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helliontherapscallion · 3 years

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Why Couldn’t it Have Been Me?

Part 2

Paring: Wilbur Soot x reader (past), Ghostbur x reader

Disclaimer: This contains major spoilers for Tommyinnit’s 4/29 lore stream

Warnings: swearing, violence, death, near death, cheating, 4/29 lore stream, grief, blood, injury, panic attack

Word count: 6,737

(A/N): So in this, you’re Schlatt’s twin and Puffy’s your older sister. Also, sorry for any mistakes, I typed a good 2/3 of this on my phone

This was your own personal hell: being trapped within cement walls with your ex fiance, your asshole of a brother, and a Dream wannabe that seemed to never lose any energy. Your life was like a trope in a novel alive you would’ve liked, however being cursed to live in it made you absolutely loathe any and all mention of it.

Alive you would’ve killed to hang out with your brother again, not the one that turned to the bottle. Alive you would’ve craved the sweet melodies that streamed from Wilbur’s mouth. You would’ve swooned and maybe, just maybe, you would’ve forgiven him. Alive you would’ve perhaps liked this ‘Mexican Dream’ guy, you would’ve perhaps become the best of friends.

However you despised the three locked up with you with your whole heart.

Your ex fiance was someone you adored. Hell, you even idolized him when you were alive. The Wilbur you knew was sweet, loving, attentive, and just all around someone that you swooned over. You could still remember how your heart exploded when he first asked you out under the setting sun by the ocean. You remembered every song he's written for you, every word and rhythm by heart, even after all these years.

You remembered how you felt your heart completely shatter when you found the songs he had in his drafts for someone that wasn't you. Someone by the name of 'Sally'. After a heated argument you had broken up with him, taking the engagement ring off from your finger and throwing it deep into the ocean. You stayed on L'Manberg's side even after all that, too loyal and proud towards the country you helped forge to drop it. You wouldn't let some stupid boy or rabid tyrants prevent you from raising your beautiful nation up from the ashes.

That had been your downfall. You should've listened to Puffy and left the country behind when you had the chance, now you paid the ultimate price for your deep rooted loyalty and devotion towards independence. And your sacrifice didn't even matter in the end! Your deranged ex blew it all to smithereens. If you didn't despise him before, you absolutely did after your dumbass twin told you about his little 'escapades' while you were gone.

Every little thing Wilbur did, no matter how small it was, made you hate him even more. Every time he would shuffle those damned cards, it made you want to rip them to shreds and throw them across the train tracks. Every time he would sing or even breathe, you wanted to strangle him. You were absolutely certain that Schlatt felt the same.

Oh, your twin was a real card. Always boasting about how his horns were bigger than yours (who even cares anymore? Yours grew in first anyways), telling the others about your shortcomings through crude jokes, even going as far as fighting you through headbutting; you could still feel the pain of being beaten to death before respawning immediately. Schlatt hadn’t known that you respawn even in the afterlife, so you knew he was serious about killing you. You just wanted Puffy, she was far more tolerable than your twin.

The rustling of his suit jacket and his small grunts and pants resonated within the walls as he did various forms of exercising. You now knew about all of the differing variations of a pushup and you hated yourself for listening to his explanations. He would beg you, Mexican Dream, and Wilbur to stand on his back while he did his endless routines. The only one to readily take him up on that offer was Mexican Dream.

That man was arguably the only one you slightly tolerated, and you said that very lightly. He was still annoying as all hell, but he was a new face. Well, one that you didn’t know well enough to have a grudge against while you were alive. It was slightly refreshing, in a sense. When he first got here, his songs, stories, and humor gave you a nice break away from Wilbur’s depressing songs and Schlatt’s crude jokes. However when you spend eleven years trapped in a cage with one person, everything they do becomes the bane of your existence.

You were running out of things that kept you sane in this dump. You've read the same novel, counted the same ceiling and floor tiles (32 ceiling tiles and 57 floor tiles exactly), traced the same cracks in the walls, temporarily killing the same cellmates, you've done anything and everything that this cesspool had to offer. You've done everything billions of times over, a never ending cycle of monotony.

Tommy joining your group of miserable has-beens was perhaps the highlight of your fifteen, almost sixteen, years spent in this shithole. Though he finally dropped the brave facade and showed just how broken down he was after everything he’s been through, having him around was the saving grace to your sanity. He told you how your sister was, how your nephews were, and most importantly what you missed. You knew about all of the events leading up to Mexican Dream's death, but you were left in the dark with everything past that. Ender, you missed so much since you died; It baffled you how much you missed.

When the train actually stopped at your cell instead of just passing by and it's doors opened, you were just expecting another poor soul to be dropped off here. You could imagine everybody's surprise when none other than Dream stepped out of those doors. The nephew that had betrayed you without a second thought, that had murdered you, that had your severed head displayed on his mantle (you weren't sure the truth of that last statement, Tommy has a habit of over exaggerating. Though, Schlatt did say that your body was found with a missing head when you first forced him to tell you what you missed). Tommy talked to you about how he died only once, so you knew just what your nephew has been up to. It infuriated you knowing that your adult nephew was manipulating and abusing this young teenager.

While you were releasing your pent up frustrations on the masked man, he merely brushed past you and drug Tommy into the train by the arm. You could remember Wilbur banging on the doors begging for Dream to return his little brother and his angered screams echoing down the railways as the train sped off back towards the land of the living.

Lucky Tommy, he got to live out the rest of his life and actually age. You and your crew of intolerable jesters were stuck together once again.

Everybody was silent for a few months, reeling at the newly discovered fact that Dream could actually resurrect people. During those three months, they were quiet and tolerable. In a way, the talks that came out of it was like one of those family therapy sessions your older sister would hold in the living room (you remembered how she would grab you and Schlatt by the horns if either one of you refused to go). You would kill to attend one of those therapy sessions again, and this is the closest you were going to get to it.

You all talked about the things you regretted most while you were alive. Mexican Dream's was that he didn't protect his girlfriend Mamacita well enough. Schlatt's was choosing alcohol and power over his family (tears were especially shed over Tubbo, he really did regret abandoning him to be raised by you). Yours was that you were too loyal to a cause that would be absolutely decimated a short while after you sacrificed everything for it. Surprisingly, Wilbur's was that he had hurt you.

He had begged and groveled for forgiveness, telling you that he just didn't feel that special connection with you anymore. That didn't take away from the fact that he was seeing another while you two were still dating and that he blew up your life's work. He had stolen everything from you, and you would never forgive him for that.

After you made your thoughts on him completely clear, he had started treating you like you treated him in the last few months. Tension was building up between you two that had laid dormant for thirteen and a half years like a rope pulled taut about to snap.

Everybody had slowly returned to their annoying selves slowly but surely. Schlatt resumed his workout routine, Mexican Dream had started loudly singing and ranting about Mamacita's everlasting beauty again, and Wilbur eventually started up his solitaire and songwriting once again.

The three of them made you want to rip off your twisting horns and shove them in your ears in hopes of muffling them, but you knew that whomever put you here would restore your hearing and make your horns regrow. You knew that first hand after you spent a couple of years alone in this hellhole; breaking your horns off by repeatedly banging your head against the dull stone walls in a manic state was never fun. The regeneration of the keratin only slightly stung, it was like you were a kid and they were growing in for the first time again.

You felt your eye twitch as Wilbur sang about that damned train for the umpteenth time since he arrived. It’s always ‘train this' and ‘train that' and quite frankly you were sick of it. You were sick of him.

“Shut the fuck up about that damned train,” Schlatt seethed. You never once thought you would ever agree with your twin, but here you were nodding in agreement and shooting a glare at Wilbur’s direction. The brunet merely stopped his singing and reshuffled his cards, the sound making an ugly cacophony and grating at your ears.

“Not my fault you two don’t want to talk to me. I’m just making due with what I’ve been given.” He dealt the cards out in piles and started yet another game of solitaire. Seriously, how many games of solitaire can one play before they lose it? You supposed that you’d find out soon, Wilbur has been playing that monotonous card game nonstop for thirteen and a half years.

“Yeah, let the hombre chill! I like his music.” The masked man reached up to stroke his goatee, the scratching sound further penetrating your focus on your book.

Everything was quiet before Mexican Dream's voice pierced it, "hey, did I ever tell you guys how beautiful my Mamacita was?"

"You told us millions of times, fuckface. You narrate entire love letters daily, so how could we not know how 'beautiful' she was?" You complained, not once looking up from your book. Schlatt snorted to himself and returned to his workout. Mexican Dream crossed his arms in anger, cursing you out under his breath. Wilbur merely glanced at you and rolled his eyes. "You know, I'm tired of your bitchy attitude. Let him talk about Mamacita, it's not his fault every time you think you love someone it fails."

Your grip on your book tightened impossibly. If it were physically possible, the book would be crumbling to dust in your voice grip. You practically see red as you slowly dog-eared the worn page you were on and put your book down.

"Oh shit," you heard Schlatt mumble and move away from you, Mexican Dream following suit. When you both were alive, your anger was always something you knew Schlatt feared. However, you knew that he's never seen you this angry; nobody has. The majority of what you've been holding in for almost fourteen years is about to be unleashed.

"You know what I'm sick of, Wilbur?"

"Oh, do enlighten us."

"I'm sick of each and every single one of you. You three have been absolutely intolerable ever since you arrived. I was doing just fine alone and the universe just had to fuck everything up for me, just like it always does."

"There you go again," Wilbur laughed sardonically, "making everything about yourself." He gathered his cards and shuffled them repeatedly.

"I make everything about myself?! Do you even hear yourself? Mr. Oh-I'm-such-a-disappointment-to-Philza, you wallow in self pity twenty-four seven! You fucking write every single song about yourself!”

"I didn't want to come here, okay?! I didn't think it was gonna be like this! God, I might as well be in hell with you here."

"Believe me, my hell started fourteen years ago when you guys started showing up," you growled out, your ears flattening to the sides of your skull.

"Have you ever stopped to think that you're our hell? All you've done since we came here was complain and be a massive douche to all of us." He fluttered through the deck more and more as the argument escalated, the noise making you want to scream until you tasted blood.

"I'm the one that's in the wrong here? You fucked up my entire life. He," you pointed at Schlatt, "keeps beating me to death. And he," you jutted your chin towards Mexican Dream, "never shuts the hell up… Would you stop with that damn deck?! You're literally so fucking annoying."

He narrowed his eyes, "make me."

A mixture of an animalistic growl and a guttural scream left your lips as you charged at him, your head tilted downwards so he could feel the brunt of your horns. He moved out of the way just in time, the side of your horn brushing against his arm. You crashed head first into the stone wall before you stabilized yourself and looked at the brunet with seething hatred.

He was staring at you in shock, "how're you-" You used his shock to your advantage, throwing a right hook at his face. His head whipped to the side and his body followed, sending him to the ground in a heap.

"How am I still conscious? I'm a ram hybrid, dumbass. What'd you expect?" You huffed angrily before you pried the cards out of his hand and stalked over to the tracks.

He scrambled up to stop you, but before he could even reach you, you held the deck over the tracks and looked down at him. You could just imagine how your horizontal pupils were blazing with fury.

You reveled in the betrayal and animosity gleaming in his eyes as you dangled the thing he held dearest in this hell over the railroads. If you were to drop them, he'd never be able to see them again.

"We promised not to touch belongings on our first day here!" He yelled at you, his hands wrung in front of him nervously hiding the slight tremor. "Our first day here?" You scoffed, "the last time I checked, I was here for two years before any of you showed up." You gestured around the room in one angry swipe, the cards slipping slightly with how sweaty your hands were. It was then that you saw the fear in Schlatt's eyes. Good, that bastard should be scared of you. "If anything, you all are in my domain."

Wilbur flinched at the sight of the cards slowly slipping out of your hand, his breath hitching and panic stricken across his features. Mexican Dream stood up from his place and put his hands up. He was slowly approaching you like you were a cornered wild animal, making sure that you saw his every move.

He nervously chuckled, "let's just put the cards down and have a nice talk. Doesn't that sound better than this, mi amigo?"

You shook the cards once again, taking in Wilbur's silent anguish with glee. "I'm not your friend, I'm anything but. Don't tell me what to fucking do or else that picture of Mamacita is the next to go."

"...Okay, you're in charge, man. Do what you want." He reluctantly sat back down next to Schlatt. The ram was watching in fear, yet it looked like he was entertained with what was happening. You couldn't blame him, the last interesting thing that happened was three full months ago when Tommy was taken. That and you probably looked feral at the moment.

"You understand that if you drop those, they're lost forever right?"

You threw your head back and laughed, "of course I know, why do you think I only have one sock? I already tried that shit out before you came." You hummed to yourself in thought, then grinned. Wilbur was going to love this.

While you shuffled the deck, you kept a close eye on the movement happening inside the cell. Another perk to being a ram hybrid was that you had a nearly 360 degree scope of everything around you. The only movement happening was the panicked breaths from Wilbur, good. You huffed in amusement, "alright Wilbur, let's do a card trick. I'd ask you to pick a card, any card, but I don't want to risk you fucking shit up again. So, I'm just going to draw for you." You drew a card from the middle of the deck and showed it to him. "The eight of clubs, how fitting."

"(Y/n), I don't know what you're getting at, but if you don't give me those cards right now-"

"Shut it, I'm not done. I'm going to shuffle this back into the deck, watch the hands." You kept eye contact with him as you shuffled the cards rigorously, the card you pulled long since hidden with the slight of a hand. After a bit of shuffling and reshuffling, you had sneakily put the card between the two halves and bridged them until the cards were in one pile with the eight of clubs on top.

You chuckled and pulled the top card, once again showing it to him. "Is this your card?"

He nodded slightly, never once taking his eyes off from the deck. "Yes, now give it back to me!" The angry and anxious undertones were like music to your ears.

You tapped your chin in thought, "hm, I don't think I will. You've taken so much from me, it's only fair that I get some revenge." Without another word, you threw the cards behind your head and smiled widely at the sound of the fluttering down to the tracks.

Wilbur launched himself forward with a frantic yell, his hands flailing to catch all of the cards before they were lost forever. He only succeeded in catching a few.

His breath shuddered as he stared at the three cards in his hand: the five of diamonds, the four of spades, and the seven of hearts. The fate of the universe was on your side for once, perhaps preternaturally so.

"You- do you realize what you just did?!" He spun around to face you. If humans could froth at the mouth, a full waterfall would be streaming through his gritted teeth. His eyes held the rage of a man that had just lost everything in one singular instant, the resentment swirling in his dark brown orbs. Several veins were bulging in his face and neck, painting the skin in a red hue.

You walked over to your book and plopped yourself down. "Yeah," you said with a nonchalant shrug of your shoulders. You opened up your book and started reading it again, leaving the man to his grief.

Everything was quiet once more much to your delight. Though you read this book from cover to cover thousands of times, enough to know most of the words by heart, you were never able to fully enjoy and immerse yourself in it with them around. You took this time to reclaim your designated corner and spend some quality time reading.

You spent hours with your nose buried deep in your book, savoring the peace. That was until it was snatched out of your hands and ripped away from you. You looked up in slight shock at the sight of Wilbur snapping it shut and walking over to the tracks.

No. No. Nononono he can’t. That was the only thing keeping you sane. He can't just get rid of it when he's done so much towards you when you were alive.

A wail left your mouth as you tackled him to the ground, your arms wrapped around his midsection. He crashed to the ground with a grunt, his forehead smacking against the painted yellow stone. You straddled his back and ripped the book away from him, throwing it across the room and away from the tracks.

You grabbed a fist full of his hair after yanking off his beanie and tossing it into oblivion with his precious cards. You pulled his head up and leaned close to his ear, "you try that shit again and your hat and cards won't be the only things lost to the void." Venom was seeping through your every word, "do you understand me?"

He merely jerked his head to the side, colliding it with your nose and mouth. You shouted in surprise and let him go in favor of holding your aching nose. You could feel the warmth of the blood pouring from it. Through teary eyes, you looked up at Wilbur as he grabbed your book and flung it against the wall of the opposite side of the tracks. You scampered to the edge and watched in horror as it disappeared into the void.

Without warning, you were forced to the ground, a hand holding you by a horn and a knee between your shoulder blades. You struggled before a dark chuckle was heard, "if you keep moving, you'll slip! Do you really want that?" You begrudgingly stopped, realizing that he had all the power in this situation. If he wanted to, he could just slide you off from the platform and toss you away like throwing a piece of paper into the trash.

"Good, you're not as stupid as you were earlier today." He slid you forward, holding your upper body over the tracks by the horn. You came face to face with the swirling abyss that was the void, small shapes appearing from your eyes adjusting to the sudden lack of visual stimulant. Your breathing picked up as he lowered you slightly, "you don't wanna do this."

"No, I do. Thirteen and a half years of having to be around you was hell, but the shit you pulled today just put the icing on the cake. Do you have any last words before you go?"

You grunted as he shook your head slightly, a slight pain coming from the base of your horn. "Fuck you."

"How appropriate, now let's see if you'll come back this time. It'll be our fun little science experiment!"

He dropped your horn without a care in the world, sending you plummeting to your demise. A terrified scream ripped it's way out of your throat and you screwed your eyes tightly shut in preparation for the void. Your body came to a jerking halt as you held your breath, preparing for… whatever awaited you. However, nothing came.

You cracked open an eye only to be met with the uncanny inkyness, the invisible mist freezing your face and its frostbitten arms opened wide for you. But you never fell into its embrace.

Instead, you were pulled back onto the platform. You laid on your stomach with your horn supporting your head staring at the wall, tracing every single nook and cranny of the bricks. Your chest heaved as you greedily gasped for air. You never thought you'd be so relieved to see the cement walls you've been trapped in for over a decade and a half.

You were once again pulled up into a now sitting position and leaned against the wall, your back touching the cool cement. Across from you, you saw Mexican Dream pinning a struggling Wilbur down to the floor. Wilbur's crazed eyes met you, piercing through your very being. However, that didn't affect you in the slightest; you almost were just wiped from existence completely, you stared into the abyss and it stared back at you.

You felt… strange, to say the least. While icy fear and adrenaline coursed through your veins, you felt warmth blossoming in you at the same time. It was like the void was an actual person, politely giving you some form of relief from the hell you've been subjected to for over a decade and a half. It was so welcoming, not terrifying like you initially thought it was. When your fingertips grazed its surface it felt freezing to the touch, yet you felt the staticky power it was showing you. In that split moment of touching it, you had already accepted the power it held over you.

A hand softly slapped your cheek, "c'mon, (y/n). Talk to me." Your eyes drifted lazily to your twin. He was extremely pale, his eyes frantically searching your face for any sign of responsiveness. When you looked at him, he visibly relaxed. "It was so… so beautiful, Schlatt."

"Yeah, what the actual fuck did you just say? You almost just- just died for good dumbass." He looked at you incredulously, you could just see the cogs in his brain working hard to process what the hell he was seeing.

You looked back at Wilbur, he had stopped struggling slightly and was instead looking at you with a hint of confusion shining through the crazed daze. Mexican Dream tilted his head, the mask skewing slightly to the side of his face. "Thank you, Wilbur. You've shown me that there's… there's more to this hellhole than suffering. There's beauty in the darkness." His struggling had come to a complete halt, now staring at you with the most confusion you've ever seen from him. You also saw a very small hint of fear from deep within his irises.

A calloused hand gripped your chin and forced you to look back at your twin. "What are you on," he hissed lowly, "the stuff that's comin outta your mouth right now is actually batshit insane. He almost just permanently murked you and you're fucking thanking him."

"I haven't felt this at ease in nearly two decades. I feel ethereal, Schlatt, and it's all thanks to him." You let your eyes drift over to Wilbur. Giving him a content smile, you nodded your thanks at him.

The next few days went by tensely for the others, eyeing your every move and keeping you away from the ledge. You had only peered over the ledge once since then, it was just so alluring to you. It was nothing, yet everything at the same time. Mexican Dream had pulled you back to the opposite end of the room by your horns. The part that disturbed the three men was that you said absolutely nothing about it. You didn't even struggle against it, you just laid limp and let it happen.

With each passing second you spent away from the void, the feeling of utter peace was rapidly draining from your body; instead being replaced by icy fear, paranoia, and the realization that you were almost completely swallowed whole by the void.

After coming back to your senses, you didn't allow anybody near you. Your instincts going haywire and screaming that they were going to hurt you if they came close. The last time Schlatt tried touching you, you damn near took his finger off. They didn't bother trying to approach you anymore, instead glancing at you from the corners of their eyes. Wilbur was perhaps the one you feared the most, you knew that if he didn't hesitate to toss you away the first time, he would surely do it a second time. He spent most of his time staring at you, you didn't know if he was zoned out or not.

Everybody was against you, you knew it. You just knew it. They were plotting to toss you back into the void. That thing- or was it an entity? Whatever it was held a power over you that you didn't know was possible. That trance that it put you in, the craving you felt, was something that was repeating like a broken record in your mind. You could still feel the void calling out to you, it was terrifying.

You spent most of the time huddled in your corner staring at the fingers that had grazed the textured nothingness. You could still feel the buzzing and popping of the power on your fingertips, that inky residue staining your skin wouldn't come off. No matter how hard you scrubbed, scratched, or scraped, it would not leave your body. It was freezing.

The oncoming train screeching to a gradual stop was perhaps the only thing you fully acknowledged outside of your safety bubble in days. You watched in shock as it stopped at the platform. The doors opened with a fwoosh, fog pouring out onto the smooth stone floors.

Out stepped Dream, the smile etched into his cracked mask sent chills to your core. Next to him was… was another Wilbur? How in the name of Ender was that even possible?

This Wilbur was different though. This one was desaturated. This one didn't have an insane glint in his eyes, this one had grief shimmering in the tears that steamed on his cheeks. This one was broken compared to the well established man against the wall. This one was defenseless.

Dream shoved him to the center of the room, the man falling to his hands and knees. Sobs escaped his mouth as steam left his skin and drifted along the sides of his face before dissolving into the air.

"Got a new plaything for you guys, this one isn't as… fun as Wilbur is though." Dream's head turned towards you before it tilted. "What happened there? Did our dear little (y/n) get too close to the void?"

"They are none of your concern, pandejo," Mexican Dream seethed at his counterpart from his position next to the train. "Why are you even here, man?"

"Oh, I'm just here to make a trade. I'm afraid that I'll have to give you guys Ghostbur here in exchange for Wilbur."

Wilbur stared at him with pure hope and glee springing up in his eye for the first time in over a decade. "Really?"

Dream chuckled, "yes, really. What, do you really think I'd lie to you?"

"I don't know, ya smiley freak. You've been known to fuck people over." Schlatt scoffed, his ear flicking in annoyance.

"I'm telling the truth this time. Wilbur, come with me."

Stars shone in his eyes as he reveled in the sight of the open train doors. He followed the masked man with a skip in his step, ecstatic giggles leaving his mouth as he boarded.

Anger flooded you as you purse your lips together and you darted towards the train. The doors were closing already, if you could just-

The door shut with a clank, blocking you from freedom. Your clenched fists banged against the window, glowering at the sight of Wilbur's happiness and Dream looking at you with a wave.

"You fucking bastard! Take me, he doesn't deserve it! He threw his goddamned life away, you're wasting your time with him!" Your angry shouts were ignored by the two however as the train once again started moving with a small hiss.

A frustrated scream left your mouth as you pummeled the iron with your fists as it moved. If only you could find a train car to jump onto-

Now. You leapt from the platform towards the junction between two of the train cars. However, your leap of faith was set to a halt midair by Schlatt holding your upper arms. You thrashed against him, desperate to get back to the land of the living, desperate to leave this godforsaken hell called the afterlife, but once again, you were torn away from what you were trying to achieve.

You fell limp as you watched the last train car pass the platform and disappear down the tracks and into the void. The next possible time it would show it’s face would be in a few months if you were lucky. You let him take you back to your corner, your feet limply being drug against the floor. After you were plopped back down, you stared at the clone of your ex. You were pretty sure Dream said that his name was ‘Ghostbur’. What a strange name, yet you supposed that it was fitting for Wilbur’s apparition.

“Are ya done with your little ‘moment’, (y/n)?” Schlatt was kneeling in front of you, his hands prepared to grab you if you made a run for it. Though his tone was annoyed, you could detect the very small worried undertone of his voice.

You nodded and watched as he took a seat next to you, also staring at the newcomer. This is the closest he’s sat next to you in years.

“...What do you think of the clone over there?” You hummed to yourself, “he looks pathetic, but I think that might be the only thing he and Wilbur share.”

Mexican Dream took a seat next to you, slinging an arm over your shoulders. Normally, you would’ve shrugged him off, but you were too emotionally drained to do so. “Si, he does look kinda weak. But I think our new hombre here has promise.”

“Promise for what?” Schlatt snorted. Mexican Dream hesitated, “...I don’t know. This is gonna be interesting, mis amigos.”

“The party’s just begun, boys. Buckle up, this is gonna be a wild fucking ride.” You mused to them, unsure of what the future would hold with the newcomer. Though after a couple of years, you were sure you were going to hate him; that is if he’s nothing like his clone. Ender help you if he’s anything like Wilbur.

As you stared at the broken man, you couldn’t help but wonder: why did he get to go back? As far as you were concerned, psychopaths like him do not deserve a second chance at life. If anything, it should be you boarding that train. It should be you getting a second chance. He was the one that so readily threw his life away while you had yours ripped away from you.

One continuous thought was circling in your mind: why couldn’t it have been me?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You wrung your hands together as you anxiously waited for Tommy, Ghostbur, and Friend outside of Pandora’s Vault. Ranboo and Tubbo sat next to you in the grass, giving you silent comfort with their presence. You were mainly worried for your boyfriend, his worst fear was Dream using the resurrection book on him. You had calmed him down from a panic attack prior to meeting up with the teenagers, begging him to let you go in his place. Of course, Ghostbur being the caring and brave soul he was, wove you off and ensured that he’d be okay.

When you saw someone emerging from the portal, you leapt to your feet and steadied your head on your shoulders before you examined the people emerging. Except you only saw a human and a sheep, no ghost.

Tommy looked pale and on the verge of tears as he led Friend towards you. Before he spoke, he used his sleeve to wipe at his tears.

“Hey, Tommy! How did it- where’s Ghostbur?” The enderman hybrid stretched his usually slouched back to peer at the portal, keen eyes searching for any sign of movement.

“I think he’s dead… He’s dead!”

Tubbo tilted his head and looked up at the blond in confusion, “well, yeah. He’s a ghost. Of course he’s dead.” Ranboo nodded in agreement, “yeah, he can’t die again. That just isn’t possible.”

You said nothing (not like you could in the first place, your head wasn’t connected to your body), looking into Tommy’s eyes inquisitively. They were chock full of panic, grief, and fear, staring down at the lead in his clenched hands.

“No, no you don’t understand, it’s not that he’s dead… it’s that Wilbur’s back.”

“Hold on, the Wilbur that blew up L’Manberg? That Wilbur?” Ranboo peered down at him incredulously. “Yes! C’mon, he- we gotta get to L’Manberg.”

He spun around and led Friend towards L’Manberg, walking quickly with a purpose. You, Ranboo, and Tubbo followed. You hugged your head close to your chest, your eyes peeking over your arms. It was always something you’ve done whenever you were scared or worried about something. You heard stories about Wilbur from your nephew, if the stories of his insanity terrified you, you’d hate to see the man in person.

“I was about to kill Dream, and- and Ghostbur died. Dream revived Wilbur… Fuck!” Tommy walked faster, L’Manberg far off in the distance. With one hand, you grabbed the blond’s attention and finger spelled, ‘are you serious? He’s actually gone?’

“Yes! How many times do I have to explain this?! Ghostbur isn’t with us anymore and Wilbur’s back. Wilbur’s back and we’re absolutely fucked.” He turned on his heel and resumed his beeline towards the crater in the wall. No, he couldn’t be gone. This was just a cruel prank they were pulling on you, right?

Tubbo put a comforting hand on your shoulder, giving you a small sympathetic smile. You leaned into his touch slightly and carried on, stepping into the makeshift staircase behind Tommy.

You moved your arms to cover your eyes as you stepped aside to make room for the other two teenagers. You heard a voice; it sounded exactly like Ghostbur’s voice, yet it sounded... off. You however remained hopeful and uncovered your eyes.

The man that stood there certainly wasn’t your boyfriend. Everything about him was just so wrong. The emotion in his eyes, his clothing, his smile, his stance, his hair, everything. This was a completely different person. This was Wilbur Soot.

“Hello again.” His eyes flicked around your group, his gaze lingering on you for longer than the rest. You noticed that he was staring at your neck, but that was okay. You were used to it; everybody did that. What you weren’t used to was the revulsion that flashed in his eyes. The eyes that once lovingly stared at you and reassured you that he’d love you even with your… condition were now filled with disgust.

That was what broke you, the tears that you tried to hold in came streaming out like a waterfall. Stinging pain hit you as the water worked its way through the cloth of your uniform onto your arms, leaving steam floating upwards towards the cave ceiling. You phased through Ranboo’s body and made a mad dash towards your sister’s house. You needed her, you could feel a panic attack brewing inside you. Usually you would hate to be a bother to your older sister and Ghostbur would always calm you down, but now he’s…

You pushed that thought aside and focused completely on getting to Puffy’s house in the distance. You phased through the door without a thought to knock, frantically beginning your search for Puffy.

You looked everywhere, but you couldn’t find her. Unable to cope any longer, you fell to your knees in the middle of the living room and hugged your head to your chest, your face being pushed against your uniform. Your shoulders shook with silent painful sobs, the only sound in the room being the sizzling of your skin.

Why couldn’t it have been you? It should be Ghostbur standing there in that cavern, not Wilbur. This was completely your fault, you should’ve gone instead of him. You should’ve volunteered quicker than he did, you shouldn’t have let him talk you into it with his soothing words. Now because of your complete and utter cowardice, he was stuck in the afterlife once again. You were never going to see him any time soon. Your other half was ripped away from you because of your inaction.

Between sobs, your lips repeatedly formed the same phrase: why couldn’t it have been me?

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#wilbur soot x reader #ghostbur x reader #jschlatt x reader #mexican dream x reader #dream smp x reader #mcyt x reader #tw: swearing #tw: death #tw: near death #tw: blood #tw: panic attack #tw: violence #tw: injury #tw: grief

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thefanficmonster · 3 years

Text

Infatuation

Corpse Husband x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Swearing

Genre: FLUFF, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: It’s not a secret that Corpse prefers taking care of his hair himself rather than going to a hair salon to get it trimmed and/or tampered. However, he only has so much knowledge of how to properly do it without having to obliterate his budget. Luckily, his girlfriend comes to his rescue.

Requested by Anon. Hi lovely! Thank you so much for the incredibly fluffy request! I’ve been very pumped to write it and now here it finally is - so sorry it’s taken me so long to complete and post it but I still hope you come across it and give it a read! Love, Vy ❤

“Um, what are you doing?“

I just walked into Corpse’s apartment to find him barricaded in the bathroom, giving himself a hair appointment. We were supposed to have a chill night in watching movies, but it seems to me like those plans will either have to be delayed or canceled, given the chaotic state both Corpse and his bathroom are in. I mean, how dumb was I to expect he was actually doing his hair justice when he told me he styled it himself? Why didn’t that immediately raise an army of red flags in my head and lead me to question his methods?

I’m honestly quite jealous of Corpse’s hair. It’s always so soft and silky and no matter how much or how little effort he’s put in it, it always looks good: either evidently carefully styled or boyishly messy, it leaves me with heart-eyes regardless. But to see him massacre it like this, it makes me wish I could report it as a crime.

“Ain’t obvious?“ He sounds rather frustrated and I feel at least slightly better due to this fact. He deserves to be as frustrated as I am by the sight of the crap he’s doing. “Sorry, you’re gonna have to wait for me for...a little while. I just need to get this under control and, um, clean the mess. Sorry for ruining your night like this, babe. I-I really wasn’t planning on it to take this long but I forgot to buy one of the products and I thought I could wing it without it but...I very clearly can’t so...“

“Please, stop talking. I don’t need to know what sins you’ve committed - if I do I’ll probably have to give you the silent treatment for like a week or so.“ I call out to him as I quickly skip over to the kitchen to leave the food I bought on my way over before returning to the bathroom and carefully taking a step inside, mindful of where there are hair strands on the tiles. Even severed, his hair is beautiful and I have a ton of respect for it - ok fine, I adore it. Corpse definitely doesn’t appreciate it properly. I walk over to the shower, reaching out to the two shelves inside which are lined with different types of hair products. “Oh fuck...“ I let out the whisper without even realizing it because I’m so stunned by the brands I see on those shelves. “Corpse, um, what the actual fuck?”

He turns to me, eyes wide and terrified because of my menacing tone. “What? What is it?” His gaze searches the spot where mine was just pointed at, looking for anything that could’ve provoked such a reaction from me. Seeing nothing but the hair products, he meets my deadly glare yet again, “What’s wrong?”

Alright, this man-child needs some serious help

“I’ll tell you what’s wrong.“ I say, stomping towards the exit of the bathroom, “You’re gonna stay here and wait for me to come back and don’t you DARE, even touch your hair, let alone bring a pair of scissors or any chemical near it. Copy?“

“Copied and pasted, ma’am.“ He salutes me, knowing better than to ask questions when I enter my commander role. There are quite a few things that set me off into this bossy-ass persona, and hair mistreatment is most definitely one of them. Thing is, Corpse doesn’t know that. Well, he didn’t know that, pretty sure he’s guessed it by now.

Feeling myself soften at his obedience and trust, I give him a smile and a wink over my shoulder as I go to grab my bag and leave the apartment to complete my mission, “Good boy.”

* * *

“Isn’t that a lot better?“ I ask, gently running my fingers through Corpse’s freshly cut, washed and dried hair. I’ve spent a good five minutes just smoothing through it with my fingers. I bet he’s expecting me to say ‘my precious‘ at any moment now, and trust me it’s tempting, but I still don’t, I won’t give him the pleasure of predicting my actions. Wow, we’ve really reached that level of being familiar with one another that I predict that he’s predicting what I’m gonna do next. While I’m a guessing game for him, I tend to think of myself as more of an open book. You just gotta be fluent in the language it’s written in to understand it.

I’ve gone off-topic, my bad.

“Yeah, you’re a lot less scary now.“ He tells me, his hand finding mine in his hair and taking it to his lips to place a kiss on my knuckles.

We’re positioned so that we’re in front of the bathroom mirror with Corpse seated in a chair in front of me and I’m for once in my life towering over him from behind. Our height difference was threatening to be a hinderance in my work on his hair, but we easily figured it out.

I can’t help but laugh, “You know what I meant.“ I curl one of his already curly strands around the pointer finger of the hand that’s still wandering around the soft dark curls while the other remains in his gentle hold, resting on his shoulder.

“And you know what I meant.“ He shifts in his seat to look at me directly, not via the mirror, “Since when do you have a hair infatuation?“

I roll my eyes and retract my hands, defensively folding my arms over my chest, “It’s not an infatuation with hair, dummy. It’s an infatuation with your hair.” I correct him, doing quick work of styling the stray strands that fall over his forehead and eyes. “I really like your hair, you already know that. I can’t handle the thought you’re doing such a shitty job taking care of it.”

He shrugs, furrowing his brows, “Hey, I was buying top-shelf products, cost me a fortune every month, my hair was being treated like royalty.”

I roll my eyes once again, “High price doesn’t always equal high quality, Corpse. Did you ever stop to read what was in those products?” I don’t let him answer, I don’t need him to confirm what I already know. “Even if you did - which you didn’t - you wouldn’t know what each of those ingredients do to your hair. You see, taking care of hair, especially hair like yours, takes patience and knowledge. It’s practically an art form. It’s not like you can just buy any product that has ‘suitable for curly hair’ on it. There’s a lot more to that.”

It’s only after I finish my monologue that I realize he’s looking at me with amazed amusement in his gaze, almost like a parent listening to their kid talk about their wish of becoming an astronaut. “Since when do you know so much about hair? You’ve been using the same shampoo and conditioner since I know you and now you wanna lecture me on hair care?”

I raise an eyebrow at him, exasperated by his stubbornness on the matter, “Who said being consistent with your hair products is a bad thing? You know, frequent changing of brands has the potential of being damaging as much as aiding.” I explain with the most amount of patience I can muster, now taking over the parent role myself, “And as for your previous question, I know so much because my mother is a hairdresser.”

His eyes widen in surprise. I can practically see the gears in his brain turning as he tries to recall if I’ve ever told him this before.

“How come I don’t know that?“ He asks finally after a long moment of silence. “Why haven’t you told me?”

