voicing it would break whatever spell you were under - whatever spell made this impossible woman’s touch feel like lightning.

But Ellie only laughed, biting at the spot where your neck met your shoulder. “Yeah, that.”

You shivered against her touch. “No, I’ve never really done this.”

“Guess I’m just lucky.”

Ellie kissed you again, only briefly, before she finally pulled away. She was grinning, her eyes sparkling with those same constellations; her face wasn’t even flushed, making you feel embarrassed about your burning cheeks. You were panting, intoxicated from the night and wine and Ellie. Her absence felt like an ache, your body craving the feeling of her lips, her teeth, her hands. You were close to tugging her back in, your hands still gripping her shirt, but she gently untangled herself from you with a laugh.

“I want to keep going.” She paused, and then emphasized, “I really want to keep going. But you drank an entire bottle of wine, and I’d be kind of a shitty host if I didn’t offer you something to drink at least. Or are you hungry?”

You were hungry, but it was the kind of hunger that food wouldn’t satiate. Still, you let your hands drop back to your sides, feeling your senses return to you now that they weren’t so tuned into Ellie - how she smelled, tasted, felt. When you laughed, it sounded breathy even to your own ears. “Some water would be nice.”

“I can do that,” she said with a smile. “Stay here.” She kissed you again, lingering for a few moments longer than needed, before she turned and disappeared down the hall, leaving you alone in this ridiculously old mansion.

With nothing else to keep yourself entertained, you did a slow lap around the room, eyeing the ironic blend of elegant antiques and silly trinkets that were so obviously Ellie. A cracked ivory trinket box sat on a shelf, intricate flowers engraved into the lid, set right next to a small figurine of an astronaut. Beautiful paintings lined the walls, signatures dating back to 1830 in elaborate script at the bottom, but there were also a few posters littered here and there - bands and video games.

You walked over to the mantle, your fingers grazing over the marble top. The logs inside were untouched, and you briefly wondered if she’d light a fire soon to chase out the chill of autumn. A small jar filled with guitar picks sat at the corner, and you wondered if she really did have an electric guitar collection hidden around here somewhere. Your foot kicked an empty dog bowl, and yet Riley was nowhere to be found. Maybe Ellie took her to daycare when she knew she’d bring a girl home. You nearly laughed at the idea.

Atop the mantle, hidden behind pictures of what must have been friends or family - hiking or traveling or laughing in somebody’s backyard - there was another picture frame. It must have fallen, face down so that the picture inside was covered. You reached out, careful to not disturb any of the other frames, and picked it up. You were just going to fix it, set it up next to the others, but something in the image caught your eye. You plucked it from its home, bringing it closer, holding it up to the light to get a better look. For a long time, you couldn’t figure out what you were looking at. Your heart hammered against your chest, your ears ringing, as though your body had figured it out before your brain did.

It was an old photograph, grainy and sepia, faded and frayed around the edges with age. It was the house, looking just like it did today - the huge windows shining in the sunlight, the intricate eaves and wrap-around porch perfectly polished and new. A family stood on the lawn in front of the house, looking awkward and stiff. Back then, cameras took several minutes to actually capture a photo, so people tended to look a little awkward from trying to hold the same expression for so long. But that’s not what had caught your eye.

It was a small family - a weary looking dad and his two daughters, looking just a few years younger than you.

She looked a little different. Her hair was longer, falling in waves around her shoulders. She was definitely a few years younger, and she wore a sweet, full-length gown instead of a worn leather jacket.

You checked the date in the bottom corner at least five times, but there was no mistaking it. The person in the photo was undeniably Ellie, standing in front of this house in 1816.

tag list: @macaroni676 @ellstronaut @elliewilliamsmiller0 @elliescoolerwife @letsreadsomesins-shallwe @peejayurple @liliflowers-blog @filtered-sunlight @hobbybound

#ellie tlou #ellie williams #ellie williams smut #ellie willams x reader #ellie the last of us #ellie x reader #ellie x fem reader #ellie x you #ellie williams tlou #ellie williams x you #tlou smut #tlou 2 x reader #i hope y'all like this one cause i got a lot of plans for it

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loveymontgomery · 11 months ago

Text

what if all i need is you?

addison montgomery x reader

contains smut - about 1k words in

word count: 6740

a/n: veers away from the actual series - takes place right before (and into) the prom episode!! i wrote this in NOVEMBER LOL been hiding in the google docs 4ever. may be off continuity-wise (or some things may just be weird) but i was too busy thinking abt addie -- can u blame me?!?!?!?1//1?!

lyrics from taylor swift's "slut!"

Flamingo pink, sunrise boulevard

Clink clink, being this young is art

You and Dr. Montgomery had just left work together. The two of you were on-call the night before, and got off in the afternoon. She had been wearing her flamingo pink scrubs that night, looking beautiful as ever. Her hair was less curled than usual, fairly straight, with a slight inward curl at the end–how you liked it the most.

You’d gotten an Uber right after work, and took it downtown, where the two of you walked up and down streets (popping into stores occasionally), until dinner. You stopped in a small local place, which turned out to be much better than expected.

“We’ve got to come back here,” Dr. Montgomery said.

“Absolutely, Dr. Montgomery,” you replied, a smile on your face.

“It’s Addison, to you. Surely, we’re on a first-name basis at this point.”

“Cheers, Addison,” you clink your glasses. “To this amazing dinner.”

Aquamarine, moonlit swimming pool

What if all I need is you?

After dinner, with the impending sunset, Addison called an Uber for the both of you. She took you back to the hotel she’d been staying at following her divorce from Derek Shepherd. She led you up to her room, telling you all about the different things the hotel had–a gym, obviously, billiards, a family and an adults only pool (with a hot tub), as well as a jacuzzi in her bathroom. Seeing your excitement at the jacuzzi, she suggested that the pair of you take a dive–she’d let you borrow one of her two swimsuits.

After looking through her luggage, she handed you a black bikini. “You can change first,” she said. You stepped into the bathroom, only a few paces from where you were standing. Peeling off your pants, you noticed the size of the jacuzzi. It wasn’t large. Regardless of where you sat, you’d be in contact with Addison. The thought sent a shiver down your spine, and heat to your cheeks. You tried to shake it off, pulling off the rest of your clothes and putting on Addison’s bikini. As you glared in the mirror, you noticed how it fit you. It wasn’t skimpy, (Addison surely wouldn’t have offered it to you if it was) but you looked good. The lighting in the bathroom placed emphasis on your barely-there abs, and made you look much more toned than you truly were.

Checking yourself out, you decided to pull your hair down from the messy bun it had been in during the day. You weren’t sure why, but you made sure that your hair looked perfect before you exited the bathroom.

Addison stared at you in silence for a moment, checking you out. She seemed to snap out of it quickly, saying, “Sorry. Not used to seeing my bikini on someone else.” You noticed a red tint on her cheeks as she passed you to go into the bathroom, though. You sat on the bed, trying to keep your mind away from imagining Addison in a bikini, even though you’d see her in one in a few moments. You didn’t want to think about it–seeing her collarbone, her shoulders, her waist. God, you couldn’t even think about her legs without your face heating up. Which shouldn’t happen. You couldn’t be thinking about your friend–your coworker–like that.

She opened the door moments later, wearing a pink bikini. You took a mental note of that, Addison’s favorite color is pink, surprisingly. It was like you felt time stop when you saw her. She looked gorgeous, better than you could’ve ever imagined that anyone could. Her voice brought you back to reality.

“I turned on the jacuzzi. So…”

“Right,” you said, and followed her into the bathroom. She got into the bathroom with all the grace you could imagine. You tried to not get distracted, following her into the jacuzzi. You sat across from her, your knees touching. “Must be nice to come home to this,” you joked.

“Oh, yeah,” she smiled. “This thing has to be one of the best ways to unwind.”

“What are the other ways?” you asked, a slight bit of flirtation coming out. You didn’t even realize, not until you had already said it.

“Can’t tell you all my secrets, can I?” Addison flirted back, brushing her knee along your leg. Hearing the ding of her cellphone, Addison reached to the counter behind you, where she’d placed her phone before you’d come into the bathroom. You held your breath at the close proximity. Her stomach was practically in your face, and it took nearly everything in you to not look up. She sighed when she looked at it, but quickly came back down to the jacuzzi, sitting next to you, instead of across from you.

“Hi,” you said, taking a deep breath.

“Hi,” Addison replied, a sly smirk on her face.

“Who was that?”

“Oh, just Derek. Nothing important,” she said, ever-so-slightly moving closer to you. You felt her thigh against yours, and nearly went into cardiac arrest. It was a miracle that you weren’t hooked up to a heart monitor, because she surely would’ve caught on to the fact that you were practically dying from just being near her. Addison pushed a piece of your hair behind your ear. “Did I ever tell you how much I appreciate you?”

“Uh… you might’ve mentioned it once or twice,” you said, quietly, as Addison started to get closer to you.

“You make my life so much easier by just being in it,” she confessed, looking into your eyes. You swallowed thickly, your breath picking up. “Are you nervous?” Addison asked, picking up on the tenseness radiating from you. When you didn’t answer, she said, “Don’t be nervous. It’s just me.” Leaning forward, Addison placed a soft kiss on your lips. Your hands found their way into her hair, and Addison planted herself on top of your legs. Like something snapped, the kiss heated up, and you felt Addison’s hands running along your sides and then felt a hand along your thigh, and one in your hair. After a few moments, Addison pulled back, resting her forehead on yours. “Good?”

“Yeah. Yeah. Good,” you said. One of Addison’s hands found your neck, pressing on your pulse point.

“Relax, Y/N. I’m gonna have to take you back to the hospital.”

“If it means spending more time with you…” you trailed off, lightly joking. You glared into her eyes. “You’re so pretty.”

“Thank you,” she said, before returning to kiss you. Addison’s hips started to grind against nothing, which didn’t go unnoticed from you. Even though she wasn’t doing much to you–just the feeling of her thighs moving along yours was enough to drive you crazy. It didn’t get easier when she started to slip her tongue into your mouth. You moaned into her mouth, which really didn’t go unnoticed by Addison, as she ran her hand back up to your chest, feeling you up through the bikini she lent you. She pulled back slightly, “having fun?” she asked, while continuing to feel you up.

It took everything in you to not make a sound, which was very evident to Addison. “Mhm…” you hummed in response.

“Oh, come on… Use your words,” Addison commanded lightly.

“Yes. Addison, I need-,” you started, cutting yourself off because of the pleasure that Addison was bringing you.

“What do you need, sweetheart?”

“You. Just�� you. All I need is you,” you admitted, breathlessly. Addison’s confident exterior faded, seemingly affected by your statement. She practically lunged toward you, placing her lips on yours roughly. Her hands traveled up and down your back and sides quickly. She lightly pulled on the back of the bikini you were wearing before pulling apart to ask,

“May I?”

You nodded, knowing your words would fail you. You pulled Addison back towards you, and it was now your turn to kiss her roughly. She made a noise of surprise before pulling the strings to your bikini, causing it to fall off completely. Taking her lips off of yours, she began to kiss down your jaw and onto your neck, where she sucked for a moment. Doing it with a doctor really was as good as you’d think. Addison knew all the spots. Moving down, past your neck, she placed light kisses along your collarbone and down onto one of your breasts.

You couldn’t help the moan that came out of you. “Oh, Addie…” Addison pulled back, scanning your body.

“You’re so beautiful. Perfect,” she decided, bringing one of her hands to your breast. Lightly, she ran her thumb back-and-forth across your nipple, watching your reaction. She took note of your heavy breaths. “Feels good?” You nodded. “Just sensitive?” she questioned.

“Yeah, for you.”

“You’re gonna inflate my ego by saying things like that,” Addie warned.

“Things like what? The truth?”

“Shut up,” Addison said, going to kiss you again. She began to toy with your nipple, loving the way you squirmed under her. You couldn’t help the quiet moans that came out of your mouth. Her other hand found its way to your upper thigh, before she pulled apart again, “Can I-”

“Addison, you can do whatever you want to me,” you cut her off, pulling Addison’s face back to yours. Within seconds, you felt Addison’s hand sliding under your bikini bottom. You lifted your hips instinctively, giving her a better angle. When Addison felt how wet you were, the both of you moaned. When one of her fingers came up to your clit, you whined.

“So, you’re really sensitive, huh?” she asked.

“I already told you-”

“Don’t be ashamed, it’s hot,” Addison told you, slowly sliding one of her fingers inside you.

“Addie…”

“I love when you say my name,” she encouraged. She slowly started to move her finger in and out of you, watching your reactions like a hawk. She could see how riled up you were, how you were desperate. Desperate in need of her. “Babe, take a breath. Slow down.”

When you did take a breath, she kissed you lightly. “That’s my girl.” Addison fully intended to take care of you. This was not going to be quick, she was going to revel in the pleasure she gave you, and as much as she loved seeing your desperation for her, she didn’t want you to tire yourself out too quickly. Again, she placed light kisses on your neck, smiling when she heard you moan. Too focused on her finger inside you, you didn’t even realize when she started sucking on your neck. When she pulled back, she said, “oops.”

“Huh?”

“You’ll see later,” she said, smirking. Before you could respond, she pushed another finger inside you.

“Oh, god, Addison,” you moaned, your head falling back. “This is… You’re making me feel so good.”

“Good. Relax for me,” she instructed. She brought herself back up to your face, beginning to make out with you again, while continuing to move her fingers in-and-out of you at a painfully slow pace, every-so-often brushing against your g-spot. Addison loved this; making you feel so good. It was like second nature. It was one of the best ways to unwind.

Eventually, Addison started to speed up her fingers, and your moans started to get louder and louder. She pulled back, wanting to watch how you squirmed because of her. “Addison,” you breathed. “Addi- Addison… oh my God.”

“Addie, please,” you begged. “Please, Addison, please.”

“You’re doing so good for me, sweetheart,” she encouraged. “Come on…” she muttered. She sped up a little bit more, biting her lip as she focused on making you feel good. It was a combination of seeing Addison biting her lip and her saying, “Come on, be a good girl for me,” that really sent you over the edge. You felt your whole body shake as you tried to slightly hold in your moans (the whole world didn’t need to hear you–only Addison). Your thighs practically crushed Addison’s hand as she helped you ride out your orgasm. Slowly, she pulled her fingers out of you, and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

She moved back to sitting next to you, and wrapped one of her arms around you, pulling you close. You rested your head on her shoulder, trying to catch your breath. The two of you sat in silence for a moment, before Addison got out of the jacuzzi, and began to help you out. She cleaned you up and dried you with a towel, before leading you back to the bed. You sat on the edge of the bed, watching Addison wordlessly as she went to get you pajamas. She placed her Yale hoodie and a pair of sweatpants next to you.

She went into the bathroom with her own pajamas, and you took that as your cue to put her clothes on. When she came back out of the bathroom, you smiled at each other. You’d never seen Addison in anything less than workplace-casual, and she looked adorable, to say the least. Her glasses only added to it–you loved her glasses. And Addison got a kick out of seeing you in her clothes.

“How are you feeling?” she asked, standing in front of you, using one of her hands to guide your jaw, having you look up at her.

“How do you think?”

“Well, I’d hope amazing,” she said, walking to the other side of the bed, and getting under the covers. You followed her lead. You fell asleep quickly, almost as soon as the lights were off. And your dreams were filled with Addison, watching her from the observatory in the operating rooms, and watching as she looked over babies and talked to patients. When you woke, it was because Addison had ordered room service for the both of you, and she was talking to the delivery man. At first, you were confused, not even remembering having fallen asleep. But when you turned and saw Addison standing at the door with her back to you, it all made sense. She still had a little bit of bedhead, but it was adorable.

“Oh, sorry. Did I wake you?” she asked when she’d turned back around and saw you staring at her with a smile.

“Maybe. I don’t mind.”

“I got breakfast,” she said nervously. She climbed back onto her bed, sitting crisscrossed next to you. Of course, you always knew Addison was kind. She was always a good friend, you’d thought, but you never imagined that she was listening to every word you were saying, which became clear when she’d gotten your favorite breakfast; something you mentioned months ago. You ate together, talking about meaningless things over breakfast. She told you about what Derek had texted her last night–asking her about one of their mutual friends back in New York. She told you about the brownstone and the house in the Hamptons. She told you about their odd neighbors.

She asked what you would tell your friends when you went home, what story you would make up. The both of you knew that there was no way you could tell your coworkers about this. Even if she just told Derek, he’d have to tell Meredith, and then word would spread throughout the entire hospital before you even went back to work. You told her, “Oh, you know. I spent the night with a gorgeous man. Tall, red hair, slender hands,” you began. “And he got me breakfast, that’ll give ‘the guy’ brownie points.”

“Wow. I get brownie points?” Addison asked, laughing to herself.

“Whoa, whoa. The mystery man I’m telling my friends about gets brownie points.”

“Of course.” Addison smiled. You left Addie’s hotel room shortly after that, making sure you avoided Mark Sloan and Chief Webber as you left. She offered to let you borrow her Yale hoodie, so you didn’t have to wear your same outfit from yesterday, but you declined. It was too risky, someone at the house would’ve noticed. You left on good terms, though, or so you thought.

Got love-struck, went straight to my head

Got lovesick all over my bed

The days following your night with Addison went by quickly, but torturously. You didn’t talk to Addison for four days, and you were honestly starting to think that Addison was avoiding you purposefully. You’d only caught sight of her a handful of times, but from afar. She was talking to Mark or arguing with Karev. You could even see Mark trying to flirt with her a few times, which would’ve sent you off-the-rails, if you weren’t trying to keep your feelings for Addison under wraps.

You weren’t doing a good job at hiding your feelings generally, though, because as soon as you got home you’d either lay facedown on the couch or immediately make a break for your bed, slamming the door behind you. Your friends knew something was up, but tried to wait it out, at first.

On Thursday, you heard your friends whispering outside your door, until George lightly knocked on your door before barging in anyway. “Hey…” he said cautiously, as if you were a cat about to lash out at him. He sat on the edge of your bed lightly. “You okay?” You took a deep breath, which to George, was a warning. “Right, bad question… is this about the guy from the other day?” You groaned before sitting up.

“It’s just like, how do we sleep together and then you completely don’t speak to me for days? Not one text, George, not one! Actually, we didn’t even really sleep together, he just fingered me and that was it! I would’ve gone further, he stopped it! Isn’t that weird? I mean, I would expect a text, at least. Like, tell me what went wrong or why you don’t want me anymore!”

“Well, maybe-”

“It would be better if I had just met him at a bar or something and it was a one-night-stand, never see you again, sort of thing. But I knew this guy! For a while! I’m gonna see him around at some point, he can’t just avoid me forever!” you continued to rant, cutting George off.

“You know, guys are-”

“It’s really just so dumb. Like you wanted me and initiated the whole thing and now you won’t even speak to me? It’s like, talk to me! You know?” You stared at George for a minute, expecting him to say something. “Say something!”

“I was expecting you to cut me off, again,” he said. “This is gonna sound horrible, but I think you’re just getting in your head about it all. I do the same thing. We should know better than anyone, though, that people have lives. We go weeks without texting people back.” You stared at him for a moment. He was right, even though you hated that fact. You just wanted Addison to want you, but the fact that she was avoiding you made you feel like it was just a one-night thing for her. It wasn’t, for you. For you, you realized that your friendship with Addison had always been a disguise. You always had feelings for Addison, how could you not have? And how could you not have realized that sooner?

You kept talking to George for a while. After some time, you were sure Meredith and Izzie weren’t listening anymore. It was hard talking to George, though, because everything had to be vague. You couldn’t reveal a thing about this man, unless it was a lie. It did help, though. You started to feel more like yourself. Addison was an adult, she’d talk to you at some point, and things would be sorted out. Surely.

Love to think you’ll never forget

Handprints in wet cement

The following day, you’d finally had a reason to talk to Addison. Dr. Bailey had asked you to deliver a file to her, and even though you would’ve rather had anyone else do it, Meredith was the only person nearby. It took a while of looking, but you’d finally managed to find Addison by the nurses’ station. Unfortunately, though, she was talking to Mark. You watched, trying to hide your utter rage, as Mark was clearly flirting with her, and she wasn’t pushing him aside. You walked up to the pair of them, clearing your throat.

“Doctor Montgomery.” She hummed when she turned, not immediately realizing it was you. “This is from Doctor Bailey,” you said, your eyes darting between her and Mark. It was hard to read Addison, but looking in her eyes, you could’ve sworn you saw her trying to hide her guilt.

But Mark… When you turned to leave, Mark said, “Leaving already? We were just starting to have fun!”

“Stop flirting with me, Mark,” you said, walking away quickly. You found an empty closet, and sat on the floor.

Adorned with smoke on my clothes

Lovelorn and nobody knows

Love thorns all over this rose

I’ll pay the price, you won’t

You were starting to feel crazy, really. How could months of friendship with Addison completely fall out of touch? You hadn’t initiated things with Addison, how were you to know that your romance would end any relationship you had had with Addison? After a few more days, the whole hospital knew you were upset. It wasn’t hard to find out—people just had to look at you. When you saw Doctor Burke in passing, even he said something about it. But nobody knew why. Well, that was a lie. People thought they knew why. They thought that it was because you were having guy problems. You were not having guy problems.

It was your turn to avoid Addison, now. There wasn’t a chance that she hadn’t heard about what was going on with you, but you hoped she knew better than to think that it was about a guy. She was smart enough to know it was about her.

To help, your friends tried to find someone else for you. They brought you to Joe’s, (keeping you away from the dartboard, and away from the drinks, they only let you have enough to let loose) and tried to set you up with every man they found. They were cute, you supposed. Their plan really wasn’t working out. They tried for a while, though, you had to give them that. Even Cristina seemed dedicated, though you saw her complain to Meredith often. You had a good enough time, until you were leaving. Alex had showed up at some point, and he took part in trying to get you laid. But once you had decided to leave, he said, “Oh, get over it, already! Let me show you a good time.”

You honestly could not believe him. You knew he was an asshole, obviously. But he’d seen you in pain for weeks, and still said something like that. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” you shouted, turning and walking out the door before you could even see his reaction. That was new, from you. Even with Alex always being a douchebag, you’d never yelled at him. You called an Uber, and went home, blasting sad music in your headphones once you’d reached your bed. You don’t know when your friends got home, you didn’t see them until the morning. In the morning, you didn’t eat breakfast, and you barely said anything to your friends. They didn’t say much to each other, either. It was like your presence immediately ruined the mood. You yelled at Alex. Sure, you never yell, but it was Alex, you should be allowed to yell at Alex without Izzie acting like you’d kill her for speaking.

You couldn’t believe this was happening. How could going out with Addison after work one day lead to all this? This was Addison’s doing, and yet you were living your life in misery while her life stayed the same. You’d seen Addison in passing a few times, but only for work. You really didn’t even say hello. It was a week after you yelled at Alex that she paged you.

Seeing Addison at first was fine. You were in your “work mode” and she was just Doctor Montgomery, not Addison. But when she told you to follow her, and she started to lead you to an on-call room, you started to get nervous. This wasn’t work. This was Addison. She locked the door behind you.

“Hey,” she said, clearly nervous, even for herself.

“Hey,” you said back.

“I heard about what happened with Alex,” she grimaced. “I’m sure he deserved it.”

“When does he not?” you said, numbly. It pained Addison to see you like this. There wasn’t the slightest bit of you that was happy. She could see it in your eyes. “Is that all you heard?”

“No.”

“That’s great,” you said, as sarcastic as you could, even with how numb you felt. “Didn’t know you partake in the gossip.”

“I don’t, but people don’t shut up.”

“Right.” Addison took a step closer to you, your back against the door.

“Will you look at me, please?” you stayed looking anywhere but at Addison. You couldn’t do it. It would kill you. “You haven’t looked at me in weeks. Please, look at me.” Even with how upset you were, there was something in Addison’s voice, the genuine pleading, that you couldn’t deny. When your eyes met hers, you saw how glazed her eyes were. She wasn’t crying, but she nearly was. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry?”

“Yes. I’m sorry. Of course, I’m sorry. Do you think I wanted to hurt you, really? Is that the impression I gave you?”

“Doctor Montgomery, you didn’t talk to me for weeks.”

