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stevesgother · 11 days ago

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Chalkboard Hearts - Pt IV

Pairing - KindergartenTeacher!Steve Harrington x SingleMom!Reader

WC - 5.6k

Summary - A snow day prompts Steve and Abbey to spend a little one on one time together.

AN - sorry this one took a little longer! being creative is hard when the U.S keeps sucking me of all my joy. thanks for the patience, love y’all! ~ emma

Three weeks ago, your daughter’s kindergarten teacher gave you his phone number in a chilly, deserted diner parking lot, and every weekday since that night, Abbey has had to all but drag you from his classroom when you go to pick her up in the afternoons. One topic leads to another and another, and before you realize it, you and Steve have been chatting in his mostly empty classroom for over an hour. But this morning, you’re dialing those digits he gave you on your landlines keypad for the first time with shaky fingers. You’d spent the past hour exhausting all your other options. Your mother? Working. Your sister? Out of town. Your usual babysitter? sick.

Steve was the only person you knew for a fact wouldn’t be working today.

It wasn’t for a lack of wanting to that you hadn’t called yet. Every waking hour since that night, you had been wrestling with yourself about what an appropriate reason would be. Was he flirting with you? Did he genuinely just want you to have access to him in case of an emergency? Both? Your inner dialogue was deafening– like a squawking bird in the back of your brain.

The intrusive volume of your thoughts seemed to quiet now as your leg bounced impatiently– anxiety over the prospect of having to call into work outweighing your trepidation– waiting for him to pick up the call on the other line.

He finally answered halfway through the fourth ring, “Hello?” Despite the early hour, Steve sounded wide awake. Probably rousing at the same time you did, not expecting to be temporarily blinded by three feet of bright, white snow piled on top of his car. On the kitchen radio, you can hear the newscaster announcing a closure of the local schools.

“Steve, it’s Y/N,” your voice cuts through the static.

He pauses briefly, yours probably being the last voice he expected to hear when he picked up his phone, “Hey, morning–” he clears his throat, “everything alright?”

“Yes– well– I don’t know.” You rub the tips of your fingers restlessly over your closed eyelids, “I don’t have anyone to watch Abbey with the school being closed, I've tried everyone and I really hate to ask but–”

“Of course, I can be there in thirty. Can you give me your address?”

“Are you sure, Steve? I can just call out if–”

“Don’t be ridiculous, just give me your address,” his incredulity and lack of hesitation sends the wings fluttering about in your stomach again, while cementing the reassurance of his words. You gain the courage to repeat your home address for him to write down.

You can hear the sound of pen hastily scratching paper, then after a few beats of silence he speaks again, “It’ll take me a little bit to clear off my car, but I’ll be there as soon as I can,”

“Thank you so much, you have no idea.”

“Don’t mention it,” you can hear the grin in his voice, can picture the flash of perfect white squares, “see you soon,” you breathe a heavy sigh of relief at the click of the receiver being placed back in its cradle. Abbey is bundled up on the couch watching Rugrats, a bowl of cereal in her lap. Normally, you wouldn’t let her eat in the living room, but you needed respite from her usual game of 20 Questions to make some phone calls.

“Hey, Ab,” you say as you approach her, thoroughly engrossed in her cartoons, “Is it okay if Mr. H comes over and watches you today while mommy goes to work?”

The question is more than enough to pull her focus from the television screen. Her face lights up like the Fourth of July as she nearly spills her cereal with the force of her straightening on the sofa, “Really?” She asks hopefully.

“Yes, grandma is working and Julia is sick. Is that okay?” As excited as you know she is, you want her verbal confirmation. Mostly because you’d never put your child in a situation she’s uncomfortable in; but a smaller, more selfish part of you wants to be absolved of the guilt you feel for having to leave her all day.

Your wish is granted almost instantly as she squeals and hops off the couch where she’d been lounging, placing her bowl on the coffee table. Halfway to her room, she calls, “Mommy! Where are my coloring books?”

“They’re on top of your bookshelf,” you call, “don’t make a huge mess, please!”

“I won’t!” She replies, muffled through the drywall separating you.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

You hadn’t had time to tidy the house or make yourself look even remotely presentable before Steve arrived. If it weren’t for the relief that floods your body upon seeing his car pull in the driveway, you might even be a little embarrassed. Booted footsteps shuffle up the porch as you’re shoveling things into your bag at the last minute, followed by three light knocks on the door.

“Coming!” You shout from where you stand in the dining room.

Before you even have the chance to reach the foyer, Abbey is darting from her bedroom in plastic play shoes and throwing the door open with immeasurable enthusiasm.

“Hey–” Steve starts, expecting it to be you before he realizes who’s greeting him, “Oh, hi Ab,” he waves to the little face staring up at him, “Where’s your mom?”

“Mommy!” Abbey calls, “Mr. H is here!”

Steve spots you holding two pieces of notebook paper clad with chicken scratch scribblings. You look frazzled– hair thrown up hastily and scrubs wrinkly. He scours the place where he would normally find an emotion akin to pity for your distressed state, but in its absence, he only feels endearment laced with a little concern.

He doesn’t get a word in before you’re shoving the papers in his hands and spouting off information that he’s praying is already on the sheets you’ve given him.

“I should be home by five, if anything happens, this–” you point to a barely legible number, “--is my work phone. This is her doctor’s phone number and she’s allergic to peanuts. There aren’t any peanuts in the house but–” you sigh, exasperated with yourself, “just in case.”

The rest of the pages are filled with ramblings about which channels Abbey likes to watch and how to work the television. How, in case she needs a bath, you have to pull and then twist the knob for the hot water to run. That she is not, under any circumstances, allowed to put nail polish on by herself and where you keep her Epi Pens.

Steve’s surprised at how many of these sentiments he already has catalogued. He’s required to know Abbey’s emergency contacts and that she has a nut allergy for his job, but he knows that channel thirty-seven has the best cartoons because Abbey once told him that Power Puff Girls was her favorite– and you’d already relayed to him the hilariously tragic tale of what happened the last time Abbey attempted to paint her own nails.

Despite this revelation, he doesn’t dare interrupt you. He indulges your ranting, a grin creeping involuntarily along his face.

“-- sorry, I’m rambling– I’ve just never left her with someone who wasn’t my mom or her sitter before,” you’re a little breathless after two straight minutes of talking.

“Hey, hey– you’re okay,” he wastes no time reassuring you, “you know I’d never let anything happen to her.” You nod your understanding, “Besides,” now he’s speaking to Abbey, “we’re gonna have a super fun time right?”

She shouts, “Yes!”

He looks at you with his brows raised, amused, “See?”

“Okay, alright,” you kneel down, chuckling, “do I get a hug? Or am I chopped liver?”

Giggling, Abbey wraps you in a suffocating embrace, like always. Her excitement for Steve has never quelled her affection for you, and you can tell that she’s still hesitant to see you go. You smack a kiss on her cheek, grabbing your bag from the floor as you rise again.

“Swear you’ll call me if anything happens?” You ask him one more time, already knowing the answer.

“Cross my heart.” He smiles fondly, stoking the flames burning bright around the cage that your heart inhabits.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Your home is cozy, much cozier than anything Steve had growing up. He’s warmed at the idea that Abbey has the privilege of growing up in a house that feels so lived in– stains on the carpet, soft edges and yellow lighting. There’s clutter on the kitchen counter by the microwave and colorful alphabet magnets securing several bright pieces of artwork to the fridge.

“Are these the pictures you drew in art class last week?” He asks Abbey, who has been trailing behind him all through the house, pointing things out to him as they go.

“Uh-huh, Mrs. Morse helped me with that one,” she points to what Steve thinks is probably supposed to be a zebra.

“Well, you’re very talented, I love them,”

“Can we go play outside?” She asks, drawing out the last syllable and completely ignoring Steve’s compliment.

“Sure we can,” he chuckles, “where do you keep your snowsuit?”.

Abbey takes Steve by the wrist and leads him to the coat closet by the front door. Similar to the rest of your house, it’s stuffed to the brim– full of puffy nylon and heavy winter boots. He catches a glimpse of a familiar brown and green jacket– his jacket. You’d promised to wash it and return it to him, but it must’ve slipped your mind. He grins to himself at the reminiscence as he fetches Abbey’s snow gear and shuts the door.

Steve hadn’t dressed appropriately for a morning rolling around in the cold. He had slipped on a pair of your mittens, probably meant more for fashion than practicality, because his fingers were already completely numb. But he can’t seem to deny her when Abbey pleads with him to make snow angels. They’d just spent the past half an hour building two snowmen– one short like Abbey and one tall like Steve, she insisted, as she wrapped her scarf around the snowman that resembled her.

“Please, Mr. H?” She begs when she notices his hesitancy.

“Alright, alright,” he chuckles, “but then we’re gonna go inside and have lunch. Deal?”

That appears to be a good enough covenant for her, “Okay!” Abbey exclaims, falling fairly harshly to the cushioned ground. Steve braces himself for tears, but Abbey only keeps laughing in that contagious way as she begins spreading her arms and legs out beside her in a repetitive motion.

“Are you gonna make one?” She questions from her place on the ground.

He grunts as he reluctantly lowers himself down next to her, anticipating the icy wetness waiting underneath him. The snow seeps uncomfortably through his jeans, but the sound of Abbey’s unbridled joy nearly makes up for his soiled clothing.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

What’d you want to eat, Ab?” Steve calls from the pantry while Abbey changes out of her wet clothes in her bedroom.

“Not hungry!” She calls back.

He sighs, expecting her stubbornness– she was nearly as mulish as you.

“Remember the deal we made earlier?” He asks, “That if I made a snow angel with you, that you’d have to eat something for lunch, right?”

She emerges from her room, pout prominent on her strikingly adorable features, “But I wanna keep playing,” she whines, giving her foot a little stomp on the linoleum for emphasis.

“We can keep playing after, I promise,” he knows he’s not winning this battle without a compromise, “does your mom let you eat in the living room?” He asks with a lilt to his voice that makes him sound conspiratorial.

“Sometimes…”

“How about…” he pauses as if thinking, “I make us some food and we watch a movie while we eat?”

He can tell he’s got her after that– hook, line and sinker. She still pretends to mull over his proposition for a moment before agreeing, “Hmm…I think that sounds good,” she settles, trying and failing to mask her elation.

That’s how Steve ended up, plates of grilled cheese sandwiches in hand, dodging barbies and miscellaneous stuffed animals on his way to the living room a few minutes later.

“Have you found a movie yet?” He asks Abbey as he sets the plates down atop the coffee table.

“Yes but–” she jumps on her tiptoes, “I can’t reach it,”

Steve walks over to the towering shelf of VHS tapes in front of her, “Which one are you trying to reach?”

Abbey points at the tape in question, “Home Alone,”

“Alrighty,” Steve says as he grabs it with ease, “Your foods on the table, go sit while I put it in,”

Abbey, for once, does as he asks– bounding over to the coffee table with the excitement typical of a five-year-old who has an adult's permission to break a house rule.

While Steve eyes your VCR, he catches a glimpse of a photo out of the corner of his eye, causing him to pause. It’s you, no older than twenty, holding a swaddled baby in a sterile hospital room. He doesn’t recognize the picture as one he’s seen before.

Of course you’ve never seen it before, he thinks, you barely know her. Get a grip.

You’re filled with such youthful brilliance in the shot, despite the underlying weariness of having just given birth; your hair tied messily into a bun at the nape of your neck, sweat beading on your brow bone. It’s just you and Abbey, Steve thinks her father must’ve been the photographer.

He can’t help but think of himself at that age and all the stupid shit he was doing. How, if you had handed him a baby then, he wouldn’t have known the first thing about what to do with it– but here you had raised such a bright, healthy daughter and largely alone. He was struck by such a sudden and overwhelming admiration for you that he nearly forgot what he was supposed to be doing.

“Mr. H?” Abbey asked, mouth full, “When are we gonna start the movie?”

Her question sends him hurling back to reality. A reality where he’s your daughter’s kindergarten teacher, and the two of you are friendly with each other at best.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

At some point during the movie, once their lunch was reduced to crumbs on empty plates, Abbey had hauled out her box of coloring books and crayons that she had been looking for this morning.

Steve, the less creative of the two, was coloring in a cartoon illustration of a fairy while Abbey was making her own drawing on a piece of white construction paper. The lack of constant chatter is a welcome reprieve, but he knows that Abbey only becomes quiet when she’s particularly concentrated, so he chances a peek to his right at what she’s working on.

She got a death grip on a brown crayon– shaved almost down to the tip– with her tongue sticking ever so slightly between her lips as she focuses intently on her art.

The picture is of three stick figures– two tall and one significantly smaller in between them. It’s set at what looks to be a playground, a bright yellow sun in the sky and blue scribblings around white clouds. Swings, slides and even a little blue dog adorn the rest of the background.

Pleasantly surprised at her artistry, Steve says, “That looks amazing, Ab!”

She’s snapped out of her stupor, her face split with a wide toothless grin. She doesn’t thank him, only lets out a few bashful giggles at his praise and says, “I like yours too,”

“Is that you?” He points at the littlest figure.

“Mhm, see? I made her hair curly like mine!”

“It looks just like you,” he agrees, then draws her attention to the other figures, “Is this your mom and your dad next to you?”

“This is mommy,” she points, “I put her in the blue clothes she wears at work,” he knows she’s referring to your scrubs, but the phrasing makes him chuckle.

“And this is you!” She circles the figure she’s drawn with the tip of her finger. She’s included his voluminous chestnut hair and his silver wire-framed glasses, even one of the stupid striped polos he wears at school. Looking at it now, it’s obvious who it was supposed to be– but it’s so unexpected that he feels his face heat up at the realization.

“Oh, wow, Ab– That’s–” he grapples to find the words to express the juxtaposition he’s found himself in. He’s honored, truly, to be included in this portrait Abbey’s made of herself and her mother– her family– but there’s a gnawing guilt he can’t seem to shake. The fear that, in some way, he’s replacing her father.

“I love it, Ab, thank you,” he smiles fondly at her work, the proud grin she wears slowly melting the flash freeze of trepidation that encased his conscience.

“Can we hang it on the fridge for mommy to see when she gets home?” She asks after a moment.

“That sounds like a great idea.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Around four o’clock, Abbey begins asking what they’re having for dinner. Steve wonders briefly if you always have to deal with her being so ravenous.

“How about we start cooking now? That way it’ll be ready for your mom when she gets home,”

“Okay,” Abbey concurs. Steve wouldn’t consider himself a Michelin star chef by any means, but he can make a mean chicken parmesan.

A trip to the grocery store was needed to grab some ingredients. After scribbling down the required items on a crumpled receipt, and struggling for ten minutes to get Abbey’s carseat in the back of his BMW, they’re on their way.

He meets her eyes in the rearview mirror, “Do you want me to put on some music?”

“Christmas music?” She asks hopefully.

Steve isn’t the biggest fan of Christmas music– Christmas in general, really– but he obliges her request and turns the dial to their local channel, soft bells and a choir of voices begin to flood through the interior of the car. She really is so harmlessly manipulative with her saucer eyes and round button nose, he can’t seem to refuse her anything.

Steve drives more cautiously than he thinks he ever has, even more so than when he was sixteen and learning how to drive with his family’s Pontiac as his father stared harshly at him from the passenger seat. He comes to a full halt at every stop sign, and he never takes his eyes off the road.

After fighting some early rush hour traffic, they make it. Without a second thought, Abbey grasps Steve’s hand while walking through the parking lot. He tries not to look startled at the sudden contact, recalling how she always seems to have a firm grip on your hand in public spaces too. Steve’s just glad she feels comfortable with him.

“Can I help?” Abbey asks as Steve grabs a cart from the corral.

“Course’,” he smiles, “do you wanna grab the ingredients and put them in the cart for me?”

She bounces excitedly, “Sure!”

Wandering through the aisles, Abbey never strayed from Steve’s side. Every time he read off an item, she would dutifully fetch it and throw it into the cart with a little more force than necessary, but Steve didn’t mind.

“Do you live by yourself?” She asks out of the blue as they peruse the store.

“I do,”

“Then how come you know how to cook?”

He laughs at her inquisitive nature, “Well I have to eat don’t I?”

“Yeah…” she ponders, “I guess so,”

“Alright, the last thing we need is breadcrumbs,” he informs her, scanning the shelves.

Like earlier, Abbey attempts to stand on her tiptoes to try and reach the can in question, “I’m getting it,” she mumbles in determination, very much not getting it.

“Here,” Steve says as he lifts her up by her waist like it was second nature to him.

“Got it!” She exclaims, tossing it in with the rest of the groceries. “Can I ride in the cart now?” She yawns with a polite hand over her mouth. He supposes grocery shopping takes a lot out of you when all the shelves are at least five feet taller than your head.

“Sure,” Steve chuckles as he slots her little legs through the designated holes.

Despite the ride home only being about ten minutes long, Abbey manages to doze off– lulled to sleep by the subtle hum of the car's engine. Steve veered as gently as possible into the driveway, careful not to disturb her even though he was about to wake her up anyway.

“Abbey,” he shakes her softly, “we’re home,”

Abbey rouses, but only slightly. She yawns again and stretches with her arms over her head before extending them out, silently motioning with her eyes still closed for Steve to carry her inside.

“Okay, c’mon lazy bones,” he grunts at the angle but lifts her from her car seat nonetheless. After unlocking the door one-handed, he sets her carefully on the couch and covers her with a plush throw blanket before heading back outside for the rest of the groceries.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

The first thing you notice when you approach your front door is the savory smell of something cooking. Inside, the TV is off and your daughter is sleeping soundly on the couch. Quiet clattering noises flood from the kitchen.

The sleeves of Steve’s burgundy sweater are rolled up to his elbows and the kitchen smells of roasting chicken and mahogany as he stirs a simmering pot of homemade pasta sauce. He’s humming some tune softly under his breath– Bob Segar, you think.

“Hey,” you greet with a grin as you set your bag down on the dining table. Steve turns around to meet you as you ask, “What’re you doing?”

“Cooking?” He replies.

“No, really?” You deadpan back, eliciting an amused chuckle from the man standing at your stove.