“You ask that as though I just tell you things like that on the regular. Did you also want me to drop the info that my dad’s a mechanic in passing conversation about video games? Cause that’s a little hard to shoehorn in....“ He cuts off my sarcastic rambling with a brief peck to the lips. He’s the only person allowed to shut me up, and only like that. Anything else will earn him either an earful or a silent treatment.

Just kidding....unless...

“So, does that mean you’re continuing the family business?“ he asks when he pulls away, “I mean, you’re technically my personal hairdresser now.“

I furrow my brows playfully, “Wait, what? Since when?”

“Since I hired you approximately an hour ago.“ He beams up at me, satisfied that I’ve fallen in his trap.

“And what about my payment?“ I ask, narrowing my eyes at him.

He looks to be contemplating for a second before he stands up from the chair, taking my hand in his leading me out of the bathroom, “Well, each appointment you’ll give me a different price, Miss Y/L/N. But, considering today was your first day, I choose to pay you with dinner.“ He sends a wink my way, laughing when he’s met with an unamused expression on my part as I stop in my tracks, causing him to halt his movements as well.

“You really plan on paying me with the dinner I bought?“ I raise an eyebrow at him, freeing my hand from his so I can put both my hands on my hips for the complete 'I’m far from impressed’ look.

“Yeah...? Problem?“ He asks, faking nervousness and guilt as he closes the distance between us, once again returning to the default of towering over me instead of it being the other way around.

“Several actually. First of all...“ I raise my finger in the air accusingly, ready to go off but the arm that wraps around my waist and lifts me off the ground causes my words to die down, evaporating in a frightened squeal, “Corpse no!! Put me down!“

Of course, he ignores me, carrying me into the living room while I don’t know whether to thrash or stay as still as possible.

Tsk, so much for gratitude

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kpopfanfictrash · 4 years

Text

Raise the Barre (Epilogue)

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Creative Contributor: @baebae-goodnight for the last Raise the Barre moodboard TT she nailed it

Pairing: Jimin / Reader

Rating: 18+ (Smut)

Genre: Enemies to Lovers / Dance Academy!AU

Warnings: sexual content. Dry humping, fingering, hand job, oral (female), breast play, multiple orgasms, Jimin gets turned on by making someone else come, dirty talk. Jimin’s pants are tight.

Word Count: 13,409

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

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

“And… more pointe shoes,” you said, opening the box in your lap. “Wow. Thanks, mom and dad.”

Your dad laughed, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “You’re welcome, kiddo,” he said, nodding from the couch. “I know Russet gives you some already, but you can never have too many.”

“Out of curiosity.” You glanced at the tree. “Are there any boxes from you which aren’t related to dance?”

“Not related to dance…” Your mom pretended to think. “I don’t understand.”

“Mom!”

She laughed. “I’m kidding! Yes, there are other presents. You just happened to pick all the pointe shoe boxes first.”

Shaking your head, you placed the box aside. You smiled though, warmth in your chest at being home for the holidays. Classes at Russet had ended a week prior and it had been nice for a few days to simply relax. Already though, you found yourself itching to return to the city. It was strange to wake every morning and not head to ballet. It was even stranger to take classes at your old studio, trying to stay in shape before second semester began.

Playing with the string of your sweatpants, you couldn’t help glancing at your phone on the couch. It had been several days since you’d last seen Jimin in person. Oddly enough, the separation had been harder than you’d thought it would be.

Immediately after ending things with Finn, you and Jimin had tried to keep your distance. The pain of your separation had been too fresh to even consider dating someone else but, as time had gone on, you and Jimin had started becoming friends again.

It was hard not to be, with Jimin continuing as your dance partner and classmate. At the end of the semester, you’d had the opportunity to switch partners, but you and Jimin had chosen the status quo. It just made sense this way; you couldn’t think of anyone else you’d trust as much as him.

At first, things between you were strictly professional. You saw him only within the confines of the dance studio but eventually, his presence bled into your normal life. At first, the outings were small. Jimin went to a pregame you also attended. He saw you once at the coffee shop and, instead of running away, he stopped to chat. One time, he walked you back to your dorm.

When the month became December, you found your outlook improving. Most of November had been spent wallowing in your dorm, but the holiday season brought with it endless activities. The very first weekend of the month, a bunch of your Russet friends decided to go ice skating and you’d ended up tagging along.

The biggest problem had been you’d never ice skated before. Noelle had been patient, skating backwards in front of you and dragging you around the rink. Jimin had done the same thing for Hoseok, who was in a similar predicament to yours, and at some point, they swapped partners and left you skating with Jimin.

When he’d taken over for Noelle, your stomach had swooped. Hands touching, he’d led you gently around the edge and the world had seemed to still. It had been the first time you’d felt anything stir outside of your break-up. Whatever hurt and distance had sprung between you, it seemed something had survived between you and Jimin.

Nose red, Jimin had smiled as he skated backwards. “It’s easy,” he’d told you. “You just swivel, Y/N. In and out, in and out. Got it?”

“Um, no!” you’d yelped, nearly crashing to the ice when Jimin let go of your hands.

He’d laughed, catching you easily and skating like that for a while. Eventually, Jimin had helped you off the rink and gotten hot chocolate, which you insisted on buying. Payback, you said, for the impromptu skating lessons.

That day had been a turning point for you both. Throughout the month prior, you’d texted sporadically but after, you seemed to talk every day.

Jimin even offered to drive you home from Russet, given the fact that your hometowns were so close together. After much hemming and hawing, you’d eventually taken him up on the offer. The savings it gave your bleeding bank account were well-worth the potential discomfort.

This had led to both the best and worst twenty-four hours of your life.

Best, because Jimin was an excellent road trip companion. He let you choose the music, laughed at all your dumb jokes, and agreed to play the road trip games you suggested. You’d already made a firm rule not to compare Jimin to any past boyfriends but couldn’t help but note this as an improvement over anyone prior.

The sole reason the twenty-four hours were also painful was because you stopped at a hotel halfway through. It was either this or drive until 3:00 AM, so you chose the smarter option and rested for the night. You and Jimin bought separate bedrooms, but they’d ended up next to one another, so you’d been forced to spend a sleepless night imagining Jimin separated from you only by a thin sheet of plywood.

You had told yourself this was silly. At Russet, Jimin hadn’t been much further away, but something about the closeness in the hotel made you nervous. It was infinitely easier to forget about boundaries when you were separated by only a car console for hours at a time. Infinitely easier to forget the rules when you were outside of Russet, cocooned by his car and the snow.

You couldn’t help but think about the one kiss you’d shared.

That had only been a taste, barely a teaser, but the memory kept you awake for more nights than it probably should have. You couldn’t help but wonder what it’d be like to kiss Jimin again, under different circumstances.

Groaning, you’d covered your face with a pillow that night and tried your best to sleep. It hadn’t really worked, and you’d shown up at the car the next morning with dark shadows beneath your eyes.

Forcing yourself back to the present, you glanced away from your phone and focused on the tree – only to see its screen light up in your peripheral. Grabbing your phone, you realized Jimin had texted. Stifling a smile, you scrolled through the conversation until you found his last message.

Jimin: MERRY CHRISTMAS! [10:23 AM]

Jimin:

Y/N: oh my god everything’s so... coordinated lol how long did that tree take to set up? [10:24 AM]

Y/N: and merry Christmas 😊 [10:24 AM]

Jimin: not long at all. I just googled ‘christmas trees’ and that was the first one I found [10:24 AM]

Y/N: ha ha hilarious [10:25 AM]

Y/N: so, what are the Park family plans for the day? [10:25 AM]

Jimin: the usual. Opening presents, going to my grandparents later for dinner. What about you? [10:25 AM]

Y/N: same, minus the grandparents. We usually have a pretty low-key day [10:26 AM]

Jimin: sounds nice [10:26 AM]

Jimin: what’s your favorite present so far [10:27 AM]

Y/N:

Jimin: LOL [10:30 AM]

Jimin: how many of them did you get? I’ve gotten two new dance bags and seven pairs of black leggings. It’s like our parents have forgotten we do anything else [10:31 AM]

Y/N: no new dance belts? 😈 [10:32 AM]

Jimin: Y/N, I’m shocked [10:35 AM]

Jimin: mind out of the gutter. Stop thinking about my junk [10:35 AM]

Y/N: as your dance partner, I have a vested interest in your junk. What if it breaks free in the middle of practice? [10:38 AM]

Jimin: the more delicate ladies would faint, I imagine [10:41 AM]

Jimin: and probably Paulo [10:41 AM]

Y/N: lmao [10:43 AM]

Y/N: but seriously, I hope you get presents other than dance gear [10:43 AM]

Jimin: back at you haha [10:47 AM]

Y/N: I can’t help but notice you didn’t get me, your dance partner, a Christmas gift though [10:50 AM]

Jimin: was the drive home not enough? [10:50 AM]

Y/N: oh, shoot. You’re right! You did get me a Christmas gift [10:51 AM]

Y/N: I’m the one who’s been remiss [10:51 AM]

Jimin: don’t forget about my housewarming gift, too [10:52 AM]

You smiled, sitting back on the sofa. Jimin was lucky enough to be moving off campus second semester. He, Hoseok and Alex Wong were moving into an apartment not far from Paulo’s. You and Noelle had decided to stay in Grace Hall, but you’d talked about moving someplace else next year.

Jimin was heading back early to move into his new place, so you’d need a different ride on your return trip to Russet. Still, you were looking forward to Jimin’s apartment hosting parties in the new year.

Y/N: don’t get greedy on me now, Park [10:54 AM]

“Who’re you texting?”

Jerking your head up from the screen, you nearly dropped your phone. From the couch opposite, your mom gave you a knowing look.

“No one,” you said hastily, setting your phone aside.

“Oh, really?” She glanced with your dad. “No one wouldn’t happen to have dark hair, his own car and excellent table manners, would he?”

Immediately, you felt your face heat.

When Jimin drove you home before Christmas, your parents had insisted on feeding him before he continued to Harleigh Heights. This had led to the weirdest double date of your life – which was, in fact, not a date – including you, Jimin and your parents for dinner. Luckily, your parents had been great and Jimin hadn’t cared, but you’d been endlessly mortified for your first date with Jimin to have included your parents.

Not that you’d called it a date. When Jimin had left that night, you’d brushed it aside and he’d simply gone along with it. After Jimin had left, you’d gone to your room and wondered what the hell you were doing. It was clear you still liked Jimin and wanted to be more than just friends. Still, something continued to hold you back.

You weren’t sure when it was considered appropriate to move on. The line seemed fuzzy, so you hadn’t dared cross it and Jimin hadn’t asked. You got the feeling you needed to be the one to make the first move – which made sense. You’d been the one who asked for more time. You’d told Jimin you’d say when you were ready.

Any next steps would have to come from you.

It had been weird to go home and not see Finn. His house was only fifteen minutes away from yours – you’d driven past it on your way to the grocery store last week. Still, seeing his home hadn’t caused the pain you’d expected. It was strange not to see him, but more like you’d forgotten something you needed to do, as opposed to missing his actual presence.

If you were being honest, Finn had crossed your mind less and less lately. Possibly because you’d been falling out of love with him long before you’d broken up in November.

Still, it would be unfair to jump into something before you were ready. You’d already hurt Jimin once this past fall and were determined not to do so again. No matter how good things had been lately between you, you didn’t want to make the mistake of dating Jimin too soon.

Despite this, things had become flirtier between you as of late. Exhibit A: casual text conversations about Park Jimin’s junk.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said lightly.

Your dad laughed as he stood from the couch. “Alright, then,” he said, grabbing another gift. “How about you open this one next?”

Accepting the thin package he handed over, you frowned. The box wasn’t large and, shaking it slowly, you heard no sliding inside.

“I swear,” you said as you began to undo the bow. “If you wrapped your passport photo again, dad...”

Laughing, he settled back on the couch by your mom. “It’s not that, I promise.”

Grumbling, you opened the box and immediately froze. Staring at the paper inside, you slowly looked up. “Is this… is this what I think it is?”

“It’s a plane flight,” your mom said with a smile. “I know we’re supposed to drive you back on the third, but we thought you might want to celebrate New Year’s with your friends.”

“But…” Speechless, you returned to the box. “We always hang out together on New Year’s Eve.”

“I know,” said your dad. “But maybe it’s time to start some new traditions, kiddo.”

With that, he stood and took his mug to the kitchen. Sensing he wasn’t needed for this conversation any longer, he began washing dishes and to prepare breakfast. Once he was gone, your mom moved to your couch and settled beside you.

“I… this is too much,” you said, immediately backpedaling.

“It’s not.”

“Well…” Hesitant, you considered the possibilities. “I guess Ari will be in the city for New Year’s Eve. Maybe Noelle, too. She mentioned she might go back early.”

Gently, your mom smiled. “That’s great if you want to hang out with them, but… didn’t Jimin mention going back before New Year’s?”

Startled, you glanced up. You were surprised she’d remembered. Jimin had mentioned it briefly at dinner last week – he’d said he was moving off campus, which was why he’d needed to return home to pack.

“I – he might have,” you said cautiously.

“I see.” She paused. “I just… I don’t want you feeling like you need to hold yourself back, honey.”

“What do you mean by that?”

Your mom glanced meaningfully at your phone. “I’m glad you’re taking time to yourself,” she said slowly. “It’s important to know who you are and what you want. But also – don’t feel like you need to follow someone else’s timeline when it comes to moving on.”

“I know, but…” You trailed off. “We only broke up in November.”

She shrugged. “Only you know when you’re ready, honey. I just don’t want you to keep punishing yourself for something that’s over. You’re allowed to be happy, even if you’ve messed up in the past.”

Swallowing, you glanced again at the gift. The plane ticket was for the day before New Year’s Eve. Plucking it from the box, you sat back on the couch.

“But…” you said lowly. “Mom, it’s only been two months.”

“And are you still in love with Finn?”

“No.”

“And did you learn anything from what happened this fall?”

“I… Yes. A lot.”

“Good.” Reaching out, she squeezed your hand. “Learn the lessons you need to learn, and then move on. Self-flagellation isn’t productive, Y/N.”

You nodded, still uncertain about what she was saying. Her words made sense, but everything she was saying uncovered a dormant fear. You were scared. Scared of hurting someone else, scared of being hurt by someone else in return. Your last relationship had ended so badly, it was hard to convince yourself it might be worth it to try again.

Finally, you turned to face her on the couch. “Does it ever get any easier?” you asked. “This fear of being hurt… does it ever go away?”

Something sad passed over her face. “Yes and no,” she said, pulling back her hand. “You’ll never be as innocent as you were in your first love. There’s something special about loving someone and never having been hurt before. Once you’ve gone through that kind of pain, you aren’t the same after. But… it does get easier. And better. You’ll know more about how to support this time, instead of tearing down. How to make a love stronger, instead of hanging on.”

Something about this speech gave you comfort, and you slowly nodded. Again, what she said made sense but if there was one thing you’d learned from the fall, it was no matter how great the advice was, it was impossible to take if you weren’t ready to hear it.

You continued wondering if the risk would be worth it. No matter how much you felt for Jimin, you couldn’t help but remember how you’d felt breaking up with Finn. You hadn’t been in love with him at that point and it had still been so painful. It was terrifying to imagine loving someone again and having things end the same way.

Your mom was right, though. You couldn’t keep punishing yourself for something you couldn’t change. There were several ways you could move on from here. The main question to ask yourself was whether you wanted Jimin in the picture.

“Alright,” you said softly. “Thanks, mom.”

“Anytime.” Smiling, she stood and dusted off her pants. “I’m going to see if your dad needs help making breakfast. Don’t be too long, now!”

You nodded, watching her go, and then glanced at the ticket. Your mom’s words continued to run through your mind and after a moment, you picked up your phone.

Jimin had texted back.

Jimin: I would never! [10:57 AM]

Y/N: hey, so [11:01 AM]

Y/N: I did get one non-dance gift this year. A plane flight the day before New Year’s Eve [11:02 AM]

Jimin: oh, wow! That was really nice of your parents [11:03 AM]

Taking a deep breath, you closed your eyes. When you opened them, you found yourself newly determined.

Y/N: when do you get back again? [11:03 AM]

His ellipses started, then stopped, then started again.

Jimin: December 28th [11:04 AM]

Y/N: what are your New Year’s Eve plans? [11:04 AM]

For a moment, he didn’t respond, and you felt your heart catch. Maybe you’d misread things. Maybe Jimin had moved on and didn’t care about you anymore. Maybe he didn’t want you to tell him you were ready.

Jimin: I’m free 😊 [11:05 AM]

Jimin: want to be my New Year’s Eve date? [11:05 AM]

Smiling ear to ear, you responded.

Y/N: yes. Please [11:06 AM]

On the actual day of New Year’s Eve, you found yourself stressed beyond belief. Standing in front of the mirror of your dorm room, you adjusted your dress and worried over the hemline. Jimin had arranged to meet you around 7:00 PM and it was dangerously close to 6:55.

“Is the dress too short?” you asked, turning a little to face Noelle. “It is New Year’s Eve in the city. Should I wear pants, or something? Will I be cold?”

Noelle considered, then shrugged. “Just drink more. Problem solved!”

Snorting, you turned back to the mirror. Nervously, you smoothed down the front of your dress. You’d bought it at an after-Christmas sale and had fallen instantly in love. It had seemed perfect at the time, but now you were having second thoughts about the thin straps and tight bodice.

“Alright, so Y/N.” Noelle changed the subject. “Here’s the plan. Are you listening?”

Hiding a smile, you adjusted an earring. “Listening.”

“Good. Okay, so Ari and I will be at a party uptown. If the date goes badly, just say the word and we’ll call you a cab. You can be ringing in the new year with us within the hour.”

“Perfect,” you said. “It’s good to have a back-up.”

“It is.” Noelle paused. “Not that I think you’ll need this, of course.”

“Well, you never know.”

“Please.” She snorted. “What’s Jimin going to do? Be too charming? Too respectful of boundaries? Wear pants that show off his ass a little too much?”

“Noelle!”

She laughed, coming to a stop alongside you. Noelle wore a sparkly dress which made her skin glow, although this may have been the glitter dusted over her shoulders. Looking at herself in the mirror, she fluffed her hair.

“Seriously,” she said, meeting your gaze. “You’re going to be fine.”

“I know, I know.” Shaking out your arms, you forced yourself to exhale. “I’m just nervous, that’s all. It’s been a long time since I went on a first date.”

Noelle considered. “That’s true. Allow me to give you some dating tips, then.”

Laughing, you turned around and sat on the futon. “By all means.”

“Alright – number one.” Noelle removed lipstick from her purse. “Don’t order anything with garlic. I know, that sucks because garlic is everything, but no one wants to make out while they have garlic breath. Rule number two!”

“Whoa, whoa,” you said. “Who said anything about making out?”

Noelle gave you a pointed look. “Just in case it should happen…”

Shaking your head, you sunk back on the futon, but you knew she was right. Tonight was New Year’s Eve, after all. Ideally, you’d like to do more than kiss Jimin, but this seemed like too much of a jinx to say out loud.

Mentally, you agreed to the ‘no garlic’ rule.

“What else?” you prompted.

“Let’s see.” Noelle began to reapply her lipstick. “Relax.”

“What?”

Glancing at you in the mirror, she raised both brows. “I can see your shoulders tensing from here, babe. Just relax, okay? Tonight will be fine. You’re just hanging out with Jimin. You’ve done that before.”

“I know,” you groaned, lowering your face to your hands. “For some reason though, I’m very aware of the ‘date’ aspect of tonight. I don’t know why.”

When you looked up, Noelle gave you a sympathetic look, but before she could say more there came a knock at the door. Half-standing, you moved to open it, but Noelle shooed you back.

“Rule number three,” she said as she crossed the room. “Never answer the door for your own date.”

“What?” you laughed, although you sat back down on the futon.

Grabbing the handle, Noelle pulled open the door. Blocking you from view, she leaned her shoulder against the frame.

“Password?”

“What?” came Jimin’s voice, sounding confused.

“That’s correct!” Noelle stepped aside.

As you stood, you saw Jimin for the first time. He wore a pea coat over his outfit, his dark hair pushed back from his face in a devastating manner. When he saw you, Jimin froze, and you saw his eyes widen.

Silently, you congratulated yourself on having picked the right outfit. His gaze slowly trailed your body, lingering in places which made your cheeks heat. When he returned to your face, he slowly exhaled.

“Hey,” he said. “You… you look beautiful.”

Smiling back, you found yourself at a loss for words. “So do you.”

Jimin grinned and you stood there, smiling at each other like idiots until Noelle cleared her throat.

“Well,” she said, side-stepping Jimin to grab her coat. “I’m going to head over to Ari’s. You kids be safe, okay?”

“We will,” you laughed.

Noelle left in a flurry of kisses and glitter, waving goodbye as she stepped out the door. Jimin turned to face you once she was gone, offering a smile.

“Are you ready to go?” he asked. “I brought you these.”

From behind his back, he pulled out pink peonies, which made you gasp. They were your favorites, a little limp from the cold, but still beautiful. Taking them gently from him, you turned them over in your hands.

“They’re wonderful,” you said happily. “Thank you.”

Jimin smiled. “I’m glad you like them.”

Glancing around, you found a clean glass near the sink and filled this with water. Arranging the peonies on your desk, you took a step back and cocked your head. You’d always thought the idea of flowers on dates was kind of cheesy, but now that you’d experienced it in person, it seemed unimaginably sweet.

“There,” you said, turning back. “All set.”

Jimin smiled at this, then glanced at your bare arms. “You’re going to be cold without a coat,” he said. “That’d be a bad way to start off the new year.”

“Oh – duh,” you said, hurrying towards your wardrobe.

Pulling a coat out, you slipped this over your dress and buttoned the front. As you left the room, you turned off the lights and shut the door behind you. Jimin walked with you down the hall, continually glancing your way from the corner of his eyes.

You felt oddly shy, despite this being Jimin beside you. Jimin, who you’d known since you were teenagers. Jimin, who’d been both the utter bane of your existence, along with the single person you trusted most in the world. He’d tossed you up in the air and caught you no question and somehow, this felt like the most daring thing you’d ever done.

It was strange to walk beside him, out on a date whose future held a large question mark. Excitement and uncertainty warred in your stomach, which only seemed to exacerbate the situation. You felt as though you stood on the edge of a precipice, staring into a ravine with no discernable bottom.

As you left the building, snowflakes swirled in the sky up above and you looked up in surprise.

“Oh,” you exhaled, breath frosting before you. “I didn’t realize it was snowing!”

“Yeah.” Jimin grinned, tilting back his head. “Snow is my favorite weather, actually.”

“The wet and the cold does it that much for you, huh, Park?”

“That, and the romance of it all.”

Your smile softened a little as you fell into step alongside him. The snow continued to drift as you walked, melting as soon as it touched the pavement.

“So, where are we going?” you wondered, glancing at him. “You said you’d tell me once you picked me up and I’ve got news for you, Jimin. I’m here. I’ve been picked up.”

“Right, sure.” He shoved both hands in his pockets. “I made a reservation at this restaurant around the corner. The food’s really good so I hope you’ll like it.”

“I’m sure I will.”

“Huh.” Jimin paused. “That was easy.”

You shrugged. “I’m just excited for tonight. That’s all.”

His gaze softened a little when he glanced at you. “Me, too.”

Smiling, you continued to walk alongside him. New Year’s Eve in the city was a grand affair. The sidewalks were still lit with holiday lights, people hurrying past in brightly colored coats. Privately, you were glad Jimin had made a reservation at a restaurant instead of trying to brave a club or a bar. You’d heard horror stories from people who paid extravagantly to get into a club, only to spend the entire night waiting in line at the bar.

Turning the corner, you saw the restaurant Jimin had chosen and brightened. It was one you’d walked past several times and always wanted to try but had never found time.

Jimin held open the door as you entered. The inside still had their holiday decorations up, garland strung across every surface with tiny, white fairy lights hung up above. Everyone who was dining wore formal attire, laughing and chatting in the glow of the fireplace. The food smelled amazing and immediately, your mouth watered.

Joining the line at the hostess stand, you waited for the couple before you to leave and then Jimin stepped up.

“Park,” he told her. “Party of two.”

The hostess smiled, nodding as she flipped through her notebook. “One moment, please.” The longer she looked though, the more her face fell. After a moment, she glanced up. “Park, you said?”

“Yes.” Jimin nodded. “P-a-r-k.”

The woman nodded, flipping through her notebook again as though the name might magically appear.

“I’m so sorry,” she said, glancing up again. “There seems to be some kind of mistake. I don’t have you listed as a reservation.”

Jimin’s expression faltered. “Can you look again?” he asked, leaning forward.

The hostess nodded, running her finger down the numbered rows. “I can’t find you anywhere. Do you remember who you spoke with on the phone?”

“Rebecca.”

“Oh.” Her face immediately fell. “Rebecca left the restaurant last week. It seems a few reservations slipped through in the transition. Is there… well, before I do that – let me see what I can do,” she blurted out, turning around to rush into the restaurant.

Jimin watched her disappear and you saw his expression tighten.

Silence fell between you as you adjusted your coat. Jimin looked stressed and you weren’t sure what you should do about it. Frantically, you tried to remember times he’d been stressed during class, but before you could do or say anything, the hostess returned.

“I’m so sorry,” she said, looking harried. “The restaurant is completely booked up. I was trying to see if we could squeeze you in, but there’s just no room. I’m so sorry. Normally, only one person does the reservations, but we’ve been so busy lately...”

“It’s fine,” you said, jumping in. The poor woman looked like she was about to burst into tears. “Please, don’t worry about it. We’ll figure something out.”

Jimin glanced at you, surprised, and then nodded. “Yeah,” he agreed, returning to the hostess. “Thank you so much for your help – I appreciate you trying. We actually have a back-up reservation somewhere else, so don’t worry. We’ll come back another time!”

“Oh, really?” Her entire face brightened. “That’s so good to hear. New Year’s Eve, and all. Thank you for being understanding!”

“Yes, busy night,” Jimin said with a smile. “Take care of yourself!”

The woman nodded, seeming grateful when you stepped out of line. Jimin followed your footsteps, heading towards the door and then came to a stop. Slowly, he exhaled.

“So,” you said, turning to face him. “Where are these back-up reservations?”

Jimin winced and met your gaze. “I have none,” he admitted. “She just looked so sad. I wanted to put her out of her misery.”

“Wait.” Piecing this together, you paused. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah,” he said miserably. “I only made reservations here and that was super lucky, considering most places in the city have been booked for weeks. I don’t have any back-up plans.”

For a moment, you could only stare. “So, you said all that just so that poor hostess wouldn’t worry about a mistake her restaurant made?”

“I – well, yeah.”

You stared another moment, then started to laugh. It started out small but grew until eventually, you were wiping tears of mirth from your eyes.

Jimin watched you laugh, seeming thoroughly confused. “What’s so funny?”

“It’s just…” Shaking your head, you paused to catch your breath. “You’re unreal. Most people would be super stressed about New Year’s Eve plans falling through, but here you are lying to make a hostess’ night better.”

He blinked, still uncertain. “I’m… sorry about that.”

“Don’t apologize!” you insisted as you straightened. “It’s… wonderful,” you said to him shyly. “I like that about you.”

Slowly, his expression changed. “I really don’t have other plans, though,” he admitted. “I wasn’t lying about that. And I am stressed about my reservation falling through. I wanted this night to be perfect.”

The sweetness of this made your heart start to melt and newly determined, you nodded.

“We can fix this,” you said. “We’ll just go somewhere else.”

“Like where?”

“Like...” You paused. “We could hang out at my dorm. Or at your apartment! One of our kitchens has to be free, right? We could make dinner and hang out, watch the ball drop.”

“We could go to my place,” said Jimin slowly. “Hoseok and Alex are at a New Year’s Eve party uptown. We’d have the kitchen to ourselves.”

“Perfect,” you said. “Let’s go there.”

“I should warn you, though – I can only really cook one thing.”

“Spaghetti-o’s?”

“Okay, two things.”

You laughed. “So, what’s the first thing?”

“A pasta dish they taught us in Senior Foods class. But it’s nothing fancy.”

“Perfect.” You shrugged. “That will go nicely with my contribution of store-bought bread and olive oil.”

Jimin started to grin. “Alright, then, it’s settled. Let’s go to my place.”

You smiled when he opened the door, following him onto the sidewalk. Jimin’s new apartment was a few blocks away, but time passed quickly with him beside you. Oddly enough, the mishap at the restaurant seemed to have cleared some of the lingering awkwardness.

Noelle had been right, you realized – you had nothing to worry about while you were with Jimin.

He talked while you walked, detailing the ongoing fight at his apartment about some posters Hoseok wanted to hang. This segued into the general ridiculousness of New Year’s Eve – a topic you wholeheartedly agreed with.

“It’s stressful,” Jimin complained as you walked. “Everyone’s always asking about your resolution, you need to find someone to kiss at midnight, and there’s that super awkward moment with the countdown and your date…”

You laughed, grabbing a basket as you entered the grocery store. Jimin had suggested you stop by, since he didn’t have much food at his place.

“Doesn’t the countdown make it easier?” you joked. “It really dumbs the whole process down. Fool-proof.”

“Well, sure,” Jimin said. “But then you end up staring awkwardly at someone for ten seconds while you slowly lean forward and wonder when you should blink.”

Laughing, you reached on tiptoe for a loaf of bread. “Alright, you got me there,” you admitted. “I’ve never had a proper New Year’s Eve, anyways. I’ve always been dating someone and then, it’s just kind of assumed you’ll kiss. None of the magic you see in the movies.”

Jimin nodded. “Most of that’s just movie magic, though. You aren’t missing much – trust me.”

“I don’t know,” you said as you turned the next corner. “The anticipation sounds kind of nice. Wondering if someone will kiss you back, if they’re thinking about you the same way you are…”

Jimin made a humming noise, low in his throat.

Coming to a stop, he reached overhead to grab some pasta. Putting this in your basket, Jimin casually brushed your arm as you met his faze. Fighting back a shiver, you tried to remember what you’d been saying.

Giving a smile, Jimin continued forward and kept shopping. You stared after him a moment before your gaze dropped to his ass. Inhaling quickly, you remembered Noelle’s comment about Jimin’s tight pants. She hadn’t been wrong about that. Hurrying along, you quickly caught up.

Grabbing another jar, Jimin placed this in the basket. When he caught your eye again, he grinned, his hair falling forward. The sight made your heart flip-flop in your chest.

As you entered the check-out line, Jimin came to a stop alongside you. His gaze traveled the store, eyes widening when he glanced over your shoulder.

“What’s that?” Jimin gasped.

Startled, you turned. “What’s – hey!” you blurted when he took your basket.

Grinning widely, Jimin placed the food before the cashier. “Too slow.”

“Jimin, come on,” you said, slightly flustered. “I can pay. I –”

“You can pay next time, if you want.”

This shut you up and you stared at him a moment before you stepped forward.

“There’s… going to be a next time?” you said.

Jimin glanced in your direction. “If you want there to be.”

“I do,” you said softly, and he smiled.

Taking another step forward, he pulled out his wallet to pay and you let him – this time, anyways. Outside, it seemed to have grown colder since your arrival and you shivered as you exited the shop. Noticing this, Jimin immediately undid his scarf from around his neck.

“Here,” he said, handing it over. “I don’t need this.”

“But then you’ll be cold,” you pointed out, accepting it anyways.

“I’ll jog in place to keep warm.”

“… With me walking beside you?”

“Yep.”

You laughed, even more so when Jimin began to demonstrate. He jogged for a few steps, then slowed to a walk.

“Changed my mind,” he said with a wince. “I’d rather be cold.”

You laughed, cheeks starting to hurt from both this and the wind. Jimin’s apartment wasn’t far, although it did turn out to be a third-floor walk-up. This left you slightly winded when you arrived at his place, to which Jimin shrugged and said the rent had been cheap.

Opening his front door, he led the way into – boxes. Tons of them, although most of the furniture had been set up around them. Jimin fumbled for a light, flicking this on and setting down the groceries.

“Most of the boxes are Alex’s,” he sighed, looking around. “Hoseok and I have a secret deal we’re going to unpack him ourselves if he doesn’t do it by Monday.”

“That doesn’t sound like much of a detriment to Alex.”

“I never said what we planned on doing with his things once we unpacked.”

You laughed, undoing your coat to set aside. Glancing around, you saw Jimin was right. Most of the boxes were scrawled in the same handwriting. Beyond them, you saw the living room had been mostly set up with a couch and TV.

To your right lay the kitchen, in which Jimin was already unloading the groceries. Beyond him was a hallway, through which you assumed were their bedrooms and bathrooms. Wandering back to Jimin, you realized he was staring.

“What?” you said, coming to a stop. “Did I spill something on my dress in the store?”

“No,” Jimin murmured, shaking his head. “I just… I know I said this before, but you really do look incredible.”

“Oh.”

Looking at him, you felt your face growing hot. Jimin smiled and ducked his head, resumed pulling things out of the bag. Stepping from your shoes to place in the hall, you returned to the kitchen and pulled out a stool.

Sitting down, you propped your chin in your hand. “Aren’t you going to take off your coat?”

Glancing down, Jimin blinked. “Oh,” he laughed, undoing the buttons. “I forgot I was wearing it.”

You smiled, but this quickly disappeared when you saw what he was wearing. Jimin had worn a dark blazer and trousers, paired with a paisley shirt and black boots. He looked ridiculously good and again, Noelle’s comment about his ass came to mind.

She’d been correct – his pants were well-shaped and well-formed.

After removing both coat and shoes, Jimin returned to the kitchen and pushed a hand through his hair. You watched him get to work, leaning forward a bit when he began to dice vegetables. Immediately, your brows raised. It seemed Jimin had undersold his skills in the kitchen.

When you said as much, he laughed.

“Maybe a little,” Jimin said. As he pushed veggies from the cutting board, the pan began to sizzle. “It’s all part of my master plan. Set expectations low, then over-deliver.”

“It’s working,” you said with a laugh. “You seem pretty damn impressive to me.”

Jimin’s cheeks reddened. “You’re just saying that.”

“Why would I lie?”

“I seem to remember some shocking texts about my junk and dancer’s belts. You could just be after my body, Y/N.”

“I – that’s not!”

He looked up and grinned. “Kidding.”

Flustered, you blurted, “That wasn’t nice!”

Jimin laughed. “I’m sorry.”

You huffed, waiting a minute before you continued. “You do look really good right now, though,” you said softly.

He looked up, eyes wide. As much as Jimin said he enjoyed being liked, it seemed to throw him for a loop whenever you said you liked him. It made you pause, mulling over this for a minute.

“You seem surprised,” you said quietly. “Whenever I say things like that, you always look surprised.”

“Well…” Jimin hesitated. “I just think… there’s been a lot of times where I never thought this would happen. It feels kind of unreal have you here. In my kitchen. On a date.”

“Times after November?”

Jimin paused.

Your brow furrowed. “Before then?”

Opening the pasta, Jimin added this to the pot. He stared into the steam, slowly exhaling before he looked up.

“Let’s just say I’ve wanted this for a while,” he admitted.

“What? But you hated me before Russet.”

“I…” Jimin trailed off. “Kind of. It’s complicated.”

When he failed to elaborate and returned to his cooking, your eyebrows shot up.

“Uh, no,” you laughed. “You can’t just say that and not explain what you mean. What are you talking about?”

Jimin winced as he set down his spoon. “Okay,” he said, gripping the counter. “I guess what I’m saying is I never really hated you. Not truly.”

“You didn’t.”

“No.” He spoke flatly.

“But…” Confused, you searched his face. “You’ve hated me ever since we met, Jimin. That first weekend at NUVO dance competition. We were both called out to demonstrate and you tripped me!”

“Well, maybe that’s not exactly what happened.”

“What are you talking about?”

Jimin released a low breath. “Okay, so here’s the thing. That weekend happened a little differently from my perspective.”

“How so?”

“We were both called out to demonstrate,” he said, repeating your words. “But I hadn’t seen you before then. When we both reached center and I turned and saw you – I froze. I couldn’t remember how to act. Every thought I’d ever had just… flew out of my head.”

You stared at him, speechless.

“I didn’t know what to do,” Jimin continued softly. “I’d never felt like that before. When you started to dance, it only got worse. I’d never seen someone dance like you did. That’s why I entered the combination late. That’s why I was in the wrong spot at the wrong time and that’s why I accidentally tripped you. I was… well, I was distracted.”

“By me,” you whispered. “You were distracted by… me?”

“Yeah.”

“So,” you said, breath catching. “This entire time, you haven’t really hated me?”

“Ah, I don’t know about that.” Jimin rubbed the back of his neck. “You could be really infuriating,” he said with a laugh. “There were times when you genuinely pissed me off. I meant it when I said I wanted to win against you. But also… I don’t know. I never really forgot the first time I saw you.”