“Doctor Montgomery? You’re calling me Doctor Montgomery?”

“Yes. I am.” You noticed Addison’s breath picking up. She took a step back, and ran a hand through her hair. You couldn’t remember a time where you’d seen her like this.

“I’m… I didn’t mean to do that,” she said. “God, I didn’t mean to hurt you,” she continued, sitting on the bed. “I didn’t mean to hurt you,” she whispered, as if she was saying it to herself. You could see how hard it was to keep herself together. Once you realized that, you had a hard time keeping yourself together.

“Addison…” she looked at you. “I don’t…” you began. “There’s a lot that I could say. So much that I could say. But… I just don’t want to do this anymore.” You started to slide down the door, and didn’t stop yourself. “I’m so tired, Addie. I can’t sleep, I can’t breathe. I can’t talk to people, or have people talk to me, and I’m tired of it.” You started to cry, and heard rustling before you felt Addison sitting next to you. You leaned into her. “Can we please stop this? Can we just start over? As friends, or… whatever you want. I just need this to be over.”

“Let me take you to the prom,” Addison said.

“What?” you said. Surely, she did not say “the prom.”

“Didn’t you hear? Richard’s having a prom. Tomorrow.”

“Oh. No, I didn’t hear. Haven’t really been listening to people, recently.”

“Right…”

“I’ll go with you,” you said.

“Really?” Addison asked, a little over-excited, her voice higher than usual.

“Yeah,” you said, a small smile on your face.

“I’ll pick you up at eight?” she suggested.

“Sounds good, Addie.” She pressed a kiss to your forehead before standing, saying she had to go. You scooted over, letting her leave. You sat in the on-call room for a while, smiling to yourself. You figured that for the time being, you’d just tell everyone that the guy finally called, and you worked things out.

But if I’m all dressed up

They might as well be looking at us

And if they call me a “slut”

You know, it might be worth it for once

You had been ready half an hour early, pacing your room, making sure you looked okay. You decided on a baby pink gown (yes, Addison’s favorite color, on purpose) that tied up the back and had a slit. You hadn’t seen Izzie or Meredith yet, since they were busy getting themselves ready, but you had seen George, and he seemed stunned. He said that you looked great, and he would be surprised if you didn’t have men all-over you the entire night.

At 7:55, you were still pacing your room, but with your heels on, now. You heard the doorbell ring at exactly eight. And heard Izzie and George run to the door, you cursed yourself for not being down there already.

“Doctor Montgomery!” You heard your friends say at the same time.

“Nice see you, Doctor Stevens, O’Malley. I’m here for Y/N.”

You came down the stairs just in time to see their faces. They didn’t say anything though, just ran further into the house, probably to try to connect the dots. You left with Addison without a word.

“I got you a corsage,” Addison said, while you were on the porch.

“You did? I didn’t even think about that, I’m sorry.”

“I invited you, thought it would be nice,” she said, sliding the corsage on your wrist. It was red, matching her dress. She looked beautiful. You could’ve stared at her for the whole night, instead of even going to the prom. When you arrived at the prom, you mingled around for a while, trying the punch and doing the photo booth that the hospital had somehow acquired. In one of the pictures, Addison kissed your cheek. You tucked the photostrips into your purse, making a note to give Addison her’s later.

Although you were trying to focus on Addison, and not the people around you, you noticed that it seemed like people hadn’t caught on, yet. People glanced at you occasionally, but it seemed as though that was because you were no longer moody. You and Addison talked about your high school prom experiences. She told you about how she was a band geek, and you told her about how you had a lot of friends. “You were a popular girl?” she questioned, humored.

“I wasn’t a popular girl, I just had a lot of friends!”

“You were a popular girl. That makes so much sense.”

“It’s like social situations come so easy to you. You’re perfect at them. It’s like you always know what to say. You’re so good with patients and their families.”

“Thank you,” you said, taking the compliment whole-heartedly. “I was not a popular girl.”

“Mhm.” Addison smiled at you. The DJ started to play something slow. “Dance with me?” You took Addison’s hand, and she led you towards the dance floor. You stayed near the edge, trying to keep yourself out of the spotlight, but you could tell people were looking anyway. You saw Izzie and George in your periphery, and even Derek and Meredith had stopped dancing to look at you, jaws dropped. You saw Alex looking on from afar, a soft smile on his face. He’d gotten over you yelling at him, and understood the line he crossed (he wasn’t going to apologize). You loved dancing with Addison. Neither of you were dancers, by any means, but it was nice to have her hands on you, especially after being away from her for so long.

When the song was over, she led you away from the prom, and you found an empty room. “I didn’t want people staring at us anymore,” she said. You took steps towards her as she spoke.

“Yeah,” you said, staring at her lips.

“You look beautiful,” Addison said, looking you up and down.

“So do you, Addie.” You took another step towards her, your voice lower than usual.

“You like the red? I wasn’t sure about it.” As soon as she finished her sentence, you pulled her close to you, pressing your lips onto hers. It wasn’t slow, it wasn’t soft. You couldn’t help it anymore. She looked hot, and it was making you feel hot. Addison was a little taken aback at first, but quickly began to reciprocate your kisses. Your hands found her hips, and she whimpered into your mouth. Addie turned the two of you around, pressing you against the examination table, and telling you to jump between kisses. You jumped onto the table, Addison hiking up your dress and standing between your legs. She pulled on the strings to the back of your dress, letting you slightly loose. Addison’s hand gently found its way to your core, lightly rubbing against it. She was giving you the friction you desperately needed. You were ready to let Addison do whatever she wanted to you, until you heard the door open.

You stopped kissing quickly, turning your heads to see Derek. He was standing with his mouth agape. Clearly, not expecting what he saw. Who’s to blame him? Seeing your ex-wife kissing your girlfriend’s roommate had to be shocking. “Derek, you’re gonna start drooling,” Addison said, rolling her eyes.

“Sorry,” he said. “Sorry.” He left quickly, shutting the door behind him. You could see him stand outside of the room for a moment though, surely short-circuiting. When you looked back at Addison, you knew the two of you had to get out of there. She looked hot, too hot, but she also looked like she had just been making out. You must’ve looked like that too. As you left, you started to lose the worry of judgment. Who cares if you’re with Addison? What does it matter if anyone cares, if you had Addie?

The short ride back to your house was fairly silent, but comfortable.

And if I’m gonna be drunk

I might as well be drunk in love

When you got back to the house, you and Addison shared a glass of wine before heading to your room.

“I need you to know that I wasn’t trying to avoid you.”

“I know.”

“But… I need you to really know that. I mean it. I’ve never done this before,” Addison began. “I really want this, though. I really want you. You’ve been my best friend, but I can’t look at you and not think about how perfect you are, and how I just want to make you happy.”

“Okay,” you said.

“You get it?”

“I think so, yeah.”

“So, we’re starting over?” Addison asked.

“Yeah, we can start over,” you confirmed.

“Okay. I’ll be better this time.”

“I know, Addie.”

“Can I spend the night?” You smiled at the thought.

“If you want to? Derek is probably gonna be around. These walls are kinda thin.” you warned. It would surely be weird for Addison to hear her ex-husband getting it on with another woman.

“That’s okay. Thin walls go both ways,” Addison said, smirking. Of course, she’d be up to something. “Do you wanna shower?”

“We are not doing it in the shower. I’m too clumsy.”

“Oh, I know.”

“So, you wanna have a PG-13 shower with me?”

“I am actually interested in you for more than sex. Yes, I would love to shower with you.”

The two of you exited the bathroom just in time to see Derek and Meredith walking to her room. You stood in shock for a moment, but laughed it off. As soon as you and Addison reached your room, she shut the door behind you, locking it, and immediately dropped her towel, pressing her face to yours. You slid your hands along her sides before dropping your own towel. Addison pulled away from you, commanding you to, “get on the bed.” You did as she said, and felt your face heat up when she ended up on top of you, kissing you for a few moments before her mouth found its way to your neck. You couldn’t help your moans, but tried to keep them quiet. Addison laughed to herself.

“Something funny?”

“Just love seeing how I make you feel, babe,” Addison said, causing your legs to tense. She began to kiss down your chest, to your stomach, and to your upper thighs. When she pressed the first kiss to your thigh, you twitched. God, Addison was gonna be the death of you. Addison pressed soft kisses back up your thighs, finding herself at your core. She licked a long stripe up your folds slowly. You moaned loudly. You did not expect this tonight.

“Addie, oh my God,” you whined as she started to pick up her pace, getting more comfortable with her movements. Your legs started to tremble, and you knew it was only a matter of minutes before Addison sent you over the edge. “Addison… Addie, you’re so good at that. Just like that.” Addison continued her pursuit, exactly how you wanted it. “Oh, please don’t stop. Please, Addie, please, don’t stop… Oh my God!” With a few more seconds, your thighs tightened around Addison’s head. Your whole body trembled, and while working you through your orgasm, Addison watched you.

“That was so hot, baby,” she said, clearly turned on.

After taking a moment to breathe, you said, “Addison, please lay down.” She did as you asked, and you began to press kisses to her neck. “I’m giving you a hickey. Payback.” She moaned quietly in response. You’d only given her a small hickey, she could cover it easily, if she wanted to. Post-hickey, you worked your way down to her chest, lightly sucking on her breast. Addison’s moans became more frequent, and it was music to your ears. You would give anything to hear that for the rest of your life. While your mouth was busy with Addison’s chest, one of your hands found its way between her legs. You began by slowly rubbing her clit, gaining a fairly loud moan out of Addie, and then pressing a finger of yours inside her once she seemed prepared. You pulled back from her chest in that moment, wanting to see her reaction.

She threw her head back, closing her eyes, and moaning constantly as you slowly moved your finger in and out of her. “Look at me, Addie.” She opened her eyes lightly, heavy with desire. ‘So pretty, Addison. You’re so perfect for me.” You slid another finger in her, which was easy considering how wet she’d become.

“Y/N,” she moaned. “I’m gonna cum. Don’t stop,” she said. A few moments later, and she was coming undone on your hand. You were honored. How could you not be, having brought this much pleasure to such a perfect woman. She shook intensely. Her chest rising and falling quickly, as she tried to catch her breath. “That was…” she trailed off. “Thanks,” she said. “I’m not done with you, though. Lay down.”

You two laid down for a few moments, as Addison tried to regain her composure. Once she did, she was practically full energy as her hands found their way to your core. “Addie…” you moaned quietly.

“Yes, baby?” she asked, as she slid two fingers inside you.

“Oh, fuck. I’m not gonna last, Addie.”

“I know,” she replied, a smirk on her face as she worked her fingers in and out of you. She began to move her fingers inside you quickly, pressing against your g-spot over-and-over. She had you exactly how she wanted you to in mere seconds.

“Addison,” you warned between heavy breaths. “Addison, please. Addie… Addie, I’m gonna cum for you.”

“Come on, sweetheart. Cum for me. Be a good girl and cum for me,” her words sent you over the edge for the second time that night. When Addison pulled her fingers out of you, she laid next to you, the both of you tired out for the night. She wiped her fingers on a tissue, before helping you under the covers.

“Did you plan on that happening?” you asked her. At the beginning of the night, you hadn’t even considered having sex with Addison.

“Not really, but it is prom night, after all,” she said, pulling you into her arms. “Get some rest, sweetheart,” Addison said. She was warm, and being in her arms felt amazing. Your mind wanted to go a hundred miles a minute, thinking about everything that just happened. You told yourself you would think about it tomorrow, whenever you weren’t busy answering the questions from your friends. Sleep came first. Especially if Addison told you so.

#addison montgomery #addison montgomery x reader #addison montgomery x reader smut #greys anatomy #greys anatomy x reader #greys anatomy x reader smut #wlw #wlw smut #sapphic #x reader #god i love her soooo bad #shes so ofmihflskhklgjh

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therandompagesblog · 3 months ago

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SKZ Pack Chapter 21

Trigger Warnings: smut, cunnilingus, sex tape, kink positive, threesome, salirophilia.

"These are amazing. I'm sorry I can't remember these." "Don't apologise. Some of them you were not aware of. I did these secretly. I loved to draw or paint you. You are my everything. You are my soul. Everything. I had to keep a physical copy of you. My thoughts were not enough." "Oh. Jinnie." Y/N breathed out as he flicked through his paintings. "Can you tell me why you never told me?" "Because you can't tell someone who doesn't remember you that they loved you and were obsessed with you. I'm grateful this version of you has given me another chance to love you." Hyunjin's voice was soft. He brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. He was truly in love with her. "Tell me the story of each painting. I wanna live through your memories." Y/N asked.

"This painting was the first time I met you, her. She was shy. Unsure of the men in front of her. She knew she was ours but the level of trust wasn't there yet. The only people she trusted were Jongho and Yeosang because they were like her. Both omega's. Jongho was like Jisung. Always willing to get into trouble but Jongho was smarter. He could outsmart Hongjoong. Yeosang on the other hand was always gentle and submissive. Your stereotypical omega. He tried to teach Y/N everything she knew. So, I drew this. A picture of the three of them. It was a later drawing but I put it in with the firsts as I hoped to give it to her on her birthday but I never got a chance to. I felt embarrassed.

Back then sex was disgusting to me. I practised a lot of absenteeism. I came from a wealthy werewolf family who took pride in werewolf lores. They were millionaires. They were almost werewolf royalty, but I was the bastard. I was out-casted and looked after by my elders. My mother was an artist she always painted whenever she was sad. She painted pictures of my father and how he loved her. She taught me how to paint, but she made me promise only to pain things that made me happy or loved, so I kept that promise. I had a half brother you know. Chan's best friend. He was mean to me, only because his mother taught him to be. He learned later in life that they were wrong and it was never my fault. He tried to save me from Ateez. Hongjoong manipulated me into his pack, but that doesn't matter because I'm with Chan now who is a forgiving alpha.

Anyway, this next picture was what Y/N called the 'werewolf school for obnoxious omegas.' Her and Jongho were always sent to me because they didn't know how to be omegas so I became their teacher. I re-trained them, but it was more of a punishment. On one of the days we were alone, I asked her to clean the library out and she did, but she purposely swapped all the books out and put them into coloured order. What I mean by coloured order was, in the brown section there would be random red ones in there to annoy you. She knew how I felt about my library and she reordered it.

One day she swapped my photographs out. I took pictures of images at an art gallery that I wanted to paint. She swapped them with images of her in such a coital position. It held power, desire, femininity, omeganess." Hyunjin showed her the photographs of her in different positions. She was mesmerised but confused. She didn't recognise them or herself. They were positions of pure utter confidence. Arousal. Desire. Need. Sexuality. Want. They were all of the erotic semantics. "Oh. My." Y/N touched them slowly. They felt too intimate and personal as if she were looking at another woman. Technically she was. This was her in another past life. She understood then why Hyunjin spoke about her in the third person. It was like the old Y/N was a lucid dream. "Do you wish she still existed?" Y/N asked curiously as she looked at Hyunjin who bit his lip nervously. "Yes and no. I still own you and you are always going to be mine." Hyunjin warned as he watched her lick her bottom lip. Her arousal was still there from the day before. "Jinnie I'm always going to be yours. We've been through so much-" "And Seungmin's not your favourite beta?" Hyunjin growled as he wrapped his large hand around her throat tightly, watching the way she threw her head back. Y/N was prepared to bring back his old memories. She wanted to arouse him. Relive his deepest and darkest fantasies. "You want to fulfil my fantasies, huh? Go and bring Seungmin in here. Off you go." Hyunjin ordered. He could feel her nerves and confusion but acted on the order and left to get Seungmin. "What have you done? Why does he need me?" Hyunjin could hear Seungmin flapping about being called to Hyunjin's art office. It made Hyunjin laugh at how stressed he was.

Hyunjin watched the two enter his room nervously. They were unsure of what he wanted them to do. Hyunjin showed Seungmin his old photos of her. He gasped as he saw the erotic photos at the height of femininity. Seungmin had not expected to see something so divine. "I don't understand, Hyunjin." Seungmin breathed out. "I want you to fuck and play with our mate while I take some photos," Hyunjin said, freely waving his arms around. "Are you sure?" Seungmin looked between the two in confusion. Y/N was willing to do anything to her alpha, so she walked over to his sofa and slowly started to strip when Hyunjin stopped her. He wanted Seungmin to do it. Seungmin slowly walked over to her and kissed her deeply, ignoring Hyunjin's snaps with the camera. Seungmin admitted he was getting stage fright but pursued. His mate's arousal gave him confidence.

Seungmin took his time stripping both of their clothes off. Carefully placing their discarded clothes on the other chair. "Sit in front of her and lick her sweet cunt while she plays with her breasts," Hyunjin demanded. Seungmin did as he was told and crouched down, spreading her legs open so he could take a lick. Y/N squeezed her breasts, subtly looking at Hyunjin as he snapped from different angles. The sight turned her on more and more. Y/N let go of her left breast to push Seungmins head forward. She stroked his head as he sucked with gratitude until she came. Seungmin lifted his head giving her a deep kiss as one hand tangled in her head and the other grabbed her throat. Seungmin broke the kiss and squeezed tightly causing her to smirk. Her head went backwards along with her eyes. She was more feral than the last images. These portrayed a dark desire. Something sinful and dangerous.

Seungmin then relaxed and moved to position himself into her tight pussy so he could fuck her while Hyunjin snapped away but Y/N stopped him. She wanted Hyunjin to play with her. She wanted Seungmin to take the photographs. She wanted the devil's touch. And the devil obliged. He pulled her roughly up by the hair, her back arched into his chest as he forced her to look up at him. Hyunjin spat on her face. The spit glided down her face. Down her breasts to the floor. Hyunjin then groped her harshly before his hand went to her wet pussy playing with her. Hyunjin then pushed her down so he could fuck her from behind. His thrusts were relentless. The position was tight. Dreadful. Harsh, but amazing. Seungmin put the camera down and rushed over wanting to place his cock in her mouth but Hyunjin made him get the camera, so he awkwardly ran back to grab it. Snapping away as she sucked his cock. The two fucked her until they came and knotted. It was the most phenomenal sex she had had in a long time and she loved it.

Taglist for the iconic readers:

@galaxy4489 @reallychaoticwoo @mbioooo0000 @jisungs-iced-americano @maybeimmia @hwangrfrnd@wolfo2027 @kayleefriedchicken @leamueller920 @borahae-reads @jennibahng @cookiesandcreammy @jutdwae-flower @danceonmyheyday @jc003 @hpnsfwaddict @pixie0627

~ Taglist closed due to Tumblr only allowing a certain amount ~

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chimcess · 5 months ago

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Bittersweet || myg (1)

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader Other Tags: Grad Student!Yoongi, Undergrad!Reader, Grad Student!Hoseok, Uncle!Namjoon, Doctor!Namjoon, Grad Student!Jimin, Fuckboy!Jungkook, GradStudent!Jungkook, Boss!Seokjin, Yoongi POV Genre: College!AU, Strangers to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, kinda Student/Teacher but not really, Older!Yoongi, Fluff, Angst, Eventual Smut Word Count: 19.9k+ Summary: When a cynical graduate student meets an overly enthusiastic undergraduate, the air crackles with tension—though not all of it is good. Warnings: Mean!Yoongi, he's extremely rude, like extremely so, prank gone wrong, bitter grad student to the max, strong language, Jimin is a snitch, possible wrong science information (i'm sorry i'm not perfect), sexual tension, reader faints at the sight of blood, unfunny pranks, Yoongi is jaded, he's a softie once you get to know him, hospital visit, non-descriptive male masterbation, reader has a stutter when nervous, Yoongi just being in denial for almost 20k words, kissing at work, almost caught, Jealous!Yoongi, i'm sorry but this JK is kind of a slime ball, Reader knows what she's doing, they're adorable, lots of bickering, let me know if I missed anything... A/N: Another old draft I found buried in my Google Docs! I didn't need to change too much, and it's very loosely edited, so please forgive any grammar or spelling mistakes. This was rather long (and I don't know why I never posted it), so it had to be split into two parts because of Tumblr's new rules. Thanks for reading!

Subject: Undergrad Mentoring From: Seokjin Kim, seokjinkim(at)fhcrc(.)org Sent: Friday, January 14, 2024, 6:18 AM To: Yoongi Min, ygmin(at)u(.)washington(.)edu

Yoongi,

I’m forwarding an email from a brilliant undergraduate. Have you thought about mentoring a student? I really think you should.

— Jin

---

From: ynyln(at)u(.)washington(.)edu Sent: Friday, January 14, 2024, 2:08 AM To: Seokjin Kim, seokjinkim(at)fhcrc(.)org Subject: Undergraduate Research

Dear Professor Kim,

My name is Y/N Y/L/N, and I’m a junior in the School of Arts and Sciences, majoring in microbiology. I’m incredibly interested in undergraduate research, particularly in your fascinating work on Helicobacter pylori and its connection to stomach cancer.

Although I don’t have prior research experience, I’m hardworking and responsible, and I would appreciate the chance to join your team. Please let me know if you have space available in your lab.

Attached are my CV and transcript.

Thank you!

Y/N Y/L/N

---

Dr. Seokjin Kim Member, Division of Basic Sciences Fred Hutchinson Cancer Research Center 1100 Fairview Avenue North Seattle, WA 98109-1024

I stared at Jin's email, the words bouncing around in my head. No previous research experience? Oh great! Just fucking great!

As the clock hit noon, I trudged into the break room, where the fluorescent lights buzzed like a swarm of angry bees. It was my little escape, my sanctuary from the suffocating hallways of academia. Hoseok, the only graduate student I considered a friend, was already inhaling his lunch.

I plopped my Tupperware into the microwave, the day’s weight pressing down on me like a thick fog. “Jin wants me to take on an undergrad,” I grumbled, feeling the words stick in my throat.

“Seriously?” Hoseok asked, mouth half-full. He didn’t even bother to swallow before adding, “Have them do the dishes.”

“Oh man, this is going to suck,” I muttered, stirring my mac and cheese with the enthusiasm of a person headed to their execution. “I have to train her, and she has zero lab experience. I don’t have time for this crap.”

The microwave beeped, its harsh sound grating against my nerves. I pulled out my steaming food, the steam rising ominously. “I tried to get out of it, but Jin insisted it’s ‘all part of the training.’” I mimicked his voice, nasal and overdramatic. Hoseok chuckled, nearly choking on his food.

I dug into my lunch, my mind racing. “She’s probably some pre-med trying to pad her CV. Calling our research ‘fascinating’ like she even knows what we do here—just another cookie-cutter student firing off a hundred emails.”

“Maybe she’s cute?” Hoseok waggled his eyebrows.

I rolled my eyes, ignoring him. My single status was a constant source of irritation for him. He meant well, but his attempts at matchmaking were like trying to fix a flat tire with a spoon.

“I already did my required TA-ing last year, and it nearly gave me an ulcer. I thought I was done with whiny undergrads! This really sucks!” The words burst out, hot and angry. The idea of babysitting a clueless student gnawed at me like a persistent itch.

I focused on my research, hoping it would be my ticket out of this academic purgatory. Mentoring an undergrad was the last thing I needed—a distraction threatening to derail my meticulously planned escape.

After lunch, I headed to the incubator to check on my cultures, the familiar hum a small comfort amidst the chaos. Then I settled at my desk, drafting a reluctant email to the undergrad, my words dripping with begrudging obligation.

From: Yoongi Min, ygmin(at)u(.)washington(.)edu Sent: Friday, January 14, 2024, 1:05 PM To: ynyln(at)u(.)washington(.)edu

Come to the lab on Monday between 8 AM and 7 PM. Bring your schedule.

Yoongi Min PhD Candidate Kim Lab Fred Hutchinson Cancer Research Center 1100 Fairview Avenue North Seattle, WA 98109-1024

This was going to suck.

“Hi, I’m looking for Yoongi Min?” A stranger’s voice cut through the quiet of the lab, and I felt my focus waver. I was knee-deep in DNA sequencing data, desperately searching for a start codon when the interruption struck like nails on a chalkboard.

“That’s him over there,” Jimin, my lab mate, replied. I didn’t need to look up; I knew he was pointing at me.

“CTT ATC GTG ACT…” I murmured; eyes glued to the screen. The code demanded my attention.