“Abbey was asking about dinner,” he pauses, “we were gonna do this whole thing– we were gonna make it for you together, have it ready by the time you got home, but,” he gestures with his arm to the living room where Abbey is napping. Steve Harrington is nothing if not expressive– talking with his hands, eyebrows always either furrowed in concentration or raised in amusement. It’s one of the most charming things about him, you think.

“Well, thank you,” you say, “you didn’t have to do that,” you feel a blush heat your cheeks at how domestic this feels– like you come home to Steve cooking dinner for you and your daughter every night. You can picture it as easily as if it were your actual reality and it leaves you feeling briefly vertiginous. You’re not sure Jeremy ever cooked even one meal for you in the entirety of your relationship.

“The chickens almost done and then I'll get out of your hair,” he assumes a teasing lilt to his voice to disguise the fact that he feels like he’s overstepping– overstaying his welcome or crossing some invisible line.

“Are you kidding?” You scoff, “You’ve gotta at least stick around long enough to see how it came out,”

“You don’t mind?” He asks hesitantly.

“Steve, of course I don’t mind,” honestly, you think you’d start a fire and burn your house to the ground if it meant getting him to stay just a little longer to help you put it out, “plus, I’m sure Abbey’ll be stoked.”

“Alright, well,” he smiles warmly, “it’s ready if you wanna go wake the gremlin up,”

At the table, Abbey insists on sitting next to Steve in the chair across from you.

“This is delicious, Steve,” you compliment.

“Best you ever had?” He teases, but his phrasing makes you choke a little on your pasta.

Abbey makes a twisted face, “The sauce tastes funny.” Saved by the bell.

“Abbey!” you scold playfully, poorly concealing a laugh behind the back of your hand, “Sorry– I think she’s just used to eating Prego,”

“That’s okay– I think she’s right, actually,” he assures you, twisting his expression into something sour and causing Abbey to giggle. His eyes are the color of rich soil as he sends you an oh, so familiar look across the table, communicating another silent thought to you. One that says, I don’t mind how blunt she is, I think it’s endearing.

When dinner is finished, Steve insists on doing the dishes for you too. “You cooked, Steve, let me–” you try to barter.

“--You do enough as it is,” he counters simultaneously.

“You watched my child all day!” You laugh at his stubbornness.

“I do that everyday anyway!” He argues, beginning to fill up the porcelain farmhouse sink with hot, sudsy water.

“At least let me help,” you give him that wide eyed look you always seem to be giving him lately. God, you’re no better than Abbey. “You wash, I’ll dry?”

“Fine,” he tries to frown but his smirk betrays him in his act of faux annoyance.

After a few minutes of stuffy silence, you ask, “She wasn’t too much of a pain in the ass today, was she?”

“Not any more than usual,” he jokes and a plate slips through his fingers, causing a small splash of water to coat your face in dishwater. You gasp at the sensation.

“Oh– Sorry!--” he tries to apologize, but you take your dishwater soaked fingers and flick them in the direction of his own face– small soapy bubbles clinging to his lashes and eyebrows.

“I cannot believe you right now,” he says, wiping his eyes with his sleeve.

“There, now we’re even,” you smirk.

“I’ll let it slide. This time.”

“Mommy!” Abbey rushes into the kitchen, “Can Mr. H stay to watch a cartoon before bed?”

“I don’t know, baby, it’s getting late,” you can just barely see the flash of heartbreak in her gaze before Steve interjects, “It’s okay, I don’t mind staying for a little longer,”

You send him a skeptical glance over your shoulder, but he just nods and asks Abbey what she’d like to watch.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

The end credits for an episode of The Rugrats flashes across the screen, illuminating Abbey’s sleeping face in muted shades of blue and orange. She snores, slumped against Steve’s chest with her arms wrapped around his torso. You sit propped against the other arm of the couch watching them intently– trying to memorize the sight before you. You’ve never seen Abbey cradled like this before by anyone else except you. It wasn’t something you felt you craved until recently.

Steve turns, catching you staring but not calling attention to it. He can count on several hands the amount of times he’s done the same to you– Steve Harrington is many things, but he is not a hypocrite.

“Did you know the guy from Devo wrote the theme song for this?” He gestures towards the television.

“Really?”

“Mhm,” he replies, “I can’t remember who told me that,”

After a few beats of hushed silence, you say, “Should probably put that one to bed– unless you wanna be here all night,” you try to joke but your voice shakes.

He would if you were sincerely asking. He’d stay right here on this uncomfortably worn sofa, with your daughter whom he has such an affinity for, sleeping against his chest for the next millenia. He’d fossilize here if he could– your presence beside him calm and grounding like an anchor in a storm.

He voices none of this. Instead he says, “Do you want to take her?”

“It’s okay,” you wave him off, “I’ll just come with you.” The three of you slowly make your way to Abbey’s bedroom, Steve carrying her bridal style against his torso and the door creaks on its hinges when Steve pushes it open with his hip. She stirs only a little when he sets her down, but is soothed quickly with a firm palm stroking her back a few times.

The door clicks behind you as Steve leads you both back to the living room.

“I should probably–”

“Do you want–”

You begin to speak at the same time, awkward chuckles leaving both of your nervous lips.

“You first,” he offers, scratching the back of his neck.

“I was– just gonna ask if you wanted some wine, but I know it’s late–”

“Wine sounds great.” His lips form a line across his face as he grins.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Half a bottle of wine split between the two of you, and your hands were tingling from the effort it was taking not to reach out and card your fingers through the hair of the man sitting across from you.

“How come you never called?” He asks suddenly, but not unkindly.

“Hm?”

“You never called– well, not til’ this morning at least,”

“Didn’t know what counted as an emergency, I guess,” you shrug, the alcohol shaking your nerves loose.

He must’ve been feeling in a similar way to you– speaking freely in a way he wouldn’t have before, “Just wanted to talk to you,” he smiles fondly.

“Oh,” you whisper, and when you don’t say anything else, Steve changes the subject.

“I like that photo of you on top of the entertainment center,” he says contemplatively, “you looked really…peaceful,”

“Well, raising a miniature version of yourself tends to age you a bit, I suppose,”

“Can I ask you something?” He asks, testing the waters.

“Always”

“Where was Jeremy in the picture?”

“We always talk about me,” you roll your eyes spiritedly and release a contented sigh, “Tell me why you really came to Maine,”

“Don’t deflect,” he teases.

“C’monnnn,” you draw out the last syllable, “answer,”

“I asked you first,” Steve chuckles.

“Jeremy wasn’t at Abbey’s birth,” you admit, it's immediately like an aching weight removed from the length of your spine– one that's been there consistently for years. “He didn’t even want me to have her,” you scoff humorlessly.

You had told almost no one this before. For the sake of keeping appearances, even after he passed, only your mother and sister knew that Jeremy had pushed for you to terminate your pregnancy when he’d found out; and that only once your daughter was actually born did he want to be involved in her life. The burden felt shockingly easy to lay at Steve’s feet, like someone might confess to a priest. This tender man sitting across from you– whether it was the wine or simply his presence, you aren’t sure– but it felt so effortless to be vulnerable right now. Your soft, white underbelly on display for him to do as he pleases, trusting him to have a gentle touch.

“That fucking sucks,” he knows you well enough by now to understand you’ve never cared for empty platitudes, so he doesn’t bother schooling his bitter, empathetic expression, “M’ sorry,”

Not wanting to dwell on it any longer, you say, “Your turn,”

“My old man was an abusive, drunk asshole,” he says frankly, “I don’t know if I ever saw him sober,” he huffs a laugh but there’s no humor behind it. “I needed to get out– to see what else there was, you know?” He asks, and you nod, “He died in my sophomore year of college. Didn’t even go to the wake.”

“Well, I’m really glad you ended up in this shithole,” he laughs at that, “I think you’re pretty neat, Harrington,”

“Thanks,” he deadpans, “Juries still out on you,” he pokes your side and you giggle like you’re a damn teenager again.

You swat him lightly on his bicep in retaliation, and before you know it, you’ve both succumbed to a fit of contagious laughter. When it begins to die down, you’re closer to him than you’d been before. It steals the breath from your lungs and your heart thrashes inside your ribcage like a wild animal.

You’re gazing at each other now, heads light from the alcohol and dizzy with proximity. His heavy lidded gaze lands on your lips for a second too long, and then he’s pulling your face flush to his own by the sharp edge of your jaw.

It’s a soft kiss, but it’s maddening nonetheless. His lips are plush and smooth– malleable against yours. You huff a surprised breath of air, but don’t pull away. One of his calloused hands is resting firmly on your waist while the other one snakes up tenderly to hold the back of your head. You feel that familiar itch to bury your fingers in his brown tresses, so finally, you do. What realistically only lasts a moment, feels like hours before he’s pulling away, nearly frightened.

When he looks at you, his doe eyes are wide with fear, glassy with the impending fallout of what he’d just done. He stammers, “I’m sorry–that was–” he runs his hands down the length of his guilt twisted face.

“No– Steve, It’s okay, I–”

“I should go–” he says quickly as he slips his shoes and coat on, not even bothering to tie the laces, he grabs his keys, “I’m sorry I’ll– I’ll see you on Monday,”

He’s closing the door behind him before your mind gets the chance to catch up with your mouth. You wished to tell him that it was okay, that you liked it– that you wanted him to stay and never leave again.

But it’s too late. You’re left alone in the stifling air of your living room, half a bottle of wine on the coffee table and your heart on the floor.

taglist - @soulxiez @sadieshairbrush @the-witty-pen-name @ilovetaquitosmmmm @mrsnarnian @negomi123 @micheledawn1975 @cherryc1nnam0n @paleidiot @adaydreamaway30 @twinkling-moonlillie @royalestrellas @jamdoughnutmagician @cali-888 @kolsmikaelson @1deverland @borhapparker @alexa4040 @chiliwhore @weonlysaidgoodbyewithwordss @paddockspookie42 @foxes-n-frogs @j-mlover383

divider cred - @cafekitsune

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kimmie2me · 3 months ago

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Dynamite and His Player 2

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀𓂅⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Twitch Gamer!Bakugou x AFAB!Reader

.....

Bakugou glances over at the camera, brows furrowed as he adjusts his headset. "Alright, you extras, get ready to shut the hell up," he growls, his voice laced with annoyance. "She’s real. I’ve got her right here, and she’s playing with me tonight."

You laugh off-screen, causing his chat to explode with reactions. Up until now, they didn't believe a word Bakugou said when he claimed he had a girlfriend. After all, this is the guy known for his explosive reactions when things go slightly wrong. He grumbles, trying to keep his cool, but the slight blush on his cheeks gives him away.

The game loads up, some horror-puzzle co-op that requires a ton of coordination. But while Bakugou’s all business—focused on solving puzzles and surviving—you have other ideas. You’re busy teasing him, wandering off to explore the map, or purposely messing up just to get a rise out of him.

"Can you just—dammit! Will you STOP wandering off?" Bakugou snaps as he watches your character take another detour. "We’re supposed to be working together!"

You grin at the screen, purposely moving your character in circles. "Aw, come on, Suki~ We’re just having fun, right?"

His jaw clenches, and he mutters something under his breath about "not having fun if you keep screwing around." But his viewers are eating it up, laughing at his frustration and flooding the chat with comments like "She's brave for messing with him, LMAO😭😭" and "Bros .4 seconds away from exploding his monitor for the 10 millionth time🪦"

Eventually, he just huffs, slouching in his chair and mumbling, "Fine. Do whatever the hell you want. I’ll just wait here." His expression says he's beyond annoyed, but the hint of a smile peeking through his scowl gives away that maybe, just maybe, he's actually having a little fun too.

Grumpy Twitch Gamer Bakugou Headcanons

...

— Every time he messes up, he narrows his eyes at the camera with that “are you stupid?” glare. Chat spams "IT’S NOT OUR FAULT!” and "WHY R U LOOKING AT US LIKE WE DID THAT??" but he just huffs, “If you idiots weren’t DISTRACTING me…”

— Bakugou’s streaming style is brutally honest—constantly throwing out curses like it’s second nature. If he dies in-game, his go-to is, “How the hell am I supposed to win with this garbage game?!” and he never blames himself, ever.

— He has zero chill. Every so often, he’ll pound the desk so hard that the camera shakes, and one time he punched his mic so fiercely that it cut out, leaving chat in hysterics as he tries to fix it, muttering about “this piece of crap gear.”

— After every gaming session, he gives a review of the game he’s playing—most of which devolve into full-on rants about terrible controls, stupid enemies, and “whoever the hell designed these levels.” At this point, it's an entire essay by the time he's done.

— There are moments when he hits the mute button just to scream or cuss off-mic. Chat sees him red-faced and mouthing words, knowing he’s losing it, which makes them spam laugh emotes to annoy him further.

— Sometimes, when things get really bad, he just simply says "Okay." and goes quiet, leaning in close to the screen with this intense focus. Chat knows that if he’s silent, it’s only because he’s plotting to obliterate whatever got him killed.

— It’s become a running joke with his followers—every time he streams, they place bets on which piece of his equipment he’ll break. He’s replaced his keyboard three times already and had to upgrade his camera stand because he broke the last one during a particularly heated rage quit.

— When he finally beats a level, he acts like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “See? Wasn’t even hard, you just have to not be a dumbass.” Cue the smug smirk.

— Occasionally, in his absolute rage, he’ll end the stream immediately after a loss. One second he’s there, screaming at the game, and then—stream offline.

— Despite all the rage, he’s actually insanely good at gaming. When he goes on a winning streak, chat blows up with admiration, but he barely acknowledges it. “’Course I won—who the hell do you think I am?”

— He has zero patience for backseat gamers. “Oh, you think you could do better? Why don’t you go start your own damn channel, then!” The mods know by now to instantly time out anyone who even hints at suggesting how he should play, and the ban count is astronomical by the end of each stream.

— Occasionally, Bakugou gets so into the game that he goes almost silent, and chat jokes it’s an ASMR session because all they can hear is his intense breathing and muttered curses. “Oi, STOP saying it’s ASMR, it’s not ASMR, you freaks!”

— Loading screens are his worst enemy. Every single time, he glares directly into the camera, arms crossed and seething, ranting about the “stupid long loading times” and how he could’ve “beat the damn game twice by now.” and how "a whole child could've been born by now." Chat watches in suspense because they know the rage is simmering, just waiting to explode.

— If he’s playing a console game, the controller does not have a safe future. He’s thrown it across the room, slammed it on his knee or desk, and even threatened it like, “You’re next, you little piece of shit, keep messing up on me.” He’s gone through so many controllers that his sponsor had to send him extras.

— When he loses in a PvP game, he has 1,001 excuses. “Lag. Dumb luck. Exploiter. The devs nerfed my character, obviously.” If chat calls him out, he just scoffs, “You think that was my fault? Keep dreaming.” And the mods instantly clear out any “L” spam from chat because he’s already dangerously close to slamming his keyboard.

— His channel has special emotes for when he loses his temper—explosion icons, angry Bakugou faces, and even one of his own “ARE YOU FUCKIN’ KIDDING ME?!” face. Chat spams these whenever he starts heating up, which only fuels his fire.

— His viewers love to try and provoke him. Someone will innocently say, “Hey Dynamight, I think you missed something back there,” and he’ll instantly pause, glare at the screen, and say, “I DIDN’T MISS ANYTHING, DUMBASS, WE'RE MOVING ON.” It’s like a game within the game for his followers. (He goes back to check right after.)

— “Easy mode?” he scoffs at the suggestion. “I’d rather throw myself into a fire than play on easy mode.” Even if he’s dying over and over, he’ll never, ever change the difficulty. Chat has tried for months to get him to switch, but he’s stubbornly loyal to “the only real mode” (aka Hard Mode, Nightmare mode or above).

— If he actually wins a match, he’s unbearable. He’ll sit there, grinning and basking in his victory, smirking at the camera with a smug, “And that, extras, is why I’m better than every single one of you.” Cue chat sarcastically clapping.

— He once had a bet with his mods that he’d try to do a stream without cursing or raging. He lasted five minutes before he exploded, screaming, “THIS GAME IS FUCKING RIGGED!” after an unexpected jump-scare. The mods were dying, and he banned half of them out of spite (they were unbanned five minutes later, but still).

— Every time he’s about to start a new game, he’s got this exaggerated, dramatic intro: “ALRIGHT, EXTRAS, prepare yourselves ‘cause we’re about to dominate the shit outta this game. And if I see anyone backseat gaming, you’re banned. Don’t even THINK about telling me what to do.”

— Every now and then, when he dies for the tenth time in a row, he just deadpans to the camera, “I swear to God, I’m deleting my channel after this.” Chat knows he’s bluffing, but they still spam crying emojis like “NOOO PLEASE DON’T” just to mess with him.

— Every so often, when he’s focused on a tough level, he’ll mutter something like, “Okay, maybe you’re not so bad, chat. Don’t tell anyone I said that,” and the comments absolutely blow up with hearts and “WE LOVE YOU, DYNAMIGHT.” He immediately goes red and yells, “Didn’t mean it, idiots!” but it’s too late.

— Once, he rage-quit a game so hard that his entire setup fell silent. He’d punched the desk, and the screen went black. Chat watched in shock as the stream just… cut off. The clip went viral, with an entire 30-minute compilation titled “Every time Dynamight destroyed his setup” He came back the next day, reacted to it, and you already know he gave the video a thumbs down and left a long hate comment.

— His mods convinced him to play a “relaxing, casual game” that was secretly full of jump scares. The first time it happened, he almost flipped his entire desk. He immediately banned half of his mods and told the rest they were “on thin ice.” Chat still laughs about it every time he plays a “cute” game.