“Oh,” you whispered, unsure what you were feeling.

It made your head spin to hear this different version of events. Jimin hadn’t hated you – at least, not in the same way you had. He hadn’t been the one to make the first move after all. You had when you’d decided not to listen to his apology.

“Oh my god,” you groaned, burying your face in your hands.

“Hey – what’s wrong?”

Dropping his spoon to the counter, Jimin came around and stood beside you. Keeping your head down, you refused to look up until Jimin touched your arm.

“I just,” you exhaled, turning to face him. “It was my fault. This entire time, I thought you hated me and that’s why I hated you. But instead, I just decided to hate you – and for what?”

Jimin’s upper lip twitched. “I wasn’t entirely blameless, you know. I was such a little shit at that age. I wouldn’t have believed me, either.”

“You tried to apologize, though!”

“Hey.” Gently, he gripped your elbows. “If it makes you feel any better, I did trip people just to get to the front. I was an ass. It’s why that Jungkook guy hates me. I started dancing later in life, so I was really hung up on proving myself.”

“Yeah, but it wasn’t true,” you told him. “You didn’t trip me on purpose, and if I’d only been less stubborn –”

“Whoa, hey.” Jimin smiled. “You weren’t the only stubborn one. Maybe it started off as a misunderstanding, but I didn’t really fight it. You were my competition as much as I was yours.”

“I guess,” you said quietly. “I just… I feel like I wasted so much time hating you. Maybe we could’ve even been friends.”

His gaze sparked. “Just friends?” he asked with a quirk of his brow.

“Jimin,” you groaned, but started to smile.

“Listen.” Expression softening, Jimin moved closer. “Even if I had decided to explain all this in high school, would you have believed me?”

“Probably not.”

“Exactly. I was a dick back then.” He nodded. “Remember that one time I lied and told you the awards ceremony had been pushed back an hour?”

Sitting up straighter, you glared. “Oh, I remember. I showed up after they’d already taken the photo for Top Junior solos.”

Jimin grinned. “Or the time I put an out of order sign on the women's restroom after your solo at BRAVO, so you had to run all the way across the auditorium?”

“That was you!” you blurted out, wide-eyed. “No one would believe me when I said it was! Every girl was so pissed off at you that weekend.”

“Which is exactly why I could never admit it was me!”

In disbelief, you shook your head. “You did all of that just to get back at me?”

Jimin’s smile disappeared. “Hey, you weren’t innocent either,” he argued. “Remember the time you spilled an entire water bottle next to my bag so that when I sat down, my ass got all wet?”

Devious, you smiled. “Honestly, there was kind of an ulterior motive there. As much as I hated you, your ass looks great in damp sweats.”

Jimin’s jaw dropped a little.

Managing to shut this, he took a casual step forward. “Is that what you thought?” he murmured, barely able to conceal the thickness in his voice.

“I… may have noticed a few things about you.”

When he placed a hand next to you on the counter, your breath hitched in response. Jimin repeated this with his other hand, bringing his body a step closer to yours.

Hesitant, his gaze roamed your face. “What else did you notice?”

“I…” you exhaled and glanced at his lips.

The air between you could have been cut with a knife, heated for a different reason than the stove beside you. Which – eyes widening, you glanced over.

“Shit!” you blurted. “Jimin, the pasta!”

Startled, he looked in the same direction as you and realized the water was boiling. Rushing away, Jimin entered the kitchen and turned down the burner. Now that you were separated by a solid counter, you felt somewhat dazed when you glanced up and saw him.

Meeting your gaze, Jimin came to a stop. “Anyways,” he said softly. “Now, you know. I didn’t trip you on purpose. I never really hated you. And I’m incredibly glad you’re here tonight.”

Watching him speak, something warm bloomed in your chest.

“Me, too,” you whispered.

Smiling, Jimin returned to the pasta and you settled back on the stool. Delicious scents soon filled the kitchen and you realized how truly hungry you were. You hadn’t eaten much at lunch in preparation and by now, you were famished.

It wasn’t long before Jimin placed pasta onto plates, adding the bread you’d cut up on the side. He brought these to his table, disappearing briefly to return with two candles.

“Oo,” you said as you took a seat. “Fancy.”

Jimin lit the one closest to you with a flourish. “We aim to please, here at Park Jimin’s Fine Eating and Dining.”

“Is that the name of your restaurant?”

“It is.”

“And you’re set on that decision?”

“I decided on a whim, but I have no regrets,” Jimin said, taking a seat across from you. “Now, eat before you piss off the chef and he takes back your food.”

Laughing, you dug into the pasta before you. It was delicious and, after the very first bite, you sighed in appreciation. Apparently, Jimin had truly set the bar low. Conversation began to flow, any lingering tension disappeared after talk of your past.

It was the oddest thing. You’d heard stories from friends about other first dates. They worried about how to behave, what to wear, or what to say to their date – but none of these worries seemed to exist for you in the moment. You’d been so concerned before the night began, but now that you were here, all these worries seemed to fly out the window.

You’d thought you’d spend the entire night comparing. Comparing Jimin to your last relationship, comparing Jimin as a date to Jimin as a friend, but instead, it felt like natural progression. It wasn’t a matter of comparing Jimin to anyone else, but rather simply enjoying where the night led.

After dinner, you insisted on helping clean because Jimin had cooked and bought the food. Donning rubber gloves over your dress, you stood at the sink and began to wash dishes. Jimin laughed as he joined, pulling on gloves to dry the dishes beside you. Once this was done, he suggested watching a movie before the ball dropped.

Collapsing onto the sofa, you adjusted your dress and scanned the room. The posters Jimin had bemoaned were now hung over the TV – you wondered if Hoseok had managed to somehow sneak them past his roommates. Small touches here and there made you think of Jimin.

A game he’d mentioned was out on the coffee table and a blanket which smelled like him was draped over a chair. Pulling this towards you, you wrapped it around yourself as Jimin left the kitchen.

Holding two glasses of wine, he paused when he saw you.

“What?” you said, glancing down.

“Nothing.” Jimin cleared his throat. “Are you cold?”

“A little,” you admitted, tugged his blanket closer.

“Shoot.” Jimin frowned. “The heat’s been weird since we moved in. I’m not sure how to fix – oh!” Setting the glasses down, he rushed towards the hall. “Do you want a sweatshirt?” he called.

“Yes, please!”

Jimin reappeared moments later, a navy sweatshirt in hand. Handing this over, he settled beside you on the sofa. He’d ditched his blazer and now, Jimin was dressed in only the paisley shirt and slacks.

Pulling his sweatshirt overhead, you somehow managed to get stuck right away. It was hard not to, with your hair and the dress, trying not to flash him while you kept your legs crossed.

After a moment of watching your undignified struggling, Jimin cleared his throat.

“Need help?”

“Yes, please,” you said weakly.

Jimin laughed, helping you free and once the hoodie was settled, you sighed and leaned back. Glancing sideways at Jimin, you found him already looking at you.

“What do you want to watch?” you asked.

Jimin blinked, then glanced at the TV. “Hm,” he mused, grabbing the remote. “We could watch the ball drop and enjoy the fact that we’re sitting inside, not standing in the freezing cold without any bathrooms.”

“I know!” you said with a shudder. “Out of all the stupid traditions, that’s one I’ll never understand.”

“How do so many people have it on their bucket list?”

“Right? That, and the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade. Zero out of ten. It’s cold, there’s wind and again, there’s the question of bathrooms.”

Jimin laughed as he scrolled through the channels. “Alright, so no to the ball drop. Want to watch a movie?”

“Sure.”

“What movie?”

“Why’re you making me pick?” you whined, sinking deeper into his cushions. “That’s such a large amount of pressure.”

“Exactly, which is why I don’t want to do it.”

You laughed and after some back and forth, decided to watch About Time. This was a movie about obstacles and falling in love, which seemed more than fitting because of the new year. At first, you and Jimin were watching diligently but eventually, he asked a question and conversation slowly drifted from the movie.

At some point, Jimin lowered the volume to focus solely on you. You curled deeper into the couch beside him, your thighs somehow touching and shoulders inches apart. Jimin’s head leaned against the cushion and he continued to smile in a way which made your heart flip.

“Here’s a question,” you murmured, no longer pretending to watch the movie.

His eyes gleamed in the darkness. “What?”

“Why’d you tell Sabrina you only wanted to be friends?”

Briefly, his eyes widened. “How did… you know about that?”

“She told me.”

“Hm.” Jimin gave you a dubious look but moved past it. Sabrina had begun hanging out with your friends as of late. “But alright, I’ll answer. If I do though, you need to answer one of my questions. Deal?”

“Deal.”

“So, I was single when I came to Russet.” Jimin paused. “It was the first time in a long time, and I may have hooked up with a couple of people.”

“Hm,” you said tightly.

His eyes danced with amusement. “Jealous?”

“Answer the question.”

He laughed. “Anyways, I only hooked up with Sabrina the one time. Afterwards…” Jimin sighed. “I felt kind of weird about her asking me to switch partners. Then I overheard what she said about Ari at weigh-ins and just didn’t feel like anything more... Plus, there was the other reason.”

“And what was the other reason?”

“I was starting to like you,” he said, a bit softer. “The day you said you wanted to be friends was a giant weight from my chest. And the more relaxed you were around me, the more… I don’t know. The more I liked you, I guess. My mom has always called me her hopeless romantic,” Jimin said with a smile. “I don’t know about that, but I can be single-minded when I like someone. That was part of the reason I told Sabrina we shouldn’t hook up anymore.”

“Oh,” you whispered.

His smile turned lopsided. “Does that answer your question?”

“Yeah. I guess it does.”

“My turn, then.” Smile disappearing, his gaze darkened. “Why did you really call me that night at the club?”

“Oh. That. Well, I –”

“And don’t say it was because I had a car,” Jimin interrupted. “There were a lot of people you could’ve called to help. You didn’t, though. You called me. Why?”

You hesitated before you realized there was only one answer. “I wanted to see you,” you said honestly. “I was scared, I was alone and… you were the person I wanted to see.”

Jimin’s gaze had become nearly black, the air between you thick with something unsaid. You were suddenly conscious of all each part of your body pressed to his. When Jimin shifted on the couch, you moved somehow closer.

He hesitated, then glanced at your mouth. “I don’t…” Jimin licked his lips, sounding hoarse. “I don’t want to do anything you’re not ready for.”

“You won’t,” you told him.

Something uncertain passed over his face. “Maybe we should take things slow.”

“Or,” you said slowly. “I could tell you things I like about you, instead.”

“And what would be the point of that?”

Your gaze shifted to his. “You’ve told me a lot tonight about how much you like me,” you said softly. “About how long you’ve liked me. I think it’s time I returned the favor.”

Something in his gaze cracked and he nodded. The TV in the background was quiet, only the noise from the street and the whoosh of the heater breaking the silence.

“First,” you said, glancing down at his lap. “You have really nice hands.”

Jimin’s lips twitched. “My hands? I’ve always thought they were small.”

“Wrong. They’re the perfect size. Never have they dropped me.”

“Mm, that’s a good point.”

“And your smile,” you said.

“What about it?”

“I like your smile,” you told him. “It makes me smile.”

His eyes crinkled in demonstration. “Oh, yeah?”

“And your ears.”

Jimin laughed. “My ears?”

Reaching out, you delicately traced over an edge. “I’ve spent a long time looking at your profile, Park. I know what I’m talking about here.”

As your fingers moved lower, feather-light down his jaw, Jimin’s smile disappeared.

“I like your jaw, too,” you told him.

In the darkness, his gaze glinted, and you felt his jaw tense.

“And your lips,” you added, gaze lowering. “I like those a lot.”

“Y/N…” Jimin’s eyes fluttered shut.

“Yeah?”

He slowly exhaled. “I just don’t want you to regret this.”

“Jimin.”

He opened his eyes.

Your expression was serious. “I told you I wouldn’t jump into something before I was ready,” you said, lifting your other hand. “But I’m not in love with Finn anymore. It doesn’t hurt when I think about what happened last semester. I like you, Jimin. I want you. I don’t want to keep pushing you away. I get if you’re unsure about this, though. If you’re unsure about me.”

Jimin’s gaze roamed your face. “Unsure?”

“I know I hurt you before. I shouldn’t have kissed you and ran away. But I promise this isn’t like that. I’m not running away. I’m the furthest thing from running and I –”

Cutting you off, Jimin pressed his lips to yours.

You shuddered a little, leaning into his kiss before he pulled back. Jimin exhaled, barely a breath before he kissed you again.

Noses brushing, lips lingering, the kiss slowly deepened. Your hands curled into his hair, pulling him forward to bask in his warmth. It was dizzying, how different this felt than last time. Last time you’d been heartbroken, desperately yearning each time your lips had touched.

Now, Jimin felt like air, like sunshine as you drowned in his presence. Hand grasping your waist, Jimin moved you closer so your chest nestled to his. Lifting his fingers, his touch skimmed your jaw, your hairline before he circled the nape of your neck.

Drawing away, he bit down on your lip. With a low sort of moan, Jimin sought your lips again. When his mouth opened yours, his tongue swept forward and you nearly combusted.

This was only to tease, though. Only to taste before he pulled away, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. Thumb skimming your jawline, Jimin tilted your head back to brush a kiss to your throat. Moving higher, he worshiped a slow path up the column of your neck. At your ear, he nipped gently before he returned.

Now, his kisses began to deepen. Mouths opening, your tongues brushed only briefly before he chose to withdraw. You were glad you were kissing on the couch, because suddenly your own legs felt weak underneath you.

Hand re-gripping his waist, Jimin pulled you against him. Eager, your hands found his neck and the blanket dropped to the floor. It wasn’t enough, though – you needed more, wanted to feel him fully beneath you. Rising on your knees, you swung a leg over his lap and settled on top.

Jimin hissed, his head hitting the back of his couch. Your dress had ridden up in the process, exposing your thighs – his thumbs skimmed the surface before he looked up.

“Shit,” Jimin croaked.

Smiling, you bent to kiss him again. Jimin arched upwards, each part of your body electric where you touched. He shifted his hips, granting friction and heat which made you short-circuit. Pressing yourself closer, your thighs sild backwards until they nestled around his waist.

Jimin’s hand found your spine, pulling you closer as his hips pushed upwards. You groaned when you felt him shift underneath you. The kisses grew steadily hotter, this ache in your core increasing with every touch.

“Can I…” Pulling away, Jimin glanced lower. “Can I take off the sweatshirt?”

“Yeah,” you said, a bit dazed.

Jimin didn’t waste time, helping you pull this swiftly overhead. It was tossed on the ground and when your dress was revealed, he inhaled.

Slipping his hands up your bodice, Jimin met your gaze. “I’ve wanted to do this for so long,” he confessed, his voice hoarse.

“Do what?”

Your breath hitched when his hands skimmed your breasts, lingering in all your softest places.

“Touch you,” Jimin said. “It was torture to see you, to look at you and not be able to do this. Not how I wanted, anyways. I’d tell myself not to think about it, but…”

“Jimin.”

He paused and looked up. “Yes?”

“Touch me. Please.”

Without hesitation, Jimin slid his hands lower. Cupping your ass, he pulled you against him and allowed his other hand to drift up your spine. You shivered, closing your eyes as your head tilted back.

His hands slid up your front, over your breasts and under the straps of your dress. Jimin’s thumbs drifted lower, brushing your nipples through the fabric of your bodice. Opening your eyes, you looked down at him and saw his gaze darken.

Reaching higher, Jimin cupped the back of your neck and returned your lips to his.

He kissed you slowly, purposefully as you melted forward. Shifting against him, the kiss began to intensify. Mouths opening, your tongue swept forward in bold strokes against his. Suppressing a whimper, you ground your hips on his lap.

“Is,” you murmured, breaking free. “Is your bedroom unpacked?”

Jimin went still. “I – mostly, yeah.”

“Can I see it?”

“Fuck, yes,” he groaned, releasing your thighs as he stood from the couch.

You laughed, sliding down his front as your feet hit the ground. Tugging your dress down, you followed Jimin when he grabbed your hand. He pulled you down the hall, coming to a stop at the last room on the row. Pushing open the door, he flicked on the light and came to a stop.

Stepping forward, you glanced around Jimin’s room. You recognized some of the items from the two times you’d visited Jimin in the dorms. Photos of his family were carefully hung on the wall and he had the same pillows laid over his queen-sized bed.

Turning around, you took a step backwards and sat on his bed. “It’s nice,” you said, patting the comforter. “I like it here.”

Jimin watched you, his gaze half-lidded from the hall. “I like you here.”

Cheeks heating, you watched him enter and gently shut the door. Leaning back on your elbows, you arched a brow.

“Where’d we leave off?”

Jimin exhaled as he crossed the room. “I think you were on my lap,” he said hoarsely, kneeling beside you.

You nodded, moving to straddle him as he leaned to the wall. Catching your waist with both hands, Jimin pulled you against him, kissing you roughly even before you sat down. Suddenly ravenous, his hands slid to your ass as he rolled you against him. Inhaling sharply, you sucked his lower lip between teeth as he groaned.

Reaching up, Jimin tugged on your hair as you inhaled, throat exposed for him to kiss slowly down your front. When he returned to your lips, you ground your hips impatiently over the bulge in his pants.

Shifting his weight, Jimin’s spine hit the wall. He stared at you, slightly dazed with his kiss-reddened lips. Without looking away, Jimin lifted his fingers and began undoing his shirt. You stilled, watching each inch of skin be revealed. When he reached the last button, you gave in and helped push this aside. Smiling, Jimin sat up as his shirt fell to the floor.

You weren’t sure where to look first. Hands faltering, you slid them up his abs, over his shoulders and down his biceps. He was so perfect, it almost hurt to look at. Jimin’s breath quickened as you touched him and slowly, he lowered you down to the bed.

“Enough,” he said roughly, returning your lips to his.

As you kissed it turned lazy, nothing but grinding and touching. Jimin’s hair was messy beneath the pull of your fingers. He didn’t seem to mind, his own hands digging into the curve of your thigh. Playing with the hem of your dress, he deftly slid upwards.

“Jimin,” you said, breaking free. “Unzip me.”

His gaze darkened. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

Jimin nodded, following suit when you sat up beside him. Turning around, you exposed your back and Jimin began to lower the zipper. He moved slowly, taking his time as his fingers brushed skin. Holding the dress up with your hands, you waited until it was fully unzipped before releasing it to the floor.

Turning around, you found Jimin’s jaw slack.

“You…” He roughly inhaled while he scanned your body. “Lace, Y/N? Really?”

“Do you like it?” you asked.

You may have gone overboard preparing for tonight. Although you hadn’t been sure what would happen, you also hadn’t wanted to be caught off your guard. Tonight, your constant need to plan had come in handy. Beneath your dress you’d worn a crimson lace bra and panties – a matching set which Jimin seemed to like, based on his expression.

“You’re going to kill me,” he muttered, lowering his lips to your neck.

Kissing slowly down your chest, he came to a stop where the two halves joined together. Skimming the length of your torso, his hands trembled a little when he brushed the lace.

Jimin looked up. “I’m sorry I keep touching you,” he murmured. “I just – you’re driving me crazy. You’ve been driving me crazy.”

“You said that before,” you whispered.

“I meant it.”

Kissing again up your body, he lingered in places your skin was exposed. Inhaling, your eyes fluttered shut as you grasped his shoulders.

Jimin’s hand slid between your thighs. “Part them,” he murmured, and you obeyed.

Heart racing, you opened your eyes and watched Jimin drag a finger slowly up the center of your panties. Even you could feel how damp the fabric was, how wet and ready you were for him.

Lifting his finger to his lips, Jimin sucked. “You’re soaking,” he breathed, sounding eager. “So good to me.”

Lowering his head, his tongue flicked your breast. Teasing the nipple through fabric, he urged and he sucked until it was fully erect. Moving onto the next one, Jimin grazed with his teeth until it pressed wantonly into the lace cup of your bra. Moaning his name, you arched against him.

Finding your wrists, Jimin pinned you backwards as he continued. Thighs caging your waist, he kept you hostage with his exquisite torture. The lace of your bra was now drenched, Jimin sucking debauchedly through fabric.

“Jimin,” you groaned, twisting on the sheets. “Please.”

His hips rolled lazily against your center. “Not yet,” he insisted before pulling back. “Not until you make a mess of my sheets. Want to ruin these panties.”

Sliding a hand between your thighs, he lightly circled your entrance. Feeling how wet you were, Jimin softly groaned. Sitting back on his heels, he finally relented and pulled your panties down. Tossing these to the floor, he returned to your thighs and spread your legs.

Lightly, Jimin dragged the pads of his thumbs up and down your panty line. “God, you’re so perfect,” he murmured. “Got my sheets fucking soaked.”

Separating two of his fingers, he slowly dragged his digits up and down your folds. You inhaled, feeling needy while you watched him touch you. Each brush of his fingers had you dripping – teasing over your entrance, he refused to give you exactly what you wanted. Feather-light, Jimin circled your swollen clit with his finger.

Hands gripping the sheets, you could only stare while Jimin brought you closer and closer to the edge. He was barely touching you, but it was the most turned on you’d ever been in your life. Jimin’s thumb swiped over your clit, rubbing you gently as you keened in frustration, arching against him.

He continued like this until you were gasping, begging for more and then – only then – did he slide a finger inside you. Legs trembling, you arched on his mattress and stared at him, glassy-eyed. When Jimin began to move in and out, you lost all control.

Lowering his head, he closed his lips over your clit.

“Oh my god,” you whimpered as you broke apart.

Barely did he suck before you were coming undone, pulsing around his fingers. Shuddering with pleasure, you collapsed on the bed as you rode out your high. Gently, Jimin pulled out his finger and returned to your lips.

Reaching behind you, he undid the clasp of your bra and tossed this on the floor. Once you were fully naked, he pulled you against him. You felt limp, thoroughly sated, but familiar excitement began to stir at his front pressed to yours. Tilting your head, he gently kissed you while your fingers wound in his hair.

Jimin moved slow, letting you take the lead. Your core continued to throb with oversensitivity, although this seemed to lessen the longer you kissed him. Before long, your nipples were hardening as you rubbed against him. Fingers digging into your thigh, Jimin pulled this over his hip to watch you lazily grind.

Realizing he still wore pants, you lowered a hand, determined to fix this. Jimin helped, dragging the zipper down to throw both these and his boxers down on the floor.

He bent to kiss you again, but you placed a hand on his chest. “Wait,” you murmured. “I want to see you.”

Jimin exhaled, leaning back so you could take in his body. If you’d thought his chest was unreal, it was nothing compared to his trim hips, sculpted thighs and cock nestled between.

“Oh,” you said, dragging a hand down his front.

Jimin shuddered a little. He was already hard, his cock thick and pretty with a reddened tip. It made your mouth water to look at, wanting to lick up the shaft. Reaching between you, you closed your fist around him and slowly jerked him off.

You watched in fascination as Jimin responded. His jaw tightened, abs tense while you teased over his frenulum. His cock responded instinctively, hardening further the longer you touched him.

After a few minutes of this, Jimin shook his head. “No more,” he said huskily, taking your hand in his. “I’ll come if you keep doing that.”

“Oh?” you murmured, gaze darting lower.

He chuckled, a rough sound in his throat. “I like watching you come,” Jimin confessed, his cock hard between you. “It turns me on. I’m… still trying to recover from your last orgasm.”

“Oh,” you said, in a completely different way.

Jimin exhaled, hair falling forward. “I hope that doesn’t weird you out.”

“Does it… weird me out that you like giving orgasms?”

“Well, when you put it like that.”

“How else would I put it?”

His grin became devious. “You could ask for another.”

Breathless, you nodded and Jimin’s gaze darkened.

He descended your body, not wasting any time as he positioned himself between your legs. Licking slow up your center, you gasped and instinctively drew your legs higher. Jimin didn’t bother easing you into it. No, now he ate you out like he wanted to.

Kissing your folds, he returned to your clit and sucked this into his mouth. Rolling the sensitive bud with his tongue, he teased and released before you knew what was happening. He continued to do this, spreading you underneath him and bringing you close to coming, only to pull back and leave you maddeningly empty.

Spreading your folds, he began licking sweetly over your clit. This was followed by loose, lazy sucking and more tender flicks. You stared dazedly at him between your legs, the sight more erotic than anything you could’ve imagined.

Grinding his cock into the sheets, Jimin thrust his hips while he pleasured you. You could tell he enjoyed this; each grunt from his lips was more affirmation. Moving lower, he circled your cunt with his tongue just to lap up your juices. You gasped at the sensation, having never felt it before. Flicking your clit with his thumb, Jimin fucked your cunt with his tongue before he slowly withdrew.

Spreading you wide, he returned to your clit and you clasped a hand over your lips before a moan could escape. Each curl of his tongue left you gasping, writhing beneath the pleasurable onslaught of his mouth. Pulling away, Jimin pressed a gentle kiss to your thigh before he rose up your body.

At your mouth, he kissed your fingers. “You don’t have to be quiet,” he told you. “I want to hear the noises you make, Y/N. It makes me feel good.”

Removing your hand, you slowly nodded.

Jimin just grinned, dropping between your legs to begin eating you out again. This time, you didn’t hold back. Jimin seemed to appreciate this as you slipped further from control. He was so good with his mouth, making you see stars as your legs started to shudder. When he slid his finger inside you and fingered you again, your hands fisted in the sheets.

“Ji-jimin,” you gasped, writhing beneath him. “Jimin, I – oh.”

He began to move faster, adding a second finger as your insides clenched around him. Everything tightened, hovering at a breaking point while Jimin continued, relentless. His mouth on your clit, his fingers inside you – everything broke apart when you came, gasping his name.

Jimin didn’t move, kissing your sex as you slowly came down. He lapped at your sex, licking up your arousal before withdrawing his fingers. Once your breathing had steadied, Jimin returned to the sheets beside you.

“Good?” he breathed, draping an arm over your waist.

“Oh my god, yes,” you exhaled, burying your face in his chest.

He laughed, pulling you closer. Jimin started to pull away, which made you look up and frown.

“What are you doing?” you said.

He paused. “I’m looking for a tissue.”

“Why?”

“I… I’m kind of at a loss here.”

“No, I mean why now,” you said, baffled. “I can come again, Jimin. I want to come with you inside me.”

Jimin stared at you a moment.

“Unless…” Uncertain, you hesitated. “You don’t want to…?”

“Fuck,” Jimin muttered, sounding hoarse. “No – I want to. I really want to. Are you sure, though?” he said, reaching to open the side drawer of his bed.

You grinned when he pulled out a condom, ripping this open.

“I’m sure,” you murmured, moving closer.

Jimin rolled the condom onto himself, pausing before he went any further. Shifting his weight so he hovered over you, Jimin searched your gaze. Reaching lower, you casually stroked his cock and guided him to your center.

He didn’t enter yet, content to take his time. Instead, Jimin bent and kissed you, dragging a hand down your side. His fingers paused at your breast, tweaking your nipple until it stood fully erect. Moving to your waist, he curved under your ass and lifted your hips to his.

Arching upwards, you felt his cock brush your center. The touch made you pant, wanting him inside you and wanting it now. Rolling over his length, you marveled at the feel of him between your legs. Having him so close and not having him inside you was maddening.

“Jimin,” you whimpered.

“Yeah?” he murmured, continuing to thrust between your thighs.

“Please,” you begged him.

“Alright, baby,” he said and rolled you onto your back.

It was the first time he’d used the endearment, sending a wave of warmth through you as your legs parted. Reaching lower, Jimin positioned himself at your entrance. It took him a moment to work his way in; you were so wet, he needed a second try. With only his tip inside, you immediately clenched and buried your head in his shoulder.

Lightly, Jimin brushed a kiss to your hair. “Relax, baby,” he murmured, making you glance up. “I’ll make you feel good. I promise.”

Slowly, you nodded. “Okay.”

Laying slowly back down, you tried to relax while he worked his way deeper. With slow, shallow thrusts, Jimin finally bottomed out and you stared at him in amazement. His cock was thicker than you were used to and stuffed to the brim like this, you felt so full. Glancing down, you saw his hips nestled snugly to yours.

When you looked up, Jimin met your gaze. “I’m sorry,” he exhaled, hanging his head. “I just – I need a minute.”

“What’s wrong?” you blurted, immediately worried.

A smile passed over his lips. “Nothing’s wrong.” He looked up. “You’re just… fuck. I feel like a damn virgin. You’re so tight and wet, I’m losing my mind.”

Hearing him say this sent a shiver through you. Shifting your hips, you reveled in the sensation of him moving inside you.

Jimin groaned. “No,” he protested. “You can’t do that right now.”

“Do what?”

“Try and make me move,” he murmured. “I know you can’t see yourself, so you can’t see how hot you look. Tits out, pussy spread and dripping all over my cock.”

“Oh,” you breathed.

“Sounding like that.”

“Jimin. If you don’t –”

He suddenly thrust deeper, grinding his pelvis against your core and making you groan. Speechless, you stared as he slowly pulled out. Jimin teased you with his tip, moving a few inches back in before he thrust again.

“Oh,” you groaned, jolted upwards on the bed.

His gaze dropped to your chest. “Fuck,” Jimin said quietly, dropping down to an elbow.

He moved again in earnest, thrusting slowly in and pulling back out. It made your breath catch, needing more but loving the torture. It was torture to feel every inch of him and have Jimin continue to hold back. You knew he could go faster, deeper, but wanted to stay in control.

Dropping his head, Jimin slowly kissed your neck. His cock continued to move, fucking you slowly as your legs opened wider.

“Jimin,” you whimpered.

Your hips chased after his, hoping to coerce him deeper.

He smirked. “Yes, baby?”

“Please,” you said, arching against him. “I want more.”

“You want it harder?”

As he said this, Jimin increased his strength. Keeping the tempo the same, each thrust of his cock had your lips parting with pleasure.

“Yes,” you whimpered, barely hanging on.

“And faster? You want that, too?”

You nodded, slack-jawed as Jimin sped up the pace. His cock began to pound into you, hand fisting in sheets as he gave it to you hard. Arching underneath him, your hands dragged down his back as Jimin fully let go. With each thrust of his hips, his pelvis brushed your clit and yet, it still wasn’t enough.

“More?” he teased, continuing to fuck you.

“More,” you whimpered, sliding your hands up your breasts. Tweaking the nipples, you watched his gaze harden. “I want more, Jimin.”

He immediately moved, as though he’d been waiting for this. Grasping your ankles in one hand, he lifted them high overhead and pulled his cock out. You gasped when he did so, your hands falling to the side while you were put on display. The position pushed your pussy lips together, giving an incredible view of your dripping cunt.

Jimin plunged his cock back inside, nearly making you scream. It felt so deep this way – so deep and hard and deliciously wanton. Jimin fucked you from above, hips slamming into you and making your breasts bounce.

Jimin groaned, his hips never faltering. “Touch them,” he said, lowering your ankles to one shoulder. “Touch your tits for me, baby.”

You obeyed, hands sliding over your breasts to tease your nipples. This sent a shock of pleasure straight to your core and Jimin hammered your g-spot, making you see stars. Jaw slack, you could only lie there and take it while he made you come.

It was too much, the wave of pleasure threatening to overwhelm, but then Jimin leaned forward and you finally snapped. You felt him release into the condom as you fell apart, rope after rope of hot cum inside you.

Eventually, Jimin softened and fell onto his elbow. As he opened his eyes, he sought your gaze and you smiled. His cheeks were flushed, his hair dark and sweaty and you couldn’t help the deep surge of affection within you.

“I don’t know about you,” he murmured. “But that was pretty fucking incredible.”

“Same here,” you whispered. “I’d like to do it again sometime.”

“Three orgasms weren’t enough?”

“Were they enough for you?”

“No.” Jimin laughed. “I could watch you come all night. But we should probably get you cleaned up and all that.”

“Probably,” you agreed, although you made no effort to move.

Eventually Jimin sighed and gently pulled out. Tossing his condom in the trash, he showed you to the bathroom and let you do what you needed to do. When you returned, Jimin was on top of his bed. He’d put back on his boxers and held out his sweatshirt.

“I thought you might want this,” he said, uncertain.

Smiling, you took it and lowered it over your head. Climbing beside him on the bed, you rested your head on his shoulder and cuddled beside him. Listening to his breathing, you concentrated until yours started to match.

Outside, cheers erupted from the street. Scrambling upwards, you fought to look out Jimin’s side window. As you hurried to see what the commotion was about, Jimin groaned when you flashed him your bare ass, but followed suit.

Glancing outside, you realized it must have turned midnight. Fireworks went off over the skyline, people cheered below, and someone had lit a sparkler on the street. Voices drifted higher, wishing each other a happy new year as slowly, you turned around to face Jimin.

He smiled at you, his happiness clear when he pulled you to him. A dizzying rush of what-if’s and excitement went through you and somehow, you knew this would be only the beginning.

“Happy new year,” he murmured.

“Happy new year,” you whispered, tilting your face up to his.

Author’s Note: Thank you so much for reading this series 😊 It’s been a whirlwind, so thank you for sticking with our main characters throughout the journey! I hope you enjoyed and are having a wonderful holiday season :) happy (almost) new year!

RAISE THE BARRE MASTERLIST

#btsbookclub #bangtanarmynet #bts smut #jimin smut #bts fanfic #jimin fanfic #bts series #bts writing #jimin series #jimin writing #bts dance au #jimin dance au

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theirbbygirl · 3 years

Text

Second Lead Syndrome

Word Count: ~8.7k words

liked this? there’s more on my masterlist!

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Comedy, Female reader insert

Description: Y/n and Minho have been friends for more than 2 years now, but suddenly she begins to see herself as the mere second lead in Minho’s story. Will she be the rare second lead who gets her own happy ending?

Warnings: some crying, themes of unrequited love (if there’s anything that I missed don’t hesitated to let me know!)

I’d only ever encountered Second Lead Syndrome in the dramas I’d watched. Wanting the girl to end up with the second lead who was so obviously the better and healthier choice, but like every avid watcher of kdramas, it's more than likely for the main leads to end up with each other, that was just how it worked. What I never thought I’d encounter was seeing it happen before my own eyes and experience it firsthand.

Life was never supposed to be a kdrama. Life was supposed to be simple, a straight line, going from point A to B with no complications. But life never really went my way did it? It just had to throw in one variable, one man that had too much influence on my life.

I couldn’t remember the first time I met Minho. It was probably sometime in the first grade when his family first moved in next to mine. But alas, we were both too young to remember exactly what sparked our friendship. One day we were strangers and the next we had given our parents a near heart attack when we both went after a stray cat on the way back home (my mom’s words, not ours). From then my memories were filled with him, just us besties hanging out like anyone would with their best friend. First party, first mental breakdown, first drink, all with him. Soon enough we were in our final year of University, and ultimately, adults.

The Minho I knew was laid back, not too extroverted but not too introverted either. While I completely contrasted him, always anxious about something, wanting perfection to the T, and completely and utterly introverted. Our friendship, moving into University, sparked a lot of questions. You wouldn’t typically find the introverted straight-A student with the borderline badboy tsundere walking and laughing in the halls together, spending practically every waking moment together. But Minho didn’t care, and neither did I, so we moved through life pretty easily.

One of the few things we had in common was our love for cats, and when we both foudn out there was a cat cafe just a few minutes walk from our campus, you best bet we spent too much of our time and money there. Studying, hanging out, anything you could imagine. If we weren’t in one of our dorms, we were more than likely to be in the cat cafe.

Every day after class we’d go there and we’d complain about our least favorite professors and how lectures would seemingly last for longer than they should. Additionally, Minho had almost become akin to my own dormmate with how much time he spent in my dorm. He’d come in whenever he wished, stealing my frozen pizzas and sodas, using my Netflix account on my TV to watch weird National Geographic shows and make random comments like “that snake looks just like Kim Seungmin,” or “look its Hannie” whenever a squirrel came on screen. Minho was always there when I needed a drinking partner after bombing a test or assignment, pouring me shots of soju until I passed out and bringing me to my bed and tucking me in whiel he would sleep on the couch to make sure I wouldn’t do anything stupid in the middle of the night.

Although, more people knew Minho’s name than mine, but that didn’t bother any of us. We continued on being friends as usual, and it felt like nothing would change that. Life was moving in a straight line like it should’ve always been.

At least, that’s what it felt like until February, just a few months before we graduated.

I make my way to our usual spot in the courtyard after buying an iced coffee and a snickers bar from the vending machine next to my classroom, I walk up behind Minho sitting on a bench when I find him staring out in front of him instead of looking at cat videos on his phone like he usually does. Slowing my walk, I trail my eyes to the vague direction he’s facing and see that he’s looking at Kim Seungmin and a girl chatting outside the classroom. I ignore the thought, opting to think that Minho must’ve spaced out thinking about how he would irritate Seungmin next class. I plop down next to him when he still doesn’t take note of my arrival, so I get right next to his ear and blow cold air into it, snickering when he jolts in surprise.