A shadow crept closer, invading my peripheral vision. I ignored it, hyper-fixated on the screen.

“Hi, I’m Y/N,” the shadow solidified into the undergrad I’d been dreading. I continued to stare at the screen, unwilling to break my concentration.

“Did you bring your schedule?” My voice was clipped, an attempt to maintain my rhythm.

CGC CTC CGT ATG… There it was! I highlighted the start codon, feeling a small sense of victory amidst the irritation. Finally, I turned to face her. She held a crumpled piece of paper in trembling hands.

The crackling noise of the paper grated on my nerves, and I snatched it from her. A quick scan revealed she had a limited availability. Tuesdays and Thursdays it was.

“Do you want one or two credits?” I asked, filling out her form with practiced efficiency.

“Oh… um… t-two,” she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper.

Oh great, a stammerer. I disliked her already. My frustration bubbled beneath the surface.

“That’s ten hours a week,” I said, scribbling on the form. “Tuesday and Thursday afternoons, maybe some Wednesday mornings.” I thrust the completed form back at her and turned back to my computer.

“See you tomorrow,” I dismissed her with a wave, eager to end the interaction. Her stammering was already wearing on my patience.

When I returned from lunch, she was perched at my bench. A laugh escaped me at the sight of her attire.

“What the hell is that?” I pointed at her lab coat, which was covered in hand-drawn bacteria.

She jumped, eyes wide. “My la-la-lab coat?” she stuttered.

Oh great, she’s a fucking idiot.

I took a deep breath, scanning her outfit for safety violations. At least she wore closed shoes and jeans, but her long hair hung loose.

“You should tie your hair up. You’ll be working near the flame.”

She pulled a hairband from her wrist and started tying her hair back. As I walked past, I noticed the back of her lab coat had “Bacteria Rule” scrawled in huge letters.

Bacteria Rule? Is she serious? I wanted to stab my eyes out with the pen in my hand. Who wastes time drawing on a lab coat? Nobody in their right mind, that’s for sure.

Something was off about her—I was certain of it. Concerned about her competence, I decided she couldn’t be trusted with any real work. Instead, I assigned her mundane chores, the kind even a high schooler could handle. It might not have been what Jin envisioned, but it was the only way.

God, I’m already dreading this. Can it be Friday already?

Hoseok and I lounged in the break room, our feet propped up on the coffee table, Tupperwares in our laps. The lack of a proper dining table didn’t bother us; it still beat eating at our desks.

“How’s it going with the undergrad?” Hoseok asked, mouth full.

“I’m pretty sure there’s something wrong with her,” I said, dead serious.

Hoseok laughed, even though I wasn’t joking.

“All she does is nod at what I say,” I elaborated. “Like one of those bobblehead dolls.” I stretched my neck and bobbed my head for effect. “Except she has bangs flopping all over her face when she nods frantically at everything I say.”

Hoseok snorted but kept eating.

“And she stutters! Well, when she speaks, that is. She doesn’t speak much. I kind of like that about her.”

Hoseok chuckled. “Sounds like you’re in love, bro.”

“Fuck you, Hoseok,” I shot back, uninterested. I already knew where this was heading.

“Is she cute?” Hoseok asked, glancing at me with a smirk.

“She’s a baby.”

“Is she a cute baby?”

“Hoseok, she’s… she’s a zygote.”

“Well, maybe with this zygote, you’ll learn how to be human again.” He turned his attention back to his food.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Come on. You’re not exactly social, bro. All you do is lab stuff and occasionally hang out with me and Serena.”

“What are you talking about? I am social.” My tone came out whiny, betraying my disbelief.

“Oh, really?” Hoseok raised an eyebrow, gesturing to my Tupperware. “So social that you prefer to eat alone in the lab over joining us in the break room?”

“Do you even hear yourself? You’re such a dork. I eat in here because the lab is a mess, not because I’m antisocial.” I shrugged, trying to hide the embarrassment creeping into my cheeks.

“Whatever you say, Yoongi,” he laughed, clearly unconvinced.

I shook my head. I didn’t want to think about this right now. Instead, I grabbed my backpack, bracing myself for the next round of research duties.

After a few weeks of working together, I had to admit—albeit grudgingly—that the undergrad was following instructions better than I’d expected. If I could just ignore her ridiculous lab coat and the way those bangs flopped annoyingly over her forehead, she wouldn’t be half bad. The real annoyance, though, was her constant presence invading my space. But honestly, it could be worse; at least she wasn’t stammering nonstop. Most of the time, she barely spoke, and mercifully, she didn’t ask a ton of questions.

As I walked back from lunch with Hoseok, I was surprised to realize I didn’t dread the thought of the undergrad being in the lab when I arrived. Maybe having her shadow me wouldn’t be the end of the world after all.

Of course, the moment that thought crossed my mind, I jinxed myself. Stepping into the lab, I found her cleaning my bench, and a wave of irritation crashed over me.

“What the heck are you doing?” I snapped, my voice sharper than I intended.

She flinched, turning slowly to face me, her gloved hands still gripping an ethanol squeeze bottle. “I-I just thought I’d clean up a bit,” she stammered.

“Did you touch my samples?” I shot back, a surge of panic coursing through me.

“Which samples?”

“Those!” I pointed at the upside-down tubes that had been perfectly positioned when I left, now carelessly shoved to the side.

“I-I just mov—”

“Did you touch my RNA samples?” Her mouth opened and closed like a fish gasping for air—an annoyingly stupid fish. “Do you know how labile RNA is?”

“L-la-labile?”

“Yes! Unstable—easily degradable. The main point here: you don’t touch my RNA samples!”

“I-I used gloves… I’m sorry,” she mumbled, tears shimmering in her eyes.

If she started crying, I was really going to lose it.

I took a deep breath, pinching the bridge of my nose to calm the storm brewing inside me. Slipping on my own gloves, I gently set my samples back in their rightful place, praying I hadn’t lost a week’s worth of work.

I could hear her sniffling next to me, and I groaned out loud. “Why don’t you and your la-la-lab coat coat go find something useful to do?”

I listened as she shuffled away, clearly eager to escape my sight. I should have known better than to think this arrangement would work out.

From: Seokjin Kim, seokjinkim(at)fhcrc(.)org Sent: Monday, February 14, 2024, 6:27 AM To: Yoongi Min, ygmin(at)u(.)washington(.)edu

Yoongi,

Part of the undergrad training involves more than just doing chores. Cleaning dishes, stacking pipette tips, and capping tubes do not count as experiments.

I expect your undergrad to have enough experimental data to give a presentation at the end of the semester.

Jin

What the hell? Did she tell him I’m only having her do chores?

Shit, shit, shit, shit.

Jin was right, though. All she’d done these past few weeks were chores. Aside from that little incident with my RNA samples, she hadn’t completely messed up yet. Maybe I should cut her some slack and give her a real project. She might learn something—or at the very least, realize how frustrating science could be and decide to give up on it sooner rather than later.

Oh God, how was she going to give a presentation if she couldn’t even say one coherent sentence without stuttering?

This would be an embarrassment, not just for her but for me too. If she messed up, she’d make me look bad.

Decision made. I needed to lighten up a bit and actually try to teach her something.

On Thursday, the undergrad was busy with her chores when I approached her, project sheet in hand.

She looked at it, her eyebrows raised. “What is this?”

“Your project for the next few weeks.”

Her face lit up with excitement.

“You didn’t have to go crying to Jin. I was going to give you a project anyway.”

Her smile faltered into a frown. “W-What are you talking about?” She gazed up at me, bewildered, but I waved her off, unwilling to explain further.

“Enough chattering. Those tubes aren’t going to wash themselves.”

Gotcha, undergrad. Your puppy dog eyes don’t work on me.

It was the first week of real work for the undergrad, and I felt a knot of anxiety twisting in my stomach. My palms were clammy, and my heart raced uncomfortably.

Am I excited about this? Nah… I’m probably just hungry.

“Do you know what PCR is?”

She nodded eagerly, pulling out her notepad, ready to take notes.

I explained how I wanted her to amplify two toxin genes from a set of H. pylori samples that had just arrived that morning from the hospital. Naturally, I only gave her a small subset of the total samples. It was a manageable number—enough for her to play around with, but not so many that I’d be ready to murder her if she messed up.

As usual, the undergrad took notes on everything I said, jotting down even where I pointed out the locations of various equipment. For all I knew, she was sketching a detailed map of the lab in that notepad of hers.

The undergrad sat at the bench, PCR tubes lined up in front of her, the protocol to her left, pipettes to her right, and a rack of reagents looming in the back. I watched her as she stared at everything, nervously picking at the edges of her gloves.

She was going to drive me insane.

“Do you know how to use the pipettes?”

She looked up at me, shaking her head timidly.

“Why didn’t you say so?” My voice came out louder than intended, and she flinched.

We were never going to get anywhere like this.

I took a deep breath and tried again, grabbing one of the micropipettes. “You set the volume here.” I pointed to the rings. “Clockwise to increase, counterclockwise to decrease.”

I demonstrated, twisting the rings as I explained the display window and where to discard the disposable tips when she was done.

After a few trials, the undergrad carefully pipetted into the PCR tubes, preparing the reaction with surprising precision.

She was focused, making sure not to contaminate anything. It was clear she was paying close attention to every detail.

Skilled hands, I noted, feeling a flicker of satisfaction.

Maybe this wouldn’t be as bad as I thought.

I led the undergrad into the darkroom, where shadows clung to the walls like forgotten secrets, ready to ensnare us. The air was thick with a sharp, chemical tang, buzzing with anticipation as we approached the agarose gel. The PCR products shimmered faintly under the dim light, a hidden treasure waiting to be revealed. Surprisingly, a flicker of excitement sparked within me, a rare departure from my usual brooding.

“The ethidium bromide binds to the DNA,” I explained, my voice echoing softly in the sterile silence. “When we expose it to UV light, it fluoresces an orange color. You’ll see the PCR products light up on the gel.”

She walked beside me, clutching the gel like a sacred relic, her wide eyes absorbing every word. I could almost see the gears turning in her mind, likely wishing she had her notepad to document my brilliance, as if capturing my words would somehow validate her existence.

As we stepped into the darkroom, she hesitated, like a deer caught in headlights, before gingerly placing the gel inside the UV box. She moved carefully, avoiding the pitfalls of air bubbles that could ruin everything. Either she’d done this before, or she had the sense to read up on it.

Good. I liked a prepared undergrad.

Once she’d set the gel, I instructed her to turn off the lights. The room plunged into darkness, and I leaned in, my heart racing a little faster. Peering into the UV box, I couldn’t help but grin. “Well, look at that. All your reactions worked.”

“Really?” Her voice trembled from the back, laced with a quiver of hope.

“Yeah,” I called back, though the shadows played tricks on me. “Come closer so you can see.”

I waited, but she lingered in the gloom, frozen as if afraid to approach the light. “Come here, I don’t bite,” I coaxed, trying to keep my tone lighthearted.

Finally, she moved, her profile illuminated under the eerie purple glow. Her eyes widened, and a smile broke across her face like dawn piercing through a dark night. I snorted softly, amused by how easily undergrads were impressed.

After she soaked in the spectacle, I showed her how to take a photo of her gel, and we returned to the lab. She began dutifully filling in her lab notebook, and a glimmer of pride swelled within me. That was until I checked her progress later. The notebook was pristine—a meticulous record of her every move since day one. Hope flickered in my chest, only to sputter out when I turned to the last page. There it was, taped prominently: a picture of the gel with “All worked!” scrawled underneath, accompanied by a crude smiley face.

A fucking smiley face.

This undergrad, I thought, definitely had a screw loose.

“Is that what you’re wearing?”

“What’s wrong with it?” I glanced down at my sweater, a worn piece of fabric riddled with holes—just like my soul. It was what I had been wearing all day, and it sufficed.

“It has holes in it.”

“And?” I shot back, genuinely baffled. It was just clothing—a shield against the chill of the world.

“Are you making a fashion statement? You do know grunge was over twenty years ago? I know you live in Seattle and all, but I’m not digging the Kurt Cobain look… at all.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” I muttered, irritation bubbling beneath my skin. “I’m starting to regret bringing you to this.”

“Relax, it’s just beers with Hobi and Serena,” she said, rolling her eyes like I was some petulant child.

I raked a hand through my hair, but it sprang back defiantly, so I slapped on a beanie to cover the chaos.

“You know, Yoongi, it wouldn’t hurt to wash your hair once in a while. How are you going to meet any cute girls?”

Here we go again.

“Yoonji, would you get off my case? I don’t want to meet anybody.”

Yoonji dropped in at least once a month, a whirlwind of concern and relentless nagging. She never believed me when I claimed to be fine over the phone.

It was endearing, in a way, but mostly a burden I didn’t need. My family was my anchor, yet their relentless need to take care of me felt like shackles.

“Okay, okay... let’s go then.”

“It’s just beers, for crying out loud.”

“I’m telling you to relax.”

In the car, I felt her eyes boring into me. “It’s just... I worry about you.” She brushed her hand along my arm, and I sighed.

“I’m fine,” I insisted, but I could see the disbelief flickering across her face. “Really. I’m just tired of school. I want to start real life already. I’ll be twenty-six this summer, and I’m still stuck in this academic limbo.”

“Hell, I’m twenty-seven!” Hoseok said when we arrived at the bar, lifting his pint in a mock salute. “And look at all the fuck I give!” He downed it with a flourish.

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” I shot back.

“Hey,” Serena interjected, her tone warning.

“It’s okay…” Hoseok waved dismissively. “He’s just got a bad case of graduate bitterness.”

Graduate bitterness... yes, that was exactly it. A malaise that settled in my bones like a persistent chill. I glanced around, my throat tightening as if the weight of my uncertainty was squeezing the life out of me.

I led the undergrad through the winding corridors of the building, our footsteps echoing like whispers in the shadows. She walked beside me in near silence, her gaze occasionally darting down to her notepad, scribbling furiously as if the ink might escape her. If only she spent as much time observing her surroundings as she did with her frantic notes, she wouldn’t need them to find her way back to the sequencing facility.

There was something peculiar about her. She avoided meeting my eyes, her demeanor skirting the edges of unease, a deep-seated shyness that pricked at my irritation. And Hoseok thinks I’m the antisocial one!

As we turned a corner, I pondered the unspoken rules of social behavior in the lab when we suddenly bumped into Jungkook Wand, another graduate student known for his knack for lurking around.

“Min,” he greeted, his gaze fixated on my undergrad, likely eyeing her in that ridiculous lab coat that looked like it had seen better days. Why she insisted on wearing that tattered garment was beyond me.

“We missed you at happy hour,” he added, his eyes still glued to her, ignoring me completely.

Every Friday, the department hosted a gathering that, while lame, at least offered beer. Last week, Yoonji was visiting, and I wouldn’t have dreamed of dragging her into that debacle.

“Yeah, my cousin was in town,” I managed, trying to shake off the feeling of being an afterthought.

Jungkook’s smile widened as he turned his attention to her. I should probably introduce them, but for the life of me, her name eluded me. Panic set in like a cold sweat.

“Hi,” Jungkook said, flashing a grin that felt a bit too eager.

Shit. What was her name again?

The girl glanced up at me, and a flash of annoyance crossed her features, as if she could read my mind. “I’m Y/N,” she said, her voice laced with indignation as she extended her hand. The scowl she shot me could peel paint off the walls.

Y/N. The name landed in my mind like a lead weight. How had I forgotten it?

Before I could muster an excuse, Jungkook was launching into conversation, his gaze lingering on her with a familiarity that irked me. I didn’t like Jungkook, nor the way he looked at my undergrad, so I steered her away from him, back toward the safety of the lab.

Now, what was her name again? Damn it.

The following week, I was knee-deep in sequence alignments at my cluttered desk when the fire alarm shrieked, slicing through the stillness like a knife. I turned to find my undergrad, her wide eyes betraying sheer panic.

She thought it was real. In that moment, a mischievous idea sparked in my mind.

“Run, Becca! Run!” I shouted, leaping from my chair.

“What?”

The color drained from her face, and I couldn't help but laugh as confusion and fear played out across her features— priceless. I doubled over, laughter bubbling out like soda from a shaken can.

The alarm blared on, drowning out her startled gasp as she clutched a rack of tubes, trembling. “It’s just a fire drill! Relax!” I finally managed to gasp.

She set the tubes down, took a deep breath, and shot me a glare, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “That was not funny,” she huffed, her voice laced with indignation. “And my name is Y/N!”

With that, she stormed off, leaving me with echoes of my laughter still ringing in my ears.

Oh, being social was unexpectedly entertaining!

The fire alarms continued to test my patience, ringing again and again. Each time, I chuckled at the memory of her startled expression. Now, standing outside for what felt like the fifth time, I glanced sideways at Y/N, who was shifting her weight from foot to foot, hands shoved into her pockets.

“Want to grab some coffee?” I asked, feeling an odd urge to make amends.

She blinked at me, surprise flickering across her face as if she couldn’t believe I was actually talking to her.

The cafeteria at the library was our destination, and we walked in silence, the clouds parting for a moment to let in the faintest hint of sunshine.

As we stood in line, I noticed her tense shoulders. Suddenly, she muttered a string of curses under her breath. Before I could react, her arm was around mine, grinning at me like a Cheshire cat.

“What the hell are you doing?” I asked, bewildered.

She maintained her smile but released me, stepping in front. “Say something funny,” she ordered, her voice low and urgent.

“What?”

Then she erupted in laughter, leaving me standing there in utter confusion.

She pressed a hand against my chest, and I wasn’t sure whether to be amused or alarmed. Was this how lab partners acted in her world?

But just as quickly as the laughter came, it faded, and she stepped back, looking sheepish, as if the moment had been a strange dream.

I moved up in line to get my coffee. “Do you want anything?”

“No, thanks,” she replied, shaking her head. I decided to drop the subject entirely.

As we started heading back, she caught up to me, her expression suddenly earnest. “I’m sorry,” she blurted. “There’s this guy, Jonah. He won’t take a hint. I thought if he saw me with someone…”

I tuned out her words, her rhythm a blur as I realized just how bizarre everything was.

Could undergrads get any weirder?

Sitting alone on a bench Wednesday afternoon, I savored the solitude when Jungkook appeared, looming over me like a vulture.

“Min,” he said, his tone dripping with false familiarity.

I glared at him, not in the mood for whatever nonsense he was about to spill.

“Where’s that cute little thing you were with?”

“Who?”

“You know, the one in the colorful lab coat.”

Colorful? I snorted, recalling the eyesore she wore.

“She’s not here,” I replied curtly.

“Got her number?”

“Why would I have her number? And why do you want it?”

He raised his eyebrows, a smirk spreading across his face. “You know… you and her…”

I cut him off, anger flaring in my chest. “Me and her what?”

“Is she up for grabs?”

I couldn’t believe he’d come to my lab just to ask about her.

“Jungkook, she’s an undergrad.”

He laughed, completely oblivious. “Dude, have you looked at her? She’s fine.”

“Yeah, and she’s crazy.”

“Even better!” His expression made my stomach churn.

“I don’t have her number, and if I did, I wouldn’t give it to you.”

With that, I shoved my earbuds in, blocking him out as he stormed off, his words echoing in my mind.

Fucking creep.

Even though it was Friday—one of those days Y/N usually avoided—the lab felt off-kilter, like an old, rickety house holding its breath. She hovered at my desk while I pulled up the sequencing results on my laptop. Last night, I’d sent her a simple email, expecting a casual response. But her reply had come back faster than a ghost in the night. She wanted to see the data today.

As we sat there, the silence between us thickened, almost palpable. Her face was a mask of concentration, but her expressions kept faltering, crumpling like old paper. Not that I cared too much; she had to learn that research was 90% disappointment wrapped in frustration.

“Why didn’t it work?” she asked, her voice tinged with sadness, as if she were mourning a lost hope.

“Maybe you made a mistake?” I suggested, trying to sound casual.

“I was very careful,” she shot back, defensive, her eyes narrowing like a predator ready to pounce.

How typical. Pre-med students always thought they were immune to failure, that the universe owed them success on a silver platter.

“It happens,” I shrugged, trying to dismiss the tension.

“I don’t understand,” she said, her brows knitting together.

“There's a reason it’s called research. If you only had to do it once, it would be called a search.”

“So, what do I do now?”

“You start over.”

“From the beginning?” Her voice trembled, disbelief flickering in her eyes.

“Yeah.”

A heavy sigh escaped her lips as she gazed at her notebook, defeated. Her eyes flitted to the calendar on the wall, and her pencil scratched furiously on the pad. “Can I come tomorrow? I want to have cells growing by Monday.”

Her eagerness surprised me. I added “overachiever” to the growing list of quirks that made Y/N so peculiar.

“Tomorrow’s Saturday,” I teased, raising an eyebrow.

“I know that.”

“Don’t you have a frat party to attend?” I quipped, but her glare silenced me, a reprimand that cut through the lab's sterile air. “Fine, come tomorrow,” I relented, knowing I’d be here anyway. Weekends in the lab were the best; no distractions, just the hum of machinery and the click of keys.

“Awesomesauce!” she chirped, her smile lighting up the dim room. I rolled my eyes, annoyed yet impressed by her determination. Maybe, just maybe, she had what it took for grad school after all.

Saturdays were sacred—my little slice of peace amid the storm of classes and lab reports. After a killer morning workout, I made my way back to the lab, my damp hair fluttering in the cool breeze. Just as I settled into my zone, my phone buzzed with a message that snapped me back to reality.

“Mr. Graduate Student, I’m at the front of the building. Y/N.”

I chuckled, shaking my head at her cheesy attempt at humor. By the time I reached the entrance, I found her wrestling with her hair, tying it up into a high ponytail that looked like it could give anyone a headache just by looking at it. But when she caught sight of me, her face lit up with a grin that could brighten the cloudiest day.

“Very funny,” I replied dryly as I held the door open for her. “It’s Yoongi, remember?”

As we stepped inside, the silence stretched between us, thick and awkward. I considered tossing out a quip about her hairstyle or her lab coat, but then a mischievous prank began to brew in my mind—dark and delightful, like a noxious weed spreading through my thoughts.

“Start your experiment from scratch,” I said, forcing a serious tone. “Could be that my reagents were contaminated.”

Her eyes widened, and I could barely suppress a smirk. It was a complete lie, of course; the old autoclave in the corner was already wheezing like an ancient beast. But picturing her panic was too tempting.

Settling at my bench, I could barely contain my excitement. But instead of the expected rush of alarm, there was a loud crash—glass shattering like a million tiny dreams—and then silence.

What the hell was that?

I found her on the floor, surrounded by shards of glass that sparkled like lost hopes. The autoclave hissed and wheezed, steam curling around us like a ghost. I rushed to her side, trying to stem the leak with my hands.

“What happened?” I asked, crouching beside her. She looked like a wilted flower, her head buried in her knees, eyes squeezed shut.

“Are you okay?” I tried again, dread pooling in my stomach as I saw her trembling hands. Her breath came in quick bursts, and my heart raced.

She mumbled something I couldn’t catch, her palm pressed hard against her leg. “Let me see,” I urged, only to be hit with a wave of horror: a deep gash across her palm, crimson pooling onto the cold tiles.

Oh, no...

Panic surged as I scooped her up, her fragile body slumping against mine. “You’re okay,” I whispered, the words feeling hollow. “It’s okay.”

I hurried her to the sink, the cool water a sharp contrast to the rising heat in the lab. She buried her face in my chest, her panic palpable against my shirt.

“Is there still blood?” she murmured, voice barely above a whisper.

“Mostly gone. But we need to get to the ER,” I insisted, urgency tightening my tone.

She groaned, eyes still shut tight, her composure slipping away.

“Please, open your eyes,” I pleaded, gently lifting her chin. I rubbed my thumb along her cheek, trying to anchor her to reality.

“Can you walk?”

She nodded weakly, but when she tried to stand, her legs buckled. I swept her back up, panic clawing at my throat.

What have I done? The air felt thick with dread, and I knew I had to get her out of there.

I carried her to my car, the world outside fading into a blur, as if the universe was holding its breath. Carefully, I placed her in the passenger seat, her eyes still shut like she was blocking out the horrors around us. I fastened her seatbelt, feeling the weight of the moment. "Please say something," I urged, glancing at her, desperate for any sign of life.