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poorly-drawn-mdzs · 7 months ago

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Dungeon Meshi: The RPG

#Dungeon Meshi #laios touden #marcille donato #chilchuck tims #senshi #animation #game dev diary #Please give a huge hand to my coding partner #who labored for over two weeks to figure out how to implement reaction animation for the battle icons.#You may also notice that I updated the battle portraits from my previous post! New and (mostly) improved!#The death screens were not changed because I didn't think they'd get used for this video.#But Chilchuck getting one-shotted and leaving due to this being outside of his pay? Accidental comedy gold.#The full sprite (I didn't realize the bottom third would be hidden) says: “NOT PAID FOR THIS”#And yeah he's smoking. He gets a smoke break as part of his contract. Let a guy have his vices. He's teetering on a divorce.#Dungeon Meshi would be a fun rpg in theory but it would need to have immersive mechanics like cooking and foraging.#And hunger and fatigue and other status effects.#A slightly more lighthearted fear and hunger sort of game.#But that is for some other fan to do. This is just a fun tech demo for us to learn RPG maker!#So...with this mini-project concluded #we now have a foundation we can pass over to our actual game!#Next game dev post will be some game assets (probably busts and battle icons for the main party)#And after that! Most likely some more sprite sheets (I have made a few more since my first attempt)#Thank you for everyone who has been rooting us on since I started talking about this project. It means a ton B'*)

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stealingyourbones · 4 months ago

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Out of all of the people The Ghost King Phantom expected to relate to, it definitely wasn’t the scrawny red headed photographer of the Daily Planet. Jimmy Olsen has gotten so many temporary superpowers over his time being Superman’s friend. Hell, he once gained a 4th dimensional being’s reality warping abilities when he was given said dimensional being’s powers during a fight. Sure there’s a dozen or so heroes with the same amount of powers he has, but none as suddenly granted to them as a all powerful god that can relate to a teenager.

#bones speaks #hi this is bones in the future: below tags I do mean but I was Not Sober while writing them so they may have severe spelling errors #bones prompts #dpxdc #dp x dc #just google the amount of times Jimmy has had powers and what they are. I just read a comic #where the F PLOT of all things is Jimmy getting superpowers and causing havoc in Metropolis. that’s how frequent this is #the all powerful god powers was in a recent Batman/Superman Worlds Finest issue where he got Mxyzptlk’s powers #like guys. there are SO many heroes that have more powers than Danny in DC.#off the top of the dome I can only name a few (in my defense I am Not Sober so memory is Not Good:)#Raven. The Spectre. Superman. The Atom. Batman (temporary powers). Dr Fate. Martian Manhunter #and I could name more if my memory wasn’t shot rn #this is a mini rant in the tags but I’m so tired of the ‘Danny has so many superpowers it would stump DC’#it would for sure shock them. but they wouldn’t be surprised. why are they all so shocked from Danny’s arrival?#I’ve made many posts about how much more interesting Danny simply being in the JL like it’s just another Tuesday would be interesting #so many folks enjoy the discovery aspect of Danny and not the part where he’s alreaady a JL member and is #*isnt OP. it’s so much more interesting to write a character with flaws. make him regular powered and able to be struck down by a Big Bad #and not just his weaknesses. he’s been beaten to shit by ghosts before. the angst possibilities is crazy.#Billy Batson looking at a kid nearly his age get hurt more and more by Black Adam? Fear Gas setting him on a rampage in Gotham absolutely #destroying his perception of what being safe is anymore. Lex Luther finding his weakness and wrecking his shit #it could be SUCH an interesting direction to take dpxdc but no one does. when I write prompts with those ideas they make a fraction of the #notes of the prompts where I pander and have batfam in them. diversity of ideas in fandom is what makes us strong. keep the new and #unorthodox ideas flowing. it feels like you’re swimming upstream but it’s worth it to help a fandom grow

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megwritesriddles · 2 months ago

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Tom Riddle as your secret admirer at Christmas ༊*·˚

Word count: 630

Masterlist

Authors note: Different style of writing for me, half bullet points, half prose. Not sure what to call it, a drabble? no it's too long. Headcanons? no, there's a storyline. This was originally going to be a series of scenarios with Riddle at various relationship stages, but of course the next one I wrote turned into a beast (friends with benefits), so here's this while I finish the other. Whatever this is, I hope you like it anyway mwah ( ◕◡◕)っ ♡

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

You know of Riddle but you don’t really know that he knows of you

But boy, he definitely does know of you, way more than he should

He admires your intelligence, and kindness and looks from afar

He doesn’t want to complicate things for both of you by associating with you in public initially

AND he hates the idea of actually being vulnerable when not hiding behind the blanket of anonymity

He sticks to occasional anonymous gifts to satiate his inconvenient desires for connection with you

My angel,

Flowers that while exquisite, may never even hope to compete with your beauty. A mere shallow token from the deep well of feelings I harbour.

Yours,

Attached is a bouquet of your favourite flowers, enchanted never to wilt

Enough people’s names start with T that he’s happy to sign the card this way, unconsciously hoping you might figure him out

When you first receive them, you’re sure they mustn’t be for you, asking around all your dormmates to see if they might be for them

Nobody claims them, and they are your absolute favourite flower

You display them in a vase on your bedside despite finding the whole thing odd

A few more little gifts appear for you throughout the year, although you have doubts they could really be for you, they are all personalised to you

You spend many nights with friends pondering over who ‘T’ may be

Riddle knows how much Christmas seems to mean to most romantic couples, so he figures he must go all out for you

My angel,

The days are long and gloomy but ever brightened by your presence. Thoughts of you keep out the harsh cold at night, giving me my very first taste of what many call ‘the Christmas spirit’. I wish for us to spend time together like other couples do, cuddled together by the fire. Perhaps one day. I have never hoped for such things before, but you have changed everything. You are now and forever my angel. I worship you from afar.

Yours,

With this note comes a large box, full of various gifts

Jewellery, perfumes, chocolates, luxurious quills and ink, an intricate leatherbound diary, and indulgent bathing products, all perfectly tailored to your preferences

You’re unsure what to make of all this, half-flattered, half-creeped out

Riddle had pulled a lot of strings to get you so many expensive products, so is absolutely thrilled when that day at dinner, he spots you wearing the angel wing necklace he gave you

You don’t realise that both your initials are engraved on the back

When Tom Riddle, polite and charming Head Boy, compliments your necklace as you sit alone, you pay it no mind

Until he innocuously asks if there are any engravings, and you look down to see the letters T.M.R. staring back at you beside your own initials

He’s gone by the time you look back up, though a note sits on the table before you in familiar handwriting, clearly prepared ahead of time

My angel,

Seek me out tonight if you wish, I will not push. I will be in the back of the library awaiting you with great anticipation. I promise that with me you will live a very happy life and want for nothing. I am not as frightening as I may seem, I am merely afraid, and I will tell you all about it tonight if you come find me. Then perhaps I may hold you by the fire as I dream of if you’ll allow it. To me, you are precious, so I am willing to go slow. If I have made you uncomfortable, I will stop correspondence with you after tonight, but my heart will never leave you.

Yours,

Tom Riddle

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

hey you! want to get tagged in my work when it comes out? click here! (˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧

xoxoxo Merry Christmas xoxoxo

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harrywavycurly · 26 days ago

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Handle With Care: Highly Recommended

Masterlist: here

CW: Frat Harry, language, Harry is a bit of an ass, bit of angst, your ex shows up and is a dick (this is the only time you’ll see him)

A/N: Honestly Harry is gonna be going through it in this mini series so just buckle in because he’s in for an emotional roller coaster, also Niall is in this because as if I can have frat Harry without frat Niall. Enjoy!✨

Tag List: @gmikaelson @ell0ra-br3kk3r @tulips4harry @mellamolayla @mads3502 @empathyroad @idk199o @sassamanda77 @maudie-duan @macy-tpwk @coralferrio1

Summary: You hire a company to help move you into your new apartment and someone ends up dropping a box and hurting your feelings📦✨

You let out a sigh as you stand in the middle of your small campus apartment that’s currently filled with boxes, finding it hard to believe that after almost four years this is the last morning you’ll ever spend in this space. You look around and smile as memories flood your mind of the various milestones that took place in this cramped space, such as when you got broken up with by who you thought at the time was the love of your life while sitting on the edge of your twin size bed or the time your friend got too drunk at a party and ended up falling asleep on your living room floor and woke up the next day with a piece of pizza stuck to her forehead. But the most recent one that comes to the surface of your mind is when you were sitting on your couch and got the call you’d been waiting for, that the job you applied for and wanted more than anything was yours.

You don’t get to reminisce for much longer as a loud knock on your door makes you let out a startled squeak as you jump a little at the noise. You quickly take a step towards the door and raise an eyebrow at the conversation happening on the other side of it.

“M’telling you her name was Jenny.”

“And I’m telling you her name was Jamie.”

“Oh fuck off Harry you’re shit with names and you know it.”

“Not the names of hot-”

The two men standing in the hallway immediately stop their conversation and turn to look at you as soon as you open your door, the one with blonde tips but darker colored roots and bright blue eyes gives you a smile and a small wave. But the one with a backwards SnapBack covering his brown curls and green almost emerald colored eyes doesn’t do anything but stand there and not so subtly allow his eyes to roam over your body for a moment before they dart back up to your face. You give them both a smile and step to the side letting them enter your apartment, it’s then that you notice how similar in age to you they appear to be and when you look at their attire you can’t help but wonder how long they’ve been doing this job because you’ve never seen movers arrive in skinny jeans or basketball shorts.

“Uh so I’m not sure-”

“Oh shit sorry where are my manners? I’m Niall.” The blonde one laughs as he holds his hand out for you to shake. “And that grumpy fuck over there is Harry and we are your hunks for this morning and you’ve got us for two-oh no sorry uh you’ve got us for three hours.” He explains as you reach out and shake his hand, you glance over to Harry who is eyeballing the amount of boxes in your living room, not paying any attention to the conversation going on between you and Niall.

“Lovely to meet you both.” You say as you introduce yourself and let go of Niall’s hand. “Do you two do this a lot?” You ask making Niall laugh while Harry just rolls his eyes as he walks into your small bedroom.

“You could say that.” Niall answers as he slides his phone into the pocket of his silver basketball shorts after he checks the time. “This is our summer gig and we’ve been doin it for a few years but seein’ as we graduate in a few weeks this is one of our last jobs as official college hunks.” You can’t help but smile at Niall’s Irish accent, it just makes everything sound so much more interesting.

“I graduate in a few weeks as well.” Niall just smiles at your announcement not wanting to tell you he figured as much giving the whole moving out of your on campus apartment, but he’s a gentleman so he just keeps that to himself.

“No shit.” You quirk a brow at the sound of a British accent making a mumbled comment from behind you in your kitchen. Niall’s face drops as he sends a glare over your shoulder making you turn your head only to find Harry leaning against your counter with his arms crossed over his chest, letting you get a quick view of the random tattoos scattered on his arms. When he catches your stare he raises a questioning eyebrow at you.

“What? I mean it’s obvious you graduate soon that’s why you have to move out which is the whole reason we’re here.”

“Right. Sorry.” You feel your cheeks get hot as you turn to look back at Niall who gives you a warm smile as you walk by him and into the living room where the majority of your boxes are. “Uhm it’s just boxes and my bed the rest-”

“The twin? That’s your actual bed?” Harry asks with a hint of shock mixed into his voice as he pushes himself off the counter and motions towards your bedroom.

“Uh yes that’s mine it was cheap and I didn’t need anything bigger-”

“That’s not surprising.” Harry mumbles as he pulls his phone out of his back pocket, Niall just rolls his eyes and shakes his head before he gives you his full attention.

“So the boxes and your bed is all we’re takin’?” Niall asks just to confirm what you were saying before Harry interrupted you.

“Yes and uhm some boxes I labeled with stickers so you’ll know which ones to be a little careful with.” You explain as you point to a box on your kitchen counter with a few red “fragile” stickers on it, Niall just nods and turns to look at Harry who is scrolling on his phone not listening to anything you’re saying.

“Hey asshole did you hear that?” Harry lifts his head up at the sound of Niall shouting at him and gives him a shrug.

“It’s boxes and a toddler sized bed frame Niall it’s not fucking rocket science.”

“You’re just so much fun to be around in the mornings Harry no wonder all your lady friends leave before the sun comes up.”

“I don’t cuddle. That’s why they leave. Now are we doing the bed first or the boxes?” Harry slides his phone into his back pocket as he waits for Niall to answer his question. You watch Niall look around your living room and then walk into your bedroom so he can get a better idea of how many boxes you have. But while Niall is busy doing that you feel as if someone is staring at you but when you turn to look at Harry he quickly looks away and down at his scuffed up boots, another thing you’ve never seen movers wear.

“Do you always dress like this to move people?” You don’t know why you ask him because you already can tell from the few things he’s said to you that he for some reason doesn’t like you. So it’s no surprise when he looks down at his white tank top and black skinny jeans with his scuffed brown boots that when he looks back up he has his eyes narrowed in a harsh glare aimed directly at you.

“Well if you really want to know.” You watch the corners of his mouth curl up into a smirk as he crosses his arms over his chest. “I forgot we had this job today so I didn’t sleep at my place last night” Only the last part of his confession takes you by surprise, seeing as you’re sort of used to being easily forgotten or pushed to the side for something or someone else so you don’t take it too personally you just take it as Harry isn’t very organized with his time.

“Oh uh well for not knowing you had work today I’m uhm glad you weren’t late.” You stumble through your sentence making Harry let out a quiet laugh that you know isn’t at what you said, it’s more so just him laughing at you.

“Let me guess this is how you always dress huh?” He asks in what you know is a teasing tone as his eyes travel down to your t shirt and black shorts with little flowers all over them before finally landing on your white slip on shoes making you feel extremely self conscious.

“Uh yes why-”

“Okay let’s load the bed first then just pile all the boxes around it.” You turn and face Niall as he walks out of your bedroom with his phone in his hand, he gives you a smile as he holds his phone out towards you. “Just need you to initial right here for me love, this says we are starting at nine fifteen and your three hours starts now.” He explains in a soft and friendly tone as you take his phone and put your initials next to where he’s pointing with his free hand.

“Okay great.” Niall just smiles as you hand him his phone while Harry heads into your bedroom to start grabbing your bed frame.

“Alight Styles let’s do this.” As soon as you hear Niall say the name Styles you’re hit with the realization that you know you’ve heard that name before, you just can’t remember where.

Harry doesn’t know what it is about you that irritates him, it could be the way you just seem too happy at nine in the morning or maybe it’s the way you smile every time you see Niall walk into the room but either way something about you rubs Harry wrong and has him acting in a way that’s not like himself. Now he’s not the sweetest person alive, not by a long shot but he’s known to be charming and maybe a bit cocky but still he’s never been called rude or a jerk by anyone unless maybe by a girl he turned down for a date or a fling he had to explain his lack of feelings for when it came time to end things but other than that Harry is known around campus to be a relatively nice guy. He figures you have to be nice in order to get the things you want, and in his case it might be a date to a party his fraternity was throwing or a quick hookup on a night out at a bar, being nice works quicker than being the typical douchey fraternity brother people assume he is but something about you has suddenly turned him into what he usually isn’t, an asshole.

He can’t be bothered to return any of your smiles, no matter how nice they are or how they make a weird little fluttering feeling start up in the pit of his stomach. He chooses to distract himself with a game on his phone or going to look around your boxed up apartment while you and Niall discuss the logistics of the move. He tries to ignore the way your room smells as if he just walked into a field of flowers on a warm summer day and he will absolutely deny the fact he quite likes it. So much so he finds himself taking a deep inhale as he walks towards your connected bathroom where it seems to be the strongest making him believe it might be the body wash or shampoo you use in the shower. He shakes his head in an attempt to clear his mind as he heads back into the living room, coming to the conclusion that the smell was just messing with his head a bit and he doesn’t at all want to be wrapped up in it for the rest of his life.

When he walks back into the living room he sees a box that’s open and since your back is facing him because Niall is going over the spiel about how they won’t be doing this job for much longer he takes the opportunity to take a little peak. He doesn’t expect to see much of anything really, maybe some random clothes or decorations you packed last minute so when he looks in and sees a photo of you and some guy hugging and smiling at each other like two idiots in love he has to stop himself from grabbing it and taking a closer look to see if he recognizes the man. Harry ignores the weird feeling in his chest as he sees a small teddy bear and some other items in the box with the photo and he wonders if this box is full of things the man in the picture gave to you, if it is then he has cheap taste because Harry knows for a fact the teddy bear looking up at him was a free gift with purchase at one of the campus stores last Valentine’s Day.

When he decides he’s seen enough he quietly makes his way into the kitchen and leans against the counter as he waits for instructions from Niall on how he wants to handle this move. When he hears you mention you’re graduating soon he doesn’t mean to let the words slip out of his mouth, truly he doesn’t. He meant to say it in his head but again, something about you has him knocked off balance so when you look at him with a raised brow he has no choice but to explain his sudden outburst and it doesn’t come out as nicely as he intended making him feel like an asshole when he sees your cheeks get pink out of embarrassment. But of course he can’t just simply stop there, no he has to go and make a comment about your bed as if it’s any of his business really because who is he to judge you for keeping a twin sized bed when in reality he just graduated to a queen size himself after moving out of his frat house two weeks ago.

It’s when you try to make small talk with him that has him thinking insane things such as the possibility you’ve got him under a spell or something because why can’t he stop himself before saying something rude like he normally can? It’s as if his mind and his mouth are having a battle and his mouth is winning causing him to really look like an absolute asshole. The look on your face when he says he forgot about the job today; which was a lie because he had it saved to the calendar on his phone and even set a reminder alarm and everything, is one that almost takes him out of his irritated state because it’s as if that’s something you’re used to hearing. Like people forgetting about things that pertain to you is a common occurrence and that has him instantly wishing he could take the whole interaction back but he can’t. And the worst part of it all is he knows what you’re thinking, that he spent last night with some girl or “lady friend” as Niall calls them but he didn’t, he spent it on his friend Tyler’s couch after he fell asleep at an embarrassingly early hour after one too many beers while watching a football game.

He’s never been happier to actually start a job before, because as long as he’s busy that means he won’t have to be near you for longer than the few minutes it takes for him to grab another box or two and head back down to the truck and the best part is, he simply wont have any time to stand there and talk to you. As soon as he’s in the hallway with your twin sized headboard and footboard in his arms it’s like he can finally breathe again, but he’d be lying to himself if he didn’t immediately miss the flower and sunshine smell but still, he feels at ease and even smiles to himself as he waits in the area the elevators and stairwells are at for Niall who has some pieces to your bed frame in his arms.