“What was that for?” He whines, fake annoyed.

“You got lost up in your thoughts for a certain Kim Seungmin there.” I snicker some more, opening my snickers (hehe) bar.

Just as I’m about to take the first bite of the sugary goodness, the chocolate bar gets snatched out of my hands and a certain Lee Minho takes an obnoxious bite out of it, not even giving it back but eating it like it was his. I pout, watching him devour my snack, knowing that I couldn’t do anything to get it back.

“For your information, I was not thinking about Kim Seungmin.” He says pointedly, slightly muffled by the chocolate in his mouth.

I sigh, knowing I wasn’t going to get that chocolate bar back any time soon, and open my iced coffee. “So what were you thinking about then?” I ask before taking a sip.

“Don’t know, spaced out.” Is all the answer I get and I highly doubt him, but I brush it off anyways and don’t pry.

Minho and I slide into our usual conversation about assignments, plans for the week, and everything under the sun. We talk about how he’s planning to visit home the next day and stay for a weekend and how excited he is to see his cats after a long time, I unknowingly smile at his ramble about how talkative Dori is, and just sit back and listen. I never took into account how healing it was to just watch and listen to him talk, the sultry of his voice and his little exclamations of frustration or excitement that came once in a while. I had to catch myself from staring when he turned to look at me, having asked me a question I didn’t catch.

“Sorry what was that?” I ask.

“Am I that beautiful for you to have lost your hearing to my handsome face?” I couldn’t just tell him that that was basically what had happened, it would inflate his ego by too much and reveal everything I’d hidden thus far.

“The heck? No, I was thinking about how great it would be to get some peace and quiet while you’re not around this weekend.” I lie, having Minho around is the only thing that brings me entertainment that isn’t endless sappy kdramas on my laptop, but he can never know that.

Minho scoffs, says something under his breath that I don’t quite catch, then turns back to me. “You love me.” He says with a pout.

“Unfortunately I do.”

That was the first of many inconspicuous confessions.

It was nearing 3 or 4 am and I was about halfway done with another kdrama when several knocks resound through the small living space. Knowing exactly who it is, I only shout back “you know the code!” and moments later the door opens.

I don’t bother to get up and greet Minho, this exact scene has happened too many times for either of us to care at this point, and it doesn’t surprise me that the moment he enters he shouts, “Honey I’m home!” like we’re in some cheesy romcom.

“Mhmm, welcome home, leech.” I enunciate the last word purposely, but I know he won’t bat an eye at the term. I continue to chew my popcorn while he wanders through my cabinets, looking for snacks. “There’s chips in the cabinet next to the fridge and sprite in there too. If you want more food order Chinese takeout.”

“I don’t have my wallet.” I can practically hear his pout from where I sat, eyes unmoving from the TV screen.

“You know where mine is, but you have to pay me back.” A few seconds pass with no response until suddenly he’s next to me and kissing my cheek.

“I loveeee you!” He says too sweetly, retreating back to the mini-kitchen to order takeout.

“Mhmm, I love you too.” I say, not loud enough for him to hear the confidence missing from my tone.

Continuing to watch the episode of in front of me, I remain in my comfortable position, only moving to lift my legs when Minho comes back to sit on the couch under my legs and the blanket.

“Oh you’re watching this one?” He asks, reaching into the bowl of popcorn I offer him.

“Yeah, didn’t have anything else to watch so I put it on since everyone seems to like it so much.”

“Mm,” he hums while also indulging himself into the scenes playing in front of him. “You’re probably team potato guy, right?”

“What kind of question is that? Of course I am!” I scoff.

“I don’t know, I still think she should end up with Jae-eon.”

“Are you crazy? He literally leads her on like every playboy and is ruining her mentality by not defining their relationship.”

“Yeah, but they’re so cute together, and you can totally tell he feels something for her.” He argues.

“Just cause they’re cute together doesn’t mean they’re good for each other, the entire guy is a walking red flag, I don’t understand why she doesn’t just walk away when she’s had experience with a shit boyfriend.” I sigh.

“You, have major second lead syndrome.” He points an accusing finger at me.

“So what? It’s for good reason, the main lead is toxic as fuck and you can’t change my mind.” I upturn my nose, turning back to the TV and continuing to watch the episode.

The mentioning of the second lead sends a flurry of thoughts into my brain for a reason I can’t comprehend. Sometimes the main leads aren’t that bad but still we want the main character to end up with the second lead, maybe out of our own natural selfishness because we prefer the second lead more. I shake the thoughts away, trying to convince myself that kdramas were only works of fiction and too cheesy to be real, yet for whatever reason I always felt a connection with the second leads, like our emotions directed to our crushes were the same, because I knew that I would always be the second lead in Minho’s story.

Minho’s name was always called out more times than mine was growing up, which I didn’t really mind until our hangout time would be seriously cut down because he had to hang out with other friends. Don’t get me wrong, I loved that he had friends, but there was a little bit of selfishness in me that wanted him to myself.

A new drama and a few episodes later, plus Chinese takeout, lead to our eventual demise. We both fall asleep on the couch in less than comfortable positions and wake up with stiff-neck, us groaning at the pain.

We continue on with our usual morning routines, taking turns freshening up in the bathroom before heading out for breakfast at Paws and Pastries since we were both too lazy to make food ourselves. Besides, hot coffee in the morning plus good sandwiches AND cats? What more could you ask for?

When we enter the cat cafe I notice a familiar face behind the cashier, it was the same girl Seungmin was talking to on Friday, and the same girl I caught Minho staring at. We walk up to the cashier, I order my food first, a simple breakfast sandwich with a coffee to go with it and wait next to Minho to finish ordering.

I made the mistake up glancing up at his face as he was telling his order to her, Ahra, her name tag read. There was something in his eyes that glinted that I had never seen before, not when he talked to Han and not when he talked to me. I couldn’t help but feel a pang of emotion in the middle of my chest before forcing myself to look back down, inserting my card and paying for everything. I sent the girl a thank you and a kind smile after she told us our food would be right over, and both me and Minho went over to our usual table in the back corner next to the cat’s jungle gym and right up next to the window. I get lost in my thoughts while we begin playing with the cats we were so accustomed to.

Like most second leads, I knew exactly what my feelings were. I was practically an adult, how could I miss the fast beating of my heart or my clammy hands whenever I was around him? But again, like most second leads, I knew I’d never get a chance with him, not when everything we did together was purely platonic. It was painfully obvious that I’d be stuck with an unrequited love for who knows how long, and I couldn’t just detach myself from him all of a sudden to get over my feelings because a) he’d notice and force me to tell him what was wrong, ultimately leading me to tell him that I had feelings for him, and b) the moment I would come back or see him for even just a second I know I would develop those feelings all over again. Neither of which were choices I was willing to take so I suck it up and see him every day, ignoring everything my heart was telling me.

I look up from the cat that I’m petting in my lap and look at Minho again, only to find him staring at Ahra who was taking people’s orders with a perfect pearly smile. It was in that moment that I knew, I had just found the female lead of Minho’s story.

3 weeks go by in a similar manner. Minho and I see Ahra around campus a few times and with some twisted fate, she’s on the clock every time we go to Paws and Pastries. Minho, being his smooth self, easily gets himself acquainted with her. They laugh and giggle so naturally and can slip into conversation so easily I’m almost envious of Minho and his non-introverted self.

Not being one to try and stop fate, I watch it all happen. Telling Minho to ask her out already and teasing him about how lovesick he gets when he sees her nearby or at the cafe. I know Minho likes her when he blushes or gets defensive whenever I mention her in our conversations even though he’s never explicitly told me himself. I put on a face in front of him whenever these conversations come up, not wanting to get in the way of his happiness.

One day some of our friends want to meet up outside of campus, we make plans to meet up at a bowling alley, ready to have fun until the late evening hours. Seungmin brought Ahra along with him, asking if it was okay to invite her since they were friends. Everyone agrees and we all meet up as planned. When everyone gets there, including Seungmin and Ahra, we introduce ourselves, Minho not having to introduce himself and easily speaking with her like they always did whenever running into each other. All the the boys have raised brows and mischievous smiles as they watch the interaction between the two, but only one looks at me in concern.

A majority of the night passes by with laughter and teasing, how Chan was terrible at bowling this night and Minho easily beating him despite never doing too well on our previous adventures to the bowling alley. I spend the night with the rest of the boys, while Minho and Ahra spend time getting to know each other even more. There’s a point in the evening where I see Minho hold out his phone to Ahra to exchange numbers, I can hear her giggle when they take a selfie together, probably for her profile picture. I have to turn my head away quickly to ignore the cracking of my own heart when Minho puts his arm on the couch behind Ahra, he does it so naturally, yet he’s never done it with me. I will my thoughts to focus on the game and not on Minho, not noticing the same pair of concerned eyes until they speak up.

“Are you alright?” Hyunjin asks.

“Hm? Of course I am, why wouldn’t I be?” My voice cracks halfway through and I try to hide my sad eyes, even though I was fully aware that Hyunjin had probably noticed that something was up.

“‘Cause you seem pretty affected by that scene over there.” He motions to Minho and Ahra with a nod of his head.

“It’s nothing, Hyun, just nice seeing Minho talking to more people.”

“Y/n, you know he talks to people all the time, and you’re not nearly as affected then as you are now.”

“Hyunjin, really, it’s fine.” I try to convince him but he says something that lets me know that he knows.

“You like Minho.”

“What? No that’s absurd I-“ He looks at me pointedly, and I sigh in defeat. “Yeah, okay, you got me.”

“Why don’t you say anything? Clearly it hurts you to see him like that.” He refers to Minho getting cozy with her.

“Hyunjin, it’s clear that everything we have is platonic, he even called me his sister several times. And who am I to get in the way of him getting into a relationship? That’s not my place to say anything, especially when his last girlfriend was 2 years ago.”

“I get that, but shouldn’t he at least deserve to know? He says that he knows everything about you, but there’s one thing that he doesn't. You know practically everything about him, isn’t it a little unfair?”

“We have choices as to what we share with each other and what we don’t, it’s his choice to tell me what he wants to and my choice to tell him what I want to tell him. Besides, he hasn’t even told me that he has a crush on Ahra yet.”

“So maybe he doesn’t then.”

“Hyunjin, just look at him, he’s a puppy in love.” I glance back over to Minho and Ahra sitting parallel to us. Minho is smiling brightly, more brightly than I had seen in a while and I can’t help but let my lips upturn at the corners just slightly in another sad smile.

Hyunjin sighs next to me, and I look back to him. “I’m sorry y/n, I really wish he would end up with you instead of her, it doesn’t seem fair to you.”

“Hey, don’t say that, Ahra seems like a nice girl, she and Minho will get along great. And nothing in life is fair Hyunjin, that’s just something you come to accept.” I say, getting up. “I’m gonna get some drinks, does anyone want anything?” I ask everyone.

“Cola!” “Me too!” “Me three!” “A lemonade please.” A few of the boys shout back.

“Anything for you guys?” I turn to Minho and Ahra. They both shake their heads. “Okay then, I’ll be back in a minute guys.” I smile at the group before going to get the drinks.

While walking away from the group I let a teardrop fall from my eye, wiping it away just before I order.

Life’s unfair, that’s just something I have to accept.

A week goes by and Minho’s talking about how he and Ahra message often, how he thinks they get along well and he’s gonna ask her out.

Another week goes by and they’ve gone on their first date, he takes her to the beach and they have a picnic.

Two weeks after that they’ve gone on several dates and are officially boyfriend and girlfriend, I don’t even find out separately at this point, I find out with the rest of the group over dinner.

A few days after that Minho calls off one of our late night binge watching sessions, texting me an apology and that Ahra needs him. I tell him it’s okay and to send my regards to her.

It’s a week and half after and Minho regularly calls off our meetups at the cafe after school or at one another’s dorms to tend to Ahra. I tell him it’s fine each time and to not feel bad. He did the same today, and I sit alone at our usual table, mindlessly petting a cat in my lap while zoning out into in my mug of coffee.

All while this happens, I watch, and I let it happen. I don’t fight for him because it didn’t feel right, sometimes second leads let their love fall for someone else, and that’s all it felt like I could do.

Fighting for Minho felt selfish, especially when I knew I had no chance and he’d already fallen for Ahra. I couldn’t suddenly come out of the blue and tell him “hey, I have feelings for you,” when he’s already dating Ahra, I’d look like a major asshole if I did. All I could do was watch and see how we begun to drift farther and farther apart.

With Minho being absent more often, I don’t get to tell him much. Like the internship offer I got to continue pursuing graphic design in Itaewon. I got the email almost a week ago, and I had two more weeks to decide if I was going to take the offer. With nobody to consult about it with I continue to push it to the back of my mind, not wanting to deal with more stress just yet.

Just as I’m taking another sip of my coffee a familiar head of long blonde hair enters the cafe. My head tilts to the side in confusion as he scans the room for someone when he meets eyes with me, he makes his way over and sits in the seat in front of me and doesn’t say anything.

“You’re rarely on this side of town, why are you here?” I ask Hyunjin first.

“I heard something from Ms. Kim in our art class and needed to know if it was true.” He says seriously.

“What…” I feel like I know what he’s going to say, but I ask anyways. “What did you hear?”

“That you were offered an internship in Itaewon.”

“Hyunjin I-“

“Is it really true? She said you had two more weeks to decide, how come you haven’t told anybody? Does Minho know? Are you gonna leave? What about-” He begins to spurt out question after question and it’s almost too much for me to handle.

“Hyunjin!” I raise my voice just slightly to get him to stop but I have to turn it down again when the volume of my voice makes a few of the other customers’ heads turn. “Calm down, yes it’s true, yes I have two more weeks to decide if I’m going or not, I didn’t know how I would tell any of you, no, Minho doesn’t know and I don’t plan on telling him.”

“Are you… Are you gonna take the offer?” He asks slowly.

I prop my elbows onto the table as the cat leaves my lap and my head drops into my hands as I sigh in exasperation. “I don’t know.” Tears are gathering in my eyes as I think about it.

“Y/n, have you thought about the offer at all?”

“Yes and no.” I don’t need to lift my head to sense Hyunjin’s confusion. “It’s hard to think about it when you’re watching your crush of 2 years date someone else while you’re also trying to finish up your senior year. But it’s also all I can think about when I’m alone, which I find myself a lot, thinking about having to find a place to live in Itaewon and transfer and mentally prepare to leave you all here, but if I don’t take it then it’ll be even harder to find an offer like this. It’s all I can think about and also something that I can’t bring myself to think about, Hyunjin.” I lift my head and my teary eyes meet his own.

“Y/n…” His voice breaks saying my name.

“I think I’m going to take it.” I pause. “Once I finish all of my final assignments the only thing I have left to really worry about is graduating and finding a job, and I don’t think I can take watching Minho and Ahra anymore Hyun, I don’t think I can stomach it. I’m happy for them, I truly am, but it’s also affecting me and I don’t think I should ignore that anymore. If I’m in Itaewon I have a job and I won’t have to worry about feelings anymore, two birds with one stone.”

I see the hesitancy in Hyunjin’s facial expressions before he speaks. “If that’s what you think you should do, then I’ll support you all the way. But shouldn’t you tell Minho about this?”

“I’m not, because if I do, Minho is gonna find some way to get me to stay and I’ll crumble and stay because he affects me the most.” Hyunjin merely nods in response. “Hyunjin, you are the only one that can know about this, okay? I can’t have everyone else know this, especially Minho, okay?”

Hesitation again, and then, “Okay.”

Hyunjin keeps his promise, he keeps the secret of me leaving from everyone. Even as graduation inches closer and our group begins to talk more about job searching, what comes next, and similar topics, the two of us keep it a secret. Whenever they asked me what I was thinking of doing next I always just told them “oh probably looking for internships nearby,” and no more questions are asked.

Minho and Ahra were still very much in love, even more than before, if the growing absence of Minho’s presence was anything to go by. I barely saw Minho anymore, maybe catching him at the end of the hall every once in awhile, but he was always walking with Ahra so all I could say was “hello” and “goodbye.”

Each goodbye begun to hold more and more weight as the days passed. Even the short ones I would tell Minho after passing him in the halls. I couldn’t even conjure how I would tell everyone, maybe send a letter to each of their places? A text message? Tell them after the graduation ceremony just before I left for the train station? I thought about how I would say goodbye as I begun to pack up my dorm. Graduation was nearing, I had already turned in all of my final assignments, and all there was left was to pack. I would leave after the ceremony ended, sometime in the afternoon. I wouldn’t even get the chance to properly celebrate being graduates with my friends because I was leaving in the afternoon. I’d get situated in my new apartment in Itaewon and get accustomed to new life outside of Gimpo.

The thought of leaving panged my heart harshly, I had never left Gimpo permanently before. Sure, I had gone on trips to the US and Singapore and Seoul before, but I had never moved from Gimpo. I was born and raised in Gimpo, met Minho and all of our friends here, so the thought of moving for the first time did something to my heart. I attended all of our group hangouts with a nostalgic mindset, remembering the first time we all met, when we all got wasted one time on a Friday night after some big exam week. I look around our table of friends and think about how much I’ll miss all of this when I leave for Itaewon.

Another thing that panged my heart, Minho and I distancing. I knew it was coming, Minho and I didn’t text or talk about hanging out anymore. He walked Ahra to her classes now, and had dates with her after class instead of meeting me at our cafe. Eventually I stopped getting apology messages, and stopped expecting him at the cafe anymore. I couldn’t blame him, Ahra was his girlfriend and I accepted that long ago. Instead I just played the supportive friend on the sidelines, and I’d continue to play that role for as long as I had to.

It came to be the night before we graduated, and all of us minus Minho and Ahra were sat around a table in one of the restaurants we frequented, it wasn’t too late in the evening, and we all just sat in silence after finishing our food with bottles and glasses of soju now sitting in front of us. A majority of our meal was full of reminiscing, talking about memories that crack everyone up and left smiles on our faces.

“So, we really graduate tomorrow, huh?” Changbin says when the table quiets down.

“Yeah, I guess we do.” Chan says quietly.

My eyes tear up and I begin to sniff without control, the weight of my department tomorrow weighing heavily on my shoulders. Hyunjin puts an arm around my shoulders and gives me a tissue, whispering “it’s okay, it’s okay” to me while I try to calm down.

Everyone looks at me in confusion before Chan speaks first. “Y/n are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I just…” I trail off, not sure what to say.

“Do you want to tell them?” Hyunjin asks softly.

“Tell us what?” Seungmin says this time.

Hyunjin looks to me first before nodding, and I begin to spill my secret. “I got an internship offer.”

The table erupts in cheers and I get congratulations thrown back at me before I can even continue.

“But…” Immediately everyone silences and looks to me in expectation. “It’s in Itaewon.”

There’s a tense air that falls around us. “What?” Felix says in disbelief.

“You’re not leaving us, right Noona?” Jeongin asks from another part of the table.

I look to Jeongin with sad eyes, smiling sadly. “I leave tomorrow, after our graduation ceremony.” There’s some gasps around the table.

“What?! Y/n, why didn’t you tell us sooner?” Changbin blows up and Chan has to place a hand on his shoulder to restrain him.

“I didn’t want every time we met leading up to graduation to feel like a goodbye, Bin, I couldn’t handle that. So I kept it from you all so there wasn’t this tension every time we met.” I explained.

“Does Minho know?” Seungmin asks this time, and I shake my head.

“Y/n…” Han says worriedly.

“Guys, I know I’m not the only one that’s noticed that me and Minho aren’t that close anymore, so I haven’t really gotten the chance to tell him. But I told Hyunjin this a long time ago, that I wouldn’t tell Minho specifically, because there’s some things that I need to figure out and if I told him he’d find some way to keep me from going, or even worse, follow me. At least with Ahra by his side he won’t follow me to Itaewon.” There’s nods all around the table, understanding where I’m coming from.

“We’re gonna miss you a lot.” Felix sniffs and I coo, getting up from my seat to wrap my arms around him from behind.

“I’m gonna miss you all too.” I sniff with him, a few tears escaping my eyes.

Chan comes to join our hug, then Han, then Jeongin, and soon enough everyone has joined the group hug with me in the middle. All of us are crying, and I had never felt more loved than that moment.

Eventually we break away from the hug and return to our seats, everyone dabbing at their eyes with tissues and sniffing.

“Let’s all stop crying, tonight is a night to celebrate, all of us graduate tomorrow, and our dear Y/n got an internship offer in a big city!” Han holds up a drink and we all do the same, cheering and clinking our glasses together and celebrating the night away.

The next morning I get ready for graduation early, putting on my makeup and doing my hair, and sending a message.

to: [cat dad who’s a leech :D]

hey, can you meet me at p&p in thirty?

My heart picks up the pace as I send the message, I didn’t expect him to answer so quickly yet his message pings my phone within 2 minutes.

from: [cat dad who’s a leech :D]

sure, i can be there

to: [cat dad who’s a leech :D]

sweet, i’ll see you there

I turn my phone off and take a deep breath, we still had a few hours before we had to be at the school for our graduation ceremony, I’d have to leave just a few minutes after the ceremony ended which wouldn’t give me enough time to tell Minho, so, I made the painful decision the night before to tell him in the morning. I’d do it in our favorite spot in the corner of our favorite cat cafe, tell him the news slowly and hope that he takes it well.

I leave my house and 15 minutes later I’m in our usual booth, my coffee order sitting in front of me and the cats all wandering around as there weren’t too many people since it was relatively early in the morning. I already bought Minho his typical Iced Americano and it sat in front of me, awaiting it’s owner.

10 minutes later Minho arrives and makes his way to the table, sitting in front of me, smiling, unknowing of what’s about to happen.

“Hey.” I smile at him.

“Hey you.” He smiles back brightly. “Sorry I couldn’t see you guys last night, I took Ahra out for dinner last night on a date.”

“It’s completely alright, how are you guys?”

“Pretty good, things are going okay right now.” He answers.

“That’s good.” Nervously I take a sip of my macchiato in front of me, my leg bouncing in anxiety.

“Y/n? Is everything alright? Your leg’s bouncing pretty fast right now.” Curse Minho and the fact that he knows so much about me, he reaches out for my wrist and checks my pulse, quickly noticing how fast it’s beating as his brows furrow in confusion.

“Minho, there’s something I need to tell you.” I say, retracting my wrist from his grip. He doesn’t answer me but instead tilts his head like a cat does when it looks at its owner questionably. “I’m leaving.”

“What?” He asks.

How could one look so endearing, head tilted and eyes full of emotion as I break the news to him? I ask myself. “I got an internship offer for a company in Itaewon, I accepted it and I’m leaving for Itaewon, today.”

“You’re leaving today?” He says in disbelief, sounding out of breath.

I nod and continue. “After the graduation today I have to catch my bus. I didn’t have any other time to tell you so I had to tell you now.”

“You’re… You’re just telling me now? Do the others know about this?”

“I only told them last night.”

“You couldn’t have thought of telling me sooner?” He starts to get angry.

“Minho I-“

“What happened to telling me everything, huh? What happened to when we used to know everything about each other?”

“Minho, those days are long behind us, you have bigger priorities now, like putting your focus on your girlfriend, Minho. I couldn’t tell you because I knew you’d do something rash, and I didn’t even tell the others until last night because I knew every time we’d see each other it would be like preparing for the day I leave. You and Ahra have something so great going on for the two of you right now and telling you that I was leaving would take you away from that, and I can’t do that to you or her. Ahra is an amazing girl, and you have her now.”

“Will you at least visit?” His eyes are full of tears, some of the first I’ve seen in years and I hate that I’m the cause of it.

“I don’t know yet, there’s some things I need to figure out myself first, before I can visit. But at some point maybe I will, when I’ve figured things out I’ll try visiting from time to time.” I offer him a sad smile.

After a few moments of silence I get up from my seat.

“We still have a graduation left, Min, I’ll still see you then.” I ruffle his hair and walk out of the cafe, no more secrets but one weighing down on my chest.

The Graduation ceremony passes by in a blur. One moment we were listening to the speeches of each of the professors and the next we were tossing our caps into the air, cheering as we became alumni of our university.

Our friend group met up in the front of the school, taking pictures with our parents and congratulating each other. Eventually, the time comes and I have to go.

Our group stands in a circle, unmoving, as we all look at each other.

“I’m gonna miss all of you so much.” I say in tears as my voice breaks.

“We’re gonna miss you too, Y/n.” Hyunjin says. At his words everyone gathers into a group hug full of tears and the weight of a goodbye on our shoulders.

“You better promise to visit us, okay?” Felix holds me by the shoulders and makes a point to look me in the eye. Not trusting my voice, I nod and he brings me into one more hug.

I hug each of them individually, saying a few words, before I reach the last person.

I hug Minho and look into his eyes for the last time for a while.

“I’ll miss you.” He whispers.

“Me too.” And that’s all I can say.

I leave the campus for the last time, hopping in my car to head to the station and start anew.

Second leads always leave in the end, they leave and let the two main leads have a happy ending. That’s what it felt like I was doing, and I couldn’t tell if I was content with my choice or not.

Two and a half months in Itaewon passes quickly.

The move into my new apartment was smooth, and it was odd to be in a bigger space than a small dorm room. It felt like I had more space than I knew what to do with.

My internship was moving along smoothly as well, everyone I had met so far were really kind and taught me a lot. I was worried about feeling out of place but I had met a few other girls not much older than me who helped me feel at home.

Being alone in a big city was unnerving, but what made it so much more comfortable was the addition of a cat that my parents had bought me as my graduation gift. She was a chartreux cat who I named Luna because I had always dreamed of naming my first cat that. My parents covered most of the costs of basic things like cat toys, a scratch post, her bed, and similar things. I thanked my parents endlessly when they came over to my apartment a week after I had moved in and gave me Luna. I wasn’t gone for too long during the day and always left food for her, she was great company when I came home and worked on projects late into the evening, curling up into my lap like the cats at the old cafe used to. She was my best friend in a city I was still getting accustomed to.

I hadn’t talked to the guys much, I’d talked with them a few times in the group chat about how their job searches were going and trips they were planning to take soon. It was nice talking with them every so often but all of us were still pretty busy moving onto the next chapter of our lives.

I hadn’t talked to Minho since I left, I’d assumed that he and Ahra were doing well, but that’s all that was, assumption. None of the boys talked about him and I couldn’t understand why, but I never asked since I was supposed to be moving on from my feelings in the first place. I thought I had been doing pretty well until something would come up that reminded me of him, like his favorite song would play in the cafe I bought my morning coffee in and spent my breaks at, or snapchat would send me “Today, 1 year ago” memories of him and me fooling around at Paws and Pastries. Whenever that would happen I’d be sent back to square one, and it felt like I’d never move on from Minho.

I was on my way out to grab a coffee and spend my off day walking around, maybe looking into a few shops when I got a call from Hyunjin.

“Y/n! My favorite girl, how are you?”

“Hyunjin? What’s with the call?”

“What? Can I not call my friends from time to time?”

“Not when you’re notorious for calling your ‘friends’ after you’ve done something wrong.” I sigh.

“That was one time! Besides, it wasn’t that bad.”

“You dragged Jeongin to a party! And got him wasted!”

“One. Time. Y/n. It was one time.”

“One time is enough for you to be in trouble for life, Hyun.”

“Okay, whatever, but I was meaning to ask you, what’re your plans for today?”

“Me? I was just planning to go out, today’s my day off so I was gonna visit this one cafe and see some shops, why?”

“No reason, what time do you think you’ll be home?”

“Maybe five?”

“Great, okay, I have to go now, Han’s calling me, bye!” Hyunjin hangs up before I can ask him what’s with the weird questions.

“Hyunjin- Oh great he hung up.” I put my phone in my pocket before looking down at Luna who’s stretching near my legs. “Your uncle Hyunjin is quite the odd one, isn’t he Luna, hm?” I ask her and she meows back in response. “Weird indeed, but that’s just how he is. Mommy’s gonna spend her day out and then she’ll come home and we can watch the TV together, okay? I’ll be home soon.” I pick up Luna and set her on her little bed before ensuring everything is safe and make my way out the door.

I spend the day eating at a large cat cafe that actually had an assortment of books with little reading areas while the cats roamed around everywhere. It was much bigger than the cafe in Gimpo, but I would always correlate that one with home.

After I spent a bit of time reading there I went out and explored the shops for a few hours, bought some new jeans and a few blouses plus some makeup things. I got Subway for lunch and explored just a little bit more before heading home. Instead of going straight home, I decided to take the long way, going through the streets not minding the extra weight the few shopping bags I was holding in my hands gave me. The sun was just barely beginning to set as I walked into my apartment complex, getting into the elevator and pressing the button for my floor.

I walk down the hallway to my door and am surprised when a familiar figure greets me there.

“Minho?” I say as I walk closer.

“Y/n!” He says happily, bringing me into a hug.

“What are you doing here? Actually- Wait- Don’t answer that, do you wanna come inside?” I ask him.

“Sure.” He responds.

I unlock the door and bring my bags in, setting them by the door. “Luna! Mommy’s home!” I call out automatically.

Luna meows and comes out of the bedroom, walking her way up to me before I pick her up.

“You got a cat?” Minho asks.

“Yeah, parents brought her to me about a week after I moved in.” I put Luna back down and she moves to sit on the arm of the couch, her favorite spot to sit when the sun goes down.

“And you named her Luna,” He smiles fondly. “You always wanted to name your cat Luna.”

“I’m surprised you remember that.” I chuckle. “Do you want some coffee?”

“Sure.”

“I’ll get that brewing, just give me a few minutes, you can take a seat on the couch and make yourself at home!” I tell him as I quickly retreat to the kitchen.

I have to take a few breaths when I’m far away enough from Minho, my heart beating just as fast as it would when I was around him back then. It was clear I hadn’t moved on at all.

I brew the coffee as promised and wait next to the coffee machine with two mugs ready. A voice chimes in behind me.

“Your place is much bigger than the dorms.” He chuckles.

“Tell me about it, it was so weird buying more furniture than I was used to.” I laugh with him.

The machine finishes brewing the coffee and I pour it into the two mugs, putting it on a tray with creamer and sugar before bringing it all to the coffee table in front of the couch.

Minho and I take seats on the couch, separated by a bit of space between us while we sip on our respective mugs.

“So,” I start the conversation. “How’s home?”

“Not too bad, same old same old, the guys being annoying as usual, you know?” He says.

“Sounds fun.” I chuckle. “And work, have you found anything yet?”

“Not yet, I’ve got a few applications out, but I’m still waiting on some answers.”

“I’m sure you’ll get them soon.” I respond.

An uncomfortable silence sets over the both of us, and I run my free hand through Luna’s fur who’s situated herself in my lap this time. I take a long sip of my coffee before asking another question.

“How’s… How are you and Ahra?”

“Oh…” He trails off. “We broke up a few weeks ago.”

“I’m sorry to hear that…” I had no idea that he and Ahra had broken up, in fact that was the completely opposite of what I thought had happened since they seemed to work together so well.

“Yeah, it was a mutual thing. We didn’t really feel that kind of connection anymore, you know? So we just, broke it off.”

“Are you okay?” I ask Minho.

“Me? Yeah, I’m actually not as affected as I thought I’d be, I don’t know if that makes me a cruel person or not but I was only sad for the first week or two. Nothing too bad.”

“I see.” Another silence settles between us. This one is longer, more tense, there was something Minho wanted to ask but he wasn’t sure, and I couldn’t depict what question he was going to ask.

“Actually, I came her for a reason.” He says.

“And what reason is that?” I ask hesitantly.

“For answers.” My brows furrow, answers for what? “There’s something Hyunjin told me recently and it got me thinking, and I wanted to hear it from you if it was true.”

I finish my coffee and place it down delicately on the coffee table, trying not to show how nervous I was with how badly my hands were shaking. “I’ll see if I have answers for you then.”

“When you told me you were leaving, you said you had some, things, to figure out on your own. What was it that you had to figure out?”

I take a moment to decide exactly how I was going to answer his question. Did I want to expose my feelings to him just yet? “Just, feelings.” I say vaguely.

“For?”

“Just feelings for somebody.”

“Is it Hyunjin?”

“No.”

“Chan?”

“Nope.”

“Changbin?”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Me?”

I pause for just a half second, and apparently that was all Minho needed. “I guess Hyunjin’s big mouth was right after all.”

“Wait- What? What are you talking about?”

Minho takes a long sip of his coffee before finishing letting out a sigh after swallowing, he slowly sets the mug on the table before making direct eye contact with me and silently killing me with the suspense. “Minho please just say something you’re killing me here.”

He only chuckles in response. “Hyunjin told me not too long ago that you took up the offer to work here because you were going to sort out your feelings, for me.” He says sweetly as I suck in a breath at his last words.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about Minho-“

“Now now, Y/n, we shouldn’t hide things from each other anymore, should we?” His sweet, sultry voice was affecting me greatly as he leaned closer to me on the couch. I gulp and silently curse when Luna, the only thing keeping me sane, leaves the comfort of my lap for her scratch-post.

“Minho…” I let out quietly.

“Tell me, Kitten, is it true?” He asks once again.

“I-“ My voice catches in my throat when Minho leans in ever nearer, still making direct eye-contact with me. “Yes, it is.” I sigh out and Minho backs away.

“He was right.” Minho whispers while my gaze drops to my hands that I fiddle with in my lap at the secret that’s let out. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I’m sorry.” I whisper.

“Why are you sorry darling?” He asks softly and uses his thumb and forefinger to tilt my head up by my chin.

“I couldn’t tell you because I knew you didn’t feel the same, and then when you got together with Ahra we drifted apart because it hurt me to see you with her. Then I left and told you about me leaving so last minute. I made you cry, Minho, and I hate that I did. But I couldn’t see any other way out of it. I hurt you because I was cowardly and didn’t want to be selfish by telling you and having your attention move off of Ahra, when I was really being selfish by not telling you and hurting you in the end.” More tears escape my eyes as we look at each other.

“Princess, no…” He cups my face with his hands and uses his thumbs to wipe away my tears. “I’ll admit, it did hurt when you told me that you were leaving the day of, but I understood where you were coming from. Because you were right, I would have done something crazy to keep you by my side. Do you know why?” He asks, and I shake my head, still crying. “Because I need you by my side, kitten, even when I was dating Ahra I felt off but just didn’t pay any mind to it because I had her. But now I know it’s because you and I were drifting apart, I found out when after you left and me and Ahra broke up because I felt empty. I couldn’t text you to just come over anymore because you’re farther away from me now. I lied earlier, I said that I sent out some applications for jobs but didn’t get any answers yet, right?” I nod. “I got offered a job as a software engineer, here, in Itaewon, and I said yes.”

“Why?” I whisper.

“Because I want to be near you, I need to be by your side Y/n, because I love you.” I let out a sob at his confession and he coos, bringing me to rest my head on his chest and rubbing his hands on my back and running them through my hair.

“I love you too.” I say after a few minutes.

Minho brings me out of his hold, and cups my face again. For the first time, he kisses me. His lips brush over mine before deepening the kiss, taking full charge of it yet somehow still being soft with me. His kisses were nothing short of addicting, and I knew I’d be in love with him for a long time.

In that moment, kissing the man of my dreams, I remember that it may be rare that a second lead gets their own happy ending, but it’s not unheard of. Sometimes the main lead and second lead do end up with their own happily ever after.

Notes from the author: I have FINALLY posted something y’all 😂 took a few months but she’s here, and she’s dishing out something at least. I don’t know how often I’ll be posting again, esp with school and whatnot, but I do know I need to drain out my drafts because phew, it’s getting a little full in there.

But anyways, I hope you enjoyed this fic! I’m pretty sure it’s one of the longest I’ve written if not the longest. Hopefully it wasn’t too bad, I’m probably a little rusty but we can fix that (i think)

if you want more I still have my old stuff up on my masterlist on my account! hope to see you around :))

-nyx

#skz ff #skz fluff #skz fanfic #skz fanfiction #stray kids fanfiction #minho fluff #skz minho fluff #skz angst #yOU KNOW I KNOW LEE KNOW #skz lee know #lee know #lee know x y/n #tags are annoying sigh #lee minho fanfiction #stray kids scenarios #stray kids fic #stray kids fluff #stray kids angst

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mypoisonedvine · 3 years

Note

for the sleepover tonight! zemo needs an heir, you need money. you agree to marry him in exchange for birthing a child and divorcing several months after. only you've grown feelings and now you don't want to leave him

um let’s not worry that I made this pure angst/fluff

Adalgisa | feminine

origin: German

meaning: Noble, precious promise

Since the full name didn’t exactly roll off the tongue, you usually called her Addy; sometimes Gigi because it made her giggle.