"I hate blood," she mumbled, voice fragile.

Relief washed over me—she was talking. It struck me as strange that a pre-med student would detest blood. "Are you still dizzy?"

She nodded, and my heart sank at her admission. The crease in her forehead deepened, and I wanted nothing more than to smooth it away.

"We’ll be at the hospital in ten minutes," I promised, focusing on the road ahead.

"Would you distract me, so I don’t think about the blood?"

"I don’t know how," I admitted sheepishly.

"Say something funny."

"Funny? Okay. It’s pretty funny that you want to go to med school and you faint at the sight of blood."

"Who says I'm pre-med?" she shot back, and I blinked in surprise.

"You're not?"

"No, and that really wasn’t funny. Talking about blood isn’t going to help me forget about it."

Frustration clawed at me as I struggled for something to say.

"What do you want me to say?"

"Don’t you know any jokes?" There was an edge of frustration in her voice.

"No."

"Everyone knows at least one joke, Yoongi." The way she said my name sent a jolt through me, tightening my stomach with something close to admiration.

Before I knew it, I blurted out the lamest joke I could remember from college. "Two hydrogen atoms walk into a bar," I began, watching her lips twitch upward. "One says, ‘I think I've lost an electron.’ The other asks, ‘Are you sure?’ The first replies, ‘Yes. I'm positive.’"

I cringed at how cheesy it was, but when her smile finally broke through, it felt like winning the lottery.

"That was lame," she said, but the glimmer of her smile gave me hope.

At a red light, I risked a glance at her. Her eyes were still closed, but the pale green tint to her skin had faded, replaced by a healthy glow. My heart swelled with relief.

The driver behind me honked impatiently, snapping me back to reality.

"Does it hurt?" I asked, noticing her fingers curling around her injured wrist.

She nodded, a pout forming on her lips that made my heart ache. I nearly missed a stop sign, cursing under my breath.

"God, I’m such a jerk," I muttered, guilt gnawing at me. I had messed up, all in the name of a stupid joke. I racked my brain for something else to say but came up empty.

"I don’t know any more jokes, but I was good at geeky pickup lines back in college," I offered, desperate to lift her spirits. Her smile returned, lighting up the car.

"This better be good," she warned teasingly.

"If I were an enzyme, I’d be DNA helicase, so I could unzip your genes."

"Oh my God," she snorted, and I laughed, relieved to see her react. "Did you use that on anybody?"

"Maybe," I hinted, my chest tightening with excitement.

"Did it work?"

"No," I admitted, but I was laughing now, and she was grinning, even with her eyes still closed. I was determined to keep her smiling.

"Oh! Do you like The Police?"

"The police?" She frowned, confusion crossing her features.

"Yeah…"

"As in the profession?"

"No, you dork. The band. Sting's band?"

"Oh, yeah. I guess." She shrugged.

And against my better judgment, I cleared my throat and began singing. "Every bond you break… Every electron you take…"

Finally, her eyes fluttered open, surprise and delight dancing across her face. I couldn’t help but wiggle my eyebrows, and her smile broadened, banishing the shadows of panic. "Oh, can’t you see, you’re covalently bonded to me…" I sang, pouring my energy into the ridiculousness of it. Nothing felt more beautiful than the light in her eyes.

How had I never noticed how amazing her smile was before?

We pulled into the University’s Medical Center in under ten minutes, just like I expected. I parked quickly and rushed around to help her out, but she stumbled out on her own, nearly losing her balance. I caught her just before she could face plant onto the pavement—or worse, land hard on her injured hand.

I could feel irritation bubbling up inside me. Did she really think I wouldn’t help? Sure, I was an idiot sometimes, but I still had a decent sense of gentlemanly instincts.

“Can you walk?” I asked, keeping my hand around her elbow as we approached the entrance.

“I think so,” she replied softly, but I kept my grip steady, guiding her into the emergency room.

Inside, a flicker of relief hit me—the place was nearly empty, and we should get seen fairly quickly. “Hello,” I said to the front desk lady, who was glued to her computer screen. She glanced up, her expression completely bored, and didn’t reply. Instant dislike.

“She cut her hand, and it looks deep,” I said, gesturing toward Y/N beside me.

“Name?” The front desk lady’s question hung in the air like a sword about to drop, and suddenly, I froze.

Goddammit…

She didn’t mean my name. My stomach twisted as I desperately searched my memory. I couldn’t believe I’d forgotten her name again.

It starts with a B, doesn’t it? I racked my brain, stalling as the front desk lady’s eyebrows shot up impatiently.

“Y/N Y/L/N,” came the shaky voice next to me, cutting through my fog of embarrassment.

God, I was such an idiot! I wanted to punch myself for being so careless.

I looked at her—Y/N—and even though she shook her head, a grin crept onto the corner of her mouth. Maybe, just maybe, I was forgiven. Y/N, Y/N, Y/N… I repeated silently, determined that this time I would remember.

I was convinced that the “doctor” tending to Y/N wasn’t a real doctor—not yet, anyway. He claimed the cut wasn’t deep and that it hadn’t damaged any tendons or nerves. He even said it was clean enough to glue shut, which apparently was a thing now. But my gut twisted with doubt; something about him set off alarms in my head.

Y/N had her eyes squeezed shut, clutching my hand like it was a lifeline while this wannabe physician—Doogie Howser, I mentally dubbed him—cleaned her wound. She perched on the examination table, her injured hand resting on a tray beside her, as I stood behind her, anxiety tightening my chest. In the chaos of her injury and my desperate attempts to care for her, her ponytail had loosened, hanging low at the nape of her neck. A sudden curiosity gripped me: What would her hair look like, cascading down like a waterfall?

“Y/N,” I whispered, leaning closer, needing to say her name again, to engrain it into my memory. “Breathe through your mouth. It’ll help.”

I lingered near her neck, unable to pull away, drawn by something I couldn’t quite name. I tried to find the words to describe her scent—something fresh, like the morning air spilling through an open window—but words failed me. I’d caught a hint of it earlier when I held her close at the sink, but now, in the confined space of the ER, it enveloped me, bringing back echoes of happier times.

Y/N smelled good—no, different. Refreshing, like the world waking up after a long sleep. And I was trapped in this moment, lost in the intoxicating blend of her presence and the sterile smell of antiseptic.

Every time she flinched, my instinct was to lash out at Doogie. I wanted to punch him for every wince that slipped from her lips, but I knew that wouldn’t help; it might just make things worse. I fought against the urge to ask the nurse for someone else to help her, terrified to leave her side. So I stayed, fingers entwined with hers, trying to offer some measure of comfort in the storm of uncertainty.

When Doogie finished and began to bandage her hand, I felt a wave of relief wash over me as she released her grip. I stepped back, taking a breath that felt heavy in my chest. Tension still coiled inside me; I hated that she’d gotten hurt, but a part of me marveled at her resilience. Despite her aversion to blood, she had held herself together with a strength I hadn’t given her credit for. There was more to Y/N than I realized, and that realization struck me hard.

“Listen, I’m really sorry,” I said once we were back in the car, the weight of guilt pressing down on me.

“It’s okay. It’s not your fault I’m such a klutz.” She offered a radiant smile that twisted my insides with guilt all over again.

“So, what happened?” I asked tentatively, hoping against hope that this wasn’t really my fault.

“I was carrying a rack of test tubes when that thing started shooting vapor out. I freaked out. I thought it was going to explode! So I dropped the tubes and cut my hand trying to pick them up,” she admitted, embarrassment creeping into her voice as she stared down at her hands.

I should have known...

“Shit…” I thumped my head against the steering wheel, frustration bubbling up inside me.

“Hey, stop.” Her hand reached up to my shoulder, a gentle gesture that only deepened my self-loathing. “You couldn’t possibly have known that thing was going to start leaking, right?” I peeked at her, guilt etched on my face. She scrutinized me, her brow furrowing as realization dawned. “You did know, didn’t you?” Her hand dropped from my shoulder, and I felt the accusation hanging between us like a thick fog.

“Y/N, I’m so sorry,” I said earnestly, trying to convey the depth of my regret, how much I hated myself for her injury.

“You’re unbelievably cruel!” she shot back, eyebrows knitting together as she glared at me.

She was right, but I felt compelled to explain. “There wasn’t any risk of you getting hurt. The door just leaks a little vapor. I was going to close it after you got scared. It was a stupid joke, Y/N. You weren’t supposed to get hurt.”

“Well, excuse me for ruining your prank,” she snapped, rolling her eyes and turning away from me.

Sarcasm. Just lovely.

“I am truly sorry. Can you forgive me?” I asked, keeping my gaze on her even though she pointedly avoided me.

“Whatever, Yoongi.” She shrugged, irritation radiating from her as she stared out the window.

I wanted to tell her she was acting like a child, but I held my tongue, knowing that teasing her wouldn’t help my case. Instead, I focused on driving, ruminating on how to make this right again.

How the hell do I fix this?

“Stay here. I’ll be right back,” I said to Y/N, trying to sound calm even though a knot twisted in my stomach as I parked in front of the research building.

“This is really not necessary, Yoongi. I’m fine,” she replied, brushing off my concern.

“Y/N, can you please, just for once, not contradict me?” I shot back, frustration bubbling under the surface.

“I never contradict you!” she protested, eyes wide in disbelief.

I fixed her with a glare until the tension between us shifted, and a small smile broke through her pout as I climbed out of the car. Maybe I was getting through to her, even just a little.

I dashed into the lab to grab her bag, but was abruptly halted when I spotted Jimin hunched over her bench. An urge to warn Y/N about the mess brewing in the autoclave room hit me hard.

“Jimin?” I called, feeling an unusual tension in the air as he turned to me, eyes wide like I’d just spoken an alien dialect. We rarely exchanged more than necessary pleasantries. “There’s a big mess in the autoclave room. I’ll be right back to clean it up.”

“And you’re telling me this why?” he shot back, still looking as confused as a cat in a dog park.

“There’s a bunch of glass… I don’t know. My undergrad—she dropped the tubes. I—” The words tumbled out in a jumbled mess, and Jimin continued to stare at me like I’d just pulled a rabbit out of a hat. “Never mind,” I muttered, eager to escape the awkwardness.

“How’s that for a change? First, you have her doing your chores, and now you’re cleaning up after her,” he called after me.

I spun around to glare at him, irritation sparking. Sure, he was right, but I had bigger problems than petty lab gossip. I left him behind, shaking off the encounter.

When I climbed back into the car, Y/N was waiting for me, eyebrow raised, holding a CD case. My stomach dropped as I recognized it—my mom’s treasured Carpenters album.

“Really, Yoongi?” she asked, her smile widening. “The Carpenters? Okay, cool.” She casually tucked the CD case back into the glove box.

She was teasing me—smiling at me. That had to be a good sign, right? Maybe she had forgiven me after all.

I couldn’t help but let my gaze linger on her face, how her smile lit up the whole car. It was stunning; how had I never noticed it before? A pang of regret hit me for all the moments I had let slip by.

“Are you okay?” Y/N’s voice broke through my thoughts, pulling me back to reality.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just—uh, how’s your living situation?” I mumbled as I started the car and drove off, reminding myself to keep it together. She’s just an undergrad, I thought, shaking off the flutter in my stomach.

As I parked in front of her building, my chest tightened again. I was still angry—mostly at myself—for letting her get hurt. I wouldn’t feel at ease until she was safely tucked inside her apartment.

“Are you still dizzy?” I asked, unable to hide the concern in my voice.

“I think I’m all right now,” she replied, a small grin dancing on her lips.

Would it be weird if I walked her to her door? Did guys still do that? It had been ages since I’d been on a date. What was the protocol these days?

What the hell am I thinking? This isn’t a date.

But she didn’t look a hundred percent. Maybe carrying her bag would help. I climbed out of the car, and she shot me a bewildered look as I opened her door.

“I’ll feel better once I know you’re safe inside,” I insisted, my voice firm.

“I’m fine. You don’t hav—”

“Please, humor me,” I interrupted.

Y/N hesitated, then took my hand as she stumbled out of the car. I grabbed her backpack, and we walked inside together, a strange sense of connection warming the air between us.

At her door, she paused, her hand hovering over the doorknob. When she turned to look at me, her brown eyes sparkled with something I couldn’t quite pin down.

“I’ll see you Tuesday then,” I said, handing her the bag.

“Yes. Tuesday.” Her gaze flickered up through her long lashes, and I was momentarily mesmerized. “Not Monday.” A playful grin crept across her face, and I felt my breath catch at the sight of her eyes crinkling with delight. “You know why not Monday?”

I was still entranced by her smile and completely missed the point she was trying to make. “Because rainy days and Mondays always get me down,” she said, and heat rushed to my cheeks.

Great… she’s making fun of me.

I took a deep breath and snorted, forcing myself to look away from her lips. “You’re such a dork, Y/N. How long have you been waiting to say that?”

“Too long.” Her giggle sent my heart racing, a rhythm I couldn't ignore.

“Good night, Y/N,” I replied, managing a smile despite my racing heart.

As I walked back to my car, I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the window and was horrified to find myself grinning like a fool. I frowned and climbed inside, but before I could drive away, I pulled my mom’s CD from the glove box, popped it in, and began to hum along.

Why do birds suddenly appear… every time… you are near?

I slammed on the brakes and hit the eject button.

Holy shit, what the hell is wrong with me?

Thankfully, when I returned to the lab, Jimin was gone. I started cleaning up the autoclave room, picking up shards of glass and mopping away the blood from the floor. As I worked, I spotted Y/N’s lab coat next to the sink, and my heart sank. It didn’t look festive anymore; it resembled a tattered Halloween costume.

Shit… She loved that ridiculous thing, and now it was ruined.

Before I knew it, I found myself washing the lab coat. I tried everything, even bleach. When I was done, the blood stains had vanished, but so had the whimsical bacteria drawings she’d painstakingly decorated it with.

Fuck my life...

When Hoseok called, I told him the chances of me making it to Serena’s party were slim. “I’m stuck in the lab and still have a long way to go,” I said, leaving out the details of my time spent doodling on a lab coat that now looked like a toddler’s art project. I also didn’t mention that I was starting Y/N’s experiment along with my own.

After inspecting the now-ruined lab coat, I realized I couldn’t give it back to her. Tossing it felt wrong, though—I’d just spent hours on the damn thing. So, I wrapped it in a plastic bag and tucked it under my desk, trying to forget it existed.

I left the lab after two in the morning, exhausted but restless. My mind buzzed with thoughts, not about experiments this time, but about Y/N—how she had gotten hurt because of me, and yet she hadn’t unleashed her fury. Somehow, she felt bigger than this. Bigger than me.

God, I’ve been such an asshole.

Images of her haunted me throughout the night. The way she smiled at my lame jokes, how she laughed at my terrible rendition of “Every Breath You Take.” I couldn’t remember the last time I’d sung to someone, not since my mom had forced me to sing The Carpenters with her. I turned over in bed, a smile creeping onto my face at the memory.

I didn’t have to be a jerk to Y/N anymore. I didn’t want to be. It wasn’t her fault grad school was a pain. If anything, having her around made it bearable. Maybe I could lighten up a bit… or maybe we could both learn something from this. No, I wanted to be nicer to her. I wanted to see her smile.

I want to make her smile?

First The Carpenters, now this?

When did I turn into such a marshmallow?

Monday night in the dingy gym felt like a scene straight out of a bad movie. The fluorescent lights flickered overhead, casting a harsh, sterile glow that did nothing to uplift the atmosphere. Hoseok and I were at the bench press, trading off sets like two battered soldiers in a war that would never be chronicled. I stood behind him, bracing for the weight, but my gaze was pulled away, caught in the orbit of something infinitely more captivating.

There she was—Y/N—effortlessly gliding on the treadmill like she was born to run. Her ponytail swung rhythmically with each stride, a pendulum marking the time as she jogged. My breath hitched, a tightening in my chest as I let my eyes wander down her back, tracing the delicate curve of her spine. And then—oh God—those shorts. Tiny and black, they hugged her body in a way that made my heart race uncontrollably.

The fabric didn’t just cling; it cradled her curves, indenting just enough in the middle to draw the eye downwards. I could almost feel the heat radiating off her skin, my mind spiraling into places I really didn’t want it to go.

“Dude! Hold the bar, would ya?” Hoseok’s voice jolted me from my daze. I blinked hard, shaking off the spell as I refocused on the weights pressing down on him.

“Right, sorry,” I mumbled, fumbling with the bar as I lifted it off him.

Hoseok wiped the sweat from his brow, the glistening drops catching the unforgiving light. I tried desperately to keep my thoughts in check, to suppress the smirk that threatened to creep onto my face, but my eyes betrayed me, fixating once more on Y/N’s ass as it bounced with every determined step on the treadmill.

“What is it?” Hoseok shot me a sideways glance, amusement dancing in his eyes. He knew. Damn him. “You look like a kid in a candy store.”

“Nothing,” I shot back, the word cracking like ice beneath my weight. I raked a hand through my hair, feeling more like a deer caught in headlights than a man. “That’s... um... that’s my undergrad.”

“Your undergrad?” He nearly shouted, and I winced at the volume.

“Shut up!” I hissed, heat creeping up my neck.

“She’s your undergrad?” He lowered his voice, his tone conspiratorial, as if we were discussing some top-secret mission.

“Yes,” I said, willing myself to tear my gaze from Y/N and muster some semblance of composure. “I don’t know why she’s here. This is the first time I’ve seen her in this gym.”

“Are you kidding?” Hoseok replied, incredulous. “She’s here all the time! You’ve just never noticed because you’re practically blind.”

My eyes darted back to her. She was still running, blissfully unaware of the storm brewing behind me. Could Hoseok really be right? Had I been so wrapped up in my own world that I hadn’t seen her before?

But then again, I didn’t recognize anyone else in this place. I came here every day—every damn day—and not one face looked familiar. Blind. I was completely blind.

And yet, here I was, rooted to the spot, entranced by the hypnotic sway of her hips, the way her legs flexed with each determined stride. It was as if she had cast a spell over me, one I didn’t want to break. But I had to; I was standing there like a moron, the weight of Hoseok’s gaze a smirk stretched across his face as he shifted to take his place on the bench.

“Yoongi!” he called, pulling me from my daydream. “It’s your turn.”

I shook my head as if waking up from a fog and stepped to the bench, but my mind remained tangled in thoughts of what I’d just seen. Y/N’s form, bouncing like it was teasing me, was too much. Too distracting. My body was responding in ways I hadn’t felt in years, and it took every ounce of willpower to focus on lifting weights instead of ogling her.

Then, as if she sensed my eyes on her, Y/N turned her head slightly, her gaze locking with mine. For a brief moment, the world melted away—the gym, the weight, the noise—all faded into the background as our eyes met. She faltered on the treadmill, her grip tightening on the bars like a lifeline before she recovered just in time.

What was I doing? I didn’t realize I was moving until I stood beside her, the tension thick enough to slice through the air.

“Hi,” I managed, the word slipping out like a confession.

“Hi?” Her smile lit up the stale space between us, brightening everything. “Who are you and what did you do to my bitter grad student?”

“What?” I stammered, disbelief knotting my stomach. “You’ve seen me here before?”

*Her eyes rolled in a way that was both exasperating and endearing. “Yes.”

“Well, I’m saying hi now. So, hi.”

“Hi…” she giggled, and I felt a low groan bubble up from my chest. What was happening? I hated how she made me feel, how she toppled everything I thought I had under control.

“How’s your hand?” I asked, grasping for something to anchor myself in this whirlwind of emotions.

“It’s fine,” she said, lifting her bandaged hand like it was a trophy. But I was lost, mesmerized by the way her lips moved, the way she tucked her hair behind her ear, and how the sweat glistened on her skin.

I needed to leave before my body betrayed me further. “Um, I should go,” I interrupted, offering a shaky goodbye as I fled, a whirlwind of confusion and unwanted desire crashing over me.

What the hell was happening to me?

I ran home, my legs pumping, heart racing, trying to outrun the chaotic thoughts swirling in my mind. It had been four years since Estelle, and the memory felt as distant as a long-forgotten dream. But Y/N was everywhere now, invading my thoughts—her freckles, her laugh, those bangs that had once annoyed me but now framed her face like a masterpiece.

I stormed through my apartment, shedding my sweat-soaked clothes, bewildered by this tempest of feelings. I couldn’t fathom why it had taken me so long to notice her, why she had pierced through the fog of my indifference and settled in my mind like an unwelcome guest.

In the shower, the warm water cascaded over me, soothing yet insufficient to wash away the turmoil. She was a kid, for Christ’s sake! Nineteen? Twenty? Too young, too innocent for someone like me. I banged my head against the tiled wall, cursing my own weakness.

And yet, even as I stood there, I could feel her presence lingering, like a ghost clinging to the edges of my consciousness—a haunting I couldn’t shake. Was I becoming one of those men who pursued young girls, crossing lines drawn in the sand, sliding down that slippery slope of desire? The universe had a wicked sense of humor.

God, I hoped I wouldn’t see her again at the gym. The very thought sent a chill down my spine—a mix of longing and guilt. But there I was, fantasizing about her hands instead of my own.

When did I become such a creep?

I’m in a foul mood. Not a glimmer of sunshine inside me, just the dense fog of irritability that seems to thicken the air around me. Maybe it’s the weight of the world pressing down on my shoulders, or maybe it’s just Tuesday. Either way, I know I’ll probably regret having lunch with Hoseok today, but deep down, I’m still holding onto the hope that, by some miracle, he didn’t notice my bizarre behavior at the gym last night.

As I step into the lunchroom, Hoseok’s voice slices through the stillness. “What the heck happened to you yesterday?”

Well, so much for miracles.

“Nothing. Why?” I try to sound casual as I toss my food into the microwave, but my heart races in protest.

“Nothing? You nearly killed me, bolted off to talk to Y/N, and then stormed out. That seems normal to you?” He raises an eyebrow, a mischievous grin stretching across his face.

I shrug, feigning indifference, but my stomach twists.

“We were supposed to have drinks with Serena and her friend with the—” he gestures dramatically, “the big personality.”

“Listen, you and Serena need to stop setting me up with her friends.”

“Why? Did you take a vow of celibacy or something?”

“I’m just not in the mood for this today, Hoseok.” I plop down in a chair, my food forgotten.

“Is it because of Y/N?” he asks, cheeks bulging with half-chewed food.

“No,” I reply, fighting the urge to roll my eyes. “And her name is Y/N, by the way.”

“OH. MY. GOSH. It is! You’re totally crushing on her!” Hoseok leaps from his chair, fork aimed at me like a weapon. His eyes widen as if he’s just uncovered a major conspiracy.

“What? NO!”

“Dude, you remembered her name!” He plops back down beside me, practically vibrating with excitement.

“Hoseok, what does that—”

“Oh man. This is too good... like, really, really good.” His grin is the kind that makes me want to punch him—or maybe just smack some sense into him.

“Hoseok, please. Just for one day…” I rub my forehead, trying to ease the confusion tightening my temples. The last thing I need is Hoseok’s theories swirling around my mind like a chaotic storm.

“Okay, okay…” He continues to chew, stealing glances at me every few seconds. “So, when’s Yoonji coming?” he asks, smirking, and I shoot him a glare that could curdle milk.

So what if I remembered her name? It hardly means anything. I’ve been working with her for weeks now. I’m not some clueless idiot; I can remember a name. I don’t care what Hoseok or Yoonji think. This is nothing. This doesn’t mean anything.

Except it does. Because Y/N, not “the girl” or “the undergrad,” is going to be in the lab when I return. And I’m not just aware of it—I’m looking forward to it. I want to see her smile, to hear her laugh.

I want to hear her giggle? Jesus, I need to get a grip on myself.

My bad mood evaporates the moment I spot Y/N at my bench, scribbling away in her notepad. Her hair cascades over her shoulder, wild and free. It should bother me—should send alarm bells ringing—but it doesn’t. It looks soft and inviting, and suddenly, all I want is to run my fingers through it.

Okay… I’ve really lost it now.

And just like that, my bad mood crashes back in.