“Dude what the fuck is wrong with you?” Harry knew this was coming the moment he first let out a huff in front of you, Niall isn’t one to take being rude to someone for no reason very lightly especially someone who hasn’t been anything but nice since she opened her door. “Why are you being a ragging fuckin’ twat to the poor girl?”

“I don’t-I just can’t help it?” Niall glares at him for a moment before he just walks by him and puts the parts to the bed frame down so he can press the button for the elevator.

“Well figure it the hell out because she’s nice and I don’t want her leaving a shit review because you can’t get your head outta your ass.” Harry doesn’t say anything in response, he just looks down at the floor as they wait for the elevator doors to open.

Harry has two boxes in his arms and is half way to the truck parked on the street outside your campus apartment building when he hears someone calling his name. He looks around with a furrowed brow as he continues on his way to the truck not seeing anyone heading his way until his eyes land on someone he didn’t plan on seeing anytime soon since usually he only sees him trying to sneak his way back into house parties after being kicked out for getting too rowdy or just pissing the entire chapter off. The smile on the man’s face makes Harry want to roll his eyes at how fake it is, but he just gives him a simple nod of acknowledgment as he places the boxes on the floor of the truck and with one hard shove sends them sliding towards the back near your bed.

“What’s up Styles? You helping someone move?” Cody asks as he takes a quick glance into the back of the truck, Harry just turns around and leans against the truck as he crosses his arms over his chest.

“It’s kinda my job so yeah.” He answers with shrug which for some reason makes Cody laugh as he runs a hand through his short dirty blonde hair. “What are you doing here? It’s a bit early for you to be awake isn’t it?” Harry is lucky that Cody isn’t the sharpest tool in the shed because his tone is anything but teasing but it seems the man doesn’t notice as he just turns and looks at the building behind him and then back to Harry with a simple shrug of one of his shoulders.

“I’m just here to get some stuff from someone.” He answers and Harry just nods expecting that to be the end of it but Cody lets out a sigh as he shoves a hand in his back pocket to grab his phone. “You know how crazy ex girlfriends can be. Always coming up with dramatic reasons to make you come over.” Harry in fact doesn’t know, having ended his only two serious relationships in a very civil manner so he’s never had to deal with anything close to a crazy ex.

“Oh got it.” With that Harry uncrosses his arms and takes a few steps towards the building and away from Cody who is looking down at his phone with a furrowed brow. “Good luck mate.” He sarcastically calls over his shoulder with a shake of his head as he thinks of the poor girl who’s about to have to deal with that jackass.

“Okay so just these boxes left?” Niall is pointing to a stack of boxes on your kitchen counter when Harry walks back into your apartment, and for a moment he thinks he’s finally out of whatever weird daze he’s been in over the past hour while helping you move because he doesn’t find himself being hit with the overwhelming smell of flowers and sunshine. He walks into the kitchen and stands near your sink waiting to hear what’s left for the two of them to take to the truck.

“Yes and those are the ones with-”

“What the hell is going on in here? Are you-you’re actually moving?” A loud voice coming from your front door startles you as you make the tiniest little squeak and bring your hand up to your chest.

Now Harry has been good for the last forty five minutes, he hasn’t looked in your direction or given himself too much time in the apartment alone with you to allow himself the opportunity to say something dumb or more importantly, rude. But at the sound of Cody’s voice he can’t stop himself from looking at you and the moment he does he regrets it because the look on your face is one of not only shock but Harry swears there’s also a hint of nervousness hidden behind your eyes and it’s all directed towards the man standing only a few feet away from where you’re standing in your living room.

“Uhm yes I-I told you remember? That’s why I asked you to come get-”

“I thought that was some bullshit lie to just get me over here so we could talk.”

“Oh uh well I asked you over here three-three weeks ago and you uhm ignored my texts.” Harry feels his hands clenching into fists at his sides as he watches Cody roll his eyes as he takes a step further into your small apartment.

“I mean we aren’t together so I don’t have to answer your texts or calls any-wait Styles? Oh shit Horan? She’s the one you’re helping move?” Niall looks at Harry over his shoulder and rolls his eyes before looking at Cody with a smile that only Harry would be able to tell is fake.

“Obviously.” Harry snaps making Cody look at him with a raised brow.

“How did you even hear about these guys?” Cody asks you while still staring at Harry, you look at Niall who gives you his signature warm smile as he walks towards the kitchen to grab a box off the counter.

“Oh uhm Monica recommended them.” Your answer makes Cody laugh as he finally looks away from Harry and over to you while Niall silently makes his exit with a box deciding he doesn’t want to be around Cody and his bullshit any longer.

“Monica?” You nod and Harry hasn’t ever wished the world would open up and swallow him whole until this very moment, as soon as you said the name of who told you about their company Harry knew exactly who you were talking about and he knows Cody does as well.

“She’s a friend of yours isn’t she Styles?” Harry acts like he doesn’t see the way your eyes dart over to him as Cody crosses his arms over his chest while turning to fully face Harry.

“I know her yeah. Helped move a couch to the dumpster for her. That’s all.” It’s only a partial lie, he very much didn’t just help her haul a couch to the dumpster but he really doesn’t want you to know about any of that because he knows it’ll just solidify the idea you have in your mind that he’s an asshole who sleeps around.

“Don’t be so modest it must’ve been a good time if she recommended your services to her friend.”

“I moved a couch that’s-”

“Oh you’re Styles. Harry Styles.” Your voice saying his name makes his jaw clench because the way you sound like pieces to a puzzle only you can see are being put together in your mind makes him want to punch a wall out of pure frustration. Learning Monica is your friend means you probably already know everything and he can’t do anything about it, and the most annoying part is he doesn’t know why he cares, he doesn’t even know you.

“You’ve heard of him?” Cody asks as he walks into the living room towards the open box full of stuff Harry took a look at earlier and of course he’s the one who got you the cheap teddy bear, what an asshole.

“Not uhm anything bad I just have heard your name around before like at uh parties and-”

“And Monica?” Harry questions and again he swears he didn’t mean for it sound so harsh and accusatory, he just wanted to know if she told you anything about what went on between them and of course it comes out rude and snappy.

“She just told me you were nice and helpful that’s all.” You look extremely overwhelmed as you answer him and Harry knows it’s partially his fault so he just does what he thinks is best and gives you a small nod and goes to grab a box from the kitchen counter.

“What is all this shit?” You turn to give Cody your attention as he stands there going through the box of stuff. “Why would I want any of this? Is the bear I got you?”

“It’s everything you ever gave me I uh well-uhm didn’t know if you’d want it back?”

“You called me over here to give me a box of things that I gave you as gifts back to me? Are you serious?”

“I’m sorry I’ll just keep it then.” Harry can hear the uneasiness in your voice as Cody lets out a scoff as he grabs the box and brushes past you on his way to the door.

“You’ve always liked wasting my time.” Your shoulders slump as his harsh words hit you just as he reaches your door. “Delete my number.” Is the last thing he says before he walks through the open door and down the hallway towards the elevators.

One thing about Harry is he hasn’t ever had the best timing, he really thinks that’s the universe’s way of getting back at him for all the little wrongs he’s done in his life. So when he grabs the box off your counter he knows the moment he lifts it up that he’s going to drop it, not because it’s too heavy or because it’s not taped and securely closed but because just as he decides to lift it off the counter and take a step towards the door he allows his eyes to find you. Of course he would choose to look at you just as your asshole of an ex storms out of your apartment leaving you standing there looking like you’re one second away from breaking down, your eyes are big and your cheeks are pink from the embarrassment but it’s the way your hands are balled into little fists that tells Harry you’re trying to hold it together.

So in true Harry fashion that has to be the moment he lets a box slip out of his hold and land on the floor of your kitchen with a sound that has his eyes squeezing shut because he knows that was something glass that probably just broke. When he opens his eyes he lets out a sigh as he bends down to grab the box and he hates the sound it makes when he lifts it off the ground, but before he can take another step he sees your white shoes step in front of him making him pause his movements as he slowly lifts his eyes up from your feet to your face.

“Uhm did you just-”

“I didn’t do anything.” He wants to smack himself as soon as the words leave his mouth because you saw him drop the box, he knows you saw him drop the box and on the off chance you didn’t see it he knows you heard it.

“It’s okay it was just an accident.” Your voice is so soft and soothing it pisses him off because you should be yelling at him not reassuring him, especially after what he just saw and heard you have to deal with.

“It would be if something happened but nothing did. I’m just trying to finish getting your shit to the truck.” He doesn’t even recognize his own voice at this point because why is he still talking as if he didn’t drop your box right in front of you and if that’s not enough now he’s trying to act as if you’re holding him up from finishing his job, you’re going to hate him by the end of the morning he just knows it.

“Harry.” He lets out a sigh as his name falls from your lips just as he walks around you and towards the door. “It’s okay.” Harry doesn’t say anything as he’s suddenly surrounded by the familiar sunshine and flowers scent and then he feels you place a hand on his arm and he swears if he hadn’t already dropped the box in his hands he would’ve done it just then because the softness of your hand on his bare arm sends a weird kind of shockwave down to his fingertips. But he just adjusts his grip on the box and because he figures he’s already dug himself a decent grave he might as well make it a little deeper by acting like nothing happened as he walks out your front door and down the hallway.

“Shit shit shit.” He mumbles to himself after he places the box down by his feet along with the hat he had covering his hair once he makes it to the elevators and runs both hands through his hair as his heart starts pounding in his chest as if he just ran a marathon. “What the fuck is happening to me?” He asks himself as he tries to gain some sort of composure.

“You look like shit.” Niall states with a laugh as he steps off the elevator and gives Harry a once over, he glances down the hallway before looking back at Harry. “Please tell me the douchebag is gone.”

“Yeah yeah he’s-he’s gone.” His words come out breathy as if he’s still struggling to fully catch his breath and calm down. Niall gives Harry a weird look before he just shakes his head deciding it’s better to not ask, so instead he walks around him and down towards your apartment to grab the last two boxes.

“Get it together Harry. No more dropping boxes. You’re better than that. You’re a professional.” That’s as good of a pep talk he can muster at the moment before he grabs the box and steps into the elevator deciding he’s going to do everything in his power to avoid direct contact with you for the remainder of the hour and a half he has to spend moving your stuff.

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ultravioletbrit · 2 months ago

Text

“fake” - Jegulus microfic - @into-the-jeggyverse - 469 words

“xmas cards” - 25 Days of Jegumas - Day 19 - @noblehouseofgay

Jamie <3: do you know how gorgeous you are? Regulus: What do you want? Jamie <3: just to tell you how stunning you are! Jamie <3: and how much i love you Regulus: James. Jamie <3: fine. marlene is bringing her good camera tonight because some people asked her to take pictures for their xmas cards Jamie <3: so i was thinking… Regulus: No. Jamie <3: i knew you would love the idea! Jamie <3: just wanted to make sure you had time to make your already perfect curls more perfect Jamie <3: love you! Regulus: No. Regulus: James. No. Regulus: Answer your phone, James. Regulus: JAMES!

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Regulus scowls at himself in the mirror. “I’m not doing it.” He tells himself as he finishes perfecting his curls. He takes that one curl in the front that never stays where it’s supposed to, “We’re not doing it.” He says to the curl before tucking it behind his ear. He gives himself one last look then leaves the bathroom with a heavy sigh to go find James.

“You look incredible, love.” James tells him the moment he steps in the living room. He walks over and wraps Regulus in a hug and Regulus’ arms instinctively wrap around James’ neck. When they pull back slightly, James smiles and tucks that stubborn curl back behind Regulus’ ear. Regulus rolls his eyes because that thing will never stay in place.

“James, I love you, but I’m not doing this.” Regulus tells him. James opens his mouth but Regulus cuts him off. “I look ridiculous in pictures like this. I always look stiff, and my smile looks fake and they never turn out good. Let’s just send the cards with the snowmen on them. You liked those!” Regulus tries to reason.

James’ bottom lip turns into an exaggerated pout and Regulus’ eyes are pleading for him to understand. They hold eye contact for several moments having a silence conversation before James eventually sighs.

“Okay.” James pouts. “Marls, Reg and I aren’t going to do pictures.” James tells Marlene, who Regulus didn’t even realize was in the room.

“Oh, I already got yours.” She tells them.

“What?” Regulus and James say at the same time.

“Here.” Marlene holds her camera out for them to look at the pictures. “This one’s probably my favorite.” She shows them a picture of James tucking that damn curl behind Regulus’ ear. James has a sweet smile and even though Regulus is rolling his eyes, he still looks fond as he leans towards James. It’s sort of perfectly… them.

Regulus and James share a look then glance back at the picture. James’ eyes are practically twinkling with excitement when he turns to look pleadingly at Regulus. Regulus wouldn’t be able to say ‘no’ to those eyes even if he tried. And he has to admit, it’s a pretty good picture that he wouldn’t mind seeing on a Christmas card.

“Okay.” He smiles and rolls his eyes and quickly finds himself wrapped in James’ arms again.

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bondwithme-murderstyle · 1 month ago

Text

End of Session spencer reid x fem!therapist!reader

wc: 4.7k

Summary: Spencer Reid regularly attends therapy sessions and although his therapist picks his mind apart during their time together, she doesn't quite seem to consider that he's been doing it back to her all along

warnings: +18, mdni!! therapy setting, explicit descriptions, oral (f receiving) fingering, no kissing, porn without plot, unprotected p in v (do as I say, not as I do), no y/n, reader is described as wearing a bra and panties, overstimulation, cockwarming/soaking if you turn around and squint, Spencer edges reader, not as soft!dom as I planned oooops

an: ahhh! my first one-shot ever! i hope y'all like it! i got right to work on it for you! therapy!spencer we love you <3

Smut below the cut!

Spencer Reid had been a client of yours for some years. From the loss of his friend Elle when he was just a young man finding his feet in the world, to the passing and resurrection of Emily Prentiss when you watched his clipped wings start to ruffle and break free one feather at a time, and since the death of his fleeting romance, Maeve, you had watched him grow. A kind man. A nervous man at times depending on what was on his mind. But all the same, a good man.

There were sessions where he wouldn’t stop talking, his mouth going a million-miles-a-minute and there were sessions where he would sit quietly and only answer questions when prompted. Often, in these silent kinds of sessions, his arms would rest on the chair and his fingers would tap and tug at the stitching of the armrest, his long, slender fingers meticulously tracing the thread that held the chair together.

It was an easy bet that Spencer was one of your favourite patients despite the irregularity of his appointments due to his career. He never brought trouble to your door. He never turned down your offer of coffee or water, he was always kind when he spoke. “Yes, please.” or “Not today, thank you.” And he always, at the end of every session, asked how you were as he gathered his belongings and made his way for the door.

You had him penciled that evening. 6:30pm. Your final session of the day.

Since watching Spencer mature and bloom into the man he was today, you knew how inappropriate thoughts could be if they remained untethered. Having known him for so long in the most intricate of ways, your relationship had become somewhat of a relaxed professional friendship that he paid you for. But with that, came the leniency of your mind that sometimes would wander when with other clients. Spencer was far more intriguing.

And you often took your sessions home with you. It wasn’t the topic of the session you focused on when alone at night reading your books or taking a soak with a glass of wine; instead, it was the feelings he had expressed, it was the deep timbre of his voice and the purse of his lips when he listened intently to your advice. Oh, how closely he listened as though hanging on every word like you were the woman with all the answers to the universe when you sat opposite him. Those thoughts were proving dangerous but it was a far too delicious treat to deny yourself.

It had become almost a ritual before his sessions, to look at yourself in the bathroom mirror and give yourself a talking to. Should your mind continue to wonder, images growing more detailed and salacious, you would need to consider referring him to another therapist in the building in order to maintain the standard both of you expected. When his hair had started to grow long and he hobbled in to your office with crutches and then a cane some weeks later, it made your throat run dry for the first time. Of course, before that, in your natural human way- you observed a cute and smart man who just needed an ear to vent to. It was small at first, those mindless and fleeting ideals. When he picked at the edge of the chair, the bony structure of his fingers stirred and the thoughts started to linger for longer. Little moments, little mannerisms took root deep in your mind, eagerly awaiting the call from him to arrange his next appointment. You always made a point of taking his call personally, mainly to gauge a rough understanding of his reasoning for making the appointment but also to hear his voice and you even went to the lengths of sharing your direct office line.

That evening when he arrived, you could tell it was a quiet session. You still asked if he consented to having his sessions recorded but this time, he refused. Respectively, you noted the change and decided to leave your recorder in your desk drawer for the night. Spencer didn’t take his regular seat opposite your own. He had a mystery about him tonight. His hands rested in his pockets and he ventured to the window of your office, head slowly tilting as he observed the street below. “Can I get you water, or coffee before we start?” You asked and closed the door. “Not tonight.” There was an edge. A clip in his tone. Something played on his mind and you tried to work out what it could be as you took your seat and crossed your legs. Your notebook was opened and you clocked the time. 6:34pm. “Okay.” You sighed and smiled, waiting for him to turn around, “Let’s get started.” “Let’s.” Spencer said but remained with his back towards you. He hadn’t brought any of his usual belongings. There was no satchel that always took its place next to his seat. He had no jacket or sweater, only a crisp white shirt covering his back. You maneuvered your pen between your fingers, waiting for him to begin. You noticed the difference in the atmosphere. Mellow and subdued but you could smell the electricity, like the thickness in the air before a storm. Brewing, looming, ready to crack at any moment. It was difficult to concentrate in the silent space, your eyes studying the structure of his stature. He was no meek creature anymore. There was a broadness to his shoulders, a subtle- “Can I ask you a question?” Spencer spoke up but didn’t turn around. “Of course.” You answered him and readied your pen against the paper. “Do you believe in physiological profiling?” “Studying body language?” You questioned, “I do. It’s a marginal part of what I do.” “It’s what I do everyday.” He responded and now turned to look at you. Your eyes caught his. They were burning and dark, a sternness shrouded his face as he awaited your retort. Your lips rolled together in thought, attempting to pinpoint the root of the question. “You do it too. Every client. You read them.”

“I try to focus on their mind, Spencer.” You smile politely.

“Try to?” His ears pricked up and he took a step closer. “You don’t intend to study them?”

“I don’t. I observe what my clients give. I don’t look much deeper than that.”