You hoped she would never know how true her name’s meaning really was, that she was the result of a contractual agreement between you and her father. By now you had the contract memorized, since you read it every time you couldn’t sleep: In essence, it said that you and Helmut could divorce as soon as the child was done breastfeeding and that you would get ample visitation to go with your handsome compensation.

But as the time approached, you couldn’t imagine leaving her now; that much was clear as you looked down at where she’d fallen asleep on your chest. You stroked your fingers over her curls, admiring the innocence of her peaceful expression. And then you looked at your husband sleeping beside you, his arm limply draped over both of you... and you couldn’t imagine leaving him, either. That was the part you didn’t expect.

Of course you’d known that there was a decent chance this whole thing would backfire, but your plan in that case was just to flee with the child and raise her without knowledge of her birthright. But, that was all assuming that the reason it would backfire would be too much love for the kid, and/or the Baron being exactly as controlling and cold as he seemed at first. After all, who needs a contract to have a child?

The last three years with him brought so much more clarity than you could’ve imagined. From the beginning he was so gentle with you, more patient than he needed to be, even when he was a bit aloof and so deeply reserved. You never wanted for anything... well, that’s not totally true. Every night you wanted his touch, longed for more than what a contract required, and you could never tell if he really had any affection for you if he just wanted to make you comfortable while he did his best to get you pregnant.

When you found out he’d done it after all, you didn’t tell him right away (even though that was in direct violation of the contract). You weren’t ready for him to stop touching you, you weren’t ready for how he would treat you when intimacy no longer served a purpose. Of course, your moral compass got the better of you before he could actually take you to bed again; you just couldn’t bring yourself to let him go through with it when you knew it was under false pretenses.

“Wait,” you gasped as he kissed down your neck, pushing his hands away from where they had begun to tenderly spread your legs.

“Is everything alright?” he breathed, pulling back to stare down at you. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, I-- I’m fine,” you stammered.

“Should I stop?” he pressed, looking a bit conflicted as his gaze scanned your body; clearly he would stop if you said to, but at the same time, his own desperation was apparent. It was rare for someone normally as collected as him.

“Well, you don’t need to, but you might want to when I tell you...” you trailed off.

“Tell me what?”

You chewed on your lip. “Helmut... I’m pregnant.”

His eyes went wide and you looked away, guilt burning in your gut. “How... how long have you...?”

“Just a few days, I should’ve told you as soon as I knew but I was scared--”

“Scared of what?”

Scared that you’d never kiss me again, you immediately thought to yourself. Scared that the last time was the last time-- I would’ve done it different if I had known it was the last time. I would’ve held you closer, I would’ve loved you harder; I would’ve made sure that even if you were going to throw me once it was all over, that you would never forget me.

“I... don’t know.”

“Darling,” he whispered, “it’s wonderful. This is wonderful. You’re so... you’re beautiful.”

He leaned down again to give you a slow kiss, the softest smile pressing against your lips. You wrapped your arms around his neck, relaxing a bit.

“I can’t believe it,” he mumbled. “In the best way, I mean.”

His hand ventured down to your belly where he let it rest as he stared in awe. You both spent a moment in that silence together, and the energy shifted slightly as he looked up at you again.

“Darling...”

“Yes, Helmut?”

“May I make love to you?” he asked, lowering his voice. The question caught you off-guard, and made a sting of need hit between your legs. “I know we don’t need to, since you’re already... and I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t want this, but--”

“Yes,” you answered quickly. “I want you, please.”

I love you, you wanted to say, but he kissed you before you could.

And then the pregnancy... finally that hard shell began to crack as he watched your bump grow. He became so doting, and not just by kissing and rubbing your belly or talking about the baby; he kissed you, too, and with more love in his eyes than you knew what to do with. You decided not to let yourself wonder if he loved you back; you could barely admit that you loved him in the first place.

When Addy was born, you realized you’d never known how beautiful family could feel. But now it was everything to you; now you were this baby’s entire world, and she was yours, and Helmut was absolutely enamored with her.

“Spending some quality time with your baroness, huh?” you chuckled as you walked in on him dancing around to an old record with the baby on his hip.

“Darling, you’re my baroness,” he clarified, and you had not expected the effect those words would have on you. “She’ll gain the title when she’s older. For now she’s just my little heiress.”

And now that she was almost two, she was undeniably a daddy’s girl in return. Not that she didn’t love you, obviously, but she was so spoiled by him. It was sort of a rarity that she was sleeping on you tonight and not him; in fact, it was normally him that let her into your bed when she was meant to be sleeping in her nursery.

Tears welled in your eyes as you realized that you absolutely could not leave. Maybe you could survive a divorce from the man you were secretly in love with, but you couldn’t move out. You couldn’t be away from her, from this. It wasn’t just a man and a woman and a child. It wasn’t just a Baron and his contractually-obligated wife and their means-to-an-end child.

The three of you were the Zemo family now. And you loved being a part of it so much.

“Helmut,” you whispered, seeing him jolt from his sleep.

“Is everything okay?” he asked before he was even completely awake. “Are you safe?”

“Yes, I’m fine,” you laughed softly. “I was just wondering if I should take her to her room.”

“I’ll do it,” he offered, starting to sit up. “You don’t have the finesse it takes to carry her without waking her up.”

You frowned, but didn’t protest because you knew he was right. He carefully lifted her sleeping body off of you and leaned her onto his shoulder as he carried her out and down the hall. You waited in darkness and silence for his return, imagining what you might say when he came back.

I love you.

I want to get out of the contract.

I think we should stay married.

All worthy contenders, but when he came back to bed empty-handed, none of them seemed to come out of your mouth even when you opened it to speak.

“Goodnight, darling,” he whispered, turning away as he pulled the blankets up over himself.

I love you, you wanted to say it so much, it was so fucking close to your lips but you came up silent. I love you I love you I love you. “Goodnight,” you heard yourself say instead.

Maybe you’d find the courage to tell him tomorrow, before it was too late. But then again, that was the last thought you’d had every night for the past year.

#helmut zemo x reader #baron zemo x reader #saturday night sleepover #wakingbeauty

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strawberry-lemonade-kisses · 3 years

Text

Family Ties

Recovery was a long and tiring process. Kyojuro always struggled with it, having to rest and take the time to heal properly instead of helping with anything and everything he could. Shinobu had scolded him endlessly on why he couldn’t be messing around and trying to sneak out with his injuries, they were too severe for him to be acting like a child. He couldn’t help it though, his family was at home waiting for him. His beautiful baby girl and her adorable face, those tiny fingers and hands, the small tufts of blonde hair that she had. He only got to hold her once before Shinobu had him taken to the butterfly estate. He felt restless, knowing he couldn’t see his wife in her motherly glow, a glow that he only got to hold onto for a few minutes. It had been a full week since he was brought to the butterfly estate, confined to one of the rooms designated for the hashira, away from the chaos and yelling the rest of the estate contained.

“Rengoku, time for painkillers!” Shinobu fluttered into the room, a small packet of pills in one hand and a letter in the other. “Another love letter, I may have to start charging delivery between you two!” she flashed a smile, setting down the pills and handing Rengoku the letter. He tore it open quickly, not trying to save the envelope as he read over the letter his wife had penned.

My flame,

Hinata and I both miss you very much, her big eyes are always looking for something, I think it’s you. Shinobu says tomorrow if you keep behaving we can start visiting you. For the first time ever my flame, please relax. I don’t know how much longer I can hold out not seeing you. It’s cold at night, I find myself missing your company, your warm hands that are always wandering, holding onto me. Your chest, so warm and firm, I miss laying on it, listening to your heart. I miss hearing your voice, always so loud but so quiet when you only want me to hear what you are saying. It makes me feel so special. Hinata is the only one keeping me sane. She looks so much like you it's almost scary, but I won't lie. Nothing compares to you. I miss you. It's harder knowing you are so close but I can't see you or hear you, I can't even hold you. Please relax so I can come to see you, my love.

I love you to the sun and back,

Your flower

“Let me check your bandages and then I will let you know if they can come tomorrow” Kyojuro jumped at the sudden closeness of the insect Hashira, not quite used to the lack of peripherals on his left side. Setting the letter on the nightstand he scooted towards the edge of the large four-poster bed he had been resting in. Sitting as straight as he could without feeling pain, he raised his arms slightly, letting Shinobu unravel the bandages around his stomach. The wound had hindered most of his movements for the first few days in the estate but he had been getting better, small walks and even sitting in a chair had helped him regain some of that feeling of normal, even through the haze of the painkillers. He had decided not to bother struggling with a shirt, knowing it was too painful to go through the hassle when Shinobu came in every few hours to check the bandages. She mumbled small apologies as she unraveled the tape and gauze directly on the wound, trying to drown out the hisses of pain from Kyojuro.

"The staples are holding well, no tearing, no bleeding or abnormal discharge. You are healing as well as you could Kyojuro. I think it's safe to say you can see Y/N and Hinata tomorrow. But I will warn you now and later, Kyojuro. Do. Not. Exert. Yourself. I know you are excited and restless to spend time with your family and your new baby but if you hold her for too long and strain yourself I don't know if I have the knowledge to save you. You are lucky to be here now" Kyojuro understood her warning. He was beyond grateful to work alongside such a skilled and intelligent woman. The people she had trained to deal with life-threatening and fatal wounds like the one on his stomach have led to many lives saved that should have been lost, including his. He owed his life to her. He made a noise of agreement, trying not to move much while she laid a fresh bandage on the fist-sized wound his stomach sported. She was careful as she wrapped the gauze on his stomach, holding his bandage in place and stabilizing his torso so the quilts he was rolling around in didn't scratch him or remove his bandage.

"Tanjiro, inosuke, and Zenitsu have been asking about you. Do you think you feel well enough to see them?" Kyojuro perked up at the mention of the young slayers, their intervention of his fight with the upper 3 was another reason he was alive. He went straight to his estate after the battle, asking the Kakushi to assist him home once they stabilized him, not taking no for an answer. They only agreed once he tried crawling away from them, not bothering to listen. He didn't even explain his eagerness to get home so they deserve answers.

"Yes, is that their names? I would very much like to speak with them. Could they visit?" Shinobu chuckled at the excitement Kyojuro radiated as she threw the dirty bandages into the waste bin before turning back to the flame hashira.

"I'll have aoi bring them. She'll be coming soon with your tea and sweet potatoes. I don't know how you talked her into making your favorite snacks all the time but I think you may be her new favorite." With a smile she bowed, fluttering back out of the room as quick as she arrived.

Morning couldn’t come soon enough, having spent the rest of the afternoon focusing on what he wanted to do while he had the time with his wife and daughter, Kyojuro was distracted. The anticipation had made it hard for him to sleep, thoughts hounded by the idea of finally being able to hold the two most important people in his life. He was feeling strong enough to hold his daughter for more than a few minutes, he had willed his muscles to get better, trying to lift more and hold them for longer amounts of time. Just enough so Shinobu wouldn't yell at him and he could hold his baby girl. He couldn't hold back from the fact he missed his wife as well though, He had been away for a whole month, missing the final month of her pregnancy. When he received the letter from Shinobu, urgently written to tell of his wife giving birth, his heart sank, knowing he wasn’t any closer to going home. Now home had been within reach, and he couldn’t wait to close his fist around it and never let it go.

Kyojuro had adjusted the collar of his shirt for what seemed like the hundredth time, even though the shirt laid almost fully open, tucked into his hakama pants. He felt anxious at the arrival of his wife and daughter, ready to see them and spend all the time he could with them, but also, what if he messed up? This was only the second time he got to see his daughter, what if she didn’t like him or didn’t want to be held by him. His lack of full strength and the pain in his abdomen may be a hindrance to his quality time with his family. His thoughts were everywhere as he fiddled with his shirt and his hair, constantly adjusting everything, it had to be perfect for them. The door opening behind him pulled him from his downward spiral. Looking towards the door Kyojuro met the eyes of the person he had been missing, her reflection staring back at him through the mirror. Her yellow Kimono had been covered with one of his spare Haori, wrapped tightly over the sling on her chest, a gurgling baby nestled into her.

“Hi Handsome” She walked up to him, moving to stand in front of him as he turned to her. She stopped, eyes running over his face, the eyepatch he had been gifted from Shinobu, to cover his injury while it finished healing. The bruises on his temple had almost healed fully, and he was moving. It felt like she could breathe again, finally seeing with her own eyes that he was doing better. She trusted Shinobu with her life, but she felt so anxious not knowing exactly how Kyojuro was doing. He smiled down at her, His hands immediately finding their way to her hips, pulling her into his embrace. Tucking his head into her neck he breathed in, eliciting a giggle from the woman as she wiggled in his grasp. “You're tickling me, Kyo.” He chuckled, the rumble in his chest shaking their daughter who had begun to fuss, the squeals of joy quickly turning to sorrow. Kyojuro jumped away from his wife, her attention turning to their daughter as he looked on. Pulling her from the sling she had she cooed at her baby, softly bouncing her as she sobbed into her shoulder.

“Kyo” She looked at him as she moved to the edge of the bed, sitting down as she patted Hinata’s back. Kyojuro followed her, slowly seating himself next to his wife. He moved as carefully as he could, looking at his crying daughter's face as she wailed into her mother’s shoulder.

“Can I?” He hesitantly reached for Hinata, eyes looking at his wife for permission. With a smile on her face, she lifted Hinata, Allowing Kyokjuro to wrap his hands around her small body, cradling her in his arms so she was on her back.

“Hinata, My beautiful sun child. I’m sorry I shook you like that, Your mommy is so ticklish around her neck, I'm surprised she lets you lay there” He cooed, leaning closer to her face. “Sweet girl, daddies sorry” He rocked her, swaying back and forth, moving Y/N in the process. As they swayed he hummed a tune his mother would often hum. It had no words, but it always reminded him of the early morning, before the sun was fully in the sky, just poking itself over the horizon. He would be in bed, just waking for the day when his mother walked by, humming to herself as she went to the kitchen, getting ready to start breakfast. Her loud humming followed her to the kitchen, where the notes were accented with her chopping the fruits and vegetables to the beat. The cries quickly turned to hiccups. Hinata's round yellow eyes were still glossy with tears as she stared at her father, his tender gaze as he looked down at her, singing softly. Y/N stared at the two of them in awe, the child's enamored look as she listened to her father's melody, the soft song she had heard him humming as he sat in the gardens early in the morning. Motherhood was such a blessing and being able to witness a moment like this was even better. Chubby hands reached up, grabbing at the air as the song came to an end. Her fingers wrapped around nothing before they dropped back onto the blanket she was swaddled in, gripping onto the fabric.

“She’s so beautiful. I could look at her all day” He looked up at his wife briefly before he looked back at his daughter, a smile gracing his lips as he held her closer to him, snuggling into her.

“She really is something special, huh? From her cute little toes all the way to that golden hair. Kyojuro, I think we made the perfect child. Hinata, my sunshine.” Her mother cooed, running her fingers over the small tufts of blonde hair, smoothing it against her head.

“You know” He started, looking back up to Y/N. “I was scared for you to come today. As much as I wanted to see the two of you, What if it didn’t work? What if I wasn't strong enough to get her to stop crying, I would have left you to do it when you’ve been doing it for so long without help. What if I had no-”

“I’m going to stop you there Kyojuro. Shinobu was telling me how you’ve been healing, how you’ve been working. I wouldn’t let you take Hinata from me if I didn’t think that you could handle it. Also, my flame; look at her, look at you. Take a deep breath before you completely lose it.” She stopped, watching as he inhaled and released it, slowly letting out the breath. “Now. Kyojuro, it's scary, I know. I’ve been trying to figure this out almost entirely on my own, but luckily I had some really good advice and a bit of help. my love, I’m right here, we are going to figure this out together and I promise you right now, we aren’t going to be perfect. But look at her, she’s happy, and that’s all I can ask for. She knows you and she loves you, I love you, so incredibly much. Kyo, I was scared you wouldn’t make it, that once Shinobu took you away from me I wouldn’t be seeing you after that. I need you to be patient with this. You are doing so well already, you quieted her faster than I've been able to since she was born. Hinata and I will spend so much time with you once you are home, none of us will leave that bed until you are healed, I mean it.” She leaned forward, pressing her forehead against his as he let out another long breath. “Everything will be fine my flame, don’t worry one bit. You are doing just fine with her.” Pulling away from her husband to sit on her heels she reached for Hinata, scooping her out of Kyojuro's arms. A small whine left Hinata's lips, her drooping eyes shooting open as she laid against her mother's shoulder. “Lay back against the pillow, I want to show you something” Kyojuro gave Y/N a puzzled look but did as he was told, moving to the head of the bed and laying flat on his back, head propped up on a pillow. Moving around the bed she stood next to Kyojuros still figure she smiled, moving Hinata so she was laying on his chest, her head instantly cuddling into the warmth his chest always radiated, a spot Y/N also liked to lay on. The lack of a shirt or a kimono on most of his chest created room for direct heat, Hinata own personal heated pillow. Kyojuro burst into giggles as his daughter quickly fell asleep against his chest, her quiet breaths becoming less frequent as she drifted to dreamland.

“She just fell asleep like that!?” it was Y/N’s turn to laugh as she climbed over her husband, laying down next to him.

“You are so warm, and she loves the warmth. When I light a fire at night, she always falls asleep so fast when I sit close to it, or when I bundle her in blankets. You are always so warm my flame, she obviously loves it” He chuckled again, running his fingers over the blanket that covered Hinata.

“Two women that like the heat, huh”

#kyojuro rengoku #kyojuro x reader #kyojuro headcanons #slice of life #demon slayer hashira #demon slayer scenarios #demon slayer x reader #demon slayer x you #demon slayer #demon slayer rengoku #rengoku x y/n #rengoku x reader #kny rengoku #kimetsu no yaiba rengoku #rengoku kyojuro #rengoku kyoujurou #rengoku

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quaranmine · 3 years

Text

New World, New Faces

When the hermits moved to their new world, they were excited to welcome two new members. But maybe one is an old friend instead . . .

Grian hasn't seen Pearl since Evo. It's a shock.

No romantic relationships or content warnings. Mainly emotional hurt/comfort, but probably more emphasis on comfort. Hermits: Grian, Pearl, and Mumbo primarily with a little bit of Scar and Xisuma as well. Reblogs appreciated and AO3 link in reblog!

Words: 3893

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These days, Grian was pleased to say that the Watcher’s didn’t occupy his mind nearly as often as they used to. Except on certain late nights where he lay in bed and thought of before, his time was mostly spent having fun--scheming, pranking, building, planning, mining, laughing with friends. It wasn’t something he could forget, but the hermits had become his new home, and as years passed the edges of those memories had dulled a bit.

The other times where the Watchers occupied his mind were update days. Since joining hermitcraft, Grian had gone through several updates with the rest of the server. Sometimes they moved to a new world, and sometimes they stayed in their old one. No portals of bedrock ever appeared, but Grian always thought of them just the same. It always felt like maybe, just maybe, one day he’d turn around and see their signature portals once again.

Watchers didn’t always leave portals to update worlds. Grian hadn’t known that until he’d been put to work as a Watcher himself. Oh, the Watchers were still in charge of updating worlds, but they often did it more subtly, without grand towers and quests for portals. It’s hard to retain status as a myth when everyone knows your calling card, afterall. Admins always knew when it was time to update. Grian hadn't, back on Evo, because he’s always been told.

It turned out Evo had been different, and Grian didn’t know how to feel about that. Evo wasn’t the only world to receive special attention from the Watchers, but it was one of their favorites. Why them, though? Why did the Watchers keep such a close eye on their world in particular? Why were they left towers and clues and prizes and punishments, when other servers were mostly left alone?

Why did they kill everyone and kidnap Grian?

◑ ━━━━━ ▣ ━━━━━ ◐

Grian stood in a group with the other hermits, eagerly waiting for the move to the new world. He bounced a little in anticipation. He was excited for the new update--he knew very little about its contents, but it seemed like there would be some new building blocks to play with, according to Xisuma.

He already had plans for the new world--new bases and new shenanigans. Grian was excited to build close to his friends. Xisuma had informed them that another update would come in a few months, and for the hermits to stick close in the time being so that new land would be freed up for the coming update. Grian had already known about the second update for a while, as all Watchers do, but he let Xisuma handle all of this as admin. Those days were behind him, now, and there was no reason to start exercising Watcher powers in a world that was carrying on just fine on its own.

“Is everyone ready?” Xisuma shouted over the chatter, trying to do a headcount. “Hey!” he shouted, trying to get everyone’s attention. Slowly, the chatter quieted.

“Looks like it,” said Iskall.

“Good,” Xisuma said. “Now, before we go, I wanted to remind you that we have two new people joining us this time. I’ve already made arrangements with them prior so they’re gonna be waitin’ for us when we go through.” He grinned. “Be on your best behavior for me, alright?”

“I’m always on my best behavior,” Keralis replied, and Xisuma rolled his eyes fondly.

Grian smiled, remembering his welcome to hermitcraft a few years ago. Unlike this time, nobody had been expecting him. Grian hadn’t been invited like these two new hermits had been, he had just been there when the hermits arrived on their new world. None of the other hermits knew quite why he was there, but they’d all accepted him graciously nonetheless.

Grian liked that memory. The truth is, he’d fled the Watchers and picked an uninhabited world at random, not realizing it had already been reserved by Xisuma. That was a failure on his part as a Watcher, because he was supposed to know about stuff like that. But he had been too busy running to worry about it and besides, there was nobody on hermitcraft to punish him.

The hermits had welcomed him with kindness and made him part of their family. Now he’d gladly do the same for these new soon-to-be hermits.

“Okay . . .” Xisuma said, typing something into his admin panel. “I’m just setting up the portal now.”

They were all gathered in the shopping district, right in front of the Town Hall. Grian took his chance to take one last glance around at the world. The diamonds in the trees glittered in the morning light, sending little reflective shards of light scattered on the ground. Moving worlds was always bittersweet, because it meant parting with the things he’d worked hard on and the places he’d made memories at. But it was also one of his favorite things to do, because it gave everyone a blank slate to work with, sparking endless new creativity.

“I wish I could take some of those with me,” chuckled Scar, as he walked up next to where Grian was standing. He pointed at the diamonds.

“Well of course you want them, Mr Mayor!”

“Uh-uh,” Scar said. “I’m not the Mayor anymore! This is a new world.”

“Well, I guess we’ll have to see what we get up to in the next one, huh?” Grian asked. “Do you have any plans?”

“You’ll just have to wait and see,” Scar teased.

“I guess I will.”

“Do you have any plans?”

“I don’t know,” said Grian. He thought for a moment. “I might make a cave base. I guess I’m waiting to see what’s out there for inspiration before I start.”

“Well, I look forward to seeing it,” Scar replied. “Oh! It looks like Xisuma is ready.”

Grian looked up, to see X opening a portal. It wasn’t a nether portal, nor was it like an End portal. It wasn’t a Watcher portal either, but an Admin one. Grian had come to realize that Watchers supplied Admins with the means to move into updates on their own when they wanted to. The bedrock portals and scavenger hunts were reserved for their favorite worlds--their toys.

Sometimes the Watchers liked to flex their powers, but the universe is not kept running smoothly if all your time is spent flexing. Grian brushed away the thought, choosing to focus on his friends in front of him instead.

One by one, the hermits stepped through the portal, which swirled light blue and hovered just slightly off the ground. Grian hung back, wanting to be one of the last ones through. He wanted to make sure everyone made it through alright, but Xisuma had to be the very last person, since he needed to close the portal. When it was finally his turn, he gave Xisuma a smile and walked forward.

Grian stepped through, into the bright sunlight of a village, and was surrounded by the voices of his friends.

◑ ━━━━━ ▣ ━━━━━ ◐

Spawn was a village in a grassland, next to a swamp and overlooking the ocean. It looked a little plain, but the hermits hadn’t left their mark on the world yet. Behind Grian, Xisuma stepped out into the new world and the portal vanished behind him.

Everybody was crowded around a ditch chattering, apparently exchanging greetings with the two new hermits that stood inside it. Grian held back for a moment, taking it in and basking in the sounds of his friends’ voices. Finally, he wasn’t the new one anymore--a few people had rejoined the server in the last world, but they’d all been old friends, not new ones. That had left him being the most recent addition, not that anything felt like it was recent anymore.

Grian was already thinking of ways to prank the new hermits and draw them into the life of the server.

“Alright Mumbo!” Xisuma said. Grian grinned. Mumbo was supposed to introduce them. Mumbo, of course, didn’t know this, because where’s the fun in that?

“Oh-oh me?”

“It’s go time!” Cleo said.

“This is it!” said Xisuma.

“I’ve clearly very obviously been put up to this,” Mumbo started. “And because everyone thought it’d be much funnier to have me bumble through it without really knowing what I’m talking about, and that is definitely going to be the case!”

The hermits chuckled. Grian walked around the back of the group to try to catch a glimpse of the new people below.

“We do have two new hermits,” Mumbo said, “down in this crevice.”

Grian caught a glimpse of red and brown hair.

“GeminiTay-”

Grian’s world stopped and he felt his breath catch in his throat. She had her back to him, but he’d recognize her anywhere. Her brown hair spilled out from behind a black hoodie.

But she’s dead.

Was this some sort of cruel trick from the universe?

“-and PearlescentMoon.” The rest of the hermits cheered at the announcement, giving the new members a warm welcome. Grian said nothing, his mind spinning a mile a minute.

There was no way it was actually her. The Watchers . . . the Watchers had killed her, and every other Evolutionist. Grian didn’t know why. He would never know why, because with the Watchers it was always “you can’t possibly understand.”And Grian couldn’t. When Grian had finally escaped them, he tried to go back to Evo. It was a foolish attempt, one that would certainly have endangered the lives of anyone there, but nobody had been left there and the buildings were all destroyed and overgrown with vines and Grian had been forced to conclude the heavy truth that all of his old friends were gone.

He didn’t remember what he did after that. He just ran.

Before he could stop himself, the words came tumbling out of his mouth. “Pearl? Is that really you?”

She turned, hearing her name and--it was. It was her. Her hair had blonde highlights around the bangs now, but he’d recognize her anywhere, like her face and the faces of all the other Evolutionists were seared into his brain.

“. . . Grian?”

Grian just stared.

The other hermits had caught onto their mini debacle, and were watching them. “Grian, do you know her?” Mumbo asked.

“Y-yeah, I do,” he stammered.

“Grian?” Pearl shouted, and in an instant had scrambled up the ditch. She stopped in front of him, face pale and eyes wide, like she’d seen a ghost. Maybe he was a ghost, maybe he’d died the day they took him from Evo.

“Pearl,” he whispered.

Suddenly she threw her arms around Grian in a hug and squeezed. “Oh, it’s been so long,” she said, voice muffled.

Grian froze, but slowly reciprocated the hug. He felt numb and like he wanted to cry and scream at the same time, hands shaking, but Pearl’s warm embrace drew him back down to reality.

Pearl pulled away, blinked tears from her eyes and met Grian’s stare. Then, her gaze drifted further down, landing on his folded wings that peaked out just above his shoulders. Tentatively, she reached out to stroke a feather. “What happened to you?” she asked softly.

“I thought you were dead,” Grian said by way of answer.

“Well, I’m not,” Pearl said, and for a moment Grian almost didn’t believe her, and grabbed her wrist tightly, just to see if it was real. Pearl let him. “They took you,” she said.

Grian just looked at the ground, uncomfortably aware of how many people were watching him. Ironic, almost--he didn’t want them watching him so that they wouldn’t know about the Watchers. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust the hermits. He did. He’d trust them all with his life a thousand times. He just . . . didn’t want to explain. The hermits were a good bunch. The unspoken rule was that you didn’t ask about anyone’s past unless they spoke first, and Grian knew they’d abide by that for him as well. But he could do without the turned heads.

“Alright everyone!” Xisuma shouted suddenly, startling Grian. “Let’s go, let’s get to work, this season won’t start itself!” Slowly, the hermits began to disperse, branching off into groups. “How’re ya gonna start the season if you don't chop down a tree? I’ll get to work protecting these villagers.”

Xisuma threw a glance over to them, and Grian mouthed a thank you. Xisuma just nodded, and left them alone. Grian was overwhelmed with relief at the admin’s gesture.

He turned back to Pearl.

“I-I can’t believe you’re actually here,”Grian said. He smiled and the moment he met her gaze, his eyes began to blur with tears.

“I can’t believe you’re here!” she cried. “When we got back from fighting the enderdragon you . . . you were just gone. They left a note for us . . . said it was necessary for you to be taken. All in rhyme, of course.”

“Of course it was in rhyme . . .'' Grian muttered, suddenly very angry. All the Watchers and their unknowable ways, always distilled down to some pithy saying. A life-changing event relayed to his friends in another stupid little poem. He’d written a few himself and despised it.

“I didn’t think I was ever going to see you again. Do you . . . do you mind if I ask what happened?” Pearl asked. “I’m just happy to see you here but I-”

“No, it’s alright,” Grian said with a sigh. “They took me after I fought the enderdragon, and said I was going to be one of them. I didn’t want to go but-well what could I do? So I went with them, and they promised to let me hang around the server. They lied to me, they never let me Watch Evo.” Grian paused, and felt the cool trail of a tear dripping down his cheek. “They later told me you were all dead.”

“Oh, Grian,” Pearl said, and pulled him into another hug, and that was it for him. He began to sob.

“I’m sorry,” he choked out. “It’s just a lot-”

“I know, I know,” she whispered.

“They-they . . . I didn’t enjoy it there. So I, I ran away. I tried to visit Evo but--there was nobody there. I figured they told the truth then, that you really were dead. I ran and found the hermits and I’ve been living with them every since, and oh they’re so wonderful but I could never forget-”

“It’s okay.” Pearl comforted. “I know, I know. We came home after finding the dragon and our place was ransacked, and we were given instructions to leave. And . . . eventually after we left, the group disbanded and we went our separate ways. But, we’re all alive.”

“Really?” Grian asked.

“Yes.”

“Everyone?”

“Yes.”

“Can I- can I see them?” he whispered. It felt forbidden.

“Of course!” Pearl exclaimed. “I’ve kept in touch with everyone, I’m sure Xisuma could help you visit if you asked.”

“Xisuma . . .” Grian thought aloud. “I haven’t told him,” Grian admitted. The admin certainly knew something was up with Grian, because players didn’t normally randomly appear in worlds they weren’t supposed to, but he’d welcomed Grian with open arms to the server and never asked a single question.

“I’m sure he would understand.”

“He would, but Pearl, I don’t want to put anyone in danger! I’m not supposed to be here!” Grian hissed.

“So then don’t tell him everything. Just say you want to visit some people. He’ll understand, I know he will,” she replied. Grian pondered it for a moment. She was right--he could just ask to visit someone. Other hermits did it all the time. Maybe--maybe a few server hops wouldn’t cause a problem. Maybe this was something within his reach, after all this time. The thought exhilarated him.

“But please,” Pearl added. “Please tell someone else, not just me. How long have you been hiding?”

Too long.

Grian didn’t answer, and the two of them stood there and listened to the crash of the waves on the nearby shoreline. The air was hot and salty, and in the distance he could hear Xisuma opening and closing doors in the village.

He didn’t know what he felt, it was like too many emotions had happened in too short of a period of time and left him burned out like a forest after a wildfire. His hands had stopped trembling, but he felt deeply tired.

Happy. You feel happy.

Grian’s communicator chimed from within his pocket. He withdrew it.

GoodTimeWithScar > Grian: are you okay

Grian smiled, and typed a response.

Grian > GoodTimeWithScar: yes

“Who was that?” Pearl asked.

“Scar. He wanted to know if I was okay.”

“Are you?”

Grian met her eyes. “I am now.” It was close enough to the truth. Grian shifted his weight between his feet, suddenly restless and tired from trying to process all this new information. “Speaking of other hermits, we should get going, yeah? We can’t let them get all the resources without us!”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” she chuckled. The hermits had already spread out seeking resources, but not too far yet; Grian and Pearl could still see several of them talking to each other across the field.

“Pearl, before you go--” Grian started, looking serious. “Build next to me, alright? I...I want you to be around.”

“I promise,” she replied.

◑ ━━━━━ ▣ ━━━━━ ◐

“Why are you following me?” Grian knew why, but he wanted Mumbo to bring it up. He was torn--on one hand, he truly appreciated his friend’s concern. It was nice that others were looking out for him, a warm reminder of what their little community stood for. On the other hand . . . he’d really have just appreciated being left alone.

“You look like you have a purpose!” Mumbo exclaimed instead.

Huh.

Grian shook his head. “I’m just heading north,” he replied, shielding his eyes and looking up to see the position of the sun.

“I was just like, ‘Man, it looks like he knows where he’s going,’” Mumbo continued and Grian laughed.

They walked to the edge of the swamp, and began to cut down the trees. Starter tools were a necessity in a new world, and they had no stone.

“Ugh, I have to take down this whole tree, and then I have to replant it,” complained Mumbo.

“Wait-why have you got to replant it?” asked Grian incredulously, while getting wood for himself and not replanting the tree.

“Well I-I can’t just deforest things!”

This is going to be SO much fun to tease Mumbo with.

“Whatever you say, tree boy.”

They continued to work, getting wood, and then venturing into a shallow cave to get stone. The whole time their coms kept buzzing, buzzing, buzzing with combat death messages. Just another day in the hermitcraft world, thought Grian. Have they declared a spontaneous war up there? Either way, Pearl and Gem were getting the full introduction today, he thought with a chuckle.

Exiting the cave, they spotted a shipwreck not too far away, and decided to explore it. Grian pulled out a soggy buried treasure map, and they decided to go after it in a boat. Grian wanted to relax in the boat, to just breathe in the sea spray and try to calm his still-racing thoughts, but unfortunately Mumbo was the driver, and he was not a very good driver if you asked Grian. Grian had been tasked with navigation, which was a difficult thing when the driver couldn’t see the map you were describing.

The loot was good, and they divided it between themselves and then struck onward in the boat, this time with Grian commandeering the vessel. They looped back around to the shipwreck only to find a group of hermits that were a little too late to the prize. Pearl, Ren, and Doc were gathered around the boat looking a bit disappointed.

Mumbo and Grian decided to taunt them.

“Who got the loot?” shouted Ren.

“We got the loot!” Grian shouted back.

“Oh it was you guys,” said Pearl. Grian stuck his tongue out at her and cackled.

They looped back around to show off the Heart of the Sea, but Mumbo dropped their only diamond by accident and that was when Grian decided to steer the boat away before they lost any more valuables.

“I can’t believe you dropped the diamond,” Grian sighed.

“I was flexing too hard, I’m sorry!” cried Mumbo.

It was too comical, and Grian couldn’t be mad at his friend. They rowed on, closely following the coastline. After a few minutes, however, Mumbo asked a question.

“The new hermit, who we just saw with Doc and Ren--Pearl--is it. . . is it okay if I ask how you know her?” Mumbo spoke gently, knowing he was treading around a potentially sensitive topic. Grian knew the topic would have come up eventually, after he’d basically had a breakdown in public when he saw her.

Grian stopped the boat, and looked into the water, not at Mumbo’s face. “Yeah, I figured you’d ask. We used to be on a world together. The . . . the world I was at before I came here, actually.” It wasn’t the full truth, since he’d been to many worlds as a Watcher and had lived on the Watchers’ world for a while. But Evo had been his last home.

“Oh,” said Mumbo.

“We were friends,” continued Grian. “We were close. But I was told she was dead. Clearly, though,” he just simply gestured instead of finishing the sentence.

“Clearly she’s not dead,” Mumbo finished. “I see. Who told you she was dead?”

“Someone who didn’t have my best interests at heart.” Grian had never fully told his friend about what had happened before he joined hermitcraft, but the other man knew that it was a difficult past and had comforted him on more than one occasion--mostly after he’d first joined and the pain was still fresh. It had dulled with time and Grian had become more and more adjusted to his new life.

Seeing Pearl again was a miracle, but it sure sharpened the pain.

Grian rested his elbows on the side of the boat and pressed the heels of his palm into his eyes. “It wasn’t just her, either, they told me everyone on the server was dead. And-they’re all alive. All of them. It’s fantastic news, brilliant news, I’m just-”

“Thinking of the people who didn’t have your best interests at heart?”

“Yeah.”

Mumbo laid a hand on Grian’s shoulder. “I don’t know who they are,” he began, “but I know they’re not here now. You have us now, and you have Pearl here too. That all is in the past.”

Grian stared out over the water, watching as the sunlight sparkled and danced over the waves. “You’re a good friend, you know that right?”

“Well, I do try to be,” Mumbo chuckled. “Now-I think we should probably go pick up Scar over there, I think the poor man is going to drown!”

“Oh no!” Grian said, and scrambled for the oars, and then they were off.