“I can’t find my lab coat,” she says, tying her hair up with an intensity that almost makes me envious.

I feel a spark of irritation at the safety rules that dictate her hair must be tied back. I find myself imagining the kinds of experiments that would allow her to leave it down, just so I could watch it flow freely.

“Do you know where it could be?” she asks, glancing up at me.

I’ve completely lost track of her words, staring at her blankly.

“My lab coat?” she repeats, tilting her head.

Right… the lab coat.

“Let me get you a new one. That one was all covered in blood.”

“No, it’s fine. I’ll wash it.”

“We have lab coats here, Y/N—new ones. I’ll get you one,” I say, moving past her, determination pushing me forward.

She stops me, grabbing my elbow. “Please, can I have my old one back?” Her eyes are wide and earnest, as if I hold the key to some sacred treasure.

A flush of embarrassment rises in me, and instead of confessing, I lie. “I threw it away.”

“What? Why?” Her gaze pierces through my flimsy excuse.

“It was covered in blood!” I bark, frustration bubbling over.

“I could have washed it!” she snaps, defiance igniting her eyes.

“I’m getting you a new one.”

“I don’t want a new one. Is this some cruel joke? Because if it is, I’d really, really like my lab coat back. It means a lot to me.” The shift in her expression from anger to sadness tugs at something deep within me. Her eyes glisten with unshed tears, like I’ve just crushed her puppy.

Realization washes over me like a cold wave: I’m making her cry. With a deep sigh, I relent. “Okay, I didn’t get rid of it.”

“Oh thank God,” she breathes, closing her eyes in relief.

“But… I tried to wash it, and the bloodstains wouldn’t come out. I thought it would be a good idea to use bleach. And it was. I mean, it got rid of the bloodstains, but it also erased your drawings.”

“Oh no…” Her eyes fly open, panic etching her features.

“I’m sorry. Can I please get you a new one?” I plead, hoping to smooth over this disaster before it spirals further.

“I would really prefer to have my old one back,” she insists, crossing her arms defiantly, her gaze unwavering.

Jesus! Why does she have to be so difficult?

“You’re not going to let this go, are you?” I groan. She’s staring at me like she’s just won the lottery, and I can’t bring myself to back down. “Fine…” I reach under my desk for the bag containing her lab coat and hand it over, feeling like I’m offering her a corpse.

I should have burned the damn thing.

Her gasp as she pulls the coat from the bag makes my stomach drop.

“Oh my gosh!” She turns it around, inspecting the shapes I drew in a moment of misguided creativity. When she spots my pathetic attempt at rewriting “Bacteria Rule” on the back, she giggles, and I swear my heart stumbles.

How do I keep up with her?

One minute, she’s annoyed; the next, she’s crying; now, she’s laughing. It’s like watching a storm change directions on a whim.

“You… did you do this?” She glances up at me, her eyelashes still damp, and my chest tightens painfully.

“Yeah, it looks even more ridiculous now. Didn’t think that was possible. Would you please let me get you a new one?”

“Oh no. I’m wearing this one,” she chirps, slipping her arms into the sleeves like she’s donning a crown.

“Please say you’re kidding.”

“What? It’s perfect!” she beams, buttoning the coat closed, that radiant smile piercing through my irritation.

Even as she parades around in that god-awful coat, all I can think about is pulling her close and kissing her senseless. It’s ridiculous and utterly baffling, but I can’t shake it.

I really must have lost it now.

The morning air felt heavy, thick with a strange malaise that weighed on me like a thick blanket. "So, what's on the agenda for today, Boss?" Y/N chirped, her pen clicking in a cheerful rhythm as she flipped open her notebook, the sound almost irritatingly upbeat.

"Don’t call me Boss," I grumbled, trying to shake off the oppressive darkness that seemed to cling to me like damp fog.

"Okay, Grumpy. What are we doing today?" Her smile was a bright spark against the backdrop of my brooding mood.

I could tell she was trying to be funny, deliberately poking at my irritation. With an exasperated huff, I shoved the list of activities at her. "Try not to mess up this time, Becca."

She took the list with a theatrical pout, and I stifled a real smile beneath my carefully crafted mask of indifference—a skill I'd perfected over the years.

Her brow furrowed as she scanned the list. "I thought I was starting from scratch."

"You are," I replied, trying to keep my tone as casual as possible.

"But you did all these steps already." She pointed to the initial tasks, her voice laced with disbelief.

"I was bored Saturday," I said, as if boredom were an acceptable excuse for taking the initiative.

Her eyes darted between the list and mine, a spark of awe lighting up her face. "You started my experiment for me?"

The way she looked at me made my skin crawl—a mixture of discomfort and something warmer I didn’t want to acknowledge. I clamped down on my tongue, suppressing the urge to explain myself.

"You better get cracking, Y/L/N. There's a seminar at four I want to attend."

Her gaze lingered on me a moment longer before she shook it off, returning to her notebook. A sense of relief washed over me.

We worked in silence, but I could feel her stealing glances at me like a kid peeking into a haunted house. I knew—I just knew—I had crossed some invisible line. What I felt was tangled, a confusion I was desperate to untangle.

"What’s the seminar about?" she asked, her voice light with curiosity as we carried bottles of growth media to the incubators.

"I don’t know," I said, holding the door for her as we entered the incubator room.

"Then why are you going?" She squatted to stow the bottles inside, her dark hair falling around her face like a curtain.

"Free food." I shrugged, trying to sound indifferent.

"Seriously?" She looked up at me, disbelief written all over her features.

"Y/N… if you go to grad school, you’ll learn to appreciate the majesty of free food."

When she stood up, she released my hand with a huff, her pride surfacing. "When I go to grad school, I’ll enjoy the seminars, even without the free food."

"Right…" I turned away, shaking my head.

"So, can I come?" she asked shyly, her voice nearly drowned out by the hum of the incubators.

"You want to come to the seminar?" I shot her a skeptical glance.

"Hells to the yeah!"

I suppressed a snort, the surprise of her enthusiasm bubbling up inside me. "Why?"

"I might learn something."

"Okay, you can come, but the la-la-lab coat stays."

The thought of her actually being excited about attending a seminar with me sent a strange thrill through my chest, one that both excited and unnerved me.

As we made our way to the seminar, Y/N rattled on about her dreams for grad school, her voice bubbling over with energy. I struggled to interject, her words flowing like a vibrant stream, full of life.

When we reached the seminar room, she shook her head at my heaping plate of food. I settled into my seat, grateful for the chance to hide from the annoyed glances of the people behind us. Y/N plopped down beside me, her nervous energy radiating from her.

"That one with the sweater vest is Prof. Waylon," I said, nodding toward him. "He has a serious case of narcolepsy. Snores through the entire talk but wakes up right on cue to ask the hardest questions."

She giggled, and the sound pierced through the fog that had settled around me.

"And over there, with the red bow tie, is Dr. Amun-Kebi. Brilliant but completely bonkers—he discovered Quorum Sensing, yet can’t make eye contact because he’s too busy staring at the ceiling."

She snorted, laughter bubbling up as she covered her mouth, her joy infectious.

"Then there’s Jin," I continued, "who dresses like he’s going to a board meeting every day. Knows more adjectives than a thesaurus, but his favorite is definitely 'fascinating.'"

I mimicked Jin’s exaggerated tone, and Y/N laughed again, drawing some disapproving throat-clearing from the folks behind us.

"Main point is, Y/N," I said, "science makes you lose your mind. You’ve been warned."

"Oh, I think I can handle it," she replied, winking at me, and my heart twisted painfully in my chest.

As the speaker began, I couldn't help but chuckle when I noticed her furiously scribbling notes as if her life depended on it.

Once the seminar ended, we returned to the lab. Y/N still had work to catch up on after being away for an hour. I’d finished my tasks long ago, but I lingered, a shadow in the corner, unwilling to leave her alone in this sterile, fluorescent-lit space.

She closed her notebook with a satisfying smack and turned to me, her eyes bright. "This is so exciting! I can’t wait to see if it works this time."

"Yeah, you’ll get over it," I said, trying to keep my tone light.

"Have you always been such a grump? Or was there a time when you actually liked what you do?"

Her question hit me like a punch to the gut, catching me off guard. I could feel her gaze piercing through my defenses.

"I like what I do."

"Do you love it?"

Her question hung in the air like a dark cloud, and I found myself lost in a maze of memories, the joy of discovery overshadowed by the weight of expectations. Had there ever been a time when I shared her enthusiasm?

"I don’t really remember," I mumbled, avoiding the truth. "It’s getting late, Y/N. How are you getting home?"

"I’m walking."

"I’m walking too. Let’s go."

Did I used to love what I did? The memory felt elusive, slipping through my fingers like water.

As we walked, Y/N asked, "Why did you decide to go to grad school?"

"Why does anyone?" I shot back, a cryptic smirk teasing my lips.

"To make a difference? To revolutionize the field?"

"Very cute, Y/N."

"It’s not cute. It’s true."

"Is that why you want to go to grad school?"

"Yes. I’ve always wanted to help people. Since medical school is out of the question for me—"

"You’ll get over the smell of blood, Y/N."

"It’s not just that. I get too attached. I’d rather contribute silently from the lab." She smiled, her eyes sparkling. "Plus, where would medicine be without science? They’d still be pouring hot oil into wounds!"

I chuckled, a genuine laugh bubbling up like warmth breaking through winter’s chill. "You’re funny." The words slipped out before I could think better of it, and before I could process my thoughts, my fingers brushed against her arm, lingering over the fabric of her hoodie.

She halted, her cheeks tinged pink, her bottom lip caught between her teeth.

I froze, my hand dropping to my side, panic racing through me. That had to be inappropriate.

"I’ve been called worse," she joked, her smile radiating a warmth that sent shivers down my spine.

We walked on in silence until we reached her building.

"Do you live on campus too?" she asked, fishing for her keys from her bag.

"No. I live in Portage Bay."

"Oh… we passed that already."

"I know."

Suspicion flared in her gaze as she pieced things together, and I felt the weight of my own guilt creeping up on me. She would realize I was that gross old grad student trying to woo the sweet, naive undergrad—the very person I had mocked in others. The thought made my stomach churn.

"I know what you’re doing," she accused, crossing her arms defensively.

Here it comes…

"You feel guilty because I got hurt," she said, her voice steady. "You feel responsible. But you don’t have to do this."

Is that really what she thought?

"You think I’m walking you home out of guilt?" My voice was harsher than I intended, anger bubbling up inside me.

"I know you are."

"You don’t know anything," I spat, turning away, desperate to escape the rising tide of emotions threatening to drown me.

"Yoongi, wait!" she called after me, dread washing over me.

Keep walking… don’t look back.

I couldn’t believe she thought I was being nice out of guilt. I had done nothing but act like a jerk for too long, and now I was about to lose the only flicker of light stupid, lonely world.

God, she had no clue.

Wednesday morning felt heavy with an unsettling quiet when Y/N arrived at the lab a little earlier than usual. I was already there, lurking like a shadow in the corner, unable to shake off the ghosts of a sleepless night. I busied myself with the equipment, clinging to the hope that keeping my distance would somehow quell the anger simmering beneath my skin.

It was confusing, really. I was furious with her—not just because of the injury that haunted my thoughts like a ghost, but because she had twisted my kindness into something it wasn’t. Sure, I felt like a hollow shell, the guilt gnawing at my insides like a rat in a rotting wall, but that didn’t mean I didn’t enjoy walking her home. Yesterday’s seminar had been a strange kind of fun—the first I’d experienced in what felt like ages.

As I returned to the lab, pretending to check something in my desk drawer, I caught her gaze from across the bench. The way her eyes followed me stirred something deep inside, a mix of frustration and longing I couldn’t quite place. I tried to slip away, but as I turned to leave, her fingers brushed against my elbow.

“Hey, I’m sorry about yesterday,” she said, her voice soft and sincere, those puppy-dog eyes piercing through my defenses. Warmth rushed through me, a strange blend of emotions swirling inside. “It was really nice of you to walk with me. Thank you.”

With a timid smile, she released my arm, leaving me reeling, torn between the urge to pull her back and the need to retreat. Just then, I caught sight of Jimin, his piercing blue eyes wide with suspicion from the shadows of the lab. What the hell?

“You’re welcome,” I muttered dryly to Y/N, my voice almost a growl, before storming away, seeking refuge from the chaos in my head.

In the media preparation room, I paced like a caged animal, cracking my knuckles repeatedly to chase away the madness. This was absurd. I was losing it over a girl—an undergrad—who seemed blissfully unaware of the tempest she stirred within me. Deep breaths. Focus. But I knew this strange obsession wasn’t going anywhere.

When I returned to the lab, I found Jungkook leaning casually against my bench, chatting with Y/N. She wore that timid smile again, twisting something inside me. My hands curled into fists, rage and jealousy flaring up like a wildfire.

“I’ll see you Friday,” Jungkook said, flashing a grin as he sauntered past me. Did he just ask her out? The urge to grab him by the ponytail and shove him to the floor was overwhelming. “What did he want?” I spat, unable to contain the fury boiling within.

“Nothing,” she replied innocently, her attention flitting back to her notebook as if she hadn’t just tossed gasoline on my fire.

“Y/N,” I hissed, slicing through the air with my words, demanding her attention. “What did he want?”

“Nothing important,” she clarified, but her eyes locked onto mine, searching. My resolve wavered. What the hell was wrong with me? The desire to pummel Jungkook quickly transformed into an intense longing to press my lips against that bottom lip she kept biting. The confusion swirled around us, thick and suffocating, and I felt trapped.

Just then, Jimin reentered the lab, breaking the spell that had ensnared us. I stepped back, the tension snapping like a brittle twig, and Y/N sighed, disappointment heavy in the air.

“Are you done?” I asked, my voice cold, each word laced with the weight of my internal turmoil. “I need to use the bench.”

Hurt flickered in her eyes before she masked it, and guilt settled in my stomach like a stone. I tried to focus on my work, but her presence lingered, a distraction gnawing at my concentration until she finally left for the day. This is ridiculous! Why did she affect me so much? I couldn’t keep living like this.

Thursday afternoon arrived, and I maneuvered around Y/N like a ghost. I didn’t want to be a jerk, but the thought of her and Jungkook had me seething. It felt like every nerve in my body was on fire, irritation coiling tighter with every passing second. I tried to stick to succinct answers and instructions, but the tension thickened around us like fog.

As we received her sequencing results, I could no longer pretend she didn’t exist. She pulled a chair next to me at my desk, her presence suffocatingly close. My fingers twitched on the mouse, nerves sparking as I avoided glancing her way. She tapped her pen rhythmically; each tap a countdown to my sanity.

“Please, stop that,” I groaned, frustration spilling over.

She halted instantly, a sigh escaping her lips, and my heart sank. I hated feeling this way—trapped between annoyance and an attraction that sent shivers down my spine. How was that even possible?

Finally, the software loaded, and I opened her file. Y/N gasped, and I held my breath as she leaned closer, the tension between us palpable.

“Sample 1. Ran well. Sample 2. Ran well… ran well, ran well, ran well…” All fifty samples had run flawlessly. Impressive. I couldn’t recall a time when every single sequencing reaction had succeeded; there was always a failure or two. Y/N was undeniably skilled.

As I turned to her, a smile crept onto my lips despite myself. Her eyes sparkled with joy, and before I could process it, she squeaked, throwing her arms around my neck. Her warmth enveloped me, her hair brushing against my face, and the world narrowed to just her, the scent of her shampoo intoxicating. My body responded in ways I couldn’t understand.

I shot up from my chair, breaking the spell. “Sorry,” she mumbled, her cheeks a deep crimson, laughter spilling from her lips. “I’m just so happy! They all worked!”

My heart raced, shock coursing through me as I struggled to regain composure. The pull I felt toward her was almost unbearable, thrumming like an electric wire, demanding release.

“Good job,” I managed, forcing my voice to remain steady. But as she smiled at me, her joy tearing through my carefully constructed barriers, I knew I was in deep trouble. I wanted to hold her again, to kiss her until the world faded away. God, I needed help.

As I turned to her, a smile crept onto my lips despite myself. Her eyes sparkled with joy, and before I could process it, she squeaked, throwing her arms around my neck, her warmth enveloping me, her hair brushing against my face. The world narrowed to just her, the scent of her shampoo intoxicating, my body responding in ways I couldn’t understand.

God, I needed help.

You know those days when nothing seems to go right? When you drag yourself out of bed, and it feels like the universe is playing tricks on you, pushing you back with every step forward? Yeah, today is one of those days. A downright miserable Friday, and I can’t help but feel that the promise of the weekend is just a hollow consolation.

This morning was a disaster. I tossed and turned all night, haunted by thoughts of Y/N. Her smile flickered in my mind like a candle caught in the wind—warm and inviting one moment, then snuffed out the next. The irony is, while I’m relieved I won’t have to face her today, the gnawing uncertainty of whether she’s out with Jungkook weighs heavily in my stomach. Anger simmers beneath my skin, bubbling over in waves I can’t seem to control.

As I step into the lunchroom, the emptiness greets me, broken only by the taunting hum of the microwave. I slam my fist against its cold metal side, frustrated when it refuses to cooperate. It beeps at me, a cruel mockery in the sterile silence. I slam the door shut again, and my temper flares.

“What did the microwave do to you?” A familiar voice cuts through my frustration. It’s Hoseok, ever the jester, his amusement practically radiating off him.

“It’s broken,” I mutter, fingers still mashing buttons like a madman.

“Step away from the microwave,” he orders, a playful yet firm tone in his voice. In two quick moves, he’s heating up my food. “What’s up your ass?”

“Nothing,” I groan, flopping down in a chair with a defeated sigh. “Just one of those days.”

“Why?”

“It’s just one of those days…” I can’t muster the energy to say more.

“Like, ‘Everything’s messed up and everyone sucks’?” He turns his baseball cap backward, bobbing his head as if ready to launch into a nu-metal anthem.

“Great, Hoseok. Quote Limp Bizkit. That’s really going to help.” I cut him off before he can get into full swing.

“Dude, you’re in a mood. What happened?” His eyes reflect genuine concern as he rummages through the fridge.

“Nothing,” I insist, rising to retrieve my Tupperware.

“Bullshit. I’ve known you for four years. This isn’t just a failed PCR kind of mood.” He crosses his arms, blocking my path.

Part of me wants to spill my guts, but the words feel lodged in my throat. Still, they tumble out. “If I tell you, can you at least try to be mature about it?”

“Mature is my middle name,” he grins, but I can’t help but scowl.

“Fine. It’s Y/N.”

“I knew it! I fucking knew it!”

I bury my face in my hands, feeling the weight of his excitement pressing down on me. “What happened?” he whispers, leaning in, all ears.

“She’s... I don’t know.”

“Come on, man. I’m serious.”

“Yeah, she’s out with Jungkook.”

“Jungkook?” Hoseok’s voice rises as if he’s just spotted a raccoon in the hall.

“Jesus, Hoseok!” I hiss. “Keep it down!”

“Sorry.” His whisper is tinged with amusement. “Jungkook fucking Jeon?”

“Yes.” I take a deep breath, frustration bubbling over. “And she’s my undergrad.”

“Puh-lease. Who cares?”

“I’m at least five years older than her,” I retort.

“The younger, the better.” He waggles his eyebrows, clearly enjoying this way too much.

“Disgusting.”

“Stop brooding, dude. Jeon’s got nothing on you. Go get your girl. She’s fine, and she was always checking you out at the gym—like I told you a thousand times.”

Y/N checking me out? No way. Hoseok’s just being delusional. I shake my head, dismissing his words. This fixation has to end. She’s just my undergrad. That’s all she’ll ever be—at least that’s what I keep telling myself.

Happy Hour. The name is ironic, a pathetic excuse for mingling—if you can even call it that. It never lasts an hour, and “happy” is a stretch, but hey, there’s free beer, so here I am. Alone in the corner, I down red cups like they might wash away the grime of the day. By the time Hoseok and Serena finally stroll in, I’ve polished off four.

“You’re here before us. That’s weird,” Serena quips as they approach.

“Thanks for the observation, Captain Obvious.”

“What’s his problem?” Serena glares at Hoseok, arms crossed.

“He’s in a mood,” Hoseok replies, handing me another red cup that I chug.

“Why?” Her tone is whiny, as if I owe her an explanation.

“Lady problems,” Hoseok shoots back before I can stop him.

“Yoongi has lady problems?” Serena sounds incredulous, as if she’s just discovered a new planet.

“I’m standing right here!” My voice is louder than I intended, laced with irritation.

“So you like a girl, Yoongi. Not the end of the world. I mean, this self-imposed celibacy was bound to end someday. I just wish I knew who she is.” She twists the conversation back to herself, as always.

“It’s not just a girl. It’s his undergrad,” Hoseok interjects, unable to contain his enthusiasm.

“You old perv!” Serena playfully smacks my chest, and I can feel the heat rise in my cheeks.

“I’m going to get fired,” I murmur, tipping my cup back for the last drops of liquid courage.

“No, you won’t, drama queen.” She dismisses me with a wave, annoyance radiating off her.

“It happens all the time! PIs hit on post-docs, post-docs on grad students, grads on undergrads. What world do you live in?”

“It’s like a jungle,” Hoseok chuckles.

“Shut up, Hoseok,” Serena snaps. “Good news is, now that there’s this girl, you can stop with the emo bitterness. It’s getting old.”

“Fuck you, Serena.”

“Hey, hey now,” Hoseok says, grabbing my arm. “Let’s go get another round.”

When we return, my anger toward Serena simmers just beneath the surface, but I’m too tipsy to think straight. “For your information, Serena, this girl has a name. Her name is Becca. No, wait... it’s Y/N! Dammit!” My palm meets my forehead in a facepalm of pure embarrassment.

“Wow. She must be something special, Yoongi. You don’t even know her name.”

“Baby, stop. He’s drunk, and he’s having a shitty day.”

“Why?”

“Y/N is out with Jungkook,” Hoseok explains.

“Jeon?” Serena’s expression shifts to one of shock, and they dive into speculation, completely oblivious to my presence.

I shut them out, groaning into my cup as I gulp it down. It’s true. I know it. Jungkook is with Y/N tonight, probably taking her to dinner and drinks, sharing laughs while I’m stuck here. My mind spirals into a dark abyss—what if he kisses her? What if she invites him in? God, I’m sick just thinking about it.

Of all the undergrads in this department, Jungkook Jeon had to go after mine. I hope Y/N gets drunk and spills her drink all over him.

Worst. Hangover. Ever.

Well, maybe not the worst, but it’s definitely up there. My head pounds like a jackhammer, and my stomach feels like a chaotic whirlpool of regret as I stumble into the shower. The hot water cascades over me, a fleeting relief, but all I can think about is how tempting sleep sounds right now. But I have things to do in the lab. Don’t I always?

The apartment is a total disaster zone—a messy tribute to last night’s antics. Red cups are scattered across the coffee table like the remnants of a forgotten battle, and chip crumbs litter the floor like confetti from a party that had long overstayed its welcome. Hoseok and Serena wouldn’t leave me alone last night, terrified I’d do something reckless, so we ended up bringing Happy Hour back to my place. I was just the third wheel, watching them get lost in their own world of laughter and flirting. By the time I woke up on the couch, blanketed by a pile of crumpled chips, they were long gone.

I shuffle into the library, desperate for my usual caffeine fix on the way to the lab, but my stomach is rebelling. Still, I know I’ll need that coffee to survive the day.

Inside, the library feels like a claustrophobic hive of undergrads buzzing around like over-caffeinated bees. It’s overwhelming.

What a nightmare!

I hurry to the coffee line, pouring sugar into my mug like it’s a lifeline. Just as I catch my breath, I spot her—Y/N—sitting at a table surrounded by a fortress of books. Her hair falls like a curtain, hiding her face from view. I can’t help myself; I’m drawn to her, like a moth to a flame.

“Hello, Y/N,” I say, sliding into the chair across from her.

She looks up, surprise flickering across her features, and for a moment, my heart races.

“Oh, so I’m back to being Y/N?” There’s no hint of humor in her voice, only seriousness, and it feels like a punch to the gut.

What’s going on? Where’s the smile that usually lights up her face?

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask, trying to keep my tone light as I settle in.