“You’ve been studying me.” Spencer approached, reminiscent of a pack-animal stalking close to its prey.

“I’ve been working with you for a long time, now, Spencer. That’s why I record our sessions. I study your words, your cadence, your tone- it tells me more about you than your body-language could.” Your words made him stop and fix himself to the corner of the rug by your desk. His eyes narrowed slightly before he licked his lips and tugged a hand from his pocket to pull at his bottom lip. You tilted your head and watched him. Ever a stoic man, Spencer smiled and nodded after a moment before his hand dropped from his mouth. “Spencer, what brings you here tonight?”

“You do.” His other hand freed itself from his pocket and he gestured to the end-table by your chair, “Put it down.” He instructed and stalked that little bit closer. His command made you scoff lightly and you closed your notebook over on itself, placing it aside.

“Spencer,” You teased, “I have to make notes if you won’t consent to recordings. Completely confidential, I assure you every time you come here.”

“You don’t need notes, doctor. You know enough.” The words cut you to the quick, the quickening beat of your heart caused a flush of heat into your palms, your cheeks. “Do you know what I do when I’m here? Aside from the obvious?” Spencer asked and licked his lips a second time, the pink tip of his tongue dragging slowly back into his mouth over his bottom lip before closing again, waiting for an answer. You weren’t sure where he was going, you weren’t sure how you felt other than incredibly warm and in need of some water. His eyes remained on you, inescapable and fixed.

“What do you do, Spencer? Aside from the obvious.” You echoed and he seemed to like that, bringing his steps closer once more until he stood by your chair, your table. “I don’t play guessing games. You know I’m not very good at them!” You try to joke and find your hands clasped now between your thighs in place of the notebook, “You should tell me.”

This was the moment where his hand came to rest on the arm of your own chair, crouching at first and then kneeling. “Open.” He instructed carefully. At first your lips parted, speechless and you were aware in your rational mind that this was close to bordering on inappropriate. Secondly, your legs uncrossed and once more, this seemed to please him. “Do you know what I do when I’m here?” He repeated the question, moving himself to the front of your legs with a gaze that only encouraged you to open up a little bit more. Your heart was in your mouth, your clustered hands beginning to perspire and a heat built as a result. You shook your head, completely transfixed by the look in his eyes. The dark look that flit back and forth on your face and stole your ability to breathe. “I,” Spencer began, his free hand pushing one knee out of the way, “like to think,” the other knee. A space just large enough for him to push into, “about what you think.”

“W-What I think?” Your voice is barely a whisper. His hand remained on your knee and started to move down over your calf, tracing the definition and giving a soft squeeze before moving back up to the part of your thigh that joins to your knee.

“I think,” Spencer said rather knowingly, his thumb and fingers pressing gently at the soft, malleable skin beneath your pants, “you think about me.” This made you hold your breath. Damn it all to hell, what was he doing?

“Spencer, this is becoming unprofessional.”

“Your thoughts about me are unprofessional.” He quipped and pushed his hand higher. “How long have you had them?” He asked and gave another firmer squeeze to the middle of your thigh. You could feel your breathing grow deeper, quivering in your chest as you attempted to keep your mind reeling over and over your code of conduct. Your silence must have been too long for his liking. “I said, how long have you had them?”

“Not long.”

“You’re lying to me, doctor.”

“I-I’m not.” You defended and swallowed harshly, your hands coming apart to straighten yourself up in your chair. Your movement made him surge towards you, stopping just inches from your chest, both hands now on either of your thighs. “Spencer, is something going on? You’re not acting like yourself.” You tried again to keep your mind on an even-keel and remain the authoritative figure.

“I am acting like myself. The part you don’t see,” His breath ghosted over you, “the part you think about when you know you really shouldn’t.”

How did he know? You had been so careful to remain professional and upright in his company. Whatever he had known, he gave nothing away until now. “You’re going to stand up for me and we are going to switch places, doctor.” Spencer said and his hands pushed further into your thighs, moving with a pressure so close to the heat that bubbled and swirled. There was nothing you could do except comply. When you tried to move forward, his force on your legs kept you down, “I didn’t say right now.”

“Spencer, w-what are you doing?” You asked with a hot anticipation, itching for the thumbs on the insides of your thighs to venture where you know they shouldn’t. Just a skim. Just a taste. His influence on you and control of the situation was melting your mind.

“I’m doing what I want. What you want.” He looked up at you and took a firm hold of your legs, pulling your body closer to the edge of the chair. It made you gasp and his fingers felt now against your ass, deliciously sandwiched between the soft leather and the polyester of your tailored pants. “And you want to take these off.” He said as his fingers deliberately pushed into the seat of the pants. Without thinking, without arguing, you looked down at him, lips still parted and short breaths coming in and out of your mouth as your fingers unfastened the clip, the zip. He helped you to stand but didn’t move to his feet. Instead, Spencer fell back on his knees, only moving back just enough to remain faced with your panties as the black pants were pushed down your thighs, caught by him and ripped the rest of the way down with a fervour that took your breath away. When you sat back down, you kicked them off of your feet, Spencer’s hand feeling over the soft skin of your calf once more, his other hand unbuckling his leather belt.

“This isn’t-” he stole your words amidst the jingle of his buckle and the heat of his lips on your skin, “Oh-!” You could feel yourself grow hot, your hands remaining by your sides and holding onto your legs as he kissed and traced featherlight against you, edging closer to where you desperately needed him the most.

“Do you always do as you’re told by a client?” Spencer breathed warmly against you, tricking into your core and you had no choice but to lean back and take a deeper breath. As you tried any attempt to cool yourself down, you felt his teeth graze closer, nipping the sensitively thin skin. “I asked you a question, doctor.” He spoke low enough to feel the vibrations ripple through your muscles, tantalising you further.

“C-Clients don’t tell me what to do.” You managed to stagger the words out as his hands were placed at the bottom of your back, further edging you closer like a hungry child pulling their plate closer to the edge of the table. His eyes glanced upwards to you, an eyebrow raised and scanned down your neck, settling on your chest and you knew immediately what he was asking you to do without saying any word at all. You heed his instruction and unbutton your blouse with shaking fingers, his arms pressing against the spaces yours left behind and his hold was firm, head dipping back to your thighs and lips ghosting dangerously close.

“Can you guess what I’m considering now?” He questioned and placed a soft kiss to the hem of your panties before pulling your legs further apart from a simple tug of his fingers that slipped down beneath you. Spencer’s breath was hot and he licked a thick strip up and over your clothed cunt, relishing with a smack of his lips. You writhed and sighed, fingers hesitant to undo the last few buttons.

“Please.” Your voice was quiet and you felt the air of his chuckle swirl around your core.

“Can you guess what I’m considering now, doctor?” Spencer repeated himself again with an exaggerated punctuation and you nodded deftly, the only thing your body could think to do other than ooze with arousal. You let your head rest back on the chair, the task of your buttons completed and your hands rested over your stomach. You heard the snapping of his fingers, the absence of his hands on your skin but instead tugging your panties down instead of touching you. The snapping made you look down at him where he was already watching you on his knees and with almost no readable expression on his face. “I want you to look at me and compare this to your thoughts.”

You weren’t sure when your panties were completely removed but they were and you were now laid mostly bare, your client placing one of your legs over his shoulder and kitten-licking his way around you. “You can look at me, can’t you?”

“Y-Yes. Mmmhmm.” You nodded and used your elbows to keep your view clear, your vision trained on him as his licks became shorter, slower and eventually right where you wanted them.

“Clever girl.” His voice was muffled as he licked his way through your folds, brandishing your click with the flare of his tongue and making you whine each time. “I’ll know if you don’t look, doctor.” He warned before digging in. Spencer licked deep enough that you could feel it, your head spinning each time his nose brushed against the most pleasurable point of your body. The noises he made sent you reeling and panting. He was enjoying it, lapping you up with enthusiasm. Each groan drove deep into your body, into your bones and made your skin prickle.

“Spencer-!” Your voice caught as he worked intrinsically against you, the hold of his hand sliding down the leg that now rested on his shoulder, fingers trailing from the front to the back and one slender digit found its way inside and you cried out a strangled moan at the intrusion.

“You can take more.” He informed, another finger joining in the warmth. “You’re so fucking wet, doctor!” Spencer said quietly before tonguing and sucking at your clit as though you were melting right in front of him. “This all for me?” He asked between laps. His fingers curled within you, moving slowly back and forth in a fashion you could only describe as leisurely. The smacks of his lips and tongue only furthered your pleasure and you felt sure that your elbows would give out. As Spencer worked with devotion, your leg on his shoulder pinned him closer to you, your hips grinding slightly against his face and your fingers gripped at the leather they rested atop. With his fingers building a rhythm, his mouth slurping and canting at your core, you couldn’t help but notice the lack of contact from his other hand. It was nowhere to be found until you managed to tear our eyes away from the flashes of tongue. Spencer was touching himself whilst touching you and the sight had you insatiable. A particular moan that came from him had you sobbing quietly,

“Spencer, plea-ah! Fuck, keep going-” You mewled.

“You’ll finish when I finish.” Spencer said but continued to pump his fingers at a growing pace, tongue flickering and his hand working steadily on himself. You can’t contain the moans, you can feel your core tightening, your legs prepared to clench around his head like a vice.

“Don’t stop!” You breathe, your hips bucking and you could feel the distinct shift of his mouth. A grin. It sent you so very close. His fingers were dripping, you could feel the never-ending flow of your slick teamed with his mouth and Spencer let out a jarring grunt, “Spencer, fuck- I’m close!”

The words made him stop, violently removing his fingers and leaving you hollow, throbbing and desperate for more. His mouth gave one final suck of your clit and he pushed back from between your legs to stand and drop his own pants. “Move.” He commanded and you did just that. When you stood up, your legs were weak, you resented him partially for leaving you so close and he knew that. As though in a dance, you traded places, your eyes never leaving his, heady with desire for the rest of him. When he took the seat, his fist continued to pump at his cock, the pleasure evident from his own parted and glazed lips and you weren’t quite sure you were prepared. With his wet fingers, he beckoned to you. “Let’s go.” Spencer encouraged as though on a time-constraint and you did just as he asked.

With your legs on either side of him, your breasts pressed against his body, he removed his hand from himself in order to palm at your breasts, teasingly at first and then toughening after you were instructed to “open” once more. There was nothing else you could do than comply and your lips opened slowly. Too slowly. His wet fingers dragged over your lips before pushing their way in and resting at the second knuckle and your mouth enclosed on his fingers. “Thatt’a girl.” He mused and teased at your nipple with his thumb. It made your eyes close, the electric-pleasure halting you in your tracks and your suckling at his fingers ceased. You could feel the tip of him brush against your cunt, eagerly awaiting his next instruction. You tried to hold back but ended up slowly and surely lowering yourself just enough to gain the friction you required. “So, you do think about me?” Spencer asked and with his fingers in your mouth and your cheeks hollow, you nodded. His hand tugged down from your bra, fingers catching at the rim of the cup and snapping back against your skin and making you freeze. You felt the trail of him down over your ribs, destined to touch you. “Hop on, doctor.” He said breathily.

You were nothing if not obedient by now and you teased yourself a little more to make up for the loss of your orgasm. Your eyes opened and you watched him- Spencer was enamoured by the way your mouth worked on his fingers, tasting the sweetness of yourself and you started to move down slowly, his tip stretching just enough for you to hold his fingers in your teeth and pant. His lips fell open more, allowing you the time to adjust and take him inch by inch. The hot stretch was intoxicating and you settled on top of him with a whine. Spencer removed his fingers from your mouth and his hands held you tightly. You were aware of how full you were, of how much he would knock against you when you decided to move. “You can take me.” He reassured you.

Steadily, with your forehead clocking onto his, your hips started to move. Slow at first, finding your centre and reveling in the thickness and fullness that made you gasp with each fragment of movement. You lifted yourself and dropped yourself carefully, his tip pushing deep against your cervix and you felt him start to work on your clit. Fingers unable to gain any purchase due to the sheer wetness you had created. “Fuck, you’re so tight f’me!” Spencer groaned but you retorted, “You’re bigger than I’m used to, Spencer!” With a squeal, you settled against him, moving back and forth instead of up and down where he could hit that mouth-watering spot over and over. Your cries made him moan, his hand on your hip so tight and sharp but it only added to the experience. The grip he had on your skin gestured for you to move more, tugging up, signalling he wanted to feel you rise and fall. The feeling of being stretched and played with in tandem had you incredibly close, oh, so incredibly quickly. Paired with his hot breath that skated down your chest and over your breasts, the only thing you managed to do was weakly grind up and down. “That’s it.” Spencer nodded, his lips now deftly open and the odd groan came from deep within his throat. “Ohhh, good-girl! More.” He instructed, helping lift and drop you with the hold on your skin.

After a while of finding your feet, the cacophony of pleasure rang through your office. Once certain you knew exactly how he wanted you to move, Spencer’s hand felt its way across your back, grappling with the touch of you and you bounced steadily. His curses were music to your ears, his fingers increasing quickly against you and you were fit to burst. You could feel yourself throb and twitch, the hot coil grinding tighter and tighter as Spencer relentlessly fucked over your clit with his fingers. Your hand tugged at his hair for leverage, squealing and whining as he helped in fucking up into you with even more wonderful moans. “Oh, fuck!” You whimpered at the speed he had chosen, the friction he was causing and you were close. So fucking close you could taste it.

“You want to cum?” Spencer asked and took one hand from his hair, guiding it down between your bodies before completely enveloping you in his hold, “Work for it.”

You had to. Your fingers replaced his, his arms around your body tight enough to crush as he moved up into you feverishly. “I’m want to cum, fuck-!” You panted into him, “l-let me cum!” You winced and sent him off on another long groan, “Cum. I want to feel you fucking cum on my cock, doctor!” He commanded and with your fingers moving quickly, a heavy sigh from him sent you over. You spasmed, moaning and wailing his name but your fingers pushing you through it, his cock forcing into you as you clenched with a shudder and your head fell into the crook of his neck with sobs spilling down onto his shirt. Spencer’s thrusts never faltered, however. “You can take another!” He decided and unwrapped one arm to bring your face to his, pleasure taking over his lips, his eyes, everywhere, he looked completely bewitched. “One more, my clever-girl. Just one more.” “I can’t-” You choked with your hand going slack between you.

You weren’t sure how, but he managed to take you to the desk, landing you down with a slow and achingly long drive into you. When did he get rid of his pants? You didn’t remember. Spencer pulled himself from you with abandon and stood you up, “Move.” He commanded and turned you with a flick of your shoulder and with your back to him and stars in your eyes, you felt the stiff wetness of his cock tease between your folds as his hand easily bent you over. You were jelly at this point, prepared to go wherever and however he wanted. Spencer didn’t give any time for adjustments on this go-around. He was quick to slam deep into you, your hands grasping whatever they could on your desk to steady yourself as he pounded deep and quickly with his hands grabbing at your hips and giving him stability. “You’re taking me so well!” He panted against you, everything becoming too much but somehow not enough. Your breasts brushed over pens and papers and your hand finally grappled on to the edge of the desk as Spencer laid you out, “So fucking good!” He moaned and with each snap of his hips, he dragged you closer and closer to that deliciously familiar edge. You gagged and choked and moaned and whined each time his tip burgeoned against you until his thrusts became erratic, infrequent, “Cum on my cock, doctor! Fuck, I-” Spencer panted and he gave three deep and bruising thrusts before stilling and grunting a weak attempt of your name. He was white-knuckling your hips and as he spilled hotly into you, and you cried out once more, a final strained cry and you started to drip down your thigh. As you moved wave after wave through your climax, you felt the throb of Spencer, deep and hot against that perfect spot that had your knees buckling and shaking. For good measure, he continued to pull out and drive back in, all the while he muttered “you did so fucking good!” and variations of “good-girl, clever-girl!” in much softer, breathier tones. With each drawback, he spilled a little bit more down your thighs, dripping and mingling with your own fluids until eventually, he was gone entirely.

You tried to piece yourself back together, exposed and weak but completely high on the feeling of your client. The clarity dawned on you. You listened to the ruffle of clothing, the jangle of a belt and quick-snap of a zipper. “I won’t pay you.” Spencer spoke as he placed your panties that had been cast aside now on your desk by your hand, “That’s prostitution.”

Your voice trembled, body close to convulsing from everything that happened. “Spencer-”

“This will be our last session, doctor.” He said, his hand leaving the panties to gently lift your chin before he pulled away and headed for the door. “Our time ran over. Sorry to keep you.” Spencer informed in a polite voice before closing the office door behind him.

#she's here!#my first one-shot!#spencer reid one shot #spencer reid smut #smutty smut smut #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid mini fic #criminal minds smut #mgg characters

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itsrheasgirl · 3 months ago

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𝖬𝖺𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍 ✩

𝖶𝖾𝗅𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝖺𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗆𝗒 𝖱𝗁𝖾𝖺 𝖱𝗂𝗉𝗅𝖾𝗒 𝖿𝖺𝗇𝖿𝗂𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇. 𝖧𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖽 𝗋𝖾𝗊𝗎𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗌, 𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗌’ 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗍𝗌. 𝖶𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀. 𝖨𝗇 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝖥𝗈𝗋𝖻𝗂𝖽𝖽𝖾𝗇 𝖫𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝖲𝖾𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖮𝗇 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝖱𝗈𝖼𝗄𝗌 𝖲𝖾𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗌, 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗅 𝗇𝖺𝗆𝖾𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗎𝗌𝖾𝖽. 𝖨𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍’𝗌 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗃𝖺𝗆, 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝗅 𝖿𝗋𝖾𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝗄𝗂𝗉.