◑ ━━━━━ ▣ ━━━━━ ◐

When Grian, Impulse, Scar, and Mumbo created the Boatem Pole, Pearl was there to join them.

When Grian woke up in his makeshift camp the next morning, he was happy to see Pearl setting up her own starter base on the other side of the Boatem Pole.

When Grian showed up at Xisuma’s base two days later, he asked for permission to visit other servers.

#hermitcraft #hermitblr #grian #pearlescentmoon #hermitcraft fanfic #mumbo jumbo #hermitcraft season 8 #quara fanfic

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strawwritesfic · 2 years

Text

Harry Potter x Female!Reader: Demons

Summary: That boy’s definitely possessed by something: a bad attitude.

Rating/Warnings: T (sexual references, suggestive language, references to possession, yelling at one’s significant other, CAPSLOCK!Harry, references to unhealthy family relationships; set during canon events of Order of the Phoenix)

Tag List: @imaginesfire

Demons

Christmas with the Weasleys just didn’t feel the same that year as it had previously. The problem was not that that you all weren’t staying at the Burrow. Grimmauld Place actually looked sort of grand after Sirius spent so much time and effort into putting up decorations. The issue was not that Mr. Weasley could not be there either. He would make a full recovery, and in the meantime, he was close enough for you all to visit frequently. Nor were you troubled by the fact that Voldemort spent every day inching his way closer to drastically changing your way of life. This had been true for months; you could do nothing more to stop it now than you could before. No, you knew exactly what the problem was, and it had nothing to do with any of that. What it did have to do with was the teenage boy stewing several floors above your head.

“Maybe you should try talking to him,” Ginny suggested.

The two of you bent over the basement kitchen sink. Her arms were elbow deep in the sudsy water her mother had conjured before leaving you both to chores. It was not the first time Ginny had brought up the idea that night, and her doing so once more caused a prickle of irritation to work its way up your spine.

“Maybe you should try talking to him,” you retorted—also not for the first time that night.

“Me? Why me?”

“Maybe because you have some firsthand experience of what he’s going through?”

“Might be going through. I still don’t think he is. And sure, me popping by to discuss my own possession will be of great comfort to him.” You could practically hear her rolling her eyes as she passed you a plate to dry. “Something tells me that after all this, he’d much rather see you.”

“What am I supposed to do to cheer him up?”

“I can think of a few good ways,” she said suggestively.

“Ginny!”

“What? You’re his girlfriend! There are lots of things you can do that I can’t. Sometimes mutual misery just doesn’t cut it. At least go up there and see if he’ll talk to you, won’t you?”

For a long moment, you chewed on the inside of your cheek. Ginny acted as though talking to your boyfriend was so simple when nothing was simple when it came to Harry Potter. You’d rushed over here as quickly as you could once you received the news of his and the Weasleys’ departure from Hogwarts, but after all of you had seen Mr. Weasley at St. Mungo’s and overheard what you’d overheard…well, you’d pretty much decided to leave him to his mood. He seemed to prefer its company to yours these days anyway.

“But if I leave, who is going to finish drying the dishes?” you asked in a falsely innocent voice.

Ginny snorted, flicking water at you. “I will.”

“Your mum isn’t going to like that.”

“She’d rather someone find out what Harry’s thinking right now. If she shows up, I’ll handle her. Just go.”

It was with great reluctance that you set down your damp dish towel. You really didn’t want to leave, not only because you had a pretty good idea of how Harry would greet you, but also because you hated to disobey Mrs. Weasley. She was like the mother you’d never had—especially since your real mother was being so nasty to her after you’d decided to come here for the holidays instead of to your own home. Ginny’s expression twisted as she watched you dither, though, and you knew you’d regret it if you didn’t get a move on. She could be quite dangerous even when neither of you was allowed to use magic.

Climbing up the stairs led you to the entry hall, which was eerily silent. No surprise there. The only reason you noticed was because Sirius had taken to humming Christmas carols so often lately. He must have been in an Order meeting with the rest of the adults. You saw that the door to the living room was shut, and that Fred, George, and Ron were all sitting around outside it with a collection of (thus far unused) Extendable Ears. Both twins waved at you, a gesture you returned. Ron, on the other hand, just looked miserable. He was probably worried about Harry, too.

Without stopping to chat, you climbed up the rickety stairs until you reached the landing that held Ron and Harry’s bedroom. No sounds issued from within. You hesitated, then screwed up enough courage to knock on the door.

“Harry? Are you in there?”

There was no answer. You grasped the old knob. It wouldn’t move an inch in either direction. Locked. Of course.

“Harry?” You rattled the knob in your hand. “Okay, Harry. I know you’re in there. You can either let me in, or I’ll magic the door open. Your choice.”

Despite your put-on bravado, you pulse fluttered in your palms. You really dreaded finding out what lay in the room beyond. When had Harry become such an object of terror for you? It hadn’t used to be that way. When he’d asked you out between the second and third tasks of the Triwizard Tournament the year before, you’d been over the moon. Something had changed about him this year, though. He’d become a lot more prone to fits of pique, and being his girlfriend didn’t seem to change anything about how eager he could get to start fights with you.

Minutes crawled by with no sign of anything stirring just a few inches away. Probably the smart thing to do would have been to go downstairs and tell Ginny that you’d done what she’d ask you to: You’d tried. Harry clearly didn’t want to talk to you. Truth be told, you weren’t all that eager to have him scream at you that evening either, not after the Howler you’d received from your mother that afternoon.

You made to turn back the way you’d come. Just before you took the first step down, the door pulled open an inch.

“What do you want?” asked the single emerald eye glittering in the crack.

“To see you,” you answered. “May I come in?”

Another surprise: Harry stepped aside and threw the door open just far enough for you to slip inside past him. Your eyes needed a few seconds to adjust to the dark. Once they did, you were relieved to find your surroundings looked like any other room shared by a couple of teenage boys. Then you blinked. It had only been a few hours. What was Harry supposed to have done? Not cleaning for a day or so wasn’t going to make this place look worse this his dormitory back at Hogwarts…though admittedly you’d only been in there a couple of times.

“Well?” he prompted you.

His irritated voice got your attention quickly. You stopped looking around for signs of decay at once. “Well, what?”

“You’ve seen me. Was there anything else you needed?”

Sometimes you really did wonder where that sweet guy you’d had a crush on since first year had gone. You knew delaying answering him would only make him more angry, but you couldn’t help taking some time to check the portrait on the wall for any signs of life. Having Phineas Nigellus lurking around put a damper on most conversations.

“He’s not here,” Harry said.

“Who’s not here?” you asked, in the same innocent voiced you’d used on Ginny earlier.

“I’ve already had a chat with Phineas. Don’t get too excited, though. He’ll still be listening.”

A polite, distant cough that belonged to neither of you drifted through the air. Apparently Harry was right. Well, at least you hadn’t planned on getting into any serious snogging sessions while you were there. That you’d been allowed entrance was miracle enough. Judging by the bitterness in Harry’s tone, you didn’t think you’d be sticking around long enough to try sticking your tongue in his mouth anyway.

“So,” you drew the word out, clapping your hands in front of you as you did, “how are you?”

Harry stared at you. “How am I?” he echoed. “How am I? How the hell do you think I’m doing?”

“Well…I don’t. Which is why I came up here to ask you. Certainly not because Ginny practically threatened me with physical violence if I didn’t come up here to ask you. Because, just to be clear, as your girlfriend, it is my job to check up on your mental well-being from time to time.”

“I don’t need you to check on my well-being.”

“Oh, Harry. Don’t be stupid.”

Red crept into his cheeks. You really shouldn’t have been pushing his buttons like that, especially since he was already raising his voice a decibel or two with each turn of conversation. How could you be expected to help it, though?

“Stupid, is it, to want you all to stay safe?” he asked.

“We are safe.”

“Was Mr. Weasley safe when I bit him while he was on duty? Do you think he feels better knowing I’m still out here, free, where I could bite him again? Where I could bite Mrs. Weasley? Or Ron?”

“Mr. Weasley isn’t worried about that because it’s a mad thing to worry about!”

“Maybe you should leave.”

You blinked. It was as kind a dismissal as he was capable of offering. Merlin knew you’d had a lot nastier ones hurled at your back over the course of the year. If you were smart, you’d bow out now. Ginny could try her hand at talking some sense into the boy—or maybe Hermione. But you just couldn’t do it. Not after everything else that had happened. Not after all those nasty dismissals. Looking Harry straight in the eye, you very pointedly and primly sat down on one of the vacant beds.

“No,” you said.

“No?”

“No. I’m not going to leave.”

“[Name]—”

“Don’t use that tone of voice with me, Harry. I’m sick and tired of only being around when you find it convenient. Whatever is going on in that head of yours, I have the right to know. I’m your girlfriend. So you’d better tell me, unless you want Ron giving you a horrible time later when I refuse to go to my own room.”

His expression twitched, like he wasn’t sure whether he found you amusing or exasperating. Then he looked away and rubbed the back of his hair. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Funnily enough, I got that much from you holing yourself up in here all day. Harry,” you said this gently, “come on. Do you really think you’re being possessed by Voldemort right now?”

“Does it matter? It could happen at any minute. And then—”

“And then?” He didn’t answer. “Okay, fine. We won’t talk about it. Can I say just one thing?”

“You will even if I say no.”

“Even if you are possessed by Voldemort, I don’t care.”

“You don’t care.”

“I don’t care,” you said again, “and I never will.”

“Now who’s being stupid?”

“Harry, come on.”

“No, [Name]! Just listen to me!”

“Only if you quit raising your voice like that.”

He opened his mouth as he hunched his shoulders up around his ears. Then he seemed to think better of yelling any louder than he already had. Wouldn’t want Fred and George to apparate in and rescue you like they had last time, after all. A few seconds of struggling with himself finally got Harry to the point where he could breathe out, relax, and speak normally:

“If I’m possessed by Voldemort—if there’s even the slightest chance that’s true—I could hurt you.”

Your first instinct was to remind Harry that he accomplished that just fine on his own. Every single time he started ranting and raving at you, in particular about how you and his other friends were letting him down, he hurt you. But things had been harder than usual for him lately, and you knew the right thing to do was not to fire back at him in retaliation.

Unfortunately, what popped out of your mouth instead was, “Well, if you’ve decided to break up with me, why don’t you go ahead and get it over with?”

You didn’t get to see his immediate reaction to that suggestion. So horrified were you by your own words that you screwed your eyes shut in a grimace. Why had you gone and said that? Harry might have driven you crazy with his rage issues, but you cared about him. Now he probably would take the opportunity to rid himself of your company, and you’d have to go crawling back to your mum’s house for the rest of the holiday—because she would surely be sympathetic to your heartache after you ditched her to run after this boy to begin with.

The mattress beneath you shifted; Harry had sat down next to you. You pressed your lips together as hard as you could in anticipation of a messy scene. If you could help it, you would not give him the satisfaction of seeing you cry over him. That task you could assign to Ginny and Hermione later that evening.

“I don’t want to break up with you,” he said quietly. You opened your eyes, startled, to find him staring at his knees. “But I can’t think of anything else to do.”

Well, that sucked some of the romance out of his pronouncement. At least he was telling you how he felt instead of screaming it.

“How about…How about I promise that the next time I see a giant snake coming for me, I’ll conjure an enormous rock and bash its head in? I’ll even try not to feel bad about it afterward,” you said.

He blinked, then something else miraculous happened: Harry laughed. It wasn’t a long or loud laugh, but he had smiled, and you had been there to see it. That was a first in a long, long time.

“You’d be doing me a favor if you didn’t wait until I turn into a snake, honestly,” he said.

Soon he sobered, however, and took your hand in his. Harry spent nearly half a minute looking at your intertwined fingers; you spent nearly half a minute staring at the side of his face in the dark. If there was something you were supposed to say, you couldn’t figure out what it was. He wound up speaking again first:

“I don’t want you to get hurt because of me, because of something I did. If Voldemort knew what you mean to me, he’d use that somehow.”

“He definitely knows, Harry. Rita wrote all those articles last year before Hermione caught her. One of his Death Eaters is bound to keep up with the Prophet. Break up with me if it will make you feel better, but you can’t hide from everyone who cares about you forever.”

“I don’t see why not,” he grumbled, but he had not, you noticed, let go of your hand.

“Because I’m only the first of many. If I don’t report back with good news about your mental condition, Ginny will be up next. Then Hermione. Then Ron. Then Mrs. Weasley. Then…well, you get the idea.”

“Everyone?” He sounded exhausted.

“Everyone,” you said. “Breaking up with me won’t keep Voldemort from coming after me if he really wants to anyway. If he’s really inside you—”

“He’ll know that I still love you.”

Your hand froze inside his. “You…do? You love me?”

“Yeah,” he nodded slowly, still with his eyes averted from your face. Then they snapped up to meet your gaze with a sudden clarity. “I sort of thought that was obvious.”

Stupid Harry. Stupid, wonderful, emotional Harry. You’d gone to see him fully expecting your third blowout in so many days. Trust him to go and say he loved you for the first time instead.

“I love you, too,” you said throatily.

Pouncing, you caused Harry to topple backward into the pillow with a startled noise. His shock did not prevent him from kissing you back once he figured out what you were doing, though. You forgot all about the screaming matches; the war being fought just a few floors down; even the watchful, unseen eye of Phineas Nigellus hanging on the wall beside your head. All that mattered was you and Harry, just a couple of kids in love, and you wanted to show him that love without any of the normal baggage that came along with your tumultuous relationship…

…Until some of that baggage came bursting through the door in the form of Ron. “Blimey! Couldn’t put a sock on the doorknob first? I think I’ve gone blind.”

You and Harry leaped from the bed and hastily readjusted your clothing. Ron hovered awkwardly by the door all the while. It was time for bed, he informed you, and his mum would be making the rounds to ensure all underage wizards and witches were in their assigned bedrooms soon. That was just as well. No need to go too far on the snogging with all the adults present—and the ability of any of your friends to stumble inside at just the wrong moment.

With a wave, you bid the boys goodnight. Just a few stairs away lay the room you shared with Hermione and Ginny. Wouldn’t they be interested to know what your conversation with Harry entailed? Ginny especially would be eager to hear how her advice had worked out. You couldn’t help heading that way with an enormous grin on your face. The outlook for your future had never looked more grim, but for the time being, things had never been better.

#fan fic #straw writes #reader insert #second person pov #one shot #challenge fic #harry potter #harry potter x reader #harry potter x you #harry potter x y/n

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thedaredevilsgirl · 3 years

Text

Dear Teacher - Part 2

warnings: teacher and student relationship (The reader is between 19 and 25 years old and please don't get involved with your teachers) angst,fluff, smut (fingering, unprotected sex -Please use a condom- dirty talk)

Word count: 3342 (surely the most I have ever written)

N/A: Hey, many people were asking, so I brought you part two of dear teacher, I hope you like it.I am creating a taglist, message me if you want to be added 💖💖

Part 1

When Tom woke up on Saturday morning he was disappointed to realize that you were no longer there, for a moment he thought that maybe it had all been a dream or just his imagination playing with him, but something inside him knew that no, that the incident had really happened.

"Incident" was how Tom was referring to the whole of Friday night. It had been a bad idea, he knew, meeting you at that bar, inviting you to sit with him, kissing you, taking you to his apartment, and everything that happened after that. He knew it was wrong, but he couldn't help it.

MONDAY:

Tom was nervous. It was the first time he had seen her since Friday and he still didn't know how to handle it.

You walked into the auditorium that morning and it seemed that fate loved to play with you as the two of your gazes met almost instantly, he swallows dryly and you blush before quickly looking away and running to your seat at the back of the room.

"Good morning everyone" He says starting his class, everyone in the room answers him quickly.

"Good morning Mr. Holland" Cindy, one of your students, says cheerfully "Looks like you had a great weekend" she points to a small purple spot on your neck, all the students start laughing as soon as she notices it. You sink into your chair, wanting to hide, mortified with embarrassment, remembering very well that you made that mark on Tom who was blushing in front of everyone's eyes.

"Anyway" he huffs loudly taking the students' attention back to class "I've corrected your Brontë sisters' papers, I'm happy to say that we got very good grades, but only one got a top grade, I'll give it back to you Wednesday" he says before continuing his lesson.

•─────✧─────•─────✧─────•

The class passes slowly, like torture for both of them, they just wanted to get out of there as quickly as possible. They needed to talk about what they had done, but they were more than happy not to do that today.

"That's all for today, remember to turn in your next paper on Monday and get ready for the debate next month, see you all on Wednesday" he says to everyone as his class ends. Slowly the room starts to empty, but you can't get out as a hand grabs your wrist making you turn to see who it was.

"Y/N" Mike, the boy who had missed your date on Friday was standing there holding your hand "I just wanted to apologize again for not coming on Friday, I didn't mean to ruin your weekend kitten" he apologizes.

"It's okay, really, you didn't ruin my weekend" you answer politely.

"If you want" he says getting closer to you "We can reschedule, I promise I won't cancel this time" he gives you a conquering smile.

Tom settles back in his chair, moving his hands nervously across his lap. He didn't want to hear your conversation, but as soon as he heard no names being called he started to pay attention, he had no right to be jealous, you weren't his girl, but he hoped you wouldn't accept it, you deserved much better than that boy in front of you.

"Mike, I'm sorry, but I can't accept it" You say, trying to be polite and pulling away from him a little.

"Just a date kitten" Tom rolls his eyes from where he was sitting, did he not understand what no was?

"We better just be friends" you dismiss yourself before leaving the room.

"Girls" the idiot says before leaving the room.

TUESDAY:

Thomas only saw you once that day, talking to your friends in the hallways.

He felt your gaze on him, which made his heart beat faster, and when he returned your gaze you looked away, blushing at having been caught in the act.

As he lay in his bed that night, the memories came back, he was beginning to hate it. Avoidance and being avoided, the two of them should talk about what happened instead of pretending not to and acting like children.

WEDNESDAY:

You were pacing back and forth in the hallway, debating with yourself, trying to decide whether or not to go into that office.

This morning, as Tom walked around the room handing out corrected papers to his students, he left his paper on your desk whispering a congratulations before moving on to the next student. You saw the top grade written on the first page and a little yellow post-it note placed there saying "Meet me in my office at 18:00, please".

It was still 17:50, you could still get away from there and that conversation, but you didn't want to, as nervous as you were you knew what you needed to do. You knock on the door and open it just as you hear a "come in" coming from inside.

"You came" he says getting up from his chair and gives you a shy smile.

"You asked..."

"I didn't think you would actually come."

"I think we really should talk Mr. Holland" you says nervously looking down at her own feet so she doesn't have to face him.

"Mister Holland?" He asks "I thought i asked to call me Tom"

"I can't do that"

"I understand" His voice, there was something different in it, hurt perhaps.

A silence fills the room for a few minutes before he begins to speak.

"I'm sorry about Friday."

"Why are you apologizing?" You asks without understanding.

"I just...thought you..." He sighs walking over to stand in front of your desk, only a few steps away from you.

"I don't regret what we did" You speak as soon as you realize where your speech was going.

"No?" He finally looks directly at you.

"No, my God, I loved every part of that night" a small smile appears on his lips which fades soon after as you continue to speak "But that doesn't mean it wasn't wrong, we shouldn't have let it get to that point".

"I know it wasn't, I know...it was so wrong"

For some reason it was painful to be in that room without being able to touch him again.

"I really wish I wasn't your teacher" he walks towards you "To have met you at another time, maybe then I could have had you to myself, take you out without fear of anyone seeing us, hold your hand, kiss you" His hand caresses your face and you close your eyes leaning in to feel his touch more "I wanted so much Y/N, I wanted to make you my girl...I really like you"

"Thomas, I like you too..." You sigh, your heart aching with every word spoken "But sometimes liking isn't enough for two people to stay together."

"I know, and that's the part that hurts the most" He forehead rests against yours, both of you with your eyes closed, in-between sloshed breaths that were already mingling, Tom felt a tear run down his cheek, your mouths so close "Y/N..."

"Thomas..."

"Tom man, we are late, your brothers will kill us if we are late again" Someone says opening the door suddenly just as you and he are about to kiss. The two of you quickly walk away panting for breath trying to recover from the moment, Tom quickly wipes the tear from his face. A tall blond man that you had seen other times in the halls together with Tom looks at you not understanding anything.

"Am I interrupting something?" the blond man asks suspiciously.

"No" the two of you answer quickly.

"Harrison, this is my student, Y/N" Tom introduces the two of you, perhaps as a way to change the subject "Y/N, this is Harrison Osterfield, professor in the physics department and my best friend".

"It is a pleasure to meet you Miss Y/N" He extends his hand to greet her " I have heard Tom compliment you several times, always saying that you are the best student in your class".

"My pleasure Mr. Osterfield" you shake his hand "I think he is just exaggerating a lot, anyway, I better go, I don't want to get in the way anymore, bye" you take your things and leave the room leaving the two men alone there.

"Wait a moment" He say to Harrison before coming after you.

He holds your wrist and makes you look at him, honestly he almost didn't care anymore that the two of you were standing in the middle of the empty university hallway.

"Y/N please" he says.

"Please what?" you say hurt "Do you want me to stay here? To fight for a passion that is doomed to fail? Something that could end my life at this university or end your career?

"Don't talk like that, we can make it work" he says hurt.

"I wish I was brave enough to try, I swear I do" you let go of his hand "But I'm not, it was just one night stand sex and as much as I like you I know that the sooner we get over it and move on the better, for both of us" you turn and walk away, leaving Tom standing there alone in the hallway with his hurt.

THURSDAY:

Your heart was still hurting. Last night you collapsed on your knees as soon as you got to your dorm room and let the tears finally fall, you were lucky you didn't have a roommate so you could cry all day long without having to answer questions about why you were so bad. And you cried until your eyes hurt, screamed against your pillow until your throat burned, let the sadness leave your body until you finally gave in to tiredness and went to sleep.

Tom was no better off than you, he spent the whole dinner with your family quiet while everyone else at the table talked, he wished so much that he wasn't in love with you, he wished it really had only been one-night stands, maybe then he wouldn't feel like he could die at any moment if he didn't have you by his side.

In different places, but sharing the same pain.

FRIDAY:

Tom looked across the room at you, his eyes red and his expression sad, it looked like you had been crying all night, and you really had, he wanted to go over there and hug you and tell you that everything would be okay, but he couldn't.

If they had thought Monday's class had been torture, this was something worse. Tom gave his class trying to avoid looking in your direction, while you couldn't pay attention to anything that was being said, you just wanted to go back to your room and cry some more. It was the last class of the day so you ran to your room as soon as it was over.

•─────✧─────•─────✧─────•

Tom was tapping his pen frantically on his desk, he should have been correcting his students' work but his mind was elsewhere and his head hurt like it was going to explode at any moment.

"Okay, what the fuck is going on?" Harrison asks, he was with Tom in his office and was starting to get irritated with his best friend.

"What?" Tom asks waking up from his thoughts.

"Tom you've been acting weird all fucking week, you spent the entire Wednesday dinner quiet a thing you don't often do."

"I don't know what you are talking about" he pretends to be paying attention to the papers in front of him.

"Does it have anything to do with that girl who was here?" he asks curious, Tom doesn't answer which only confirms Harrison's thoughts "Oh my god, it has everything to do with her doesn't it?".

"I really don't want to talk about it"

"You like her, that's why you're all emotional, because you can't be with her" Harrison speaks and Tom wonders when did his best friend get so good at unraveling his feelings.

"I had sex with her on Friday" Tom admits at once, his friend had already figured out pretty much everything so there was no reason to keep secrets anymore.

"WHY DID YOU NOT TELL ME THAT?" he practically shouts.

"Can you keep it down please, you're acting like a teenager, we passed that stage a long time ago and I don't want the whole campus to find out."

"I'm not the one acting like a teenager, you are, getting all angry and quiet over something that can easily be resolved" Harrison rolls his eyes as he states the obvious.

"She doesn't want me Harrison, she likes me, but she doesn't want me, she's scared and I can't judge her because I am too, this could destroy my teaching career and end her reputation here"

"Tom, isn't she one of the students graduating this year?" Harrison asked even though he already knew the answer.

"Yeah"

"Dude, she's graduating in less than 5 months and you're telling me that the two of you can't keep this relationship a secret for 5 months?"

"I..." Tom hadn't stopped to think about it.

"I'm sure you two can make it work."

"What if she's not willing to try?"

"You should at least try, Holland, go out there and fight for your girl" He encourages his friend.

"I think you are right, I will do it".

"Of course I'm right" He smiles smugly "Anyway, I don't want to have to put up with your sadness any longer" He says laughing.

•─────✧─────•─────✧─────•

It was almost midnight when you hear someone knocking on your dormitory door, you get out of bed and go to open the door.

"Thomas what are you doing here?" You ask as you see him standing outside, he walks into your dorm still without giving any explanation, you close the door and turn to see him "What kind of idiotic idea is this to come to my dorm, someone could see you here, how would we explain this?" You ask in an agitated manner.

Tom doesn't answer at first, he just looks at you, the baggy sweatshirt too big for your body, the hair tied back with a few strands falling in front of your face and the glasses on the end of your nose, and he can't resist. He walks toward you and kisses you, holding your face between his hands, his hands against your chest as you respond to his kiss, his heart beating hard in his chest and the sense of relief that he is kissing you again after what seems like the longest week of his life.

"I'm sorry" he says pulling away "I didn't come to do this, I just wanted to talk and..."

"It's okay" he fixes his glasses on his face.

"Y/N, I really like you, this is so stupid, I just... I want to try this, it's only five months until you graduate, we can make it...

"Tom" you try to interrupt him but he keeps talking non-stop.

"...to do this, I'm sure it wouldn't be easy at first and it's not the kind of relationship that's ideal or the relationship that someone like you deserves..."

"Tom" calls him again.

"But I'm willing to try, for you, for us, I want to try..." You kiss him again making him stop talking.

"I'm willing to try Tom" you say between kisses and he smiles "For us"

"I didn't think you would accept, I was already preparing myself for a no" you both laugh.

He sits down on your bed and pulls you to sit on his lap with each leg on one side of your body, he takes the glasses off your face and places them on your desk before kissing you.

"Damn, I missed that" he sighs between the kiss.

"It's literally only been a week" you say smiling.

"Really? It's felt like forever" he kisses you more intensely this time, his hands gripping your hips tightly making you move over his lap, the kisses slide down your face to your neck, you throw your head back.

"Tom" you say his name as a plea, his hands slide up your thigh squeezing you firmly.

"What do you want princess?" He asks with his head in the curve of your neck before leaving a small bite in that region.

"You, Thomas, I need you" you slowly roll over in his lap feeling his already hard length under you "please".

He smiles smugly at your response. Your sweatshirt is removed leaving you in just your panties and Tom lays you down on your bed placing his body on top of yours .

"This has been the most torturous week of my life" he removes the rest of his clothes and throws them on the floor "I couldn't get you out of my mind" he leaves a kiss on her neck exactly where he had "I thought about how I wanted to feel you again" the kisses descend to the top of her breasts and one of his hands grab her thigh wrapping her leg around his waist while the other goes down to her intimacy pulling her panties apart just enough for two fingers to touch them "That pussy is so wet, all this for me honey? "

"Yes, all for you Tom" he smiles at her answer before penetrating her with his fingers causing a quiet moan to come from her lips.

"Good girl."

"Your girl" you sigh ecstatic with pleasure.

"Fuck" Tom kisses you again, your words making him even harder than he already was "Say that again " he thrusts his fingers inside you reaching that wonderful spot inside you.

"I.Am.Your.Girl."

"My girl."

He had barely started and you were already so close, but he doesn't let you get there, teases you to the edge before stopping and doing it all over again.

"Please stop teasing me, I'm so close" you beg.

"No princess, I want you to cum around my dick" He says pulling his fingers out of you and removing your panties before turning you both over on the bed making you stand on top, he sits against the headboard as you rest your hands on his shoulders "now ride me like the good girl I know you are".

You sit on his member feeling him fill you completely, you both moan the moment you are finally together, standing still for a moment to get used to his size. Moving slowly until you finally get into a rhythm.

"So so good" he moans, his hand gripping her throat the way he remembered he had made her go crazy last time "So beautiful riding my dick" his other hand leaves a slap on her ass making her moan his name out loud as she throws her head, back rolling over in his lap .

"Tom I'm so close" you say as he gives you a push with his hips making his cock hit your G-spot, his hand making circular motions against your clit this time.

"Come to me then baby" he says and with a few more movements you are enjoying his wrist making you come next, your head falls on his shoulder and he spreads kisses down your neck as you recover from your recent orgasm.

•─────✧─────•─────✧─────•

You were wearing your shirt now, your head lying on his chest as he stroked your hair.

"You'll still be here when I wake up, right?

"Well this is my dorm so I can't leave" you say as a joke.

"I'm serious Y/N" he says laughing.

"Yeah, I'm not going anywhere" you smile fondly returning to lie on his chest closing your eyes almost falling asleep with his affection.

"Good, I don't want you to leave, I want you forever" he kisses the top of your head before falling asleep with you in his arms, no goodbyes this time.

#tom holland imagine #tom holland one shot #tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland smut #tom holland x you

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spencers-renaissance · 3 years

Text

I turn and reach for you

Summary: Three months after Hankel, Spencer starts getting terrible nightmares that keep him up at night. He tries desperately to keep his secret until one day when it's all too much to bear anymore. Luckily, Derek Morgan is there to hold him together as he falls apart.

Tags: nightmares, hurt/comfort, ptsd, angst with a happy ending, fluff, literal sleeping together, getting together, post-revelations TW: past non-con drug use mentioned once in passing

Pairing: Derek Morgan x Spencer Reid

Word Count: 2.1k

Masterlist // Read on AO3 // Bad Things Happen Bingo

This feels the "Nightmares" square on my Bad Things Happen bingo card, and was written for this prompt by @i-write-whump. Title from a poem by Devon Strang.

After Spencer is kidnapped by Tobias Hankel, he stays with Derek. Nobody on the team wants him to be alone, and he’s always felt the most comfortable with him, so it makes sense. Besides, he’s got the space.

Spencer sometimes wonders whether the team pushed so hard for it because they genuinely believed that, logistically, Derek was the best option, or because they could also see the slow-burning romance simmering under the surface of their relationship. They’ve always had a special friendship, but Spencer can feel the growing tension: the deep and intense looks they share mid-case, the lingering touches on backs and arms, the affection leaking into each ‘pretty boy’ and every ‘Der’.

Perhaps if Hankel never came into the picture they’d already be together — it really had felt like they were on the precipice of something special — but it’s three months later and Spencer’s still sleeping in the spare room; there’s still just as much will they, won’t they lingering in the air between them.

He tries not to mind too much. After all, he’s never had so much free access to the man he’s pined after for years now, and they’re living in each other’s pockets. Almost every waking hour is spent in one another’s company: they cook together, eat together, watch films together, and neither of them are showing any sign of getting sick of it. But every time they’re cooking pasta and Derek says something ridiculous, Spencer wishes he was allowed to lean in and kiss the tip of his nose; every time they sit down to watch something together, he wishes he could burrow into his side and rest his head in the crook of his neck.

(Sometimes, Spencer wishes he could rewind to the weeks immediately after the Hankel incident when Derek would carry him around the flat to keep him off his broken feet; when he could press his face into his shoulder and inhale the scent of complete and utter safety.)

It’s almost torturous, being so close yet so far.

He isn’t quite sure why the nightmares start so late. The nights during the first couple of months are blissfully dreamless, so exhausted from the physical and emotional trauma that sleep was a tantalising escape, but once he’s back in the field, once normal life resumes, everything changes.

The first time he wakes up sweating and panting, heart pounding as he tries to convince himself that he’s no longer in Hankel’s clutches but is safe and sound in Derek’s apartment, he dismisses it as a one-off. He hasn’t had nightmares yet, so why should they start now? He doesn’t go back to sleep that night, too shaken to relax back into the comforting embrace of sleep, too afraid of deception: that he wouldn’t sleep dreamlessly but that the nightmare would be waiting for him once again.

The second time worries him. He gets up this time and gets a glass of water as quietly as possible, leaning with his back against the kitchen counter as he ponders what this could mean for him. The thing is, they’re so incredibly vivid. It really feels like he’s back at the mercy of a three-in-one torturer armed with drugs and belts and guns, genuinely unsure of whether he’ll ever see his family again. He doesn’t go back to sleep this time, either, instead pacing around the living room until Derek wakes up. He lies that he’s only been up for half an hour, and Derek believes him.

The third time solidifies for Spencer the fact that this is a problem. Three is a pattern, everybody knows that, and Spencer spends the rest of the night scouring the internet for studies conducted around delayed trauma responses and discovers the prevalence of delayed-onset PTSD. He’s tempted to contact a professor he met during his third PhD who specialised in the psychology of trauma, but he thinks better of it. Admitting these nightmares would be admitting defeat.

This is something he has to deal with alone.

(He ignores the truth that it’s more fear than anything else that keeps him from telling anyone: fear of being seen as weak, fear of nothing changing, fear of voicing his trauma out loud. It’s easier to pretend it’s about independent agency.)

It doesn’t affect him too much at first. Sure, he’s scared to go to sleep and he sweats so profusely that it soaks through his bedsheets almost every night, but he’s managing. He’s okay. He contributes just as much to their profiles and takes down unsubs without flinching. He dances around Derek like they have done for over a year, and he sits through Dr Who marathons with Penelope just fine. So what if he’s a bit tired? He’s stared down some of America’s Most Wanted and interviewed famous serial killers, he can cope with a little fatigue.

It doesn’t stay that easy for long.

Soon everybody’s asking about the bags under his eyes, his slower reaction times when they visit the gun range, his twitchiness around the team.

“Are you sleeping okay, Spencer?” Penelope asks him one day, brushing a curly lock of hair behind his ears as they sit side by side on the sofa next to a conked out Derek.

He can’t nod his head quick enough. “Yeah! Yes, uh. Yes, Penelope, I’m sleeping fine, I promise,” he says as convincingly as he can, flashing her a smile. He hates lying to her, but he can’t let anyone find out, he just can’t.

Slowly, he begins losing his grip on reality. He’s almost delusional from the sleep deprivation, and he starts seeing Hankel everywhere he goes. He’s stood behind the fridge door, in the foyer of the FBI Headquarters, in the toilets of a local police station, stood right behind the unsub they’re currently trying to talk down, goddamnit.

He’s beyond exhausted, but some nights he still refuses to sleep, too afraid of what awaits him in his dreams, too afraid of the fear he knows he’ll carry into the next day, too afraid of feeling weak again. Helpless. Completely and utterly without agency.

He sits up with his back against the headboard, the main light off but the lamp switched on, scrolling through as many scholarly articles as he can read in a night, drinking cup after cup of steaming black coffee. Most nights he makes it through till morning without sleeping a wink, but sometimes he can’t stop himself from drifting off The nightmares on those nights are the worst.

He isn’t okay and people are starting to notice. Everyone’s walking on eggshells around him right now, but he knows it won’t be long before Penelope organises an intervention that Hotch hosts and Derek directs. The worst part about it is that he feels like a trainwreck waiting to happen. He’s headed straight for complete and utter collapse, and the only possible way to stop the train in its tracks is to reach out and get help, the one thing he can’t get himself to do.

And he isn’t even really sure why.

It all comes to a head on a warm night in July. He’d fallen into bed that night deliberately, actually intending to sleep for once. The bone-deep tiredness had finally caught up to him and he didn’t even care that he was walking straight into the arms of Tobias Hankel, if it meant he got even an iota of refreshing sleep, then it would be worth it.

But he isn’t quite of the same mind when he wakes up at two in the morning like he does almost every night: soaked in sweat with his heart going a million beats per minute, with only one difference. Tonight, he’s crying.

Maybe it’s the emotional turmoil of the last few months catching up to him, or maybe it’s just the severity of this particular dream, but whatever it is, he can’t seem to stop even once he’s awake. Sobs wrack his shoulders as he cries miserably into the pillow, finally letting out the emotions he’s kept bottled up so tightly, and he’s almost wailing after a couple of minutes of anguish.

All he can think as he cries helplessly is how badly he wants Derek. He wants to be wrapped up in his strong and safe embrace, he wants to feel the movement of his soft goatee against his cheek, he wants to inhale the comforting scent of his sleep t-shirts, he wants the warmth and solace that only Derek Morgan can give him, and in that moment, emotionally distraught and so incredibly sleep-deprived, he decides to get it.

He stumbles out of his bedroom and down the hall, stopping once he reaches Derek’s door. He hesitates for only a second before he pushes it open slowly, allowing the light from the lamp they keep switched on in the hallway to gently illuminate the shadows of his bedroom.

“Spencer?” Derek asks groggily, immediately sitting up and wiping his eyes. “What’s wrong? Are you crying?”