“What are you doing here?” she replies, her gaze cool and collected.

“Y/N, please go easy on me today. I’m not feeling great,” I admit, running a hand down my face, feeling every ache from the night before.

“Oh... what’s wrong?” Her stoic facade starts to crumble, replaced by genuine concern, and it warms me a bit.

“Too much beer,” I confess, and the word makes my stomach churn at the memory of my poor choices.

“I see... does that explain this?” She pulls out her phone and turns it toward me.

Grumpy: Becca, you’ve just revealed yourself to have absolutely no taste.

“Who the hell is Grumpy, and why does he call you Becca?” I blurt out, anger bubbling up before I can stop it.

Her eyes widen in disbelief. “You’re the only Grumpy I know.”

“Are you saying I sent you that text?”

“Yes,” she says, sighing as her eyes drift away like leaves in the wind.

I pull my phone from my pocket, my heart sinking as I check my sent texts.

Well, great…

“I’m sorry,” I mumble, rubbing my eyes, wishing I could take back last night’s mistakes.

“I’m not sure I understand what you mean either. No taste in what? Music? Food? Men?”

“Men?” I let out a dry laugh. “Jungkook is not a man. He’s a tool.”

“So this is about Jungkook?” she says, gesturing to her phone.

“Yes.” My brain feels sluggish, like I’m moving through molasses.

“Why do you care?”

“I’m uncomfortable with you dating my classmate,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest, trying to appear nonchalant.

“He’s not your classmate, and we’re not dating.”

“We both started our PhDs at the same time in the same program. That makes him my classmate… Wait… you’re not dating?”

“Not that it’s any of your business, but no. We went out for coffee, talked, he asked me out again, and I kindly declined. I’m focused on my studies right now, Yoongi, and I really don’t have room for anything more.”

“Oh…” Relief floods through me, even as my hangover rages on. I might even be smiling.

“Yes, oh indeed. Which brings me back to why you’re sitting here distracting me from my study session.”

“What are you studying?” I ask softly, a smile creeping onto my face, hoping to steer the conversation away from Jungkook.

“I have an organic chemistry exam on Monday.”

“Oh, I see…” I hesitate, but the temptation of spending time with her outweighs my growing pile of work in the lab. “Well, it might just be your lucky day, Y/L/N, because I happen to be an expert in all things organic chemistry.”

“You are?” Her lips curl into a small grin, and I feel a surge of relief wash over me. She’s back.

“I am…” I smile at her. “So, do you want some help?”

“I could use some help.”

Help… yeah… that’s what I’m here for… help.

For the next two hours, I guide Y/N through her organic reaction problem sets, all while ignoring my cooling coffee. She’s a quick study, soaking up the information, and I’m confident she’ll ace her test on Monday.

I keep my hands clasped between my knees—except when I need to draw reactions for her—wanting to hide how my fingers twitch every time she brushes her hair behind her ear.

Y/N is focused on her notebook, but the third time I yawn, she looks up at me.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, just tired. Didn’t get much sleep last night.”

“Tell me about it… On average, I get about four hours a night.”

“Four hours? If I don’t get at least six, I get grumpy.”

“Grumpier than this?” she says, waving a hand at me, a smile teasing at her lips.

“This,” I gesture to my chest, “this is the five-hours-of-sleep me.” I stretch, feeling my muscles pull, and I notice her eyes trace down my torso before I quickly pull my shirt down.

Was Y/N checking me out?

“Anyway…” I scramble for a distraction. “It’s healthy to sleep eight hours. I’m all about being healthy.”

“That’s ‘cause you’re an old man.”

“Hey… I’m only twenty-five!”

She laughs, and before I can ask how old she is, her gaze shifts behind me, and I can sense her tension.

“Shit…” she whispers.

“What?”

“Remember that guy I told you about, Jonah Rodgers, the stalker?” Her voice drops to a near whisper, laced with panic.

I wrack my brain, trying to recall. Y/N had a stalker? She looks at me, and it’s clear she knows I’m lost.

“Just play along, please,” she whispers, scooting her chair closer to me. Her hand brushes my knee, and I’m startled by the tentative touch.

A vague memory flickers in my mind—her acting strange around me one day, but it’s obscured by the haze of regret and longing.

Y/N’s gaze is intense, making it hard to focus on anything else. She smiles shyly, then looks down before peeking at me through her thick lashes.

God, what is she doing to me?

I know she’s faking it, pretending for someone else—but I can’t help how my body reacts, how hyper-aware I am of her presence. My hand moves to her cheek, my thumb tracing her soft skin. She blushes, biting her lip, and it sends a jolt through me, a deep ache to pull her closer—bring her lips to mine.

Her hand slides from my knee, brushing my thigh, and I can feel a warmth stirring inside me.

This isn’t real… it can’t be.

She’s still staring at me, and I’m lost in her gaze, wondering what she’s thinking, if she feels it too.

But then, all too soon, her attention darts behind me again.

“He’s gone,” she breathes, relief washing over her. Her hand rubs my thigh one last time before she withdraws. “Thank you.”

I know I should let go, but I can’t. My hand remains on her face, my thumb tracing her cheek while my fingers tangle in the nape of her neck. Her expression shifts, confusion knitting her brow. She reaches for my hand, her fingers enveloping my wrist—her thumb brushing the top of my hand, once, twice—and then she smiles.

But she’s not looking at me seductively anymore. She’s looking at me like she doesn’t understand why I haven’t let go. And honestly? Neither do I.

I drop my hand from her face and stand abruptly.

“I better get to the lab,” I say, running a hand through my disheveled hair. “Good luck on your test.” Her eyes linger on me, confusion clouding her expression as I turn to leave.

I guess the show is over…

I spent the rest of the weekend in the lab, mostly because I had nothing better to do. It felt easier to throw myself into my work than to face the nagging thoughts of Y/N swirling around in my head. Pining after her felt wrong—she was just a kid, my intern, and whatever was brewing inside me needed to stop. I had to keep my distance.

When Y/N walked in on Tuesday, she looked a bit worn out. I wanted to ask her about the test, but I bit my tongue, forcing myself to act indifferent.

As the day wound down, she asked for my help, and I followed her into the dark room. She needed to cut different bands from an agarose gel to purify the DNA. Even though she knew how to use the UV light box, I guided her through the excising process.

Once inside the dimly lit room, Y/N flipped on the UV box and switched off the lights. I stood behind her, watching as her shaky hand hovered nervously over the gel, clutching the blade.

"I think it’s safe to say that not going to medical school was the right choice for you," I teased, trying to keep the mood light despite the tension. "With those shaky hands, I wouldn't want you holding a scalpel near me."

"I had too much coffee today," she shot back, her tone sharp but playful.

"Right," I snorted, a grin breaking free.

"Shut up. You're making me nervous." I could almost hear her smile through her words.

"Here," I said, inching closer. I covered her hand with mine, steadying her fingers over the blade. "Relax," I suggested, hoping it would ease both our nerves.

Her proximity felt electric, as if the air around us vibrated with tension. The scent of her hair—fresh and unplaceable—danced under my nose, making my heart race. Y/N's hand trembled beneath mine as she turned to glance up at me. In the faint blue glow of the UV light, her features looked even more striking.

"This is making it worse," she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper.

I felt her warm breath against my neck, and everything inside me screamed that we were too close. I should step back. I needed to step back. But God, I wanted to kiss her. Nothing else mattered in that moment.

Her bewildered expression shifted as her eyes drifted from my gaze to my lips. My heart thundered in my chest as I watched her tongue trace the edge of her bottom lip before she began to nibble on it nervously.

Then, without thinking, I closed the distance and pressed my lips against hers.

I inhaled deeply through my nose, intoxicated by her sweet scent as my mouth enveloped her bottom lip. Y/N whimpered softly against me, turning her body to face mine. My hand slid to the back of her neck, pulling her closer.

What was I doing?

I felt lost, unsure of how to proceed or how to stop. Reluctantly, I released her neck and gripped the bench for support, struggling against the rising tide of desire. All I wanted was to wrap my arms around her and pull her onto the counter, to lose myself in her warmth.

No, stop! This is wrong!

I broke the kiss, panting heavily. "Y/N…" I gasped. "Shit, I'm so sorry." I stepped back, needing space. She was breathing hard too. "I-I didn’t mean to do that. I shouldn’t have… Shit." My hands raked through my hair, searching for words that eluded me.

Then, with a single determined step, Y/N closed the distance. She grabbed my t-shirt and pulled me down to her level. Her lips collided with mine once more, and I felt her inhale sharply.

I was too tall, or she was too short; either way, I hunched over her as her legs wrapped around my hips, lifting her onto the countertop beside the UV box.

Her hands tangled in my hair, tugging in a way that made me groan into her mouth, while my own hands hovered uncertainly over her body, torn between desire and restraint.

Loud, insistent knocking on the door shattered the moment.

Y/N gasped, and her legs slipped from my sides.

"I need to look at a gel, Yoongi. What’s taking so long?" Jimin's voice rang out.

Jimin… shit…

I groaned against Y/N's shoulder, gripping her thighs to steady myself. Her fingers remained tangled in my hair, and I felt dangerously close to losing it.

"We're cutting a gel, Jimin," I called out, taking a reluctant step away from Y/N. "Give me a fucking break," I muttered under my breath.

I heard Jimin huff through the door, and Y/N’s voice came low and tense. "What do we do?"

I didn't know about her, but I needed to get out of there. I was uncomfortable and desperately needed to regain control. I moved to the UV box, which was still glowing. Y/N jumped down from the bench as I grabbed the blade, cutting around the bands on the gel. I found it ironic that my hands were now shaking, yet I managed to do a decent job.

Once finished, I shut off the UV light and flicked the room lights back on. Y/N jumped a little, and though I was sure she was staring at me, I couldn’t meet her gaze—I wouldn’t.

I ran a hand through my hair and took a deep breath. "Take each piece of gel and put it in a single epi tube," I instructed, forcing myself to focus on anything but her. "You can follow the rest of the protocol at the bench."

"Yoongi," she whispered, urgency lacing her voice.

"I’ll be back in a bit," I said, my hand on the doorknob. I didn’t risk a glance at her, fearing that a single look would draw me back in. I opened the door and stormed out, nearly colliding with Jimin, who stood there with his arms crossed.

What the hell just happened?

A few moments later, I was outside the building. Rain hammered down, but I didn’t care. I wished I smoked, drank, or had any vice to help me calm down. I tried deep breaths to steady myself, but the rain only added to the chaos swirling inside me. I made it to the tree line behind the parking lot, leaning against a trunk with one hand while the other pressed against my chest, where my heart threatened to pound its way out. I was panting, sweating, and completely unraveling.

What the hell had I been thinking?

Well, clearly, I hadn’t been thinking at all.

God, I could still taste her on my lips.

I swallowed hard.

Y/N had the sweetest lips I’d ever kissed.

I was doomed.

This could ruin everything. I couldn’t let myself be distracted by Y/N like this. I had lost all control, and I didn’t know what would have happened if Jimin hadn’t knocked. Or worse, what if Y/N had opened the door without knocking? Thank God the light was off, and the “IN USE” sign was outside.

No one could know about this, especially not Jimin—he was Jin’s puppy! If Jin ever found out…

God, this was all so messed up!

I had to make it clear to Y/N—this had to stay between us. We had to pretend it never happened.

It would never happen again.

I could never have my lips on hers again—just the thought of it made my chest ache.

I had known kissing her would be good. She had the most beautiful lips I’d ever seen. They didn’t disappoint. Her kiss exceeded any expectation I had dared to dream. How could I endure not kissing her again, knowing how sweet she tasted?

If I thought it was torture to be around her before, now it was going to be hell.

And she had kissed me back. She had. It wasn’t just me. She wanted this too. Didn’t she know it was wrong? I needed to talk to her, to explain that this couldn’t happen again. We had to keep things professional, to work together without awkwardness. We had to manage that. I needed to manage that.

I wouldn’t look at her lips, or her smile, if that’s what it took. Maybe I could lie and say we needed to wear mouth masks for the rest of the project…

With a groan, I stepped away from the tree. I fisted my hair, realizing I was getting drenched, and walked back into the building. I shook my head to rid myself of some of the water, but I was still soaked when I climbed the stairs.

When I entered the lab, Y/N pretended not to see me, but I knew better. Her posture shifted, her back straightened, and the foot she had been tapping on the floor stilled.

I noticed Jimin was in the lab, standing at his bench across from Y/N, staring at her. It became clear to me that Y/N was putting on a show for him.

I sighed, feeling a little relief wash over me.

Y/N wouldn’t tell anyone—at least that much was clear.

But I still needed to talk to her. What happened was wrong and completely inappropriate. I couldn’t let her get the wrong idea.

I buried myself in my computer for a while, pretending to work by aimlessly scrolling and clicking, but my attention was entirely on Y/N. She seemed to move through the purification protocol without a hitch. What was going through her head?

Y/N strolled into the lab on Thursday, her smile cutting through the sterile, fluorescent gloom like a ray of sunlight. I gave her a nod—polite, detached—but that didn’t stop my heart from racing at the flicker of warmth in her gaze. As I turned back to my work, she let out a sigh that lingered in the air, heavy with unspoken thoughts. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught her glancing at Jimin's empty bench, and the reminder of his absence hung like a storm cloud between us.

"Okay," she began, hands planted defiantly on her hips. "Should we talk about this?"

I forced myself to meet her gaze, focusing on those deep, captivating eyes while battling the temptation to let my gaze wander to her lips, which seemed to whisper promises that drove me mad with longing.

"There’s nothing to talk about, Y/N."

"Well, are you going to go back to being mean to me?"

"I was never mean to you."

Her eyebrows shot up in disbelief, and heat crept into my cheeks as I remembered all the stunts I’d pulled—the pranks that had hurt her, the lab coat I’d ruined...

"I won't be mean to you again," I muttered, letting out a heavy sigh and looking at the floor.

"Yoongi..." Her voice was soft, almost melodic, and it tugged at my heart.

When I met her gaze again, it was a mistake—her lip caught between her teeth was a distraction I didn’t need. My hands clenched into fists, seeking refuge in my pockets as her eyes searched mine, wary but hopeful, like a deer caught in the headlights.

"It won't be awkward, all right? I promise."

That smile of hers struck me like a bolt of lightning, forcing a groan deep within my chest. I could see the words dancing on her lips, ready to spill out, but they vanished like smoke when Jimin walked back into the lab. Taking advantage of the reprieve, I buried myself in my work, fighting to act normal.

But normalcy felt like a distant memory whenever Y/N was near. She moved through the lab with quiet grace, while I stood like a rock in a river of uncertainty, drowning in my thoughts.

As the day wore on and shadows lengthened, I noticed her gathering her things. Instinct kicked in—I pretended to be engrossed in my computer, watching her shuffle and fidget until she finally took a step toward me.

"Hey, Yoongi?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Yes?" I turned to face her, masking the turmoil inside.

"Um, I was wondering... I know I’m just an undergrad here, and there’s really no room for me to... I-I mean, I know it’s really not my place to ask, but..." Her words faltered, and the crimson blush creeping up her cheeks sent my heart racing.

"Y/N, would you get on with it? I don’t have all day." My frustration boiled over, the energy it took to be normal around her fraying my patience.

Her frown was instant, a storm brewing in those beautiful eyes.

Shit, that was uncalled for...

"Never mind…" she sighed, disappointment echoing in the air.

"Wait." I took a breath, willing myself to soften. "I’m sorry. Please, Y/N, tell me."

She sighed again, a deep, resigned breath. "I know there’s that recruitment party this Saturday. It’s for prospective students to meet the current students in the department. And I know, I’m just the undergrad, but I think it would be great if I could meet them. You know? Hopefully, in a year, I’ll be going through recruitment myself." Her fingers twisted anxiously in front of her, a sight that both amused and strained my patience.

"Is there a question you wanted to ask?" I barked, the irritation bubbling to the surface.

"Yes…" she snapped back, indignation rising. "My question is: do you mind if I’m there?" She crossed her arms, defiance written all over her.

Why would I care if she came? I hadn’t even planned on attending that stupid party. But suddenly, the thought twisted in my gut, a knot tightening as a realization hit me.

I shot up from my chair, startling her. "Who told you about the party?"

Her eyes dropped, a sigh escaping her lips, and just like that, the truth hit me like a freight train. I fucking knew it.

"You’re going with Jungkook, aren’t you?" I took a step closer, looming over her.

"No, I’m not going with Jungkook." Her voice was steady, but her gaze flickered to meet mine. "But I’m going."

"Well, I guess I’ll see you there, then."

"Okay," she said with a nonchalant shrug, but the smile that graced her lips made my stomach twist. She turned to leave, and I felt something unravel within me—my hands instinctively reached out, fingers curling into frustrated fists. I didn’t know if I wanted to strangle her or pull her into a desperate embrace. All I knew was that I was left staring helplessly as she walked away.

I didn’t need her to say it; I knew Jungkook was behind this. She might not be going with him, but the thought of him lurking at that party made my blood boil. For the first time in a long while, I felt the gnawing sensation of jealousy eat away at my insides.

Fucking Jungkook Jeon.

I couldn’t believe I was even considering this.

Why did it matter if Y/N went to the recruitment party? It shouldn’t. Yet here I was, battling an angry tide rising in my chest, all because of that idiot Jungkook. If she were going with someone more acceptable—someone who didn’t make my skin crawl—I’d be okay with it. I should be okay with it. The rational part of my brain knew that, but the irritation overshadowed everything else.

What did she even see in Jungkook? The guy barely scraped by on his Qual after taking it twice and hadn’t published a single paper. He was working with fruit flies for crying out loud! And his personality? A brick wall. I couldn’t trust him. I didn’t like him. I couldn’t stand him.

I had to go to this party.

At lunch, against my better judgment, I decided to bring it up with Hoseok.

"Hey, where’s the recruitment party this year?" I asked, trying to sound casual as I stabbed my fork into the mac and cheese.

"You’re going to the recruitment party?" Hoseok dropped his fork, suspicion etched across his face like a roadmap to his thoughts.

"Yes," I groaned, already regretting bringing it up. Of course, he’d make a fuss.

"To our department’s recruitment party?" He pressed a finger to his chest as if I’d committed a heinous crime.

"Why is that so hard to believe?" I shrugged, pushing the macaroni around in my bowl.

"Let me think… maybe because I’ve organized every single one since I got here, and you’ve never attended."

"Will you just answer my question?" I snapped, frustration boiling over.

"It’s at the South Campus Center, bro." Even though he finally answered, his gaze lingered, scrutinizing me like I was a specimen under his microscope.

"Great, thanks." I tried to keep my tone light, rolling my eyes at his obvious scrutiny.

"I can’t believe you’re going." A knowing smile danced at the corners of his lips, and I loathed it.

I pretended not to care, shrugging off the comment as he took a seat next to me.

"If only I had known all it would take was an undergrad to get through you."

"This has nothing to do with Y/N," I spat, defensiveness creeping in, my irritation sharpening with each word. Her name was Y/N, not ‘the undergrad.’

"Right, so it’s just a coincidence… this is just the year you happen to decide to attend this thing."

"Yes."

"Is she going?" His eyebrow arched, mischief glinting in his eyes.

I groaned and turned away, pretending to be absorbed in my food.

"Dude, I can see it. How she’s affected you. It’s kind of obvious. You can talk to me, you know? It might help."

The breath I took was deep and shaky, every nerve ending igniting with frustration. But before I could stop myself, the words came pouring out. "She drives me crazy, Hoseok. I can’t stand it. I lose all control when I’m around her. I kissed her… I kissed her, and she said she doesn’t want to jeopardize her work in the lab. And it makes sense for her to think that. But the worst part is now I can’t stop seeing her everywhere. She’s in the lab, at the gym, at the freaking library where I get my coffee—she’s everywhere! I need to go back to not seeing her, because I can’t handle this." I stared down at my lunch, the food suddenly unappetizing, a lifeless pile of carbs.

"So you don’t want to see her?" Hoseok asked, surprisingly calm, like he was dissecting a specimen on his lab bench.

"Exactly."

"You don’t want to kiss her again?" He pushed, an amused grin creeping across his face.

"I don’t know what I want!" I barked, irritation flaring.

"Sounds to me like you want to go to the party, see her, and kiss her again. The question is, how are you going to deal with Jungkook?"

My shoulders tightened at the mention of his name, a cold shiver running down my spine. "I don’t care about him."

"I don’t know, man. It’s weird. The vibes are strange. You’re talking about her with a lot of… emotion."

"Emotion?" I snapped, but deep down, I felt the truth behind his words. I was at the mercy of my own feelings, a trembling wreck in the face of Y/N’s smile. I hated it. I wanted to turn it off. I couldn’t afford to feel anything.

"Fine," I muttered, sinking back into my chair, wishing to be swallowed by it.

"You’re going to have to confront those feelings eventually, Yoongi."

I grunted in response, refusing to admit he was right. I didn’t want to think about Y/N, and I definitely didn’t want to deal with Jungkook. All I wanted was to escape this mess, but deep down, I knew I was already trapped.

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purpledemonlilyposting · 4 months ago

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Apparently @crimsonender critiquing and instantly improving Morch's uninspired chibi comics has put Lorch on the defensive.

Mikaila Orchard is at an early intermediate level when it comes to cartooning. Like something a teenager into anime would be drawing in high school art class. There's nothing wrong with learning how to draw later in life but seemingly Morch doesn't seek to improve. She seems to vaguely understand the surface level of style and construction but not how to actually implement these things. Morch desperately needs to go back to the fundamentals of drawing.

Morch on the left, Crim's improvement on the right.

Crim is a more advanced artist than her and I'm sure Crim wouldn't be insulted if I said I'm a yet even more advanced artist.

I bring this up because it sure is funny that Lily is complaining about basic art critiques...

When Lily is still going on about the one time she sent her racist friend @sneaky-taffer to try and "critique" my art who discovered I drew a hand backwards by accident in a single comic panel. Which is a mistake I used to make more often cause I'm an autist and sometimes have trouble with left and right.

...And then I... fixed it. Cause it was a legit mistake.

The rest of Taffer's "critiques" either were going after art that is over 5 years old or surrounded her not understanding stylization at all.

And then Taffer started sending messages from throwaways calling a friend of @britts-galaxy-brain's a "n-word lover" so you know there's that. She still hangs out in Lily's Discord by the way.

It's absolutely hysterical Lily thought sending her mediocre artist friend after me would hurt me when I routinely am critiqued by and critique other artists and none of us take it personally because we're all trying to help each other advance in our craft. But the second someone more experienced at art points out the ways your wife could improve hers? NO! It's perfect the way it is! They're just jealous!

IT'S HER STTTTYYYLLLLEEE-

dailymotion

Also the fact Lily is saying I wouldn't be reacting to her if I was good at art? Uh... I can do both. I do both every time I react to you in fact. People pay me to do art for them, Lily, I'm a professional. And then other people pay me to make fun of your dogshit opinions. 😂

#Lily Orchard #Lily Orchard Critical #Sneaky-Taffer #Curly

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nickistuffs · 1 month ago

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Art Buddies

Pairing: Harry x Designer reader (curvy or plus size whatever you feel they should look like. This is my preference 😌)

Summary: Y/N is looking for a way to hang out with Harry; this is her plan to have common ground.

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: None. just fluff.

✨masterlist✨ read the rest of Harry x Designer Reader there

...

After Y/N and Harry’s late-night coffee outing, you found yourself lying on your bed, replaying the entire evening over and over in your mind. No, it’s just coffee… surely nothing else, you tried to convince yourself, though your heart clearly begged to differ. But still… coffee with Harry Styles. Oh god, how are you supposed to recover from this?

Before you knew it, you screamed into your pillow, kicking your feet like a lovestruck teenager. The excitement bubbling inside you felt impossible to contain.

Your phone buzzed, snapping you out of your dramatic meltdown. Grabbing it quickly, your eyes widened at the notification: a text from Harry.

Since then, the conversation between you two has been effortless. It started with short greetings, lighthearted "How are you?"s, and playful jokes, but the texts came more frequently, becoming a steady part of your day.

Harry ☺️: Hi! Y/N, would you want to hang out sometime?