𝖱𝖾𝗊𝗎𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗌

𝖢𝖺𝗇’𝗍 𝖦𝖾𝗍 𝖢𝖺𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍

𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝖦𝗂𝗋𝗅 𝖨𝗌 𝖬𝗂𝗇𝖾

𝖧𝖺𝗉𝗉𝗂𝗅𝗒 (𝖭)𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝖠𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋

𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝖥𝗈𝗋𝖻𝗂𝖽𝖽𝖾𝗇 𝖫𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝖲𝖾𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗌

𝖢𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗍𝖾𝗋 1: 𝖥𝗈𝗋𝖻𝗂𝖽𝖽𝖾𝗇 𝖫𝗈𝗏𝖾

𝖢𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗍𝖾𝗋 2: 𝖠𝗇 𝖴𝗇𝖾𝗑𝗉𝖾𝖼𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝖦𝗎𝖾𝗌𝗍

𝖢𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗍𝖾𝗋 3: 𝖮𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝖫𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝖢𝖺𝗇 𝖧𝗎𝗋𝗍 𝖫𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝖳𝗁𝗂𝗌

𝖮𝗇 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝖱𝗈𝖼𝗄𝗌 𝖲𝖾𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗌

𝖳𝖾𝖺𝗌𝖾𝗋

𝖢𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗍𝖾𝗋 1

𝖢𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗍𝖾𝗋 2

𝖢𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗍𝖾𝗋 3

𝖢𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗍𝖾𝗋 4

𝖶𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝖫𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝖬𝖾 𝖳𝗈𝗆𝗈𝗋𝗋𝗈𝗐 𝖲𝖾𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗌

𝖢𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗍𝖾𝗋 1

𝖮𝗇𝖾 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗍𝗌

𝖮𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝖸𝗈𝗎𝗋𝗌 (𝖵𝖺𝗆𝗉𝗂𝗋𝖾!𝖱𝗁𝖾𝖺)

𝖥𝗋𝗂𝖽𝖺𝗒 𝖭𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝖡𝗂𝗍𝖾𝗌 (𝖵𝖺𝗆𝗉𝗂𝗋𝖾!𝖱𝗁𝖾𝖺)

𝖬𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝖬𝖾 𝖲𝖼𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗆 (𝖦𝗁𝗈𝗌𝗍𝖿𝖺𝖼𝖾!𝖱𝗁𝖾𝖺)

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purplecoffee13 · 9 months ago

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Nemesis with Benefits - Part 1

Summary: “You got cheated on, and Harry is the one your ex cheated with. You hate him, he hates you, and the universe seems to hate the both of you, because you keep being thrown into the same spaces.”

Wc: 3.3k

Tropes: enemies to lovers

Warning: mentions of cheating, foul language

A/N: Hey guys! I’m going to see Taylor this weekend, but I wanted to give you the first part of my new series before I log off for the weekend. I know Harry is sounding quite unlikable, because he is, but it is a slow burn so give it some time and let him explain!!!!! Enjoy xxx

General Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Part 2 is up!!!

It has been almost three weeks since you and your ex-boyfriend Dylan have broken up. You were heartbroken when you found out he cheated on you, and you still aren't over it in even the slightest. It was just unfathomable to you. How could he cheat on you and just step from one relationship into another?

Yes, that's right, Dylan immediately started dating the guy he cheated on you with. You couldn't believe when you first heard who it was, but it also didn't surprise you much.

Harry has had it out for you from the moment you and Dylan first started dating. You had no idea why, but now that those two are together, you finally understand. He was jealous of you. He wanted Dylan all to himself and— well, he succeeded. The fucking prick.

You had been trying to get over the humiliation and sadness, but it proved to be very hard. You had been in love with Dylan for so long, long before the two of you even started dating, and it was your first real relationship. You couldn't just move on that quickly.

But you were done. Done with crying and whining and bitching about it. It was like some sort of switch had turned, like the first stage of the moving on process had worn out. It was time to try some other methods of getting over Dylan. You finally took the advice from your friends, and tonight was your first date since the break-up.

You had downloaded tinder, and found yourself multiple matches. One guy named Brady, asked you out for drinks tonight, and you said yes. And so, the second stage of moving on commenced.

Now you're in one of the bar's booths, waiting for Brady to show up. He was handsome in his pictures, and he seems like a nice guy. You fiddle with your hands as you wait. You know that if something is going to happen between the two of you, it won't be serious or permanent, but you can't help but be nervous anyway.

You agreed to meet up at nine, and right now it's ten minutes past nine. A pit grows in your stomach as you sip on your beer. He wouldn't be standing you up, would he?

You wait and wait until it's a quarter to ten, and tears prickle in your eyes. What a disaster. How could you even think that this was a good idea?

You flag down a waitress and pay for the beers you drank as you waited. It isn't until you stand up that you realize how many it were. You are quite the lightweight, so five beers on a stomach filled with only a salad for dinner wasn't the best idea.

You walk out of the bar, and grab your phone to order an Uber. That is when you spot someone sitting on the bench in front of the bar, and you groan aloud.

Sitting on the stupid bench is stupid Harry, the guy which Dylan cheated on you with. Out of all people, you just had to run into him. He looks up upon hearing you groan, and the distaste on his face at the sight of you almost makes it look like you're the one Dylan cheated with on him.

"What the fuck do you want?" Harry asks, putting a cigarette to his mouth, and holding a lighter to it to turn it on.

"To ruin your relationship with your boyfriend— Oh no wait, that was you! Asshole..." You mutter as you roll your eyes. You turn around, almost falling over at the speed with which you did, but you are quick to steady yourself. You squint at your screen as you search for the Uber app in your phone.

"Fuck you." Harry murmurs under his breath, and you flip him off without turning around. You don't want to be around this guy, so you start walking away from him. Might as well warm yourself up as you wait for your Uber to arrive. If you can find the damn app...

Then a car honks and before you have time to look up, you are pulled into someone's arms. You look up from your phone and see a white car driving by, still honking at you, and when you turn around to see who is holding you, Harry's eyes meet yours. Once having regained your senses, you push him away.

"Get off of me!" You growl at him, dropping your phone accidentally.

"Are you stupid?! How fucking pissed are you to not notice a car coming straight at you—" Harry barks back at you as he picks up your phone, and hands it to you. You snatch it away, disgusted with the fact that he is touching your stuff.

"Shut up!" You shout at him with a wavering voice, too overwhelmed by everything. You are on the brink of crying. He seems to notice and quiets down.

"I'll bring you home." He mumbles softly, after you had time to breathe for a second and steady yourself. You frown at him, looking for even the slightest hint of deception—because what else is there to the guy who your boyfriend cheated on you with—but you can't find it.

"You are the last person I would ever step into a car with." You glare at him, crossing your arms. Harry rolls his eyes.

"You think you're my number one choice? No, but I'm not gonna let your drunk ass get run over." He argues back, seeming to be equally as irritated with you as you are with him.

"Yeah, because you're the picture of decency and chivalry." You cross your arms. The nerve of this guy! Trying to be all gentleman like when you know that he is nothing more than a pig.

Harry clenches his jaw, and you can tell he is ready to snap at you. You are waiting for him to start cussing you out—and there is a clear hesitation in his eyes—but he doesn't follow through. He merely sighs.

"Look, I'm not going to force you into my car. Because contrary to what you might believe, I do have some common decency, but I am not going to leave you outside a pub, drunk and alone." Harry explains, trying to catch your eyes as best as he can but you are avoiding his stare, afraid to see the sincerity behind them. "So, I either bring you home, or wait for an Uber with you."

You think it over for a few seconds, but your train of thought is interrupted when your name is shouted from a distance. You look in the way where the sound came from, and see Rebecca—a friend from class—wave at you with a big smile on her face. You wave, then turn back to Harry.

"Fuck. you."

You articulate the words slowly, hoping they marinate in his head, as you glare him down with the genuine spite you have felt from the moment you were made aware of the betrayal. You don't give him the chance to respond or even process what you just said, you just walk away.

You don't look back at Harry either, because you are sure that the hint of guilt that presses down on your chest is translating to your face, but you don't want to give in to it. Dylan betrayed you, and while he is the more culpable one in the situation, Harry did this too. He knew you and Dylan were together, and he still did what he did. The guilt transforms into a sadness as your mind wonders, how much did he have to hate you to do this to you?

You shake off the thought and paint a smile on your face as you reach Rebecca. She pulls you into an embrace and asks you how you are doing, and you answer that you're doing well.

"Was that... Harry?" She asks, whispering his name as if it would be a crime to say it out loud. The corner of your mouth tugs up.

"Yup." You nod.

"What did he want from you?" She glares at the place where Harry stands— or stood, because by the time you turn around, he is gone. You stare at the pavement, your body trying to push away that wave of emotional pain that seeing Harry instigated.

"I have no idea."

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

Few days later

You stare at yourself in the mirror of your vanity desk. Lipstick still in hand, you analyze your own face. Your make-up sits pretty on your face, painting the image of a woman who has her life together. But the truth couldn't be further from that.

Tonight, you're attending a birthday dinner of one of your friends, Benjamin, in a restaurant in the city. You truly were looking forward to it, but now that you and Dylan aren't together anymore, the fun event has turned into something you have been dreading.

You got to know Dylan through Benjamin. Benjamin was in your first project group ever at Uni. The two of you bonded and have been very close ever since. Benjamin is the type of person that knows a lot of people, and Harry is one of those people

Harry and Benjamin went to high school together. At least, that's what Benjamin told you when he introduced you to Harry at that one party all those years ago. It was at a random fraternity party on campus at the end of the first year, and it is where you met Dylan. Harry and him were roommates, so they had come together.

It was a cobweb of connections, and you have met a lot of people through Benjamin, but you really clicked with Dylan that night. Of course, now that doesn't seem to hold any value anymore, but you can't change the night you met Dylan into a rotten memory. It is sealed with some kind of glass that will always keep it pretty, innocent, sweet, and— well, just lovely.

It's what is going to make it extra hard to see Dylan with Harry tonight. You were happy to celebrate the birthday of your friend, of course, but you definitely weren't looking forward to seeing your ex and the guy he cheated on you with be together, as like— a couple.

You were aware that things like this would happen eventually—because that's what happened when you date someone in the friend group—but that doesn't make it easier. Luckily, a lot of your other friends will be there too.

Rebecca picks you up a good half hour before the dinner starts, and you drive into the city with music blasting through the speakers. You try to clear your head by letting the music take over every part of your brain, but the anxious pit in your stomach can't seem to be contained.

After parking the car a bit further down the street, you and Rebecca make your way to the Italian restaurant. You're about five minutes late—the traffic was worse than expected—so you both hurry over to the corner where the others are already sitting and chatting.

Benjamin gasps when he sees you and pulls you in for a big hug. You smile and congratulate him before handing him the bag which contains his gift. While he turns around and places it on the table, you take the opportunity to scan the room. It doesn't take long to spot Harry—you had felt his presence since you got here—but your eyes can't seem to find Dylan.

You don't allow yourself to feel any relief, as there might be a chance he is still in the bathroom. But when Benjamin tells everyone to sit down, placing you on his left and Harry on his right, you see that all the chairs are filled. Apparently Benjamin senses your confusion, because he leans in and whispers in your ear:

"He didn't come."

The words grant an overwhelming release of emotions that were making you feel like shit, and you start feeling like maybe you can enjoy tonight after all. Partly, at least. You frown; It is weird that Dylan wouldn't come to Benjamin's birthday. He was invited; you were next to him when he got the text.

You take a deep breath and decide that this isn't something you should be focusing on tonight. Alas, you are freed from the fucker for now. You should least enjoy it while you can.

You are seated next to Benjamin, on his left side. Harry is seated on his right side, keeping you apart. Since you are both important to Benjamin, he wants the two of you close to him, but not to each other.

The first course comes around pretty fast, and along with the two glasses of wine you down in record time, everything seems to be going quite smoothly. You avoid any contact whatsoever with Harry, and try to be as invested in Benjamin as you can.

After the main course, you excuse yourself to go to the bathroom, and sneak away from the watchful eyes of the others. Instead of going to the bathroom, you go outside and light up a cigarette. It is an unfortunate habit you have began succumbing to since everything that happened. The smoking takes your mind off the stress for a couple of minutes, and it is the only thing that has kept you from going insane.

"Are you smoking?" A voice filled with disbelief asks from behind you. You freeze when you recognize the depth of it, along with the unmistakable accent. Well, there goes the cathartic part of smoking that cigarette.

You don't turn around, and so Harry walks up to you in order to check whether it is really you. He frowns at the sight of you with cigarette.

"Thought you hated smoking." He throws in the comment like it's nothing. But it isn't. You hear the resentment hidden in every word that comes out of his mouth. The grudge that he has held against you from the moment you two met is something you think needs to be studied. To this day, you have no idea what you did to make him so mad at you. But instead of worrying about it like you used to do, you are getting annoyed by it.

"Shitty times call for shitty measures." You take another drag from the cigarette before putting out the bud and throwing it in the bin. You are about to go back inside when a collection of bravely morbid words leave Harry's mouth.

"You don't have to act like I murdered your entire family." Harry growls, clenching his jaw as he reaches for his own cigarettes in his pocket. You turn around to him, thunder written all over your face.

"What did you say to me?" You ask slowly, taking a few steps towards him. Harry doesn't see it, as he is also searching for his lighter.

"Look, I know I did a shitty thing but..." His words come to a halt when he sees how much closer you are to him than before, and you don't miss the hint of shock in his eyes.

"But what, hmm? But it's not that bad? But I don't have to be such a bitch about it? But I shouldn't let it influence my behavior towards you? Is that what you were gonna say?" You ask him as you push against his chest a bit, urging him to answer you.

"I was gonna say—"

"I don't give a shit about what you think about my behavior. You didn't give a shit your behavior when you went behind my back and fucked my boyfriend, now did you?" You pose the question, rhetorically. Harry just sighs. "Yeah, I thought so... I can't believe you have the nerve to try and tell me how I should handle you and your new boyfriend fucking me over. Don't do shitty things if you're gonna cry about the consequences. And especially don't go crying to me about."

Harry doesn't look at you, but the tension in his jaw makes you brace yourself for an outburst of some kind. You did pretty much still him to the ground just now. But nothing of the sort happens. Instead, Harry says something unexpected.

"He's not my boyfriend."

You physically take a step back, genuine confusion on your face. What? You were certain that Dylan and Harry were together. It had been all over campus after you first broke up.

"He— he cheated on me. Broke up with me a couple days ago." Harry confessed, still not meeting your eyes. A whole lot of nothingness fills your organs as you stare at him. You have no idea what you are supposed to feel right now. The overwhelming amount of emotions has turned into one empty space that leaves room for nothing but a blank stare.

You feel like you're supposed to laugh at him—in your head at least—and tell him that he had it coming. He did, of course, but you just didn't expect it to happen so soon. You had no idea that Dylan was such a loose canon. At least you are rid of him, that is one positive thing about this whole messed up situation.

Nevertheless, anything that you think you are supposed to feel, is not there. There is no relief, or joy, or lightness that brings a cocky smile to your face as you soak in the karma that was clearly on your side here. No, you are filled with a dull ache that you recognize to be faint sadness. It's too distant to drown in but the familiarity of it still manages to make it sting a little bit.

Harry takes a deep breath, waiting for whatever you are going to say. You can tell that he mentally preparing himself for the humiliation to come, and as much as you'd like to give it to him, you can't find it in yourself to do so.

"That sucks. I'm sorry."

"Th— thanks..." Harry responds slowly, not sure how serious to take your words. You know he was expecting an entirely different reaction.

"I know I had it coming." He adds with a a hint of frustration that makes it seem like you already told him that. Of course, you had the comment in your back pocket already.

"I mean... I wasn't gonna say it so soon, but—"

"Yeah, I thought we would get it out of the way." Harry interrupts you with an annoyed smile. Your previously sad face had turned into more of a smug one and it was more than he could bear, so he just had to say it before you did. He didn't want you to rub it in his face.

Silence creeps upon the two of you. Awkwardly, you stare into the distance as you ponder the new information. It made Dylan even more of a dick than you already thought him to be.

At first, you had thought that Dylan cheated on you because he was in love with someone else— Harry. And while it is still unacceptable, it seems less heartless than cheating with no other intention but sexual pleasure. You could see in Harry's eyes that he didn't expect Dylan to cheat on him, so he must've thought it was love. But it wasn't. That just makes it more shitty than it already was. You find the stinging feeling of sympathy entering your chest when you think of Harry, but you don't want to feel that about him, so you squint at him.

"I still hate you, you know." You say to him.

"Right back at ya, sweetheart."

#harry styles #fanfic #writing #blurb #fanfiction #harry #one direction #mini series #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic #styles #enemies to lovers

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wolvesandshine · 1 year ago

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“For the love of god, we need to set them up together I can’t handle their pining.”

Remus sighed and dutifully nodded along to Sirius’s plans to get his best friends and little brother dating.

“You know you could always just tell them you approve of their relationship. They might just not be getting together because they’re worried about upsetting you.”

Sirius snorts loudly. “What’s upsetting me is watching them eyefuck each other in front of everyone. At least if they’re together I won’t need to see that.” Sirius visibly shudders at that as he adds. “I doubt either of them are even aware of their feelings to each other anyways. James would have definitely asked him out by now if he did.”

“You know sneaking around would be easier if we just told Sirius about us.”

“You just want to torment Sirius.”

Regulus laughs brightly and even now, after a month of dating, James feels a course of satisfaction run through him at the sound.

“Course I do. And I know for a fact that he bet that you would ask me out first.”

James groaned loudly after that. “I was going to! You just beat me to it.”

Regulus snorts loudly. “In what universe is stalking after me using a map considered trying to ask someone out on a date?”

“It’s better than just kissing me after beating my arse in quidditch!”

“Remind me again whose plan actually led us to start dating?”

James shook his head incredulously. “I just needed more time!”

Regulus smirks. “What? And miss all the time we could have spent together instead?”

James laughed softly before leaning in to kiss Regulus, enjoying the blush on the other boys cheeks.

After all he only had 30 more minutes before Sirius got suspicious.

#thoughts??#first jegulus fanfic? y’all #mini one maybe #jegulus #james potter #regulus black #sirius black #remus lupin #wolfstar #sunseeker #starchaser #marauders era #marauders #marauders era funny #marauders era textpost #jegulus fan fiction #jegulus one shot #marauders funny #fanfiction

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kimmie2me · 3 months ago

Note

HEYYY I LUV UR POSTS LIKE HELLO?!?! also im sure u know abt the bakugo hc with him with him having hearing aids and is it ok of u make like a fic with him signing nasty stuff to reader cuz he can and nobody around them fully learned sign language yet? PLS AND THANK U!!! 💕💕💕

first of all, THANK YOU!! ILYSM!! second, i am BACK!!!! exams went well, i guess. i didnt PASS or FAIL, but whatever.. third, I LOVE THIS IDEA HAHAHHA!!! here is, what I think, a great welcoming back gift to give u all ᕙ(⇀‸↼‶)ᕗ (ignore that Kaminari's text is blue..there's no yellow. ALSO, mina is NAWT taking pink. thats OUR color now.)