At the acknowledgement of his tears, Spencer starts to cry harder, and as embarrassed as he feels, he can’t slow the steady stream of tears rolling down his face as he stands in the doorway like a child in their parents’ room.

“Spence,” Derek says again, gentle and sympathetic, “come here.” He lifts the duvet up and scooches over slightly as if to make room for him in his already spacious king-size bed.

He doesn’t need to be told twice, though, and he stumbles forward, collapsing into bed and wrapping himself around Derek instantly. His arms come up to circle Spencer’s waist, caressing him gently as he holds him close to his body, shushing him quietly.

“It’s okay, Spence,” he murmurs. “I’m here now, alright? We’re gonna fix whatever it is, I promise you. We’ll get through this. You’ll get through this.”

He lets himself cry and cry and cry until his tears are dried up and he’s hiccupping from the force of his sobs. He would feel terrible about the damp spot left on Derek’s t-shirt, but he simply doesn’t have the energy. Instead, he continues to lie there on Derek’s chest, listening to his softly spoken assurances and losing himself in the sensation of Derek’s fingertips caressing the skin of his waist.

After a couple of minutes of silence, interrupted only by the odd hiccup from Spencer’s tired lungs, Derek finally asks the question. “What was that all about, pretty boy?” he asks with a tenderness Spencer isn’t sure he’s ever heard before. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Been having nightmares,” Spencer whispers, keeping his eyes closed against Derek’s imploring gaze.

He feels Derek tense beneath him, his fingers briefly pausing before resuming their comforting patterns on his waist, and a heavy breath escapes his lips. “For how long?”

“Last couple of months,” he mumbles, and somehow another tear manages to escape Spencer’s screwed up eyes.

“Well,” Derek sighs, “I suppose that explains a lot. We’ve been so worried about you, Spencer. We had no idea what was going on but we could all see you withdrawing, and it wasn’t exactly a secret how exhausted you were.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry,” Derek says sadly. “I should’ve pushed harder to figure out what was going on with you. I’m so sorry you’ve had to deal with this all alone.”

“I didn’t know how to tell anyone,” Spencer says, suddenly desperate to explain as he shifts slightly to look Derek in the eye. “I was so scared and I didn’t want anyone to think that I was weak or I couldn’t do my job anymore, and I just didn’t know what to do.”

“I know, Spence,” Derek says soothingly, “but you’ve told me now, haven’t you? And I’m going to do everything I can to get you some help. We’ll fix this, baby. I promise you, I’m going to make sure you’re happy and healthy again if it’s the last thing I do, okay?”

Spencer sniffs a little, wiping tiredly at his eyes as he blinks up at the sincerity on Derek’s face. For the first time in far too long he manages a smile. “Okay.”

Derek runs a hand through his hair before dropping a kiss to the top of his head. “Do you want to sleep here tonight?”

Spencer’s smile widens and he buries his face in Derek’s chest again as his cheeks flush red. “Please.”

Months later, they’ll realise they never officially asked one another to be in an actual, exclusive relationship. Months later, they’ll know instinctively and with absolute certainty that this night was the night that changed everything for them, and exactly one year later, they’ll celebrate their first anniversary on that date.

Tonight, though, they sleep curled up next to one another in Derek’s bed, and although Spencer doesn’t fall into the same dreamless sleep he grew used to immediately after Hankel, for once he isn’t haunted by nightmares, but dreams inflected with hope for what the future holds for them, and he’ll take that over dreamlessness any day.

taglist: @criminalmindsvibez @lesbiantodds @suburban--gothic @strippersenseii @takeyourleap-of-faith @negativefouriq @makaylajadewrites @iamrenstark @livrere-blue @hotchseyebrows @enbyspencer @reidology @transhanniballecter @spencerspecifics @bau-gremlin @hotchedyke @tobias-hankel @ @marsjareau @garcias-bitch @oliverbrnch @im-autistic @anxious-enby @kuolonsyoja @reidreids @ropoto @thosecriminalminds (add yourself to my taglist)

#my writing #moreid #derek #spencer #derek morgan #criminal minds #spencer reid #moreid fic #moreid fanfic #moreid fanfiction #cm #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfic #derek morgan/spencer reid #derek morgan x spencer reid #spencer reid/derek morgan #spencer reid x derek morgan #userpenemily

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celestialrry · 4 years

Text

bunny

6.3k

summary: Harry's shy and you need a tutor.

warnings: like none, cursing?, severe fluff

You rushed into class, and scrambled over to sit in your chair, huffing as the clock struck 9:00 a.m. the moment you touched the seat. Why you signed up for a morning class you knew you would never want to wake up for is beyond you. Why the class you were taking was about English literature, a genre you had only read less than 3 books in was also beyond you. Being undecided in your major didn’t have many perks, you had come to find.

“Alright class, first things first, you’ll be having a test in this class next week about what we studied this past month.”

As your professor droned on, your heartbeat started to pick up. A month into your second year of university and you already had a test? This was absolute torture. You were psyching yourself out at this point, almost positive you would fail, until you zoned back into class to hear a deep voice speaking.

The boy with the curls almost reaching his shoulders in the back of the class, Harry, you thought. He was terrifying and intimidating, but he raised his hand almost every other question and got it right. Always. He was the answer to all of your problems. The one who always wore those tattered brown Chelsea boots and long coats. You had even seen a peek of tattoos on his hand once.

The rest of class was spent thinking of ways to ask him to tutor you. So far, you would suggest to pay him for his time, do it only when he’s available (you would switch your schedule around for him, you were already going to ask a lot of him), and just try to be really nice. You always tried not to judge on looks, but Harry seemed quite scary, and you were afraid he’d turn you down immediately.

Soon class was dismissed and you grabbed your trusty bag (it had survived multiple sleepovers at Niall’s and that boy could destroy anything by just touching it) and slung it over your shoulder, looking to see Harry walking out of the classroom. You hurried over to him out of the doors and caught up to him. “Hi, um, Harry?” You asked, and he stopped in his tracks.

He looked back at you and his eyes widened. He had to look back down for a moment so you couldn’t see him flush out of surprise. He looked back up at you and smiled softly. “Hello.” Harry mumbled, adjusting the strap of his bag on his shoulder. No one really ever spoke to Harry all that much. People just never approached him and he had no idea why (his friends had tried to clue him in that he did seem a bit intimidating with his brows furrowed almost all the time, his body littered with tattoos, and the fact that he’s quite a buff guy, but you couldn’t really tell from his oversized sweaters that he seems to wear every single day, but that’s besides the point) and it confused him a bit. It also made him a bit shy around anyone he didn’t already know, because he didn't want to come off too strong at first and scare anyone away.

You smiled at him and introduced yourself before you continued to ask him what you had been dreading out of pure nerves. “Um, I know this is weird, but we’re in the same English lit class and I notice you know like, all the answers to what Mr. Reeves asks, n’I just really wanna pass this test so I was maybe wondering if you could tutor me or something? I would pay you of course-”

“You don’t-you don’t have to pay me.” He interrupted you from rambling on for too long because you tended to do that a lot, and Harry had no idea but he had just saved himself about ten minutes of time. If you were his chance at a new friend, he wouldn’t want it to start off on money, because helping a friend wouldn't be a job. “Oh!” Your mouth formed an “o” shape and your eyebrows raised at him. “Are you sure? I mean that's fucking awesome if you really don’t want money, but I would just feel so bad taking up your time without giving you anything in return.”

You prayed that he would say that you really didn’t need to pay him anything. If he meant it, it means this boy was a godsend and you would be happy spending time with this bloke if he is really that sweet all the time. You wouldn’t expect it just because he rarely ever speaks to other people. The most words you had ever heard him speak was when he was answering a question from Mr. Reeves-

“S’fine, really. If I tutor you, um, it's basically like studying m’self so...” He trailed off scratching the back of his neck, and bringing you back to Earth. You broke out into a grin and bounced a bit on your toes, because he was going to help you pass the final and you didn’t have to pay him. “Perfect! Wow, Harry, you’re an angel. Thank you so much,” You complimented him as you grabbed your phone from your back pocket and as your eyes darted away from his face for a few moments, he attempted to bite back his smile, because you were talking to him, and calling him an angel.

You pulled your pink-case covered cell and unlocked it, handing it to Harry and saying, “Here, put your contact in so I can text you about meeting up, s’that cool?” To which he nodded and took your phone gently and began typing his name and number in, and biting back his tongue when he was about to tell you he had the same phone case as you, because you probably wouldn’t care (you actually would care a very great deal, but Harry had been so used to being ignored he figured he wouldn’t muck up his one chance at a new friend). he handed your phone back to you and you just shoved it back in your pocket, the smile never leaving your face.

“Thanks again Harry, it really means a lot. I’ll text you later, yeah?” You said, slowly beginning to walk to your next class. He just offered you a small smile before continuing the way he was before you had asked him to tutor you. Why he didn’t want money was still itching at the back of your brain, mostly because when you told your best friend, Niall, about it later that night he had said “What kinda college student turns down money?” before going off into a rant about how he wished he actually knew what he was learning so he could tutor someone and get some extra cash. You reminded him he already had a job, but it seemed tutoring was “so much easier than dealing with kids whose parents didn’t give a rats-ass if they yell in the restaurant.”

｡:°ஐ

You and Harry had arranged to meet on Wednesday, because you only had one morning class as did he, and would meet in the library at 12 p.m. You don’t think you had ever been so anxious walking into a library before, but here you were, opening the double doors and swiping your student I.D. (which had a horrid picture on it, they really never tell you when they take the photo) before your eyes scanned the front part of the library you could see. It was safe to say you weren’t in the library very often, if seeing your frazzled face as you zig-zagged through the rows of bookshelves was enough to go by.

You made your way to the back, where you assumed the tables for studying and reading would be, and as you turned the corner of one of the oddly tall bookshelves, you thanked your instincts for the first time, and scanned the area until you found a certain flop of messy brown curls hunched over at a table.

“Hi Harry,” You chittered, flopping down in the seat across from him and immediately pulling out your notes and the book you had been reading for class, Pride and Prejudice. “How are you?”

For the first time, you noticed he wore glasses, when he looked up at you and pushed the clear tan frames up the bridge of his nose, a bit startled by your arrival. “M’good, you?” He asked, no emotion or tone behind his voice really. It sounded like he just wanted you to stop talking almost, but you settled on the fact that it was your nerves telling you he hated you.

“’Bout as good as I can be with teachers up my ass all week.” You said, and a small smile struck his face. You wondered what it would be like to make him laugh. Shaking your head from your thoughts, you cleared your throat and looked at your notes before back up at him. “Alright, so m’a bit confused on why Charlotte marries Collins? I mean, ignoring the fact that they’re all related, I’ve re-read it so many times but the old English they use is so confusing.”

After your question, Harry delves into the answer, not going on an extraordinarily long tangent, but a decently long one, explaining the relationship between them, and why they married when he wanted Elizabeth first, and so on. What was even better was that he explained it all so easily you understood it all (and his voice was sweeter than honey), you just kept wanting to ask more questions, so you did.

Harry was talkative when you kept asking him questions, and it seemed like he was enjoying himself, but whenever the conversation swerved into personal life, Harry shut off and became more quiet. It wasn’t like you were asking him about his family drama, the conversation had smoothly sailed into something about high school.

“I wish I read this book in high school when they gave us the chance.” You sighed, flipping through the pages to where you had put a sticky note to write down your confusion. You truly regretted not being one of those reading types, but you preferred to hear things more (like Harry’s voice), and listening to music became your ‘hobby’ instead.

“Yeah, reading it earlier makes it pretty easy now.” He shrugged, going through his own notes. “I just wasn’t much of a reader, did you read a lot in high school?” It's an innocent enough question, and after spending about 2 hours with Harry, you already knew you would want to get to know him more, but it seemed he didn’t feel the same. “A bit.” He said, tensing up. While you were mildly confused by his body language, Harry just didn’t want to talk about highschool. He read a lot, and was so in his own world he found it hard to really have many friends. He had a few loyal ones, but books would always be there, as cheesy as that was. High school wasn’t fun for anyone, he was sure of it.

“You seem like you’d read a lot, you just give off that vibe, y’know?” You said, looking at him. He lifted his gaze from his notes and you truly could not tell what he was thinking. He gave a small “hmph” in response to your question that wasn’t really a question and looked back down at his notes, gathering them all quite fast. “I think we’re good for the day, just text me if you want anymore help.” He mumbled, slinging his bag over his shoulder and rushing out of the library. You sat there with your mouth slightly open in shock at the way he left so abruptly. After a few moments you packed up your own things and practically ran after him, bursting through the double doors and trying to find him, to-you actually didn’t know what to do. You didn’t even know what happened. That’s why you found yourself on your couch with Niall as he ate all your snack food, deep in a long-winded advice session from him.

“He just ran out Niall, I don’t even know what happened, like did I say something?” You asked, picking your nails in distress, your eyes following the chip that disappeared in his mouth seconds later. “What’s this bloke’s name, again?” He asked, after chewing (Niall could be vulgar, but he wasn’t an animal). “Um, Harry. Longish brown curls, pretty green eyes, y’know? I-I don’t even know his last name.”

The blonde’s icy blue eyes widened in recognition after a moment of thinking, and he slapped your bicep gently. “Harry Styles! I’ve heard o’him. Apparently he has like two friends and never speaks, s’not hard to believe you have a thing for him, bug.” Your brow raised incredulously, and you were quick to defend yourself, and Harry. “I do not have a thing for him, and just because he doesn’t have many friends doesn’t mean he’s a-wait what do you mean it's not hard to believe?”

Niall rolled his eyes and sat up a bit more, turning to actually face you. “You like the quiet types, s’why we aren’t dating, obviously, n’I never said he was a dud, love, just tellin’ you what I heard.” You just nodded, deciding to not worry about it so much. “There’s many reasons we aren’t dating Ni.” You gave him a compassionate smile and pat his knee. The two of you then burst out into laughter and your worries about Harry faded away.

Until the next morning that is.

You had been going over the study guide Mr. Reeves had emailed everyone that morning and realized you weren’t sure about quite a few of the things you were supposed to know. Sighing, you opened your phone and clicked on Harry’s contact typing out a text.

Hey Harry! Wondering if you could meet up sometime again this weekend just to go over the study guide?

You hit send and prayed that he wouldn’t just ignore it, especially after running out last time. After looking back at the email, you heard your notification bell go off just a few minutes later.

I can do Friday at 8pm, and Sunday around 3.

A smile of relief graced your face at his quick response, no matter how short his texts were, he was still willing to help you, and you were extremely grateful. After texting him back and agreeing to meet back at the library, you went back to working on another assignment, happy that you were able to get more studying in, not about the fact that you got to see the quiet and unusually attractive Harry Styles again. That was not the reason.

｡:°ஐ

Eventually it was Friday night. Your friday nights usually consisted of Niall dragging you somewhere you did not want to be, like a frat party (he always made sure you got home safe though), or you sitting at home, watching a movie and binging on cookies that you had baked just 30 minutes prior. Tonight was different however, and you were attempting to open the doors of the library, because it was locked, but you were positive the library wasn’t closed.

A soft voice said your name, and you turned around to see Harry standing a few feet behind you, his hands in his pockets and his bag on his shoulder. “Harry,” you exhaled in relief. “I was about to text you, but it’s locked and I know for a fact it shouldn’t be closed because the hours say 7 a.m. to 10 p.m. every weekday.” You stated matter of factly, pointing to the hours painted on the door. He walked a bit closer to the door and adjusted his glasses a bit, pursing his pink lips as he read the hours. “You’re right.” he said simply, his sage eyes darting to the handle. You wordlessly stepped back and he went to the handle, pulling the door a bit, and pushing it. It moved a bit for him, but it was obvious it was locked.

Your mind raced for solutions, the only ones you were able to find was going to your flat, or wherever he lived, and you were almost positive he wouldn't want you in his house. You heard a little sigh leave his lips as he let go of the handle, and stuck his hands back in his pockets, rolling on the balls of his feet adorned with black boots today. “We could go to my place? If you’re comfortable with that of course, I won’t force you, but it’s like the only place I can think of and my roommate won’t be home tonight to distract us, something about staying the weekend at her boyfriends, but-”

“Sure.”

Your eyes fell back onto his face at his words and you gave a small smile, happy that he had agreed. “Alright, c’mon then.” You said, walking towards the direction of your flat. Only a few moments after you began taking steps he stopped you with his voice. “Wait, you walked here?” He asked, his face twisted up with something you couldn’t tell. “Yeah, m’only fifteen minutes away.” You shrugged. “It’s pitch black-um, come with me, I drove here and you can just direct me to yours.”

You just agreed and followed him to his car, which was an awfully nice black one, you weren’t sure of the brand, but as you got in, you could tell he took really good care of it (not that that was attractive to you or anything). Your words during the drive consisted of you telling him the four turns to take before directing him the best place to park in your lot. You ignored his gaze on you as you led him up the two flights of stairs to your hall, because “The elevator has been down for ages, and I’ve sent about four letters to the landlord, but all I’ve gotten in return is just unnecessary exercise for two months.”

He chuckled a bit at that and you swore your heart grew two sizes as you led him down the hall to your door. You unlocked it, and let him in, quickly walking in front to scan and make sure it wasn’t messy. You were never one to leave the house while it was dirty, but Niall had come over earlier to convince you to come to a party, and you were scared you hadn’t picked up his mess. He truly was like your child in a sense. Taking a sigh of relief at your clean flat, you turned around to see Harry closing your door and you brushed against him to lock it, you never kept your door unlocked at night.

You led him to the living room and dropped your bag on the floor next to the couch, and he did the same, pulling out your books and notes, as well as your laptop. Harry followed your actions and you could tell he was a bit uncomfortable in your flat, or at least that’s what it seemed like. “Do y’want some water or anything? I’m not sure what other drinks I have because I’m pretty sure Niall drank everything in here, and ate it probably as well.”

He looked up at your words and hesitated, bringing his bottom lip between his fingers. “Erm, I’ll have a water, please.” Now was not the time to ask about Niall or who he was to you, he told himself, because it didn’t matter. You nodded and stood up, hurrying over to your kitchen and grabbing two glasses of water for the both of you before handing one to Harry and sitting down on the couch again.

It was a bit weird at first, but soon enough the two of you slid into an easy conversation about the study guide, it was mostly you asking and Harry answering, but occasionally he would ask you something (that you were sure he already knew), and you would answer. It was a good back and forth, and you found yourself thinking about how it would be nice to talk to Harry like this about himself. You wanted to know everything, his favorite color down to the weird little quirks he has (you’ve already picked up on one, like when he itches the bottom of his nose with a curled index finger and slides it to the button of his nose before scrunching it).

“We’ve been studying for about two hours,” You noticed, looking at the time on your computer screen reading 10:03 PM. “I’ve just about filled my brain with enough information about fictional characters for today.”

You looked over at Harry to see him grinning a bit at your joke, and for the first time you noticed he had dimples. You were positive there was nothing wrong with him, other than the fact that he didn’t seem to want to be your friend (it wasn’t his fault, you could be a bit too much for people sometimes). “Okay, I should probably get back home to Luna anyways.” He said, his offhand comment filling your brain. Luna? You prayed you haven’t been taking his time away from a girlfriend, and before your brain could catch up your mouth was already moving. “Oh, who’s Luna?”

Harry looked at you like he forgot he mentioned her and his eyes widened a bit. “Oh, um, she’s m’kitten.” A wave of relief rushed over you, as well as another reason to want to get to know him more. A man so intimidating people didn’t approach him, had a kitten? Harry was flushing out of embarrassment of telling you this little fact, and looking down as he put his things in his bag to avoid eye contact with you, you did not care about his kitten, and you were indirectly telling him to leave, he didn't think he ever hated speaking more.

“That’s such a cute name!”You exclaimed. “Do you have any photos of her? It’s okay if you don’t want to show but I love cats, always wanted t’get my own.”

Nevermind.

30 minutes later, and he was sitting next to you awfully close on the couch, showing you his photo album of Luna. Some of the photos had Harry in them, one in particular, a mirror picture, where he was wearing sweats and had chosen to go without a shirt, holding Luna in one hand by his side. He swiped off of that one with lighting speed, and although you were telling yourself he obviously was embarrassed by you seeing his bare torso, which he shouldn’t be because wow, you couldn’t help your curiosity. “How many tattoos do y’have?”

He moved his head to face you, and only then did he realize how close the two of you were sitting. “Uh, I don’t know, fifty-something? I lost count a while ago.” Your eyes lit up at his words and a grin spread across your face. “Wow, that's so cool. Did it hurt a lot? I’ve always wanted to get a tattoo but I have no idea what, and where. I thought a small little butterfly on my ribs or something would be cute for a good year, but I don’t have much connection to butterflies really, and I feel like if I get something tattooed on your body for forever I would want something that really sticks with me.”

He couldn’t help it.

As you watched Harry while you were rambling on about tattoos you could see him smile. Truly smile, one where his teeth showed and everything. You tried not to get too giddy about it, but it was just so beautiful. “It started hurting less the more I got, and tattoos don’t have t’be something y’really connect with, I have a bunch jus’ because I thought they looked cool and had a decent meaning,” He said, and you were positive that’s the most he’s ever spoken to you. “I actually have a butterfly on m’tummy.”

“What other one’s do you have?” You asked, attempting to get him to talk as much as he could.

It worked, because soon the 30 minutes became an hour, and the hour became two, and he was in your flat at midnight. It seemed the two of you had no idea how much time had passed, because when you checked your phone it said it was five past midnight, and you reluctantly told Harry.

“Shit!” He muttered, and that was the first time you’ve heard him curse before. He looked at you, concern taking over his features. “M’so sorry for staying so long, I didn’t want to impose, I-”

“Harry, it’s okay, I promise. If I didn’t want you here, I would've told you to leave.” You said, and that seemed to calm him down a bit. “I’ll walk you down.”

You slipped on your coat and grabbed your keys, while Harry grabbed his tote and the two of you made your way down the stairs, this time a comfortable silence overtaking the stairwell. You reached his car and smiled at him as he unlocked it. “Thank you Harry, for everything, m’sure after Sunday I’ll be aces at analyzing characters.”

He smiled at you and fiddled with his sleeve before stepping closer and wrapping his arms around you. You were surprised to say the least, but your arms found their way around him as well and you reveled in his warmth. He stepped back after a moment and let his hands slide down your arms before bringing them back to his sides. “M’sorry, I should’ve-I just-you’re so nice n’I just-thank you.”

You couldn’t help but watch him try to stay afloat as he struggled to explain the hug. He really felt like he did though, because you were just so sweet, possibly the sweetest person he’s ever met, and you wanted to know about him, and his tattoos, and his kitten, and he doesn’t think he’s ever wanted to be with anyone for a hours on end, but he’s already decided that he’d want to be trapped in a room with you for days.

“No need to thank me, get home safe okay?” You smiled at him, reaching out and squeezing his arm and holy shit he’s fit. He looked down at your hand for a moment before smiling big and nodding, parting with a “G’night, I’ll see you Sunday.” before hopping into his car and insisting you walk up first. Rolling your eyes you smirked a bit and started walking up your stairs, turning around and waving at him before he sped off. That was quite possibly the best Friday night you’ve ever had.

｡:°ஐ

Harry was reeling, in the best way possible, but still reeling. After you got together to study on Sunday (and after you both aced the test, which you had given him the largest hug and a kiss on the cheek for), the two of you had hung out almost everyday after.

You met Luna during that following week, and he was expecting her to stay in his bedroom, because Luna didn’t really like new guests all that much, but she had immediately scurried up to you and walked in figure-eights around your feet. Your giggle of excitement was the best thing Harry had ever heard, and he had to take a moment not to squeal out of adoration.

He had opened up to you about, well, a lot. Told you how people just didn’t approach him, which was why he was so off-put when you did, and that he just didn’t want to scare anyone away. You shook your head and sat closer to him on the couch, lifting your hands to pinch his cheeks and pout as you said that he was “the sweetest person” you knew and you had “no idea how anyone could be scared of such a softie.” It was safe to say his face was flushed the entire conversation.

You had also commented on his sweater collection once, and everytime you would shiver, he’d pull off his own sweater and give it to you to wear, even in the courtyard when the weather was reaching 30 degrees. You had refused due to the fact that he would be cold, and eventually he just gave you a sweater you had expressed your liking for. He had handed it to you and you frowned in confusion and said, “Did you bring that just for me?”, because he was already wearing his own, and he had nodded and once you put it on he mumbled, “Keep it.” You did.

It got to the point where the two of you had spent so much time together you introduced him to Niall, to which Niall had commented, “So this is the Harry bloke you’ve been talking about all the time. Nice to meet ya, mate. So, how did you grow your hair out so long?” You had hit his shoulder for embarrassing you, but it seemed Harry didn’t even skip a beat when he started talking about how he had decided to grow his hair out. It was a story you’d heard before, but with Harry speaking, you would listen to the same words over and over again.

When you each went home for winter break, Harry had hugged you tightly and kissed your cheek, telling you that it was only 2 weeks, and the both of you would be back before you knew it. When the two of you weren’t texting, you were calling each other, and he was right, because you had both gotten back yesterday, a day full of hugs of goodbye’s from families, and full of cheek and forehead kisses, along with hugs and cuddles from Harry. You teased him about the gift, a book you had told him was the only one you wanted to read, he mailed you, and he teased you about his gift, a sweater with a hand-stitched (by you) small little moon where the left breast was, for Luna, and posters of his favorite artists, because he didn’t have anything on his walls.

Today was a day of “movies and cookies, it rhymes” as Harry had put it, and you had just knocked on his door, adorned with the sweater he gave you and some sweats. He opened the door almost immediately, a large smile on his face as he brought you in and gave you a large hug, to which you returned. “Missed you.” He mumbled into your shoulder. “I saw you yesterday, dimples.” You said, squeezing him before letting go and poking the indent in his cheek that just got deeper. “I told you I hate that nickname, bunny.” He smirked. “Oh, shove off.” You smiled, making your way to his living room where Luna was curled up on the couch on the right side, close enough to the end that no one could sit there, but close enough to the middle that practically half of his couch was taken.

“Don’t move her,” He said, walking up beside you. “She’s been crazy all day and she's finally relaxing, little devil.” You just shrugged and looked at the cookies he had already set out. “As long as I get these, I don’t mind where she is.”

The two of you settled next to each other on the couch as he chose an old horror movie that you begged not to watch but according to Harry, “S’not even scary, pet. Nothing is realistic, swear.” You just grumbled in defeat as he started to play it and just stuffed cookies into your mouth as you fell against the back of the couch.

Half an hour later, and your head was tucked in Harry’s chest, while your legs fell over his own. His hand was splayed across your back, rubbing up and down gently and mumbled “It’s okay”’s and “I’ve got you”’s while you peeked out to see the giant ant’s taking over. He really couldn’t believe it, you of all people were in his arms at night. He wished it could be every night, and when he heard your breathing slow down he suddenly took it back.

What the hell was he supposed to do?

You hadn’t planned on sleeping over, but just the other day were you complaining about not getting enough sleep because of your “stupid Philosophy professor”, and there was no way in hell Harry was going to wake you up. He hesitated for a moment, before turning off the T.V. because in the time he was deciding on what to do the movie had long stopped playing, and wrapped his other arm under your knees, gently picking you up and taking you to his bed.

He laid you down and tucked you under the covers, grabbing a pillow for himself before making his way to the couch for the night. He made sure to set an alarm to wake up before you did, and make you breakfast.

When you opened your eyes, the last thing you were expected to be met with was a white ceiling with a sleek silver fan nailed in. You sat up groggily, looking around the room to recognize it as Harry’s room. You had only been in here a few times, mostly to scavenge his closet, but you knew his room when you saw it. You swung your legs out of bed, and slowly made your way to the living room, where you were met with a sleeping Harry, spread out on the couch in his sweats, without a shirt. You tried not to linger your gaze on all his tattoos and abs as you walked by him to check the time on your phone. Almost 9 a.m., and by the vibrating phone next to yours, with the same case, you could tell he meant to set an alarm but forgot to turn his ringer on.

He had an alarm set for something, and he never told you what he was doing this morning, so you decided you would wake him up, just in case. You grabbed his shoulder gently, and tried not to think about how warm he was, shaking him gently and calling his name. “Harry…” You said in a sing-songy voice a few times. He pouted in his sleep and grunted a bit, before scrunching his eyes open. He practically jumped back when he saw you and his head fell back against the arm of the couch. Of course he wouldn’t wake up before you. “Morning.” You grinned. “G’morning. M’sorry if you were confused when y’woke up. I just brought y’to my bed cause you fell asleep, n’I was gonna wake up before you but obviously that didn’t work out.”

You just shook your head and smiled, trying not to think about his morning voice. There were a lot of things you had to try not to think about with Harry. “No worries, wanna go grab breakfast at the diner down the street? Heard they have killer hashbrowns.”

And all thanks to you, Harry wonders what he had to worry about in the first place.

After breakfast, you went back to your place, Harry in your living room while you got dressed for the day, changing your sweats to jeans and slipping back out of your room. “Alright, what’s the plan?” You asked, tugging the sleeves of his sweater down to make paws. It wasn’t like Harry hadn’t seen you with his sweater on, but it seemed to make him more flustered everytime you did wear it. He shrugged and looked you up and down quickly. “I like your sweater, where’d y’get it?” He joked, in an attempt to mask his blush.

“From this really cute guy, he just gave it to me one day.” You shrugged, and watched as he bit his bottom lip in an attempt not to smile too much. “Really cute?” He asked as you stepped closer to him. “Mhm, his name is Harry.”

“Please stop.” He said, and you stepped back, confused by his sudden change in emotion. “I’m just joking, Harry.” You said, attempting to save the moment. His bottom lip trembled and he sat down on your couch, his head falling in his hands. “I know, n’I don’t want you t’be.” He mumbled as you sat next to him. He pulled his head out of his hands and looked at you, his heart beating faster than it ever has.

“I really like you, bunny. And I don’t wanna ruin our friendship because you’re the best thing that's happened to me in a really long time, but I cant- I can’t listen to you joke about how you think I’m cute if y’don’t feel the same.”

You swear your heart bursted at his confession. A smile overtook your face and you moved so you were right next to him. You placed your hands on the sides on his face and kissed his nose. “You think I don’t feel the same? For someone so smart, m’surprised you haven’t realized it before,” you said softly, as he looked at you in wonder and shock. “I really like you too.” You leaned in and placed your lips on his, about to pull back when he didn’t respond. He then began to kiss you back and his hands found a home on your hips. When the two of you pulled away, he smiled like a fool and pecked your lips once more.

There was never anything to worry about with you, he was sure of it.

#would you believe me if I told you this took 4 days to write #harry styles imagine #harry styles #harry styles fluff #harry styles one shot

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chrisevansgoodgirl · 4 years

Text

killing peggy carter

summary: you want revenge bc steve’s a bitch. (happy times, save for steve’s disappearance. everyone’s alive tho)

warnings: a darker steve. rough smut, a little questionable at times. a lot of angst bc i was in a mood.

pairing: steve rogers x reader, peggy carter x reader for a sec, and some steve x peggy ( 🤢 )

word count: about 9,800

a/n: not tagging anyone bc no one asked for this, i literally just wrote it like forever ago and decided to post it bc i haven’t posted in forever. also, if you go back far enough on my blog, you will see that i watch riverdale and honestly, i came up with this title before jughead wrote his emo story in the finale.

When Steve left, it was nothing short of devastating.

Your world had stopped. How could it not? You had been under the impression that someone was in love with you as much as you were in love with them. And god, you were so damn in love with Steve Rogers.

It had been a year and it still hurt just like it had that first day. You were better at hiding it now, using that as the only entertainment in your life. Being an Avenger wasn’t the same as it used to be. The world was good, you weren’t needed. Especially not while all these feelings of anger and resentment were growing inside you.

When Steve left, he took a lot. He took your heart, your soul, your fucking will to love and let yourself be loved, and he took your ability to be a hero. No hero had the darkness you had. No hero stayed out most nights dancing in sweaty and noisy clubs, being groped by strangers she couldn’t even take home because she was the definition of damaged. You had trust issues for days, and they weren’t going anywhere any time soon, if ever.

Bucky tried to help and sometimes, you had the energy to fake it. It always made him so happy to see you smiling or just talking to other men who clearly were attracted to you. But nothing would come of it. You couldn’t believe a word that any one of them said.

Steve used to look at you, tell you he loved you, tell he needed you, that he couldn’t do any of this without you. Then he had the chance to go back to Peggy Carter and he took it in a second, no hesitation. He didn’t even say goodbye.

You stayed out on the lake for three months, figuring he’d just gotten tied up. He would come back, you told yourself that every night. What finally broke you was when Nat and Bucky sat you down and told you it wasn’t going to happen. You’d always known but with confirmation from the two people that knew him best, you had to face reality. He’d left you and he wasn’t coming back.

It was a huge hit to your self-esteem. Maybe if you had been prettier. Smarter. Stronger. Better. But you were just you. Petty, small, aching. Ironically, that was how he had found you as well. The Avengers liked to bring in team members who had already been through too much. You hadn’t realized how vulnerable your past trauma made you to their type of coercion. You would do anything any of them asked. With Steve, it was different. More. And he had always known.

There was this pain in your chest that never went away. Sometimes you woke up gasping in the middle of the night, usually after a nightmare. It was as if there had been a hand around your neck. But there wasn’t because you were as alone as anyone could possibly be.

You didn’t mind it anymore. Hell, it was the only thing that you still had left of Steve. You burned everything else and not even that made you feel better. This was all much to Bucky’s dismay.

You would never tell a soul that you couldn’t part with his sketchbooks, that you had them hidden in a box underneath your bed. It was no one’s right to know. This pain was your own, the only thing you still had possession of.

You hadn’t been touched in his absence, even by yourself. It reminded you of all those times he would kiss along your skin and sing praises to your beauty. Sometimes, you wished you were ugly. Sometimes, you wished you could just get so ugly that no one would even want to look at you.

But that was not the case. You were that beautiful, strong, and caring woman Steve had fallen in love with, so they claimed. You were their responsibility. Their project. They would get you through this if it was the last thing they did. Nat, Bucky, and Sam tried merely out of their loyalty to Steve. Tony followed that lead and that meant Peter tried as well as he could. Wanda, still consumed by her own lost love, attempted, but she was probably the only person who could see you for what you were.

Thrown out trash. Abandoned, sharp pieces that could and would cut anyone who tried to help. You hated all the rest of them for not seeing it. You hated all the rest of them because in their eyes, you were still Steve’s girl.

You no longer had a boyfriend, a family, or friends. He took all of that away from you. And one day, when you were so sick of having nothing to do but feel sorry for yourself, you decided that you were going to return that favor.

Steve Rogers deserved to be just as heartbroken and empty as you. It drove you crazy. He had been the one to pursue you. He had been the one to insist that you were his, even said you were the best thing to ever happen to him.

Talking Bruce into helping was laughably easy. You claimed to need closure. You claimed you just wanted to know that Steve was happy. You wanted to tell him you forgave him. Bruce hadn’t seen you look this happy in a long while so he did what anyone would and said yes.

You wanted to wait. Steve was always so sentimental, the anniversary of the day he met Peggy was probably a day of extreme affection in their house. He probably made her breakfast, bought her some piece of jewelry that she wouldn’t even like, and spent all day telling her how much he loved her. You wanted to crash the party.

Part of you wished there was another way to do this, but there just wasn’t. Killing Peggy was the only way to take anything from him, and you had these dark fantasies that he would then kill you in retaliation. What a beautiful way to go, you hoped he would strangle you. You hoped he would set you on his lap one final time, wrap his hands around your neck, and stare into your eyes until you were gone.

Peggy was a great person, that much you felt bad about. But hadn’t Steve practically murdered you? And you were a great person before all of this. An eye for an eye. Did he think you were just going to disappear? No, he wasn’t going to get away with this any longer. He wasn’t going to get his happiness after he had ruined your whole life.

You wanted some years on them, you told Bruce ten years. Steve would be just shy of 50. You wondered what he’d look like. When he left, he had just started to get some gray hairs. You could remember that morning vividly. You wouldn’t have noticed if the sun hadn’t been shining in through the blinds perfectly onto his blonde hair. He blushed about 7 shades of red, but you promised him you didn’t mind. Because you loved him. He said he loved you back. Like an idiot, you believed him.

You arrived in his time with little care to how you looked. You weren’t here for anyone but him. You didn’t mind that everyone was staring at you oddly because instead of some huge, ugly dress, you were wearing black pants, a low-cut t-shirt, and a leather jacket.

You did need a weapon, however. Guns were cowardly. Poison could be fun. A knife, though. A knife would certainly get the point across. You tucked it into your boot and then you were on your way.