Your heart practically leapt out of your chest as you read the message. A giddy squeal escaped your lips, and you hugged your phone tightly, unable to text back right away. Your mind raced with possible replies, each one feeling inadequate for this moment.

Meanwhile, on the other side of town, Harry stared at his phone, his thumb hovering over the screen as if willing it to light up with a response. Letting out a loud sigh, he tossed his head back against the couch.

“Alright, mate, what’s up with you?” one of his friends asked, noticing his sudden shift in mood.

Harry groaned, rubbing the back of his neck. “I sent her a message. What if I was too forward? Or what if she thinks I’m—ugh, I don’t know—coming on too strong?”

His friends exchanged amused glances before one of them clapped him on the shoulder. “Harry, she went out for coffee with you. Pretty sure that’s a good sign.”

Harry frowned, still unconvinced. “Yeah, but what if she just sees me as, you know, Harry Styles, not just… Harry?”

His friends laughed, one of them rolling their eyes. “If she didn’t see you as just Harry, she wouldn’t have agreed to coffee in the first place. Relax. She’s probably just as nervous as you are.”

Harry let out a small chuckle despite himself, glancing at his phone again. Maybe they’re right, he thought, but the butterflies in his stomach refused to settle.

Little did he know, Y/N was on the other end, typing and deleting her response a dozen times, her own heart racing just as much as his

...

After some thought, you finally typed out a reply, biting your lip nervously as you hit send.

Y/N: Sure! What should we plan to do?

On the other end, Harry stared at the message, his heart skipping a beat. Fuck, I didn’t even think of what to suggest! His mind scrambled as he tried to come up with an idea that wasn’t utterly boring or cliché.

But before he could overthink it further, another notification popped up.

Y/N: Want to go on a picnic and paint with me?

Harry blinked, staring at your message. A grin spread across his face, equal parts relieved and delighted. A picnic? Painting? It was perfect—relaxed, creative, and undeniably you.

You, meanwhile, were pacing your room, clutching your phone like it might explode. Why did I suggest painting? What if he hates the idea? What if it’s too much? The doubts swirled in your head as you waited for his reply.

The phone buzzed, and you practically dove for it.

Harry ☺️: That sounds amazing. I’d love to. When are you free?

You couldn’t help the goofy smile that spread across your face. A picnic and painting with Harry Styles. Oh god, this is real, you thought, already mentally planning how the day would go. ...

Harry put his phone down, still smiling to himself. His friends, who had been watching his emotional rollercoaster with amusement, burst into cheers.

“What’s got you so happy now?” one teased.

“She suggested a picnic. And painting,” Harry replied, leaning back on the couch, his expression dreamy.

“Mate, that’s adorable,” another friend said with a laugh. “You’re absolutely smitten.”

Harry didn’t even bother denying it. “Yeah… I really am.”

As he began brainstorming ideas for what to bring to the picnic, his phone buzzed in his hand again.

Y/N: Saturday works for me! Let me know if that’s good for you too.

Harry quickly typed a response, his grin widening.

Harry ☺️: Perfect. I’ll bring the food, and you can bring the materials?

Back in your room, you read his message and felt your cheeks heat up at how thoughtful he was.

Y/N: Deal! Any food preferences?

Harry ☺️: Surprise me with dessert, maybe?

You couldn’t help but laugh, your nervousness easing a little.

Y/N: Alright, I’ll think of something good. Saturday it is!

Harry put his phone down, still smiling like an idiot. His friends rolled their eyes but couldn’t hide their amusement.

“Mate, you’re a goner,” one of them teased.

Harry didn’t mind at all. “Yeah, and I’m alright with that.”

As he started making a mental checklist of what food to pack for the picnic, his excitement grew. This wasn’t just a hangout; it was the start of something he couldn’t wait to explore.

...

Over the next few days, both of you prepared for the picnic in your own ways, though the excitement made it hard to focus.

Harry found himself pacing around his kitchen, debating what food to bring. “Not too fancy, not too simple,” he mumbled, scrolling through recipe ideas on his phone. “Something thoughtful.”

Eventually, he settled on packing the food. “Alright, this should work,” he said, nodding to himself as he jotted down a list. His pièce de résistance, however, was a small container of freshly baked cookies—his own attempt at adding a personal touch.

Meanwhile, you were busy gathering your art supplies. Watercolors, brushes, sketchbooks, and a few extras in case Harry wanted to experiment. You even threw in a little easel, smiling at the thought of him trying to paint.

Your nerves threatened to bubble over as Saturday approached, but your excitement overshadowed them. You couldn’t help but wonder what kind of food he’d bring—or how he’d handle painting.

...

Saturday arrived with clear blue skies and a light breeze—perfect weather for a picnic. Right on time, Harry's car pulled up outside your place. He stepped out wearing a casual yet effortlessly stylish outfit: a crisp white button-up tucked into light-washed jeans, his sunglasses perched casually on his nose.

As you walked out to meet him, his breath caught. You were wearing a white dress that flowed gently around you, hugging every curve in a way that made his chest tighten. He tried to act nonchalant, but the way his gaze lingered on you might’ve given him away.

Damn, you looked gorgeous. He’d been captivated by you since the first time he’d seen you at the market. And now, standing there with the sunlight catching the soft glow of your skin, he had to remind himself not to stare.

He greeted you with a warm smile, holding up the woven picnic basket in his hands. “Ready for this?” he asked, his voice light and teasing, though there was a trace of nervous energy behind it.

You returned his smile, holding up your bag of art supplies in response. “I hope you’re ready to unleash your inner artist.”

Harry chuckled, shaking his head playfully. “I wouldn’t count on a masterpiece, but I’ll give it a go.”

The drive to the park was filled with the kind of easy, natural conversation that made you forget any nerves you’d felt earlier. Harry’s laughter filled the car a few times, and you couldn’t help but laugh along with him.

Once you arrived, the two of you wandered through the park until you found the perfect spot: a large oak tree with sprawling branches that offered shade and a serene view of the grassy meadow. Harry set the basket down and helped you spread out a checkered blanket beneath the tree.

As he began unpacking the basket, you couldn’t help but watch in awe. He carefully laid out an assortment of neatly packed sandwiches, fresh fruit, a small cheese platter, and a bottle of sparkling grape juice. Finally, he pulled out a small container of cookies, looking almost bashful as he placed them on the blanket.

“Wow,” you said, your eyes widening at the spread. “This is… so thoughtful. You really didn’t have to go all out.”

Harry shrugged, his cheeks tinged with the faintest blush. “Wanted to make sure you didn’t regret being invited,” he said, his voice quieter but still carrying that signature charm.

You couldn’t help but smile, feeling the warmth of his thoughtfulness settle over you. “Trust me, this is perfect.”

Harry grinned, brushing a hand through his hair as he sat back on the blanket. “Alright, then. Let’s eat first so we’re fueled up for this artistic adventure.”

With the soft rustling of leaves above you and the occasional distant sound of laughter from other park-goers, the afternoon stretched out like something out of a dream. As you nibbled on the sandwiches and sipped the refreshing sparkling grape juice, the easy banter continued, flowing naturally between you both.

When it was time to paint, Harry eyed the supplies with mock apprehension. “Alright, where do we even begin?”

You handed him a paintbrush with a smirk. “Pick something around us to paint. Don’t overthink it.”

He scanned the meadow, his gaze finally settling on a cluster of wildflowers swaying gently in the breeze. “Okay, those flowers. But don’t judge me too hard—I’m warning you now.”

You laughed, dipping your brush into the water. “No judgment, I promise.”

And as the two of you began painting side by side, you couldn’t help but glance at him every so often. The way he concentrated, his brow furrowed slightly, his lips quirking up in amusement when he clearly surprised himself—it was all so endearing.

Little did you know, Harry was sneaking glances at you too, marveling at how effortlessly you seemed to bring your art to life. He admired how your face lit up when you were in your element, and for a moment, he forgot all about his own painting.

By the time the sun began to dip lower in the sky, your shared laughter had filled the quiet meadow. Harry held up his finished piece, a slightly wonky but colorful depiction of the wildflowers. “Well? Be honest. Do I have a future in art?”

You burst out laughing, clapping your hands. “It’s… abstract,” you teased. “But I like it.”

Harry grinned, leaning back on his elbows. “Not bad for a first try, right?”

As you packed up the supplies and folded the blanket, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of contentment wash over you. This day had been everything you didn’t know you needed.

Walking back to the car, Harry looked over at you, his green eyes soft. “Thanks for this,” he said. “For inviting me. I think this might’ve been my favorite day in a long time.”

Your cheeks warmed, but you smiled up at him. “Mine too.”

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting a golden glow over the two of you as you walked side by side, carrying the beginnings of what could only be described as something truly special.

...

I love cute happenings :) Hope you enjoyed it!!

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delicatebarness · 8 months ago

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cry baby | chapter twenty nine

Summary: Adrenaline courses through Cry Baby as she takes on some deep and needed conversation.

Warning: None, I don't think? Other than it being a Bucky-free chapter.

Word Count: 1266

Spotify Playlist | Support: Ko-FI

Series Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

A/N: I have nothing to say with this one, except MY GIRL HAS A BACKBONE. - Please feel free to leave feedback or let me know where and how you want the story to continue, this is just as much yours as mine. - B

Your feelings were a mixture of emotions when you woke you the morning after the art exhibition. Bucky’s absence and your revelation of your feelings for him weighed heavily despite the success of your show. You began getting ready to leave for the gallery again, hoping the familiar surroundings and schedule would bring some distractions. However, more than anything, you wanted to talk to your brother.

You took a deep breath, picked up your phone, and sent him a message: “Can you meet me at the gallery? I need my brother.”

His response was quick, he agreed to meet you there. The gallery was quiet, a stark contrast to the lively celebration from the night before, as you arrived first. The art pieces stood silently, every pen stroke a testament to your hard work and passion.

A few minutes later, Steve walked in with a concerned expression. “Hey,” he said softly. “What’s going on?”

Emotions swirled within you as you turned to face him. “I’m not over what you did,” you began, the turmoil inside you betraying your voice causing it to tremble. “But, I really need my brother right now.”

Stepping closer, Steve’s eyes softened. “I’m here for you,” he assured, reaching out and gently squeezing your shoulder with a small smile. “Tell me what’s going on.”

You hesitated, taking a deep breath as you tried to find the right words. “I’m in love with Bucky.” Your words hung in the air, undeniable and heavy.

Steve’s jaw clenched, as his face tightened with anger. “What did you just say?”

“I love Bucky,” you repeated, your voice was firm.

“Do you know how many times I’ve had to stop him?” he mumbled, anger flaring visibly. “How many times he crossed the line?”

You stared at him, confusion etched in your face. “What are you talking about?”

His face could barely contain his fury, his fists clenched at his sides. “Every time I thought he was getting too close, I made sure he knew his place. I did it to protect you.”

The realization of his words hit you like a freight train. Memories of all those times Bucky would turn up at your apartment with new cuts, new bruises. “You… you were the one beating him all these years?”

Steve’s eyes widened, and shock filled them as he realized his slip-up. “I was trying to keep you safe,” he said, his voice softening, trembling with anger and regret. “He’s not right for you.”

Tears welled up in your eyes, anger and frustration consuming you. “You don’t get to decide that for me, Steve! You don’t get to control my life like that!”

“I was trying to protect you!” Steve’s voice raised, his voice straining with emotion. “He’s my best friend, if anyone knows he’s not good for you, it’s me! I’ve seen what he’s capable of.”

“You’ve seen what he’s capable of because you pushed him to it!” you snapped back at him. “You beat him up every time you thought he was getting close to me? And, do you think that’s okay? You think that’s protecting me?”

The realization of his actions dawned on him, you had never seen Steve look so taken back. “I… I didn’t mean to…”

“But you did,” you interrupted, your voice beginning to break. “It’s not your decision to make. I love you, Stevie, but if you want to be a part of my life, you need to stop trying to fucking control it. I’m in love with Bucky, and that is my choice.”

The silence between you grew heavy, filled with the weight of your words hanging in the air. Steve looked at you, regret and stubbornness warred on his expression. It seemed for a moment like he might argue back, but then he simply nodded.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “For everything. I’ll try to let it go. I just… I’ve always just wanted to protect you.”

Stepping forward, you wrapped your arms around your brother tightly. “I know. But, you have to trust me to make my own choices. That’s what we do, we trust each other.”

Steve hugged you back, his grip strong and desperate. “I’ll try. I promise.”

A weight lifted off your shoulders as you pulled away. The gap between you was far from resolved, but it was a start. And for now, that was enough.

You were left feeling both empowered and vulnerable as the adrenaline from your conversation with Steve coursed through you. You knew what you had to do next, you needed to act on your promises, and you couldn’t keep Peter in the dark any longer.

As you walked into the cafe you arranged to meet him at, your mind began to race. On the way, you rehearsed what you were going to say, and how you were going to explain your feelings. The adrenaline pushes you forward, giving you the strength you need.

Just as before, Peter was already seated at the corner table. There was a knowing look in his eyes, making your heart ache, as his expression stayed calm.

“Peter,” you began, your vice trembling slightly as you sat with him. “I need to talk to you about something.”

His gaze was gentle and understanding as he looked at you. “I know,” his soft voice cut you off before you could continue.

Confusion washed over you. “What do you mean?”

He sighed, a small sad smile playing on his lips. “I know you’re not in love with me. And I know you’ve tried to be, but… I’m not him. I’m not Bucky.”

His words sank in, tears welling in your eyes. “Peter, I’m so sorry. I truly never wanted to hurt you.”

Reaching across the table, he rested his hand on yours reassuringly. “I know you didn’t. I’ve seen it for a while now, the way you look at him. Your eyes light up when you talk about him… It’s always been him, hasn’t it?”

The tears spilled down your cheeks as you nodded. “It has. But, I didn’t realize until last night.”

Squeezing your hand gently, Peter continued to speak softly. “I want you to be happy, and I can’t be the one to make you happy if your heart belongs to someone else.”

You nodded again. “I’m so sorry, Peter,” you whispered, your voice choking with emotion.

Another reassuring smile was sent your way. “It’s okay. I’ll always care about you, and even if it’s not with me, I want you to be happy.”

Pulling your hand back, you wiped away your tears. “You deserve to be with someone who is truly in love with you. You’re a good man, Peter, and you’ve been such an important part of my life.”

“And you mine,” he replied softly. “We’ll always have that.”

You both stood up to leave, Peter pulled you into a tight hug. “Take care of yourself,” he murmured.

“You too,” you replied, tightening your hold on him for a moment longer before finally letting go.

Walking toward the cafe door, you felt a strange mixture of sadness and relief. The adrenaline still lingered, causing you to turn back to Peter.

“Peter?” you called out, causing him to look up from his coffee cup. “I like Michelle.” His eyes flickered with surprise, a smile forming on his lips after a beat.

With a final nod toward him, you turned and walked out of the cafe. The sense of closure settles in your heart. As you stepped onto the bustling city sidewalk, you knew you had made the right decision for both you and Peter.

---

Series Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

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honey-crypt · 8 months ago

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elliott that sings his heart out while drunk asf x gn/m farmer? You know the drill :3

also saying that again, ur writing makes me giggle n kick my feet have a great day dude

a/n: i went all out if you couldn’t tell, only the best for the queen of elliott art herself!!! also attaching the drunk singing elliott art she posted for visualization reasons lol. this was a literal blast to write, i had to rewind somethin’ stupid like a hundred times to get the flow right. also follow @fuerrziah cuz her art is the best and she is da best <3

word count: 2.1k

warnings: alcohol, drunk antics, suggestive ending

summary: you knew elliott got a bit silly and unfiltered when drunk, but you didn’t realize that the man could belt it like the best of them until you witness him sing frank sinatra's somethin’ stupid.

★ sinatra - elliott x farmer ★

The Stardrop Saloon was the heart of Pelican Town, a bar and restaurant full of laughter and chatter every night, as Gus brewed pretty cocktails and Emily bounced from room to room taking and delivering orders. To some, it was a place to unwind after a hard day or to spend time with friends while to others, it was a second home.

Often, you frequented the saloon to treat yourself to a meal and a drink, and tonight was no different. You were too exhausted from harvesting melons, chasing after chickens, and so on to bother microwaving something, much less cooking an actual meal. With a heavy sigh, you plopped down at your usual spot and waved Emily over with a tired smile, “Hey Em.”

“(Y/N)!” the waitress greeted you with her usual sunshine demeanor, “Good to see you tonight!” she clicked her glitter pen and hovered it over her notebook, “The usual tonight?”

“You know me well,” you chuckled softly. Emily scribbled down a few lines and stated, “Should be ready in fifteen. Can I get you a drink beforehand?”

“Water with lemon,” you answered, your mouth drier than the Calico Desert from the summer heat. Emily nodded and went behind the bar, pouring you a tall glass of ice water with a lemon garnish. She returned to your table and set the drink down on the wooden coaster, “Drink up and have a good night.”

“You as well, Em,” you hummed, watching the blue haired woman disappear into the crowd of bar patrons. The walls of the saloon vibrated from the amount of noise produced in such a small space. You weren’t surprised at the amount of people present at the Stardrop Saloon; after all, it was Friday, the busiest night. At least, Emily and Gus will get some good tips. You down your water without care, as some of the liquid spilled from your lips and down your chin onto your overalls.

“Parched?” a deep but honey-like voice hummed. You looked up and locked eyes with your closest friend, Elliott, hovering next to you. Ink stained his strong calloused hands, presumably a remnant of a hours-long writing session.

“Absolutely,” you exhaled, “It’s hotter than Hades’ taint.”

Elliott snorted, emerald eyes crinkling up while he smiled down upon you, “I can agree with you on that, my friend. I fear that if it gets any degree warmer, I must forgo my long sleeves.”

You side-eyed Eliott’s sleeved arms, as he borrowed the seat across from you, seeing the outline of toned muscle. You could take your suspenders off, too. you thought to yourself, waving a passing Emily over and requesting another water with lemon, For a beachfront Hemingway, you sure have the physique of a Greek God.

“How did your day on the farm go?” the writer asked, resting his elbows on the table. You plucked your glass off the table and pressed it against your forehead, “I shoulda taken today off, but the mayor just had to request two dozen melons for his outing with the governor,” you grumbled, annoyed at Mayor Lewis but more so at the sweltering heat that suddenly enveloped the room.

“Rest days are always good,” the redhead let out a low hum of agreement, “Perhaps, you can do so tomorrow?”

“I doubt it. Shane ordered three dozen hot peppers,” you sent daggers to the man in question from across the room, as Shane drank his beer by Gus’s prized wooden bear statue. Elliott’s lips formed a frown, “The life of a farmer, one of never ending labor,” he laughed.

Emily approached your table and set down another glass of water with lemon for you, “Here’s your usual,” she added before placing a plate of spaghetti by your water, “Want some parmesan?”

“What is this, the Gotoro Empire? Of course, I want some,” you jested. Emily giggled and handed you the shaker of parmesan, “Just let me know if you need more,” she then directed her attention to Elliott, “Hi Elliott! You looking for your usual tonight, too?”

“Yes, please, my dear,” he answered, adjusting his suspenders, “And a pale ale for my friend, as well.”

“Coming right!” the waitress skipped off to the back of the bar. You raised an eyebrow at Elliott while you drowned your spaghetti in heaps and heaps of parmesan, “What’s the occasion?”

“Can I not treat one of my closest friends to a nice drink after a hard day’s work?” the writer clutched his heart, “You wound me, (Y/N).”

“You’re so fucking cheesy,” you rolled your eyes with a playful twinkle in your eyes, “You know I don’t object to anything free, especially a free drink.”

Emily returned with Elliott’s usual, a pint of beer and a crab cake, as well as a pale ale for you, “Enjoy your meals!” she gave the two of you a thumbs up, “Wave me down if you need anything.”

You touched your lips to the cool glass and drank, the hot and ice sensation of alcohol coating your throat, “Shit,” you exhaled, “I needed that, thanks.”

“Of course,” your friend offered you a smile, that stupid smile you often saw on the cover of a romance novel, “How about a toast?” he held his beer up, “To friendship and a hard day’s work?”

“I’ll cheers to that,” you chuckled and clinked glasses together. As the night went on, one glass turned into two, then three, and so on. You tapped out after two glasses, as for Elliott, the Scot in him already finished four glasses of beer. His cheeks were flushed like the color of his hair, his eyes fluttering while he held back a hiccup, “Oh Yoba…” your friend tucked some loose hair behind his pierced ear, “I think… I think I went overboard.”

“You think?” you questioned. Emily returned with Elliott’s fifth glass of the night and you mouthed to her, “Cut him off for tonight,” to which she nodded in agreement.

“You usually max out at three, is something on your mind?” your ears rang and your head throbbed from the noise of overlapping conversations around the saloon. Elliott finished his fourth glass of beer, a bit of foam smeared on the right corner of his lips, “Oh, (Y/N), I won’t bore you-” he hiccuped, “-with my woes. I’m simply a tortured artist destined to be consumed by my work.”

You grabbed a napkin and leaned down towards Elliott, “Hold still,” you whispered, as you dabbed away the foam from his lips. His face turned to a darker shade of red, “You’re so close,” he whispered back, eyes hazy. You pulled away and set the used napkin aside, “Sorry, you had foam on your face,” you mumbled, averting your gaze.

Behind you, Pam dragged herself towards the jukebox and slammed a quarter in its slot, grumbling to herself about hating the cheerful swing of the current song, “Shit,” you heard her curse, “Wrong button,” the atmosphere of the saloon abruptly switched from chaotic to sombre, as a light guitar riff filled the air.

“Oh!” Elliott leapt to his feet, “I know,” he covered his mouth to hiccup, “I know this song!” he then approached the jukebox and leaned on it for support, swaying his index finger from side to side to the rhythm of the music. You smiled to yourself and sipped your water, only to choke on it like a Yoba damn fool the moment Elliott began to sing.

“I know I stand in line… Until you think you have the time… To spend an evening with me,” his voice was a neat match to the original singer, a light baritone, “And if we go someplace to dance… I know that there’s a chance you won’t be leaving with me…”

Elliott unbuttoned a few notches on his sea blue dress shirt, exposing his defined collarbone and a bit of wispy chest hair, “Then afterwards we drop into a quiet place and have a drink or two…” he glazed over your face and body with a drunken smile, “And then I go and spoil it by saying somethin' stupid like I love you…” Elliott untied his ponytail, luscious locks free from their confinement and resting against his shoulders.

Your pupils dilated; no longer was the saloon filled with static chatter and the slamming of glasses, but instead everyone ogled silently at Elliott, his vocals amplified. He pushed himself off the jukebox and stumbled a bit, taking your hands in his, “I see it in your eyes, that you still despise the same old lies you heard the night before…” he touched one of his hands to your cheek and cupped it, “And though it’s just a line to you; for me, it’s true and never so right before…”

“Elliott?” your voice croaked, your blood rushing to your extremities and your heartbeat overwhelmingly rapid. He gave you a lopsided smile and continued to sing, “I practice every day to find some clever lines, to make the meaning come true…”

No, no. He’s just singing the song. This doesn’t mean anything, you tried to reason with yourself, but it fell short, as Elliott serenaded the next few lyrics, “But then I think I’ll wait until evening gets late and I’m alone with you… The time is right, your perfume fills my head-” he leaned closer to you and inhaled your musk, “-The stars get red and, oh, the night’s so blue… And then I go and spoil it all by saying somethin' stupid like-” you could feel Elliott’s breath against the side of your neck, as he sang in your ear, “I love you…”

You couldn’t move, you couldn’t breathe. The alcohol in your system, the summer heat, Elliott’s closeness, made your mind go foggy; you were hanging onto every single word that spilled from the redhead’s pretty little lips. Elliott passionately belted out the instrumental pause, trying his best not to laugh, earning a laugh from you, nonetheless.

He stood back up and pulled you off your feet with him, repeating the chorus, “The time is right, your perfume fills my head,” he twirled you around, “The stars get red, and, oh, the night's so blue… And then I go and spoil it all by saying somethin' stupid like I love you…” even when intoxicated, Elliott was a true Casanova, holding onto you and swaying you side to side to the music.

“I love you…”

You met his eyes, oh how they shined like gemstones.