Of Silence and Secrets

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀𓂅⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Pro Hero!Bakugou x AFAB!Pro Hero!Reader

…..

Bakugou Katsuki hated his hearing aids.

Hated how they fit, hated how they felt, and most of all, hated what they represented. Weakness. A crack in the armor he’d spent his entire life forging. When the ringing in his ears started as a brat in middle school, he didn’t think much of it. Just the fallout from a quirk-boosted explosion, nothing he couldn’t handle.

Years passed. The ringing grew into dull hums, muffled voices, and missed sounds. A villain’s retreating taunt he couldn’t catch. The screech of a car he didn’t hear. Kirishima shouting his name three times before Bakugou finally turned around, snarling, “What the hell do you want!?” while Kirishima just looked… worried.

His hearing aids were a damn nuisance. At least, that’s what he told himself every single day.

They whined if someone got too close, buzzed when he adjusted them wrong, and gods forbid he so much as grazed them during a fight—one hard knock, and they’d go flying. He could hear again, sure, but better hearing came at a price: realizing just how insufferably loud the world actually was. Katsuki had spent months in denial, refusing to accept that his ears, like the rest of his high-octane life, couldn’t keep up with him.

The ringing had started in his late teens, growing louder until it followed him everywhere. He blamed it on the explosions, the debris, the constant yelling—but really, he knew. His mom did too, though she’d spared him the lecture until the day Kirishima cornered him in his agency office with a sheepish grin and her voice on speakerphone.

“Katsuki.” The way she said his name—sharp, biting, and so unlike her usual bark of “Oi, you brat!”—made his stomach drop. “What if somethin’ happens? What if you miss an evac order or—hell—a cry for help? Hah? What then?”

“… Tch.” He had scowled so hard it hurt. “Fine. I’ll get the damn things.”

The intervention was humiliating, but the worst part? She was right. He hated that more than anything.

That was the first night he slept with the hearing aids sitting on the nightstand. He’d finally picked them up after a year of constant badgering—from his mom, Kirishima, hell, even that damn Deku. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to hear better—it was the admission that killed him.

But now? Now the stupid things were glued to him. Mostly.

The tech was incredible, of course. Damn nerds at Hero Support had outdone themselves. The hearing aids didn’t just amplify sound; they filtered it, isolating voices during chaos and syncing with comm units. They were waterproof, explosion-proof—Bakugou-proof. Allegedly.

But they weren’t indestructible. He’d broken five pairs in six months. Kaminari had nicknamed him “Break-aid” after the third replacement. Bakugou threatened to shove them where the sun didn’t shine.

And yet… they worked. Too well.

He could hear the scratch of pens during hero conferences, the obnoxious tapping of Kaminari’s foot against the table, the quiet sigh of his own breath. The worst part? The incessant talking. It was everywhere. Fans, reporters, civilians—people who thought their every word needed an audience.

Thankfully, he’d discovered the mute button.

The first time he used it, Kaminari was midway through a rant about his latest gadget. Bakugou, in a rare moment of self-control, didn’t yell. He just flicked the switch, leaned back in his chair, and smirked as Kaminari kept babbling. No explosions, no shouting, just blissful silence.

But there were downsides.

Combat was a nightmare when they broke. Shouting “HUH!?” every five seconds wasn’t exactly strategic. That’s when he decided to learn sign language. Not because anyone suggested it—hell no. But because he’d be damned if he relied on a gadget to do his job.

The process was… frustrating. Hands clumsy, movements stiff. Kirishima tried to help, but his signs were barely legible. Kaminari? Useless. Sero was too busy laughing to be much better or resorted to typing in the Notes app on his phone when it was pretty serious. Deku? That nerd had picked it up in a week, naturally.

But you? You made it bearable.

“Like this,” you’d said, your fingers forming a perfect sign. “Thumb tucked in.”

Bakugou grumbled, but copied you.

“Good. See? That wasn’t so bad, was it, ’Suki?”

Your patience annoyed him almost as much as it calmed him. And somehow, over weeks of practice, his stiff movements turned fluid. He’d never admit it, but he liked having this… language, this connection, with you.

And then he realized something else.

You understood him. Not just the signs, but him. The sharpness he couldn’t quite soften, the quiet gratitude he couldn’t voice. And better yet? No one else around him could understand a damn thing he was saying.

It started innocently enough—well, innocent by his standards.

“Bored out of my goddamn mind,” he’d signed at you during a hero conference.

You’d smirked and replied, “Same.”

But then, Bakugou being Bakugou, had an epiphany: he could sign anything.

The first time he tried it, you were sitting across from him at a formal hero banquet. The room was filled with pro heroes, reporters, and politicians. Everyone was dressed to the nines, sipping champagne and pretending the world wasn’t on fire outside.

Bakugou caught your eye and, with the most deadpan expression, signed: Wanna fuck?

Your head snapped up so fast you nearly knocked your glass over. You choked, coughing into your hand, and when someone asked if you were okay, you waved them off, avoiding his gaze.

He smirked, sipping his water like he hadn’t just propositioned you in a room full of Japan’s elite.

…..

It got worse.

During a meeting with the Hero Public Safety Commission, while a bureaucrat droned on about policy changes, Bakugou’s hands moved under the table. He made sure you were looking before signing: I’d rather have you ride me than sit here with these extras.

You froze mid-note, the pen slipping from your fingers. Your face burned as you ducked your head, pretending to scribble something in your notebook. Across the room, Kirishima noticed your sudden movement.

“Hey, you good?” he whispered.

“Fine!” you squeaked, glaring at Bakugou.

He tilted his head, feigning confusion, then casually leaned back in his chair. He looked so smug you wanted to scream.

At a press conference, surrounded by the press corps, TV cameras, and the elite of the hero world, Bakugou stood stiffly at the podium, bored out of his skull. Beside him, you shuffled the note cards you’d prepared, doing your best to stay focused on Midoriya’s answer to a question about villain reform strategies.

Bakugou glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, smirking at how focused you looked. That only made the idea pop into his head faster. He adjusted his stance, one hand casually coming up to rub his neck as the other signed with precision:

I’d fuck you so hard over this podium, the microphones would short out.

Your brain stalled like a computer blue-screening. The cards slipped from your hands, scattering onto the stage floor. You froze in horror as a sea of reporters looked up from their notebooks.

Midoriya, ever the anxious public speaker, stopped mid-sentence. “Uh, are you okay?” he asked.

“Y-yeah! Just... clumsy!” you stammered, dropping to your knees to collect the cards. You didn’t dare look at Bakugou, whose hand came up to his mouth as though stifling a yawn—but you knew he was hiding a smirk.

To make things worse, while you scrambled on the floor, he signed again, deliberately slower so you couldn’t miss it:

Would’ve pulled your hair too, just to hear you scream.

Your face burned so hot you were sure you’d melt through the stage.

It didn’t stop there.

At the next agency-wide meeting, Bakugou sat across from you in the conference room, arms crossed as a pro-hero you couldn't bother to listen to went on and on about new combat protocols. The room was packed with pro heroes, all seated shoulder-to-shoulder.

Bakugou, who’d already tuned out after the first ten minutes, caught your gaze and raised an eyebrow. Before you could react, his hands moved subtly under the table:

I’d eat you out on this table, right in front of everyone, and make sure you couldn’t stay quiet.

The coffee cup in your hand slipped, splashing onto your notes. You cursed under your breath, grabbing napkins to clean the mess.

Kirishima, sitting beside you, leaned over. “Whoa, you okay? You’ve been jumpy lately.”

You forced a smile, not daring to look at Bakugou, whose expression remained infuriatingly neutral. “I’m fine. Just tired.”

It became a game to him.

While Kirishima nodded and went back to his notes, Bakugou adjusted in his chair and signed again:

Bet you’d cry if I used my mouth the way I’m thinking. Probably beg me to stop—but you wouldn’t really mean it.

You slammed your pen down so hard it startled Kaminari, who glanced over with a confused look.

“You good?” he asked.

“I’m fine,” you snapped, refusing to look up.

Across the table, Bakugou leaned back, feigning boredom, but his eyes glinted with amusement.

It escalated during a casual outing with the crew.

Everyone had gathered at a bustling ramen joint after a long patrol, crowding into a booth that was way too small for so many people. Bakugou sat to your right, thigh pressed against yours under the table. As the conversation flowed around him, he picked up a pair of chopsticks and casually started eating.

Then, as Mina told a story about her latest villain takedown, he turned his head slightly toward you and signed with one hand:

The things I’d do to you under this table would make you scream so loud they’d kick us out.

You froze, chopsticks hovering mid-air. He didn’t even blink, slurping his noodles like he hadn’t just dropped a verbal nuke into your lap.

“What’s wrong?” Mina asked, noticing your deer-in-headlights expression.

“Uh… spicy broth,” you choked out, grabbing your water and gulping it down.

Bakugou, still chewing, glanced at you out of the corner of his eye and added another one for good measure:

Bet I could make you cum without anyone noticing. Wanna test that theory?

You almost choked on your drink, coughing so hard Kirishima patted your back in concern.

At a charity event, he raised the bar again.

The ballroom was filled with reporters, politicians, and wealthy donors, all eager to mingle with Japan’s most famous heroes. Bakugou hated these events with a burning passion, but at least you were there to make it tolerable.

You stood beside him, chatting politely with a group of businessmen, when you felt his gaze on you. Slowly, you turned your head, already dreading what was coming.

He didn’t disappoint. With the straightest face you’d ever seen, he signed:

You’d look so much better on your knees, with my cock down your throat, than in that dress.

Your hand shot out, nearly spilling your champagne as you fumbled to keep your composure. The Pro Hero you were speaking to paused mid-sentence, giving you a concerned look.

“Are you alright, ma’am?”

“I—I’m fine,” you stuttered, setting the glass down before you could break it.

Bakugou tilted his head innocently, signing again:

Bet you’d love it if I bent you over that balcony upstairs. Bet you’d be dripping by the time I was done.

Your jaw dropped, and you 'accidentally' kicked his shin under the table. He didn’t even flinch.

It wasn’t just formal settings, either. Bakugou would strike anywhere.

During a team training session, you were sparring with Kaminari while Bakugou watched from the sidelines. When you finally landed a clean hit, knocking Kaminari flat on his ass, Bakugou clapped slowly, catching your attention.

Wanna know what else you could knock flat? Me. On my back. With you riding me till I forget my own goddamn name.

Your sparring stance faltered, and Kaminari took the opportunity to trip you.

“Hey, you alright?” he asked, offering a hand to help you up.

“I’m fine!” you snapped, shooting a glare at Bakugou, who was grinning like he’d just won the lottery.

The worst of all came during a live broadcast.

The Hero Public Safety Commission had organized a televised Q&A with Japan’s top heroes. You sat between Bakugou and Midoriya, fielding questions from both the moderator and the live audience. Bakugou had been unusually quiet for most of the event, arms crossed, eyes half-lidded.

But then, while the moderator addressed Midoriya, Bakugou caught your attention.

His hands moved lazily, almost imperceptibly, as he signed:

After this, I’m gonna pin you to the wall in the dressing room and fuck you so hard you won’t be able to walk out of here straight.

Your eyes widened, and you immediately looked away, heart hammering in your chest.

“And what about you?” the moderator asked, pulling your attention back to the present.

“I—I’m sorry, could you repeat the question?” you stammered, cheeks flaming.

Beside you, Bakugou leaned back in his chair, smirking as the moderator repeated the question. His hands shifted again, just enough for you to catch his next message:

If you blush any harder, they’re gonna think you’re into this.

You resisted the urge to scream.

Because, for Bakugou, nothing was funnier than watching you squirm. And knowing you were the only one who could decode his filthy little secrets? That was just the icing on the cake.

…..

Over time, the signing became a secret game. A language only the two of you shared, even if it was insanely one sided. In battle, it was strategic—efficient, silent communication when words couldn’t cut through the noise. Off the field? It was something else entirely.

After a particularly grueling patrol, Bakugou flopped onto the couch beside you, tugging his hearing aids out and tossing them onto the table.

“Another shitty day,” he muttered.

You hummed in agreement, leaning against him.

Without thinking, he signed: You’re the only thing that doesn’t piss me off.

You blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

He smirked, shaking his head. “Nothin’, Cupcake. Just watch the TV..”

And for once, you didn’t press.

Because sometimes, silence said enough.

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jungshookz · 1 year ago

Text

smitten: y/n (reluctantly) agrees to go to jimin's big halloween bash and she forgot how much she actually hated parties

➺ pairing; jeon jungkook x reader

➺ genre; smitten!miniseries!! bff!kook and smitten!y/n!! university!au!! honk honk humour!! the boohoo angsty wattpady fic of your dreams!! the pining and yearning is off the charts!! jimin’s still an asshole but what’s new!!

➺ wordcount; 9.2k

➺ summary; putting on a smile while watching ji-eun cuddle up to jungkook is already hard enough, but when y/n is (reluctantly) invited to jimin’s massive halloween party, she can’t help but even more out of place.

➺ what to expect; “you know, you’re my best friend and i wanna make sure that everything is… good between us.”

➺ currently playing on cee.fm; favourite crime [olivia rodrigo]

➺ smitten: part one [the almost confession]; part two [the incriminating note]; part three [the date]

»»————- 👻 ————-««

you’re pretty sure you’re in hell.

you’re not sure what you did in your past life to have deserved this, but past-life y/n must’ve killed a baby or set an entire village on fire or something to that degree because you’re pretty sure that in this current timeline, you’re in hell

you stay quiet as you munch on your (slightly soggy, unfortunately) sandwich, scrolling through your phone (but not really paying attention to your instagram feed because apparently you’re a glutton for punishment and you keep wanting to look up and just stare at jungkook and ji-eun in all their coupley glory) while your foot taps anxiously against the ground

you know that if you say you can sit somewhere else to give the two of them some privacy that jungkook will insist that you stay, but you feel like the longer you sit here the faster the people around you will see that you’re just a big ol’ monster truck sized third wheel

you could lie and say that you have to go to the library to get some work done, but jungkook’s really good at knowing when you’re lying to him (apparently you have VERY obvious tells which you were very unaware of) so that’s not going to be a feasible plan either

it’s just that being here is incredibly uncomfortable but it seems like the only option you have is to stay and sit through it — which, again, reiterates your point of you being pretty sure you’re being punished for something you did in your past life

“my handsome boy…” ji-eun giggles lightly, reaching over to adjust the collar of jungkook’s jacket before leaning over to kiss him on the cheek, “i like this jacket a lot.”

“yeah?” he gives his girlfriend a boyish grin, looking down at his jacket before looking back up at her, “lucky for you, you can borrow it anytime you’d like-“ you glance up at them, the little voice in your brain stopping you from interrupting them to say that that is a nice jacket because you chose it for jungkook — and you feel like that comment could potentially lump you into the pick-me-girl-best-friend category which you’d very much like to avoid

“borrow? no, i’m stealing it-“

“no way! i got this thrifted for, like, fifteen bucks, i’m not letting you steal it-“

“alright, then you better sleep with one eye open the next time i stay over at yours because this is a nice jacket-“

you can’t help but look over at the empty seat next to you on the bench as you let out a quiet sigh… you have never felt so horribly single in your entire life.

and it doesn’t help that it’s cuffing szn this cuffing szn that all over your social media — your tiktok feed has not been very friendly to you as of late, the app flooded with countless videos of cute couples bundling up for the colder seasons

if anything you need to be cuffed to the wall before you go crazy and rip your eyelashes out from frustration

unsurprisingly, jungkook and ji-eun are a couple now, but really, are you surprised? jungkook is great, ji-eun is great, they went on a great first date (thanks to you, let’s be honest) and all the dates after that went well too because it lead to jungkook asking ji-eun if she wanted to be exclusive with him

you knew that things were going well when jungkook started hanging out with you less and less

and then when they officially got together, you didn’t think it could possibly get any worse but your already puny twice a week hangouts turned into two hours a week before he’d zip off to spend time with ji-eun

in fact, within the last two weeks, he’s only hung out with you once… which is fine, because you understand the honeymoon stage and you understand how giddy people can be when they get into a brand new relationship and just want to spend all their time with this new person

you know for sure that if you were the one who’d gotten into a new relationship, you’d definitely want to spend as much time with your person because why wouldn’t you want to do that? you really can’t blame the guy

you have other friends you can hang out with, but it’s just not as fun because even when you’re having a good time with them, your mind keeps wandering back to what jungkook is doing with ji-eun

and of course, when jungkook mentioned to you over a quick lunch one afternoon that he was planning on asking ji-eun to make things official, it’s not like you could tell him that it was a horrible idea and that he shouldn’t be dating ji-eun without ruffling feathers and raising brows of suspicion

the only person it would be a horrible idea for would be you, and you’re not enough of a dickhead to ruin a potentially good thing because of your own desires

and obviously, she said yes because why wouldn’t she say yes?

…

you know, there really isn’t a way for you to talk about this situation without sounding like the most bitter person on the planet, so perhaps you should move on now

“okay, i’m putting you two on drinks duty for the party!” jimin seems to appear out of thin air and you turn your head to look at him standing at the front of the table with an armful of flyers and the usual bossy, snarky persona that literally drains you every time you have an interaction with him, “unless you’re too busy making out to handle that.”

“no, we can handle it-“ ji-eun rolls her eyes playfully, pulling away from jungkook before reaching over and plucking the list from jimin’s slim fingers, “jesus, jimin. twelve bottles of vodka??”

“i’ll give you my credit card, just put all the charges on it-“ jimin shrugs, sliding in next to you before nudging you over a little, “this is going to be my greatest party yet. i’m charging $10 an admission and i’m renting out this huge house- i don’t think you can even comprehend how massive this party is going to be. it’s gonna be so much better than last year’s one.”

“i remember hearing about your party last year!” you chime in, offering jimin a polite smile even though he’s not looking at you, “it sounded like it was super fun.”