You found Peggy’s house easily. Bruce had made sure you knew where you were going and what to do if they had moved or anything like that. You’d known they would be in the same place. You’d known Steve would want to live in this domestic, pathetic lie.

There was a window that looked into the living room. It was mid-day, you figured Peggy was at work. What did Steve even do? Was there a specific activity he liked pairing with all the pure nothingness he was doing while his best friend suffered in Hydra’s hands?

You saw him sitting in a recliner in what you assumed was the living room. His hair was almost all gray, he’d cut it much shorter. Like how he used to have it, before everything with Tony and Bucky. Like how he had it when you met him. His beard was just as light and he had a few prominent wrinkles on his forehead and around his mouth. But that was as far as his aging went. His arms were still huge, his shoulders so broad, and you had the strongest feeling that that ass had held up.

You were about to go in, make your presence known when you realized he was reading a book. Your favorite book. He must have taken it with him because that looked distinctly like one of your many copies you hadn’t seen for quite some time.

You were furious, shaking and seeing red. No matter how hard you tried to breathe, you just couldn’t. You were going to cut Peggy’s heart about and show it to him. You were going to cover that ugly house with her blood. You were going to wreck him just as much as he wrecked you.

You watched Steve for three months and came to the harrowing conclusion that he was severely unhappy. Peggy would come home and they wouldn’t speak. They would sit down for dinner and say maybe five sentences to one another. They went to bed together, sometimes they had sex. You never stuck around for that because not only was that a major violation of her privacy, but damn, they were fucking boring.

When she woke up in the morning, he wouldn’t get up until she was gone. Then he would go for his run, you followed a couple of times as best you could to see if there was a piece of this puzzle you were missing. When he returned home, he would read or watch television, he went for a second run a few hours later, and returned home to do absolutely nothing but await her return.

Should this have made you happy? It didn’t. He would rather be unhappy with her than happy with you. But that was for one reason: his pride. He didn’t want to crawl back to you and admit that he made a mistake.

Your goals changed. You wanted to make him admit it. Not with words, he would never do that. But Steve was a faithful man. If you got him to stray, it would be indisputable.

You waited one morning until he was out on his run, then snuck into the house. You went through their kitchen, sometimes you moved things just to be a bitch. You went through their bedroom and discovered that Peggy had a terrible contraption that had the audacity to call itself a sex toy. That would be nice to throw in Steve’s face.

You tossed it onto the bed and got undressed as you made your way to the shower. Steve wouldn’t be gone much longer. And he would know something was very wrong when he saw your clothes.

You washed your hair, used Peggy’s soap, and only had to wait a couple of minutes after that. You heard him call out her name a few times. But then he got to the bedroom and you heard his steps hesitating.

“Peggy?”

He wouldn’t say your name, not ever. Because he could be wrong, he could be delusional. And to admit that he was still thinking about you after all this time, that was his idea of a loss.

You didn’t grab a towel as you pulled the shower curtain back and shut off the water. Dripping wet, you carefully padded across the tile floor and then out to the bedroom.

His eyes widened and he dropped to his knees. “What...what are you doing here?”

You shrugged, glancing around. “Thought I deserved a vacation.”

“Y/N, I am so—”

“Pathetic? Weak? Yeah, don’t worry, I know.” You moved closer to him, eyeing him pitifully. You were glad that you hadn’t crumbled. Months ago, you would have given anything just to hear his voice, just to see his fucking eyes. God, you hated him now.

“You’re angry, I understand.”

“Angry?” you scoffed. “Add dumb to the list.”

“I’m sorry that I hurt you—”

“You didn’t hurt me, you piece of shit. You destroyed me, you ruined my life. For all intents and purposes, you killed me. And I’m here to get my revenge.”

His eyebrows pulled together. “Revenge?”

You reached out to touch his face, trailed your fingers along his bottom lip. “Yeah, payback. I’m going to make sure I make you feel what you made me feel.”

He glared up at you. “Are you threatening me?”

“Yes.”

He finally stood, towering over you.

“Mmm, how I’ve missed this body.” You pressed yourself against him and as much as he acted like he didn’t like it, he never pulled away or tried to push you back. You were getting him wet and his shirt was starting to cling to his abs. You let your hands wander for a moment before they dropped down to his pants.

“Stop,” he said quietly.

And you did because you were never going to allow him to lie. Your turned up to him and stepped back.

He looked torn apart, confused. “Why are you here?”

You shrugged. “Why not?”

“That’s not an answer.”

“Well, it’s all you’re getting. You don’t need any other answer.”

“So, what’s the plan? How are you going to get your revenge?”

“I know you, Steve, I know that you believe in being a good and faithful man. I just want you to fuck me. That’s all.”

“Well, you know that’s not going to happen. You know I would never—”

“Cheat? So, then you’ve never fucked Peggy?”

“What?”

“You never left me, you never told me we were done. You, like the coward you are, just didn’t come back. Every time you’ve been with her is a lie, a cheat. You are a cheater.”

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?! You keep acting like there was just one thing! There were a million things, Steve. You ruined everything that we were building. And you can apologize all you want, but until I return at least half of it, I’m stuck here with you.”

“I won’t fuck you.”

“Yet,” you pointed out. “Well, I should be going.”

He grabbed your arm. “Go home.”

“I am home, baby. You’re here and you’re my home.”

He frowned.

You yanked yourself out of his hold, bending over to grab your clothing all over the room. He wasn’t going to fuck you but that did not mean he wasn’t going to look at you. So, you gave him quite the show, just like you had in the past upon his request.

You disappeared into the bathroom as if it was so natural, as if it was your own. He made no moves to follow and said nothing. As you dried yourself off, you decided now was as good a time as any. “See that terrible thing on your bed?”

You heard him step a few times, then nothing.

You scoffed. “Maybe it has to do with your age.”

“It doesn’t.”

“Still. Pretty creepy you came back to a much younger Peggy.”

“I came back to the one I left.”

“Whatever you need to tell yourself.” You sauntered out and sent him one last smile before exiting the bedroom.

Peggy and Steve had a fight, so Peggy ducked out to some small diner. If you couldn’t get to him, you decided you were going to get to her. Peggy was sweet from the second you began speaking to her, feigning concern for her situation.

The first night you guys went out together, you wanted her to talk shit about Steve. She didn’t, she just got drunk and tried to get you much the same. You were taking her home because you truly were fearful of what would become of her without your help. And she kissed you. At first, you were startled, you pulled away out of fear and shock. She wasn’t Steve. In all your life since you’d met him, you never thought someone else was going to kiss you.

But then she looked terrified. Had she been reading you wrong? Had she messed everything up? Nah, you were adaptable. You kissed her back, explained you’d been hurt by some loser and it had been a while. She understood, or said she did, and then she was disappearing inside.

You were left wondering if Steve heard you, but not many lights in the house were on. He probably wasn’t home. Confirmed by your unlocked hotel door when you returned home just a couple of hours before sunrise.

Knowing it was him didn’t mean you weren’t going to pull your gun as you entered. He was sitting in one of the chairs at the tiny table near the tiny kitchen.

He arched an eyebrow. “That necessary?”

“I should have shot you the second I got here.” But you still tossed it onto the bed. “You know...this paints quite a scene, doesn’t it? You’re here, angry at me for being out late.” You let your purse fall to the floor, then your hideous cardigan. You had only shown up with one outfit, so shopping was necessary to keep up appearances. You didn’t know a lot about the 40s, but you didn’t want them to start burning women at the stake again because of you.

You made your way to him, straddling his lap as you took his face in your hands. “Are you upset that I broke curfew, daddy?”

He didn’t even bat an eye, but you knew that would get to him. “Where were you?”

“Out with your future wife.” One of many kickers, they had yet to get married. Peggy said it was because she wanted to wait. “Thought she would be willing to talk shit about you...thought it would make me feel better.”

“And? Did she give you anything you can use against me in the future?”

“Nah. She didn’t want to talk about you at all.”

He glared. “When are you going home?”

She shrugged. “Whenever I feel like it.” Your eyes moved over his face as you felt the deeply etched lines on his skin. “You don’t look 50 but I never thought... You remember when I found your gray hair?”

“Yeah... Thought you would leave me...that you’d want someone your age.”

“I like you like this, you know. Twice my age.”

“Have there been others?”

And just like that, the end of your friendly conversation. You pulled your hands away from him but stayed on top of him. “Others?”

“People...men you’ve let close.”

You scoffed. “Why would I do that?”

“I wanted...I thought you would move on.”

“People lie,” you pointed out. “You told me you loved me every day and then you just left. I can’t adequately explain to you how tired I am. I can’t do it again, I can’t even let myself try. I can’t get close to people the way I was close to you. I can’t move on. I can’t love someone else. I can’t do anything but hate you as much as I loved you.”

“I wasn’t lying—”

“You left. If you loved me as much as you said you did, you wouldn’t have been able to.”

“I do love you—”

You immediately pulled off him, rushing to get your feet back on the floor. No, no fucking way, he was not going to lie to you again. He was simply not allowed to anymore. You would not tolerate it.

“Y/N—”

“Get out of my hotel!” You pointed to the door. “Now, Steve, or I swear I will shoot you.”

He scoffed. “For what? Loving you?”

“You piece of shit.” You didn’t wait for him to say anything else. You stormed to the bathroom and locked the door before he could intrude yet again.

He knew you wouldn’t come back out, not while he was still there. All he could do was leave. For safe measure, he at least unloaded your gun and set it on the bedside table. Maybe if you had to find it and load again, you would lose some of your anger and not ended up taking a shot at him.

How dare he? He had no right to say that to you, no right to use that word. It meant nothing coming from him because there was the implied ‘but’ along with it. Before, he just loved you. Period. Now? He loved you. But what? He loved Peggy more? He loved this time more?

You thought you had been angry before. Even though the time you were spending with Peggy was diffusing that somewhat. Still, you never lost sight of what you wanted. Needed. The idea of Steve’s heartbreak was the only thing that could get you up in the morning.

He threw you off for a few days. Every time you tried to leave the hotel room just to do something a tad evil, you would end up in bed crying. Steve thankfully didn’t try to come back, you hated the thought of him seeing you like this, letting him know that he could still do this to you.

Peggy called. You gave her the number, just in case, and she used it to express her concern for you. It wasn’t like you not to want to hang out or to just be around and bump into her “randomly”. She invited you out for breakfast the first day, then lunch the next. You said you weren’t feeling well.

An excuse she stopped taking the third night. She wanted to go dancing with you, all while her asshole boyfriend stayed at home. How could you say no? You shouldn’t, this was the entire reason you were here.

You would kill her tonight. This time was a drag and you wanted to get home. To a place where you could wear pants or a t-shirt. A place where there weren’t so many preppy men in pastels or college sweaters.

Peggy picked you up, she wouldn’t stop staring. Had it been any other day, you might have even questioned why. But you weren’t going to enjoy this as much as you thought you would. It sucked, and honestly, it made you hate Steve even more. He was your downfall, he was also her downfall, but at least he would soon be utterly alone.

It had been hours. You were just trying to dance and let the music fill your mind, but this music was shit. If you had to hear one more man sing about wanting to hold a woman’s hand… Truly, you missed the filth of your time.

Peggy was the one that wanted to leave. Peggy was the one that wanted to walk away from all the noise of the city. Peggy was the one that took you to some sleazy motel, where she gave you the briefest of looks when she’d stopped you both on the sidewalk. She was also the one that kissed you when you didn’t say anything because what did you have to actually say?

Nothing. Not one thing. You had no idea how this plan had spiraled so terribly. You were meant to come here, kill her, throw it in Steve’s face, then bolt back home like none of it ever happened.

But you couldn’t kill her, not anymore, not after seeing what a miserable life she had with Steve. You hoped she would leave him, and not just to hurt him, but to help herself. You remembered the life she had in your world, the one she had created with your husband. It was so much better than the hell she was living in here.

So, you let her take you to a room. You let her kiss you, you let her tear your dress off, push you onto the bed, and crawl on top of you. Her lips moved everywhere over your legs, arms, and stomach, and they felt like fire because they belonged to someone who wasn’t Steve.

You hated how guilty you felt. You hated that your mind was seriously considering this a betrayal, cheating. But you were trying to be kinder to yourself. It wasn’t your fault that you had fallen so hard for someone and that you had made plans because someone had promised you forever.

She knew you were thinking about him. Not Steve, of course, but the someone you had once mentioned. She didn’t mind, she just promised she would try to make you forget. You forced yourself to be present, you turned off your mind when you could. She didn’t ask a lot of you, in reality.

She wanted to be on top, she wanted you to say her name and wouldn’t let you come until you asked nicely. It was probably around the third orgasm that you stopped feeling so awful, that all of those familiar sensations weren’t triggering memories and bitter resentment. That was what she gave you with her mouth alone and didn’t move until it was evident that your thoughts had simply melted away.

When she crawled back up to kiss you, she buried her fingers inside you. At that point, who the hell even was Steve Rogers? A distant, dull pain. Peggy was here, on top of you, biting your lip, telling you to come one more time, because she knew you had it in you.

She told you that you were beautiful, that she’d never seen a body like yours. She told you that you made her feel things Steve couldn’t, that you were fun and warm and kind, and she loved spending time with you.

You were covered in sweat, your skin painted with her lipstick and bites and other marks she left all over your skin. She hadn’t come yet and refused any offers you made her, she claimed she just wanted to focus on you for a moment.

When she finally pressed her soaking center against yours, you were in an odd amount of pain. You longed for something, so much, but you had no idea what. She pulled your hair, began kissing your neck, and rolled her hips hard. You pulled her hair back, pressed your hips up when she pressed down, whimpered her name, and told her she felt so good. It was when she started fucking you harder and faster, and you were getting really close once again, that you got the sick idea to rake your nails down her back. Hard enough to leave marks.

After her finish, she collapsed onto her side next to you. The way she looked at you was kind of scary, like you were worth a lot more than you knew you were. She also looked satisfied and you hadn’t seen that look since you’d shown up. And what a fucking crime that was. Yes, Steve was a dick, but fuck, that man could seriously fuck. Why was he denying her that?

You shoved her onto her back and sat on her face because you didn’t want to be thinking about him. She kept you there until you were shaking and so fuzzy you couldn’t even sit up on your own. A tad haphazardly, you insisted on getting your mouth on her. After some convincing on your part and a few pitying laughs from her as you nearly fell over the edge of the mattress because you were still dizzy, your tongue was sliding against her skin and her hands were locked in your hair.

She needed to get home, back to her boyfriend before he started to worry. You stuck around for a bit, reluctant to return to your apartment. Maybe this was it, maybe this was all you needed. Maybe it was just time to fucking go home.

You truly worried about all of the Bucky lectures you were going to get, all of those Natasha looks, those small ‘tsk’ sounds when Thor was not only upset but disappointed in you, the judgmental eyebrows Tony would be sending your way, and those puppy dog eyes from Peter. Goodness, you were sure Peter missed you. Bruce would never trust you again, no surprise there, you had lied to him. You hadn’t thought about the consequences of your actions when you first did this. You hated, at the time, that you didn’t care if you hurt anyone.

Game over. You weren’t going home not without having scored some points, but to win, you would just end up losing more. More, you now understood that you had taken all of it for granted. Yes, your friends were constant reminders of Steve and they had been acting like you were some mission they needed to complete, but at least they loved you. That was more than a lot of people had and you would let them know about all these epiphanies if they didn’t kill you as soon as you returned.

When you made it back to your apartment, it was only to get the necklace Wanda had given you a few years back for your birthday. It was this huge stone you never remembered the name of, something you rarely took off regardless of that.

The last thing you expected was to find Steve. He looked furious and maybe, just maybe, you were going to get the satisfaction of seeing that you hurt him before you left. “What the hell are you doing here?”

He was at the table again, jaw set, glaring at the wall straight ahead of him. You were trying to think if you’d ever seen him this angry, if you’d ever even heard stories of it. Probably not. He liked to act like you were so damn delicate. Though, maybe he had been onto something.

“Hey,” you snapped after receiving no response, “Why the fuck are you in my hotel room?”

Finally, he turned to you and for the first time ever, you were scared of him.

You kept your distance, you even began moving toward your bedside table where you had your gun stashed.

“I hope you’re not looking for this.” He reached down for a moment then tossed it onto the table noisily.

Shit. “Steve…”

“You fucked her.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He stood quickly, storming over to you. For a moment, you had been stunned, and it was enough for him to get several upper hands. It wasn’t as if he needed them to begin with, but with your delayed scattering back, he was able to grab you and pin you to the wall. You were completely defenseless in stupid, impractical heels and an ugly, impractical dress.

“Tell me you didn’t fuck her.”

You said nothing.

He scoffed harshly. “I fucking smelled you all over her…and now I smell her on you. You left those scratches on her back because you wanted me to know.”

“Honestly, I thought I would be gone by the time you found out or by the time you decided to confront me. In fact, if you leave now, I’ll be gone and you’ll never have to see me again.”

He narrowed his eyes.

“What? Isn’t that what you wanted?”

He didn’t say anything, instead, he grabbed the neckline of your dress and tore it open. He paid no mind to your startled shoving at his chest. His eyes moved over your skin quickly, you could tell he was getting angrier with every bruise he found.

You were going to play this off, bat away at his feelings just long enough for you to escape. “Steve, I—”

He grabbed your jaw and you immediately shut up. “Go take a shower.”

Your eyebrows pulled together.

“Now.”

“No, you fucking—”

“You can do it on your own or I can do it for you. But to be clear, I will not ask again, and I’m gonna count to ten before I really lose my patience. One, two, three—”

“Steve,” you tried softly. He was still holding you there, so tight that the idea of moving was laughable.

“Four, five—”

“Steve,” you were a tad more frantic, pushing at his forearm.

“Six, seven.” He finally pulled away from you and you bolted to the bathroom without a second thought. He told you to leave the door open and you listened because you no longer had the desire to push him.

You came out in a towel several minutes later. Most of your shower was spent just trying to calm down, the rest was using any product you had to try to get rid of her scent. You didn’t want to risk further angering him with any lingering mentions of Peggy.

He was just feet away from the door when you stepped out and once again, he showed no hesitation in ripping away what covered your body. He looked you over again, briefer this time, obviously displeased with what he saw. He’d hoped most of it was just the lipstick Peggy always wore.

“Are you wet?”

“What?”

“Your pussy. Are you wet?” He was condescendingly slow with every single word and your hand suddenly itched with the need to smack him.

“No.”

“Well, you’re a liar, so I don’t believe you,” he countered. “Check.”

“What?”

“Check,” he repeated. “Now. And if I have to keep repeating myself, you’re not going to like the way this night plays out.”

You averted your gaze as you brought your hand to your center. Your breath caught audibly as you ran your fingers through. Yes, he was an ass, but your body would never stop craving his touch.

“Show me.”

Begrudgingly, you brought your hand back to him.

“Wow, how did I know you were lying? Touch yourself. Keep touching yourself until you come.”

You snorted. “Eww, no—”

He slammed his hand against the wall behind you and you fell silent again. “The same rules apply. Do it or I will do it for you.”

He had never spoken to you like this. Sure, there were the bad missions. There were the times when he just needed to fuck you to forget all the shit he had to deal with. But there was never a moment where you wondered if he would lose control, if he would hurt you unintentionally. Right now, maybe it wasn’t so much that you thought he would. You had known him long enough, loved him long enough, that you knew exactly what kind of man he was. Maybe, right now, it was that you wanted him to hurt you.

Nothing could be worse than when he left you. Nothing he did was going to hurt more than when you went back home and you were, once more, without him. Meaning that you wanted to take everything that you possibly could from this moment. All the pain, all the bruises, all those emotional scars that would add to the ones from before that you had idiotically convinced yourself you could ever get rid of.

He knew you were considering your next move and arched an eyebrow at your continuing silence.

You shook your head. “No.”

One of his hands shot up to wrap around your neck, the other hand went to your cunt where he slid two fingers into you with embarrassing ease.

You brought your hands up to his forearm and dug your nails into his skin. The harder you scratched him, the harder he would choke you—it was something established early on in your relationship. And if he was choking you, you couldn’t moan or whine like he wanted you to.

For a moment, you both stayed still. For an entire second, it wasn’t that he had left you, that you had to track him down, that you fucked his girlfriend and he was fucking furious about it. For a second, it was just you and him, like it was all the times before.

The problem was pride. It wasn’t like before and neither one of you wanted to let the other pretend. He hurt you. You hurt him. Before no longer mattered. So, you shut your eyes and turned your face away from him.

He thrust his fingers just slightly harder than you would have liked, slightly harder than he would have liked. It would sting in the morning, but you wouldn’t hate it. Crescent-shaped cuts would be found everywhere on his skin and he would mourn that they were healing too fast. Both of you knew that this was it. The end.

You were wet, that obscene sound drowning out your choked noises. He absolutely loved this, loved you. He had thought being with Peggy again would make him feel like he was finally home. It took him so long to figure out that he was wrong, to realize that you were one of the few people that actually felt like home. You and Bucky, Nat, Sam, Tony, Wanda, Thor. Not Peggy.

And he could no longer pretend when he felt you tighten around his fingers. He was fucked up and he ruined things a lot of the time. It was just in his DNA, even the fucking serum couldn’t fix that. But prior to leaving, he’d never ruined anything with you. He hadn’t realized how much he missed fucking you because he always did that right.

“Open your eyes,” he ordered.

Instead, you pushed harder at his arm and turned further away from him. Your hips started to buck against his hand, and he knew you wanted this, but he knew you were not going to give in without some fight.

“Open your fucking eyes, Y/N.”

You were not going to. After all the hell he’d put you through? Fuck that, fuck him. You were never going to give him anything he wanted ever again.

He yanked his hand away from your pussy and grabbed your jaw to turn your face to him. He knew that wouldn’t work alone and in a move of desperation, kissed you. A move to get you to let your guard down—a weak move that would not work. As his knee came up to your cunt and you began grinding against it, he started biting your lip.

You buried one hand in his hair and started pulling harder than you should have. He released your jaw to do the same to you. This was much different than how he usually touched you. He’d always been rough, but this hurt, actually hurt.

You rode his thigh with no assistance from him. He let your face go and dropped your hair in search of another tactic. You were no longer kissing, you instead rested your head on his shoulder, eyes still squeezed shut. Even when he grabbed your ass painfully, and when he smacked you after all you did was scream. Even when he grabbed your breasts and pulled on your nipples.

You kept your eyes shut the entire time and he was growing furious. He wasn’t going to let you feel anything even resembling pleasure if you weren’t going to give into him. He pulled away and grabbed your hips.

You opened your eyes then, concerned about what he was doing to you next. He grabbed your shoulder and shoved you onto the bed before you could say a word. You were on your stomach, facing away from him, busy lamenting the loss of your finish. You heard him undressing as you attempted to regain your breath and composure.

He was on top of you before that happened, yanking your legs open before he crawled up, hands stopping on either side of your head. He wasn’t going to tease, he was going to fuck you like the brat you were—hard, mean, unforgiving. He lowered his hips until his cock was lined up with your entrance and then thrust in.

Your scream must have scared the hell out of the neighbors. You wouldn’t be surprised if the cops were being called right then. It wasn’t a pleasurable scream, you certainly liked that he was inside you, but that was just your body. Your heart ached in a way that it never had. You’d thought you were never going to feel him again, but it wasn’t some beautiful feeling of reconnection. You were at square one, you would have to crave his body all over again once this was over. You would go through those same agonizing withdrawals that had truly destroyed you those first few months.

Steve grabbed your hair again and shoved your face into the mattress. He didn’t care about taking it slow, making sure that you, his precious, sweet girlfriend, were okay. He felt just as torn up as you and he couldn’t afford emotional consideration when he was so fucked up. He only knew what he wanted, for you to look at him like you used to. He would do whatever he had to do to get it. Part of him didn’t care how low he would have to go. He wasn’t Captain America here, he didn’t have to live up to the same standards.

You blindly reached back to try to catch his arm, but your attempts never even touched him. He didn’t seem to care about what you were attempting, he just fucked you. He held you down as his hips slammed against your ass and he moaned loudly, shamelessly, selfishly. You finally caught a hold of his arm and used the heel of your palm to push, but since you were out of breath and had been for quite some time, you doubted that there was any real force behind it.

“Can’t breathe, baby?” he wondered, hips still snapping, the head of his cock reaching that delicious spot inside you.

You dug your nails into his skin even though it was an uncomfortable stretch and your muscles were screaming. You were screaming, too, despite everything, despite the lack of strategy in that, but this felt too good not to. You hadn’t been fucked like this in so long, this was what you knew you would never get from someone else. This deep, soul-level connection was a one-time deal. No one else was ever going to be able to give you this.

“If I let you up, you better fucking look at me. I’m not kidding, Y/N. I’ll fucking hold you down again until I fucking come.”

Once his hand lifted from your head, you turned up and gasped for air. It was a short-lived relief as soon as his hand pressed into your neck and angled your head back. It wasn’t that you were scared, and you should have been because you wholeheartedly believed his threat, it was that you were happy to have an excuse to give in. He was stronger than you, right? No one could blame you for giving in, hell, you were just trying to save yourself. Right?

Your eyes met his and his hips stuttered. A ragged breath fell from his lips, you felt it on your hair. That hard look in his eyes softened, he looked a lot like that man that had promised you he would come back to you.

“I love you,” he breathed.

Your eyes instantly filled with tears and you clamped your mouth shut. Both hands were buried in the bedsheets because you needed something to hold, something to tear at, something to destroy to cope with the burning anger that was consuming you.

“I’m sorry, I love you.” His body moved erratically against yours, desperate for all the things he’d longed for since he’d left you. The two of you were sick together, desperate, twisted people that proved it in bed. Peggy wasn’t like that and he was drowning trying to act like he was normal, like he was that same man that she had been with what felt like centuries ago.

He collapsed, chin pressing into the bend of your neck, and you felt his cum spilling into you. His arms wrapped around you, holding you tight as he rode out his finish. He didn’t stop, however, now he wanted to get you off. He wanted to feel those same pathetic, proud things he experienced whenever he played your body like an instrument.

You didn’t resist, what would be the point? You fucking deserved an orgasm, at the very least. You were ashamed to admit that you wanted it, needed it. You hadn’t honestly felt alive since he left you, but this reminded you what that was like.

He groaned when he felt you tightening around him, his hand wedging between you and the mattress to get to your clit. When he did, it was over and you crashed like a wave against the shore, and you saw stars, and you felt all those things you felt when you were happily in love with a man you thought loved you back.

So, in conclusion, you felt lies.

If he thought he could fuck reality out of your mind, he was sadly mistaken. You were coming down when your hand started sliding across the mattress. Your gun was not the only precaution you took—you’d known Natasha for years and she would strangle you if that was your only form of protection.

He was kissing down your spine when you located your knife, and he had just started to speak when you turned back and just stabbed. You had a general awareness of where he was, you knew you weren’t going to kill him, and you didn’t want to. You just needed to get away, before he started talking, apologizing, making more promises.

You didn’t wait to see where you stabbed, you simply clawed away from him until you could jump from the bed. He cried out and you heard him grabbing for you, but you couldn’t stop for anything. On your bedstand was the necklace you had shown up for, you grabbed it, along with your long coat and then you were on your way out the door.

Running around completely naked in the 40s, clutching a trench coat you knew you weren’t going to leave without, shoeless, dripping sweat and cum—you’d never thought your beautiful life with Steve Rogers would take you here.

A Bucky Barnes lecture was the last thing you wanted, but it was the only thing you would be receiving for probably several months. Well, when he was done with his silent treatment. He was furious when you returned, he didn’t say a word to you. Everyone else had completely fawned over you. They hugged you, pet your hair, told you how proud they were that you came home.

Bucky just stared at you and when they all parted so he could speak to you, he simply stormed out of Bruce’s lab. But yes, Bruce was a tad betrayed, your expectation on that had been correct. You apologized profusely and brought him coffee every day, several times a day until he stopped looking at you like a kicked baby animal.

Tony was disappointed, but not to Bucky’s extent. He simply could not fathom the hold Steve had on you still, told you as much. You admitted that you were wrong, and well, with Tony, that was really all he needed. He wanted to be right and he wanted you to tell him that you learned your lesson. To the untrained eye, he would look like a narcissist. But you knew him better, you knew he was just scared of losing you. Again. He merely wanted to know that you were sticking around and that was what you conveyed when you told him you had made a mistake going in the first place. He dropped it, like it never happened.

Natasha didn’t let you out of her sight for almost two complete weeks. She watched you and you felt her watching you, but she wasn’t going to pry. She was angry, but she was still handling you with gloves on. She wasn’t going to push you emotionally no matter how badly she wanted to. She also wasn’t going to ask questions, scared that prying would move you further away. You told her you saw Steve and that you got what you needed, she nodded, and that was the end of it. She still watched you, but she was slyer about it. She made sure you were in your room when she woke up and went to bed, but she took up Tony’s pretending routine as well.

Wanda didn’t need to ask anything; she knew because she read your thoughts. She knew because she had been outraged that you left without a goodbye, so she felt entitled to those thoughts. Not because she needed to know what happened but because she needed to know if you were going to try anything else again. She stopped being mad at you one day when you were making Bruce coffee. You hadn’t heard her, you were there in the kitchen, stuck in your own thoughts. She hugged you tight, didn’t say a word, but just like that, it was over.

Almost everyone had gotten over it in record time. You knew you were an asshole and you apologized, and you meant it, but even if you hadn’t, it wasn’t like they were ever going to hold it against you. Sometimes, knowing that, it made you feel worse because these people loved you and just like Steve had done to you, you hurt them. In the exact same way. You left.

Sam was in a much more difficult position. He felt a duty to you as one of Steve’s closest friends, but he also felt for Bucky. You’d really hurt Bucky and Sam could forgive you for being reckless, psychotic almost, even selfish. But the look on Bucky’s face when they discovered that you were gone was a hard thing to shake.

He stopped ignoring you after a couple of days, but the conversations were short, shallow. He didn’t ask about your time there and he didn’t ask about your feelings after. It was all small talk and polite conversation, it seemed like you barely knew each other at all. But sometimes, you would catch him watching you, like he was looking for signs of something that he couldn’t ask you. He wanted to know if you were still torn up by this Steve thing.

You were. You cried a lot, as if it happened all over again. Technically, in a way, it did. But you didn’t show them that, it was no longer their burden to bear. You had caused them pain when they tried to take yours away. You waited until you were alone or out of the tower, you cried quietly and quickly. You did not allow yourself those days where you would just hole up in your room. You were always awake early, asleep late, and you took care of yourself because you owed them all at least that.

You knew when Bucky was less angry, but you weren’t going to approach him. You were totally fine just waiting for him to let you know when he wanted to speak to you, which was one random morning after you’d finished sparring with Nat.

He was waiting outside the gym, muttered that he wanted to speak to you, and even Natasha had the good sense to get lost. It wasn’t going to be pretty, that much was clear. It was in his tone, his eyes, his tense posture.

He took you back to your room and ordered you to sit on the foot of your bed. He paced for a long time and you didn’t say a word or make a sound. When he finally looked at you, you seriously worried he might kill you. He was angry all over again, had worked himself up with his thoughts but you weren’t sure why entirely.

“Did you see him?”

You nodded.

“You talked to him.”

“About…everything? Um, no, not really.” There hadn’t been that conversation. Any attempts on Steve’s part were expertly diverted by you, with all your ill intentions and knowledge of how to get under Steve’s skin.

He nodded curtly. “So, this was for nothing then? You put me through all of this shit for nothing?”

“Bucky, I’m really so—”

He was storming out of the room before you finished your sentence.

You didn’t see him for two days, and when you did, it was clear again, you would be getting more silence. You told yourself you couldn’t be that hurt. You’d hurt him first, that meant he had the right to express his feelings even if that resulted in him not speaking to you.

Several days later, Bucky dropped his Winter Solider persona and became a worried, bitter mother hen. You were sick, it wasn’t something that you thought was a big deal. He’d come to speak to you again and with his enhanced hearing, heard you puking in the bathroom.

When you were done, he forced you back into bed and got Bruce. Bruce did the usual, it wasn’t as if anyone was worried, he was just too scared not to indulge Bucky. Speaking of, he was off in the corner of the room, claiming that you’d probably gotten some kind of time-traveling bug. He was being dramatic, and you became aware of what exactly had drawn him and Steve together all those years ago. Extra bitches.

“I’m sure she’s fine,” Bruce assured. “Her temperature is fine.”

“Take her blood, test it for time-traveling bugs.”

You rolled your eyes, and because Bruce had heard of the Winter Soldier, he did as was directed. Even though you were pretty sure that Bucky wasn’t serious. Not completely. Once Bruce had the excuse of focusing on your blood, that left you and Bucky alone.

“Why did you even go?”

This was not going to go over well. “Um…I had a plan…”

“A plan,” he repeated. “To do what?”

“I was sort of…kind of, just a little bit, going to kill Peggy.”

His mouth dropped.

You rolled your eyes. “I know that was stupid—”

“You’re insane!”

You glared. “Bucky.”

“You didn’t do it, right?!”

“No,” you huffed. “I should have, would have been putting her out of her misery. He’s such a fucking tool.”

He dragged his hand down his face, holding his jaw as he leaned over in his chair and pressed his elbows to the tops of his thighs. He was silent for a very long time before saying, “Yeah…he is. Did he hurt you?”

The bruises had been painfully obvious, there was no way to hide them, and you knew they could all guess what they came from. You felt your skin getting hot as you shook your head. “No. He wouldn’t do that, Bucky.”

He scoffed. “I thought that…but he did leave you and I never thought he could do that.”

“He’s…not different,” you claimed. “Just…”

“A fucking tool.” He nodded. “I know.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I know.”

“No, I’m really sorry, Bucky. I’m not just sorry for leaving and upsetting you. I’m sorry for everything, I’m sorry that you wasted months trying to make me feel better and then I just left. I’m sorry that I took you guys for granted, I’m sorry that I didn’t know how fortunate I was to have people who love me as much as you guys do. I know I betrayed your trust so it’s not going to mean much, but I will never do anything like that again.”

His eyes flit up from the floor to your face. “I do love you. So fucking much. You’re my only connection to him. And you left and I didn’t have that, I didn’t have you and I didn’t have him, and I was just…lost.”

You felt those familiar pricks in the back of your eyes, but you told yourself not to cry, you didn’t have the right. But just as soon as his eyes filled with tears, you couldn’t hold back your own anymore. He practically flung himself off the chair to rush to you, arms wrapping tightly around your shoulders.

You weren’t sure how long you both stayed there, just clinging to each other. This felt like the end of all the tension, though. This felt like a fresh start and you and Bucky were just going to have to move on without Steve. You pondered that for a while. You would have to try to find him a girlfriend or a boyfriend so he wouldn’t try to find you someone. It was going to be a little give and take, probably a major power-struggle every now and then, but it was going to be good.

The only reason you two pulled away was because both a frantic Bruce and Natasha ran into the room. They’d made all the noise two people could possibly make as they did so, crashing into each other because the doorway wasn’t big enough for the both of them.

They were wide-eyed, out of breath, both looking like they had just seen a ghost. But a much different ghost since they both regarded one another with a look of confusion.

“What is it?” Bucky demanded. “Wait, she doesn’t really have a time-traveling bug, does she?”

“Oh!” Bruce scoffed awkwardly, “I’d say so!”

You narrowed your eyes. “What the hell does that mean?”

“That can wait!” Natasha declared.

“No, it certainly cannot!” Bruce insisted.

These were two people who were normally soft-spoken, not because they were meek or soft in any general sense—hello, Black Widow and the Hulk—but in that they didn’t like drawing so much attention to themselves.

As they both started hissing arguments back at each other, Bucky sighed.

You glanced at him and he shrugged at you in response. Things were all better one second, but the very next, the world was ending.

Both Bruce and Natasha turned back to you with resolute looks on their faces. Natasha only spoke loudly this time because she was hoping to yell over Bruce, “Steve is back!” And Bruce yelled in a completely indelicate manner because he was shocked, horrified, extremely concerned, “You’re pregnant!”

Oh, shit.

Natasha and Bruce took a second to process what the other said and then gasped, turning to one another to share a look. They faced you again and decided to repeat the news only, Bruce screamed about Steve being back and Natasha more so framed it as a shrieking question you’re pregnant?!

You glanced at Bucky.

His jaw was set, his eyes narrowed just slightly. He merely nodded once then stood, throwing his hands up in the air. “Well, I’m gonna fucking kill him.”

Yep, the world was most certainly ending.

#steve rogers x reader #why write what you requested when i can just be a moody water sign and write angst?#i don't even remember when i wrote this and i barely edited it honestly bc i'm just kinda over it #i wouldn't have even posted it bc it's been THAT long but i spent time on this so #my writing

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