“I love you…”

Your knees turned to jelly, you clung to your friend for dear life.

“I love you…”

Your surroundings vanished; no more saloon, no more patrons, just you and Elliott.

“I love you…”

You leaned closer, your chest against his.

“I love you…”

You pressed your lips against Elliott’s, savoring the aftertaste of beer and crab cakes, as the jukebox switched to the next song and the world around you returned to its original state. Elliott kissed you back, you weren’t sure if it was the alcohol in control but Yoba, did he taste divine. Oh, to have the confidence of a drunken fool at all hours of the day, you grabbed at his hair and tugged on the strands, Elliott moaning against your wet lips.

“Hey, you two!” Pam’s voice snapped you back into reality and broke the kiss, “Get a room!” Her words garnered a few similar statements from other bar patrons.

Through glossy eyes and clouded minds, you leaned your body against Elliott’s and asked, “Well… should we?” to which he pecked you on the lips, “That’s a splendid idea,” you tossed your own wallet on the table to pay for the two of you’s meals and interlocked arms with one another, supporting one another’s uncoordinated bodies. To the door and out you went, as you and Elliott roamed the streets of Pelican Town towards his cabin, exchanging laughs and kisses.

…

bonus:

Back in the Stardrop Saloon, Pam plopped her ass back in her seat, relieved that the farmer and Elliott were finally gone. She gestured to Gus for another beer and commented aloud, “About time those two lovebirds figured it out.”

“Indeed,” answered Gus, as he dropped Pam a foamy beer, “They make a cute couple.”

“Oh, dear!” Emily walked up to Gus with the farmer’s wallet in hand, “They left their wallet here, should I run after them?”

Gus chuckled to himself and shook his head, “Put it in lost and found, I don’t think we should disturb those two tonight.

#honey crypt fics #stardew valley #sdv #stardew #sdv elliott #stardew valley elliott #stardew elliott #sdv elliott x farmer #sdv elliott x reader #stardew valley elliott x farmer #stardew valley elliott x reader #stardew elliott x farmer #stardew elliott x reader

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holdmymallowsweet · 7 months ago

Text

What are you doing here? 01

Ominis Gaunt x f!MC Word count: 4328, properly tagged on AO3

Chapter summary: Falling right between the awkwardness of their first encounter outside the Undercroft and their jaunt into the Scriptorium, Ominis and the new fifth year have an innocuous little meet up in the library.

a/n: I’ve always wondered why Mc would offer to talk to Ominis about the Scriptorium, when their last interaction outside the Undercroft was so hostile, and I figured there could have been another conversation in between- not anything deep or meaningful, just a little chat that made it clear that they don’t hate each other. So that’s what this is, and although it’s now the first chapter/prologue of a slow-burn longfic, it was originally a oneshot and can still be read as such, if you prefer. Enjoy! And many, many thanks to @myokk for encouraging me to finally post this, you're the best ❤️

Masterlist || Chapter 02

Chapter 01 - Invitation

Sending her that letter might have been a mistake.

Ominis Gaunt had been sitting in the library for hours now, waiting for someone who, he now realised, in all likelihood would not come.

“I heard you running around aimlessly in the defence against the dark arts tower again today. If you enjoy my company that much, perhaps you would like to join me in the library this evening. I’ll wait.”

It was supposed to be a playful way of telling her he was not angry anymore, a sort of peace offering after he had yelled at her outside the Undercroft.

It was only after he’d sent the letter that he realised it probably sounded presumptuous and rude beyond belief. Words on parchment couldn’t tell the reader what tone of voice they’d like to be read in, at least not until someone invented a spell for that, but it was too late to take it back.

He sighed. Honestly, he could not remember what possessed him to write the blasted thing in the first place. It had been a whim, a result of his frustration and loneliness when he heard he’d be spending another evening alone because Sebastian had gotten himself detention again. He was not usually that bold, and she was practically a stranger.

They did happen to share a best friend in Sebastian though, so one could hardly blame him for trying to get to know her. In fact, it might be long overdue.

At least that was the excuse he’d use if anyone asked. Or the one he told himself, to be honest.

The truth was, she intrigued him. It took him some time to realise it, but now that he did, he couldn’t let go of the feeling. If Sebastian was to be believed, she was curious about him too, or at least she had been, for a fleeting moment- before his temper got the better of him and he took his frustrations about Sebastian’s betrayal out on her.

Ominis sighed again and ran his hand through his hair.

Someone from across the table shushed him, and his face twitched in slight annoyance.

Oh, he really hoped they’d be gone by the time she showed up, whoever they were.

If she showed up.

By now, it seemed more likely that he’d stay here sulking by his lonesome until it was time to walk back to the dungeons, perhaps facing a bemused Sebastian who’d already know where he’d been. The two of them seemed incapable of keeping secrets from one another, after all.

That would ultimately be the proper punishment for his unreasonable jealousy, her rejection delivered by his best friend.

He’d come to the library with every intention of writing the assigned essay for Herbology, determined not to care too much about whether she’d take him up on his invitation, but it was a lost cause. His self-spelling quill wouldn’t work properly unless he concentrated on the precise words he wanted to put on the parchment, but with his head filled with thoughts of the new fifth year and the undefined nature of whatever relationship they did or didn’t have, all he had managed to write so far was an embarrassing mess.

Ominis considered writing with his own hand, but thought better of it. He could, of course. He’d make notes or short letters without his enchanted quill regularly, but writing an entire essay without being able to tell when the lines would inadvertently run into one another was a daunting task. He’d have to use twice as much parchment as anyone else, and he already felt sorry for Professor Garlick, if she’d have to decipher the mess.

Finally, he decided to just give it up. The door opened, and once again, he strained his ears. He was able to recognize her footsteps by now. Not her, just some unfortunate chap getting chewed out by Madam Scribner for returning his books late.

He was starting to feel ridiculous.

It felt like hours since he’d hurried through the castle, almost slipping on the wet fallen leaves covering the stairs when he left the owlery. Heart thumping with excitement, he’d even made sure to sit at a table where he would, hopefully, be seen by her as soon as she walked in, but far enough away from the librarian to have a conversation without being reprimanded for disturbing the peace and quiet.

Actually, if he hadn’t been so concerned that she might not see him and leave, or that he might miss her coming in, he would have preferred a table in the farthest corner on the second floor, away from prying eyes. She was still the talk of the school and gathered attention wherever she went, and “What is she doing with Gaunt?” was not something he wanted to hear whispered in the corridors.

Thankfully, it was one of the last warm and sunny days before the autumn chill fully set in, so most students were happy to make the most of it and took their work outside. Even Cressida Blume still seemed determined to let Madam Scribner forget her face (not that she would), and he hadn’t heard any other classmate of theirs either.

Sebastian’s detention was pointless busy work as usual- scrubbing or cleaning or something of the sort. Truthfully, Ominis had ceased to pay attention when his friend complained about his punishments long ago. Whatever it was, it kept him far away from the library- no one was foolish enough to try and “punish” Sebastian by letting him get his hands on even more books.

Not that it mattered whether they knew the curious onlookers or not. She was still the object of everyone’s interest and admiration, and with the way things were going, that wasn’t likely to change anytime soon. Not while she was so eager and endearing, always willing to drop everything the second someone needed something from her.

Right, it wasn’t like her to deny a request from a fellow student. She’d usually jump at the chance to do someone a favour, even if it came from someone she’d never seen before, even if it was much more bothersome than studying in the library for an hour or two.

So why wasn’t she here?

She wouldn’t have shown anyone his letter, would she? Unless she didn’t have to, if the owl reached her at an inopportune time, Merlin knows who else might have read it over her shoulder.

Ominis could imagine it, them sitting in a circle in the Hufflepuff girl’s dormitory, passing his letter around, seemingly teasing her about it in a playful attempt to get her to be wary of him. Until her curiosity would get the better of her and she’d ask them why precisely they found him so disagreeable. He shuddered.

According to Sebastian, she already knew. She knew, and didn’t care.

According to Sebastian, she also felt apologetic and regretful about their last encounter, much like him.

And if that was the truth- he couldn’t be entirely sure it was, but if it was, why wasn’t she here? Ominis tapped his quill against the parchment, piercing tiny holes into it and probably soaking the table underneath with ink.

He was slowly but surely getting annoyed now. If she was as regretful about invading the Undercroft as Sebastian had made it seem, she should have pounced at the chance to meet up with him and make things right.

Of course, that had been weeks ago, so she might have gotten over it by now. Still, he wasn’t good enough for her to at least show up and quietly do her homework on the opposite side of the table? It wasn’t as if she didn’t have any work to do. She always did, with all the extra assignments the Professors threw at her to help her catch up, and even if by some miracle she didn’t, it wouldn’t hurt her to simply study, for once.

She could have come. Ominis frowned. Unless she actually couldn’t.

Notorious troublemaker and rule breaker that she was, he’d often half jokingly wondered when her recklessness would come to bite her in the arse, only it wasn’t unthinkable, was it?

Her duelling skills didn’t make her invincible, it was entirely possible that she was lying dead, or dying, somewhere on the cold forest floor. Small animals and insects already crawling under her robes and the scarf she always insisted on wearing, slowly devouring her corpse while a confused owl pecked at her, trying to get her cold hands to take his stupid, embarrassing letter.

Ominis took a deep, steadying breath in an attempt to squash the slowly rising dread.

Stop it. She was fine, she had other things to do, or she thought she was in trouble with him again and didn’t feel like being chastised and insulted all evening. It was annoying that she didn’t even want to find out what he wanted from her- nothing, really, except perhaps a chance to clear the air- but he had no right to complain, he was the one who messed things up.

And his annoyance was merely a way to mask his fear of rejection.

He slumped down, his forehead hitting the table with a soft thud. Ears filled with the sounds of soft footsteps, turned pages and scratching quills, ink from his quill staining his fingertips but nothing to really occupy his mind in her stead.

Why couldn’t he have spent a few more minutes to rewrite that letter, although one could barely call it a letter- the note, why couldn’t he have tried to sound a bit more friendly and inviting? Then again, even a second longer might have caused him to rethink the whole thing, keeping him from sending it at all.

All things considered, that would have been a blessing in disguise, saving him from making an absolute fool of himself.

He’d heard it countless times from the Sallow twins, trying to console him in his moments of self-doubt; that he was a good person, a good friend, that he was fun to be with, but it’s not like she’d ever seen that side of him.

The two of them would make an odd, unlikely combination, but he wanted to get to know her, be near her. His invitation had been a final act of desperation- or perhaps insanity- a desire to hold on to the strange but comforting, tender feeling that rose in his chest whenever he heard her voice in class or her footsteps in the hallways nowadays.

At the very least, he wanted to make sure there was no lingering resentment between them.

The library door opened again, and the next sound to reach his ears suddenly made his head feel blissfully empty.

It was her voice, and he instantly straightened his back and cocked his head to the side to listen better as she greeted the librarian.

She made her way through the library, with eager steps, drawing closer until he could smell her signature scent, then until he could hear her breathing. Ominis noticed she was slightly out of breath.

Had she been in a hurry?

To meet him?

In spite of the confusion, the sick feeling inside him dissolved almost instantly, all thoughts of why she made him wait only to show up hours later forgotten. She cared. She cared at least enough to give him a bit of her time.

“Hello, Ominis,” she said.

He knew she wasn’t one for formalities, calling all of her classmates by their first name without invitation.

What surprised him more was the lack of any bitterness or trepidation he’d expected to hear in her voice, instead, she sounded cheerful, excited, almost.

“There you are. Care to sit down?” he replied, trying his best to sound unbothered while ignoring the sudden flutter of nervousness in his stomach. The scraping of the chair from across the table told him she did.

“I hope I didn’t keep you waiting, I’m really sorry.”

Are you?

She sounded genuinely apologetic. Suddenly he realised, with another bout of nerves, that this would be the first time they actually had a proper conversation. Without any shouting. She was here for no other reason than to spend time with him, and more importantly, because he asked her to.

Ominis took perhaps a bit too long to answer, but she didn’t seem to notice. It sounded like she was busy taking her textbooks out.

“It��s all right. It’s not like I was just wasting time waiting for you, I was quite busy.” It was almost not a ridiculous lie, considering he’d been busy indeed, desperately craving her company, making a mess of his homework, hoping she’d care enough to show up. He hoped she wouldn’t think too hard about the messy, half empty parchments littering the table.

It wouldn’t be fair to be upset about it. After all, he invited her on short notice and they never agreed on a time to meet.

“I left as soon as I got your owl, but it took me a while to get here,” she sighed, casually pushing aside his mess on the table to make space for her own.

Why? Where have you been?

Obviously not on school grounds.

“Why would that be?” he said, trying his best to sound nonchalant.

“I was near Aranshire.”

“Aranshire? What were you up to over there?” He raised his eyebrow. He knew it was one of the Hamlets, the one close to Hogsmeade station, if he wasn’t mistaken, but he couldn’t judge exactly how far away from the castle it was.

Oh, he had a bad feeling about this, and she, ever so perceptive, noticed.

“Nothing to be concerned about.” she said airily.

She doesn’t trust me.

Ominis knew he shouldn’t hold it against her. They barely knew each other, after all, and yet he couldn’t help the tiny stab of annoyance as she was lying to him yet again. If it had been Sebastian, she would have told him.

Then again, Sebastian had never threatened to get her in trouble with the Headmaster.

“Anyway, on my way back something came up and I looked a bit dishevelled by the end of it, and it took me a while to sort that out. That’s why I’m late. I really am sorry.”

“You looked… dishevelled?”

She hummed in agreement, taking a moment to shuffle around pieces of parchment before answering properly. “Just a bit.”

“You do know I wouldn’t be able to tell,” he said with a smirk.

She laughed, and Ominis was almost disturbed by how much he liked the sound of it.

“Fair enough, I suppose, but others would, and I wouldn‘t want to give anyone a reason to stare, or… talk more about me than they already do.”

Ominis tensed. He’d always been aware and annoyed at how much the entire school seemed to gossip about her, but he’d never considered that she’d know, or how she felt about it. There was an odd sort of undertone in her voice.

He wondered yet again how much she knew, or guessed, about the things others said behind his back, when they thought he was out of earshot, always underestimating his hearing. They were careful when Sebastian was close, but they had no reason to hold back when it was just her.

So was she concerned about what the others might say if they saw them together? For her sake, or for his? He was beginning to feel sick again.

“Why did you look ‘a bit dishevelled’ in the first place?” he asked in an attempt to return to the original subject, and perhaps lighten the mood a bit.

“Well…” she hesitated for a moment. “I had a run in with some spiders.”

Oh no.

“Really, nothing to be concerned about.” She added quickly when he furrowed his brow and opened his mouth to say something.

If he had to guess, this wasn’t the first time something like that had happened- in fact he knew it wasn’t. Dragons, Trolls, Dark Wizards, now this- and Merlin knew what else in between. She almost seemed to enjoy it, always roaming around, curious to see what else she could take on.

That recklessness made him uneasy. He had spent the last four years with another one like that, and the two of them being best friends felt like pouring oil in a fire.

“Are you all right?”

“Of course I am. Nothing a bath and a Wiggenweld potion couldn’t fix,” she reassured him.

So you did get hurt.

Ominis frowned. He couldn’t smell any blood, and didn’t hear any strange whispers when she came in. She also didn’t sound as if she was in any pain, so she most likely wasn’t lying when she said she was fine now. Her having just taken a bath also explained why the scent of her soap was slightly stronger than usual and not mixed with the earthy, piney smell of the forest that always clung to her when she’d been roaming around the highlands.

“Are you all right?” she asked suddenly.

The question caught Ominis by surprise. “Certainly. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You seem a bit tense. If there’s anything I can help you with…”

Even without sight, he could guess she was pausing to look at him expectantly. Merlin, did she think that’s why he asked her to meet him?

“No, I…” There were a lot of things he would have liked to say to her, and yet he couldn’t seem to find the right words.

He had to say something, though, because the silence between them as she waited for Ominis to finish his sentence was starting to feel oppressive.

“I’m fine,” he finally said, suddenly feeling self-conscious about how much he was stressing over what, to her, was a casual conversation she had with dozens of others on an average day.

For Merlin’s sake, they were classmates sitting in the library, making smalltalk.

Time to change the subject.

“Really though, what were you doing out there?” He tried his luck again.

“Just the usual.”

Ominis barely managed to suppress a frustrated sigh. “Which would be…?”

She seemed to consider him for a moment. The building frustration from her annoyingly vague answers must have been evident, and Ominis thought for a split second that he’d pushed too far.

“Nothing too exciting. Chatting to some of the locals. Looking for good spots to collect potion ingredients, that sort of thing.”

“Sharp must be very proud of you.”

She laughed that melodic, infuriatingly infectious laugh of hers, and Ominis was both relieved and grateful that the atmosphere lightened considerably again, even as the annoying git who shushed him earlier made a disapproving noise. If she’d heard it, she’d decided to ignore it, and Ominis was more than happy to follow her lead.

“I’m not doing it to please Professor Sharp, I quite enjoy potion making- unlike some of us,” she teased.

“I don’t-“

“Don’t bother denying it, it’s not like I’m imagining the sour look on your face every time I look at you during Potions.”

So she hadn’t been ignoring him, even after everything that had happened. His insides squirmed pleasantly. Perhaps she was still curious about him, after all.

Ominis cleared his throat.

“So, had any success in finding those potion ingredients?” he asked, awkwardly attempting to keep the conversation going.

“Hmm. I’m running out of Horklump juice, but there weren’t any around. I did find some Ashwinder eggs though, at an abandoned poacher camp nearby,” she rambled on absentmindedly, still shuffling around her pieces of parchment. “I’ve always been curious about them, you know. I’d like to see one someday.”

“I wouldn’t recommend it. They’re dangerous criminals, you know.”

She held back a laugh. “I meant an Ashwinder- as in the creature, not the poachers. I’ve seen quite enough of them.”

“...it was a joke.”

She giggled. “I’ve been thinking about how I always collect their eggs as potion ingredients, but I’ve never actually seen one,” she mused.

Well, they weren’t exactly the sociable sort, even for snakes.

Ominis had met an Ashwinder once, in the gardens behind his family home, after it had slithered out of an abandoned fire his older brother had been playing around with before he’d wandered off, bored. Excited to have someone to talk to, someone who he’d hoped wouldn’t either dismiss him or use the opportunity for some casual cruelty, Ominis had bent down to greet the little snake. It had told him to sod off and slithered away to lay its eggs. Back then, he’d been sulking the whole day over it.

The corners of his lips twitched upwards.

Shame, he thought ruefully. There he actually had a somewhat funny story about the very thing she was interested in, and he couldn’t even tell her. Not without revealing secrets about himself that he’d rather keep tightly guarded.

“Have you ever heard one?” She inquired.

Ominis stiffened instantly. So much for his tightly guarded secrets. He really would have to wring Sebastian’s neck one of these days. “What do you mean by that?”

“I only meant, well…,” she answered sheepishly, “… you obviously wouldn’t have seen one, and I know you have good hearing. Sorry, did I say something wrong?” She was obviously taken aback.

“No, of course not. I’m sorry.” He relaxed. So Sebastian hadn’t told her that, at least. He cleared his throat. “You would have to be lucky to see one. They are born from unattended magical fires and only live for about an hour, barely long enough to lay their eggs.”

“Ah.” She was fumbling with her quill, running her fingers along the feathered edges, from the sound of it, seemingly deep in thought, and thankfully not angry at him for snapping at her. “If they’re born from fires, what are they laying eggs for?”

“I think that’s a question better asked of Professor Howin,” Ominis replied. “You’re the one taking Beasts class, not me.”

“So… could I just make a fire somewhere, ‘unattend’ it and wait for one to come out?”

He gave her an amused snort, not sure if she was being serious. “Are you taking a page out of Peeve’s book, trying to burn down the castle?” Brows furrowed, he still flashed her a warm smile as she had a fit of giggles, and a pleasant warmth spread through his body.

“Perhaps I should take a page out of Peeve’s book, that’d make us even,” she said.

Ominis was waiting for her to explain that rather puzzling statement, but she didn’t.

“Meaning…?”

“Never mind.”

He brushed it off. This was all he’d wanted, sitting together, having a pleasant conversation, laughing about each other’s jokes. And yet it didn’t feel quite right, there was still a wall between them, made up of secrecy and lies.

She finally seemed to have started on her work, the scratching of her quill adding to the symphony of the rustling paper and soft hums and whispers surrounding them.

Apologise for yelling at her about the Undercroft.

Ominis wanted to, he really did, and if he was ever going to, now was the time- but he was still embarrassed just thinking about it and he didn’t want to ruin their first decent conversation by reminding her of how horrible he’d been. It might have been easier to talk about if she was the one to bring it up, and he quietly wondered why she didn’t.

Through the ambient sounds, he heard Madam Scribner get up from behind her desk, about to make a final pass through her sacred halls. Reminding students not to leave a mess, picking unwilling volunteers to tidy the mess of the ones who didn’t listen amongst the stragglers who couldn’t flee fast enough, he was almost tempted to make sure it’d be the two of them.

It wouldn’t be fair, though.

Based on her account of how she’d spent her evening so far and his own idle contemplations, they’d both need to dedicate the remaining hours of the day to schoolwork, and she’d already dropped her previous plans as soon as she received his owl- a courtesy far beyond anything he deserved.

They were out of time.

“We should probably leave.”

There she was, slipping through his fingers again. If only she’d arrived half an hour earlier, maybe he could have gathered his nerve and apologised, at least.

“Wait, weren’t we going to do our homework? I haven’t even started, to be honest.”

Ominis smirked. “The library is about to close, you know. I’ve been here for hours before you came in.” Not that he’d been very productive in that time.

“Oh.” She sounded defeated- and perhaps even a bit disappointed?

That might have been wishful thinking on his part.

“I guess I’ll head back to the common room then. If I’m lucky, Adelaide’s still up and I can copy from her.”

He let out a small chuckle. “Cheating on our assignments, are we?”

“Oh, well. I can’t always be a saint,” she said cheekily.

For a second, Ominis had the urge to walk her back to her common room, but he couldn’t bring himself to ask her. It felt like it would be too much, walking around the castle with her, giving others the opportunity to make assumptions about a relationship that he himself didn’t yet fully understand.

“Well, don’t let me keep you,” he said instead. He gathered his things, ignoring the growing regret and guilt.

“See you, Ominis. And… if you enjoyed my company enough, perhaps we could do this again?”

He felt his cheeks grow hot. “Sure.”

She laughed. “Cheers.”

And just like that, she was gone.

Her scent and her laughter still lingered and he was left wondering what, if anything, this little get together had accomplished.

Ominis could not have known this would be their last proper conversation before the three of them entered the Scriptorium.

more a/n: Before the Scriptorium though, the next chapter will be a little trip down memory lane, featuring the earful Sebastian got for showing her the Undercroft. It’s finally here! I started working on this a while ago, so if you’ve read this far, thank you! Like I kind of hinted at in the beginning, the concept of this fic is basically “what could they have been up to ‘off-screen’, if canon events stay exactly the same” (up to and including the fact that no one ever mentions mc’s name, we’ll see if I live to regret this decision), and I don’t know if that’s interesting to anyone but myself, but I’d be happy if anyone wants to be along for the ride. Writing from Ominis’ pov is a challenge and I try my best to keep in mind that he’s blind when describing things (so don’t expect visual descriptions of anything, ever), but hopefully without constantly drawing attention to it, I hope I managed to do that respectfully and realistically. That said, if anything feels off to you or you have questions, feel free to let me know. And finally, English is not my first language. I proofread and edit everything I write to hell and back but if I still misspelt anything or obviously misused a word, let me know so I can fix it (just be nice about it). There’s a lot more I wanted to put in the authors’ notes but I think it’s already rambly enough, so I’ll leave it at that. Until next time? (I’ve written a few chapters ahead and I’ll try to upload regularly, but realistically, I probably won’t manage it more frequently than once every 1.5 to 2 weeks)

#hogwarts legacy fanfiction #ominis gaunt #ominis x mc #ominis fanfic #ominis gaunt x mc #hogwarts legacy mc #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy fandom #mallow tries to write #WAYDH

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