“so, you guys are on drinks, so that’s covered-“ jimin makes a tick on his clipboard before nodding to himself, “decor is covered, catering is covered, rent for the night is covered…”

you poke your tongue against the inside of your cheek, slumping in your seat a little and resisting the urge to roll your eyes

you still have no clue what jimin’s problem is with you, but at this point you’ve gotten used to the way he acts like you literally do not exist at all

you mentioned it to jungkook one time, wondering if maybe you were just looking too far into it and that there was nothing to take personally to which he responded with an enthusiastic nod and a “no, i also get the vibe that he doesn’t like you and i have no idea why… just let him be an ass if he wants to be one, don’t stoop to his level. life is too short to waste energy on weird people.”

so if jimin wants to continue being an ass to you, you’re just gonna let it roll off you like water off a duck’s back

“funny enough, y/n and i were gonna go to your party last year, but the kids in y/n’s building were trick or treating so we decided to stay home and watch horror movies and hand out candy instead-“ jungkook clears his throat, eyes flickering over to you for a brief second, “we also, like, decorated the doorway like it was a haunted apartment to freak the kids out. and y/n had this great idea to have a cauldron filled with warm spaghetti and she told the kids it was brain stew-“

“oh my god, i forgot about that-“ you snort, “i feel like we should’ve done, like, warm pudding instead or something, but the spaghetti kinda had the same effect and my kitchen smelled like an italian restaurant for two weeks after that-“

“let’s talk costumes!” jimin interrupts you, smacking his palm down on the table before pointing his pen at ji-eun and jungkook, “please don’t show up in anything tacky.”

“we were thinking barbie and ken!” ji-eun grins, “not tacky, totally trendy — i know we probably won’t be the only barbie and kens in the room, but it’s just so trendy and i loved her pink sequinned cowboy outfit- or if that’s not available, i think the 80s skater costumes were a vibe-“

“i can’t whait to talk about horshes and capitahlism wiv a bunch of ovher kensj.” jungkook laughs lightly with a mouthful of sandwich, dabbing his mouth with his napkin before crumpling it up into a ball and tossing it at you

you scowl playfully when it bounces off your forehead and lands on the ground

“you could go as allen, y/n. that’d be pretty funny.” jungkook swallows his bite, and you want to tell him that he doesn’t have to include you in every part of the conversation because you can practically see the pity for you radiating off of him in waves

you know for a fact he feels bad that he’s not been able to hang out with you as much lately because every time you do hang out he always brings you a drink or a snack with sympathetic little puppy dog eyes

and every time you have lunch with him and ji-eun he’s always making an effort to include you in the conversation — especially when jimin is around because again, it’s pretty clear the guy doesn’t like you

you and jungkook spent an entire afternoon trying to figure out why he didn’t like you so much, but you couldn’t come up with any conclusive results, so now whenever jimin is around, jungkook makes even more effort to include you in the conversation

“allen was my favourite character, so that’s not even a bad idea.” you chirp, pulling out one of the flyers from jimin’s neat pile before looking at it for the details

“oh, right. yeah, you can come too, i guess.” jimin clears his throat quietly, taking the flyer back from you with a chuckle, “…you don’t seem like you’d have anything crazy going on on a friday night.”

“i can come too? i thought that everyone was invited to this thing?” you raise an eyebrow, pointing to the little note on the flyer, “all it says is general admission.”

“…right.” jimin smiles sweetly at you, “and i suppose i’ll waive the fee for you since you’re… friends with jungkook.”

“how sweet of you.” you respond curtly, offering a smile just as sweet before letting it drop as soon as he looks away

you are absolutely dreading having to go to this party.

»»————- 👻 ————-««

“are you sure you don’t want us to come and pick you up? ji-eun has space in her car, you’d just have to sit in the back with all the drinks n stuff-“

“i’m good, jungkook, really-“ you mutter, pausing for a second to smudge out your lipstick before leaning back in your chair and turning side to side to look at your finished look

not that this is jungkook’s fault, but the fact that the two of you really haven’t been hanging out as often gave you a lot of time to think about what you wanted to dress up as for jimin’s halloween costume, and after a solo spooky movie binge the other weekend, you decided that you wanted to dress up as emily from the corpse bride

sure, it’s been done so many times — but you love the movie and you love emily and you had so much time to get everything you needed for this costume so why not dress up as her??

you reach up to adjust your blue wig, tugging at it slightly to make sure it’s nice and secure

“i’m just gonna uber there! plus, my place is kind of out of the way if you guys are already headed to jimin’s.” you clear your throat, “thank you for the offer though. make sure to let ji-eun know i really appreciate the gesture.”

“okay, i will…” jungkook murmurs, and you can tell by the tone in his voice that he wants to say something but he’s holding himself back, “i guess i’ll see you at the party, then? we’ll probably be there in about forty minutes.”

“yes, i’ll see you guys at the party.” you nod, wiping the leftover blue lipstick on your fingers on a tissue before reaching over to get ready to press the hangup button

“y/n?” jungkook’s voice crackling out from your phone speaker makes you pause, and you pull your hand back

“yea?”

“we’re- we’re good, right?” the question is somewhat of a surprise to you due to its weirdly serious, non-jungkook nature, your eyes flickering down to look at the contact photo you have set for your friend

he grins like a maniac at the camera, eyes wide and lit up with excitement at the cheesy corn dog he’s holding in front of him

the corner of your mouth twitches in a fond smile at the memory of that day — jungkook was convinced he’d be able to eat three corn dogs in one sitting and the day ended with him basically destroying your toilet and then refusing to let you use it until the smell cleared out

“what do you mean?” you clear your throat quietly, lips parting to say something else before you press them together and decide against it

“i mean- i know we haven’t been hanging out a lot lately so i just-“ jungkook coughs, “you know, you’re my best friend and i wanna make sure that everything is… good between us.”

“i-“ you pause again, gaze averting to the side as you think about his comment

if you’re being completely honest, you don’t think everything is good between the two of you — the first reason why being the fact that you are still completely and utterly head over heels in love with him, and the second reason being that he’s in a relationship with someone else and you’re really not sure how much more of this you can take before you go insane

but this isn’t exactly something you can hash out over a crackly phone call, and you’re really not in the mood to potentially destroy two relationships at once

you really don’t know what you’re going to do about this emotional mess, but what you do know is that you’re going to have to take it day by day until you’re eventually ready to face it head on — and tonight, your only job is to smile, enjoy being young, and have lots of fun at what you’re sure is going to be an amazing party despite it being hosted by someone who hates your guts for no reason

“we’re- we’re good, kook.” you manage to push out, despite the words practically fighting their way out of your mouth, “you’re my best friend, too.”

“okay. so i’ll see you soon?”

“yea.” you look at yourself in the vanity mirror, wondering if the sadness in your eyes will make your costume that much more believable, “i’ll see you soon.”

»»————- 👻 ————-««

the six pack of lime seltzer water (you got the fancy kinds in glass bottles) clinks in their cardboard carrier as you walk on the sidewalk, blue heels clicking against the pavement as you follow the path leading up towards the house that-

“holy shit.” your jaw drops at the sheer size of this literal mansion — what looks to be an endless number of burgundy bricks separated by neat, thin layers of cement that are stacked on top of each other, two large, white columns that cast identical shadows on the curved sidewalk leading up to the large, black front door, and not to mention, the insane halloween decorations: huge spider webs stretched over the door and windows, fairy lights wrapped around the columns, a stack of pumpkins sitting by the front steps kardashian-style

you don’t like jimin but you have to hand it to him, he sure can throw a party

“s’cuse us, sorry!” a trio of girls dressed up as sluttier versions of the powerpuff girls brush past you, bubbles turning around to shoot you a grin, “love your costume, by the way!”

“oh, thank you!” your face immediately breaks into a wide grin, “you guys look great, too-“

the random compliment lifts your mood up slightly — you know you’re more than capable of making friends anywhere you go, so if jungkook is too busy mingling with the other couples, you know you’ll be fine

and hopefully jimin will be too busy playing host to give you any attitude tonight

you lift your dress up as you make your way up the steps, the corners of your mouth lifting in an excited smile when you see taehyung standing by the door greeting people and collecting their $10 by… having them tuck the bills into the waistband of his boxers

“magic mike?” you laugh, taehyung’s right eye dropping in a wink before thrusts his hips towards you

“you know it, baby-“ he coos, reaching over to pinch the fabric of your dress to pull you towards him, your cheeks flushing when you stumble into his chest, “be nice to me and i’ll give you a lil lap dance in one of the private rooms-“

“taehyung, i swear to god, do not let any of those bills fall into your boxers because i’m not touching anything that touched your penis-“ jimin pops up behind taehyung dressed in a veryaccurate joker costume, his usual blonde hair dyed completely green for the look

“hi, welcome to the party, $10 an admiss-“ the sweet smile immediately drops from his face when he realises it’s you, jimin leaning back slightly, “wow, corpse bride!” jimin nods, looking you up and down, “seems fitting.” he mutters under his breath, watching as taehyung tapes the neon orange bracelet around your wrist

“nice to see you too, jimin.” you raise an eyebrow, lifting the six pack up with your other hand, “i didn’t want to come empty-handed, so i brought some drinks!”

“you brought six drinks for a house party? six sparkly waters, too… interesting.” jimin scoffs lightly, plucking the carrier from you before offering you a saccharine sweet smile, “how thoughtful of you. drinks are in the kitchen - first two shots are free, and then it’s $15 a shot after that. cocktails are $5 each, mocktails are $3- you seem like a shirley temple girl anyway- and all of it can be paid through venmo. the bartender will answer any other questions you have. bathrooms are upstairs, and the results to the costume competition will be announced at the end of the night. there are fifteen winners, and the votes are made by everyone here, so you might have a shot at winning something here.” jimin steps aside, gesturing towards the party, “have fun!”

“thank you, jimin.” you smile politely, stepping into the house and immediately rolling your eyes as soon as you turn away from him

so you weren’t able to completely avoid his dickheadedness, but hopefully that’ll be your only interaction with him tonight considering he’s probably going to be busy playing businessman all night

$15 a shot is kind of insane, though

you keep your phone pressed flush to your chest as you manoeuvre your way through the packed floor, the neon lights flashing and disco ball glimmering from above making it damn near impossible to navigate this place without bumping into backs and stepping on toes

the DJ pumps his arm up into the air as he continues spinning his fingers against the discs, the crowd going wild as the song builds up to the chorus

you can already tell that most of the people here are drunk (you can smell it, too) and you know, if you can’t beat ‘em, why not join them?

you can find jungkook later, and alcohol is definitely going to make this night a little easier to handle

“hi!” you smack your hands down on the marble countertop when you finally make your way to the bar, the vampire bartender turning to glance at you over his shoulder before tossing a cloth over his shoulder, “i want- something. shots, a drink, anything-“ your voice is already straining from the way you’re basically screaming over the music but this seems to be the proper way to communicate at a party like this

“wait, y/n?” your eyes light up when you realise that it’s none other than namjoon in charge of the drinks (and you wonder if your friendship with him will mean he gives you more drinks without charging you for it) and you let out a gasp as you lean over the counter to grasp onto his wrist

“namjoon!” you grin, “oh my god, thank god, finally someone i know at this damn party. why didn’t you tell me you were going to be here??”

“why didn’t you tell me you were gonna be here?! i haven’t seen you at the library at all, otherwise i definitely would’ve talked to you about it- what can i get for you?”

“top-shelf tequila, baby. i saw the list of brands that jimin bought - i want the most expensive one.” you raise an eyebrow, namjoon laughing to himself before nodding

“alright, i gotcha- you need any chasers with that?”

“you got cranberry juice?”

“for you, i’ve got anything-“ namjoon smirks, holding a finger up to excuse himself

it’s five seconds later that you’re presented with not one, not two, but three shots of tequila, namjoon winking at you as he slides the cranberry juice chasers over to you as well

“you better take these before jimin realises i’ve given you a freebie- i’m about to take a break here, someone else is gonna come in a sec to replace me- you wanna dance?”

“um, of course i do!” you can’t help but squeal excitedly, “take one with me!” you push a shot glass towards him, namjoon shrugging before picking up the shot and downing it in less than two seconds

you take your second shot, eyes squinting as the burn of alcohol trickles down your throat

you immediately shudder, reaching for the cranberry juice and tossing it down the hatch

“oh, jesus-“ you hiss, shuddering against before sticking your tongue out in disgust, “god, that cranberry juice does not help whatsoever-!” you don’t get much of a chance to say anything else before namjoon has his slender fingers wrapped around your wrist, giggles bubbling out of your mouth as he drags you towards the crowded dance floor to join the rest of the drunken crowd

»»————- 👻 ————-««

okay, so maybe this party didn’t turn out to be as bad as you thought it was going to be!

“that- oh my god-!” you throw your head back in laughter when namjoon pulls out the worst dance moves you’ve ever seen, your eyes pinching shut as you clutch at your stomach

you’re not sure how much time has passed (to be fair, it’s gonna be hard to tell how much time has passed when you’re at a massive house party with flashing lights and nothing but the sound of speakers booming to guide you) but you know you’ve been having a lot more fun with namjoon than you’ve had with jungkook these last few weeks) ((in fact you’re having so much fun that you almost forgot you were supposed to be heartbroken that the love of your life is with someone else, but also, that could probably be the alcohol taking over))

you know at some point you’re going to have to go over and say hi to jungkook eventually because you don’t want him to think that you’re purposely ignoring him or something — after all, it’s not his fault that he likes ji-eun and it’s not something you can pin on him and grill him for — but for now, you’re going to dance a little more, sing a little more, and-

“i gotta pee!” you gasp all of a sudden, realising that you haven’t peed once since coming here and there’s a lot of tequila sloshing around in your system

“what?” namjoon furrows his brows, reaching up to tap against his ear, “too loud, can’t hear you!”

“i gotta go pee!” you repeat yourself, pointing towards the staircase leading upstairs, “’m gonna go pee n then ‘m gonna come right back-“

“oh, pee?” namjoon nods, finally catching your words before stepping aside a little, “okay, i’ll be right here!”

»»————- 👻 ————-««

the silence of the bathroom is more than welcome as soon as you step in and flick the lights on, not at all surprised to see a pair of elegant looking wall sconces lighting up the space

you squint your eyes as you lean into the mirror, double checking that your makeup is still somewhat intact and you don’t look insane

“hm. not bad.” you mutter to yourself, turning your head from side to side before nodding, reaching down to pull the endless amounts of tulle up so you can hopefully not piss all over yourself in your tipsy state

…

you set the lid down as the toilet flushes, turning the tap on and rinsing your hands underneath the cool water

“oh, damn-“ you wince when you realise you’re washing some of the blue body paint away and you quickly turn the tap off, shaking the water off your hands before reaching for a neatly folded cotton towelette of course, because regular paper towels aren’t fancy enough for a park jimin party

you give yourself one last glance in the mirror (you could use a little more lipstick but it’s dark down there so no one’s going to be able to tell anyway) before flicking the lights off

“oops! i’m sorry-“ you apologise instinctively when you open the door and stumble right into someone, taking a few steps back before looking up to see that it’s jimin, “oh, hey…” you clear your throat quietly, standing up a little straighter before offering him a meek smile

you always feel like you’re in trouble when you’re around jimin and it’s the worst feeling in the world

like he’s the principal and you just got caught cheating on a test and he’s about to call home to tell your parents as punishment

or he’s an officer and he’s about to test you with the breathalyser and you know you’re going to fail because you definitely can’t walk in a straight line right now

“why am i not surprised that you clearly don’t know how to handle alcohol?” jimin snorts, holding his hands out in case you fall over, “you better not throw up all over me, this suit is custom made-“

“i wasn’t throwing up in the bathroom, i just went in there to pee-“ you roll your eyes, placing both hands on your hips before shaking your head, “you are ridiculous, you know that? even if i was throwing up in your stupid fancy toilets, the normal thing to do would be to ask if me i was okay and if i needed some water! you- you are just so self-centred and just-“

“yeah, uh-huh-“ jimin reaches up to pat the side of your face with a smile, “by the way, if you were looking for jungkook, he’s at the VIP booth with ji-eun and the rest of us.”

“oh, perfect!” you nod, thankful for the information, “i’ll pop over and say hi in a bit, i think it’d be good to sit down too because my heels are kind of killing me and i wouldn’t be surprised if i had, like, a million blisters right now-“

“woah, i never said you were allowed to be in the booth with us.” jimin scoffs, pressing a hand against your shoulder to keep you from moving, “silly girl.”

your lips part slightly as you look at him, and for a moment the only thing that can be heard is the faint boom and bass of the music playing from downstairs

“are you… serious?” you ask, unsure if jimin’s joking with you or not

the bored expression on his face tells you that he is indeed, super serious

all of this just feels so incredibly cliquey and immature and stupid and you know that you’re supposed to be the bigger person because jimin clearly won’t be and you like to think that you’re ten times more emotionally mature than him but he’s making it harder and harder for you to not want to shred up his nice suit with a pair of scissors and cuss him out in front of everyone

“i’m dead serious. i’m just telling you this so that you don’t embarrass yourself when your drunk ass stumbles over and tries to join us.” jimin says as if it’s the most obvious thing in the entire world, “enjoy the rest of the party, sweetheart.” he brushes past you to head into the washroom and-

“you’re a fucking dickhead, you know that?” you snap, jimin stopping in his tracks before turning his head slightly so you can just make out the side of his face, “i think i’ve been nothing but nice to you ever since i met you, and to be honest, i can’t even think of one reason why you are constantly so fucking rude and overall just unpleasant to me. i don’t say anything when you purposely cut me out of the conversation, i don’t nag when you ignore my questions and comments but respond to everyone else’s, and most importantly, i’ve never called you out for being a jackass when i think i’ve had every chance and opportunity to. if you have a problem with me, then just say so so that we can hash this stupid weird rivalry out and just get along. your best friend and my best friend are in a relationship, and i think it’s in everyone’s best interest that we at least try to get along-“

“oh, shut the fuck up, y/n.” jimin scoffs, turning around to face you, “you know, you always act like you’re better than everyone else, that’s why i don’t like you.”

you feel your shoulders stiffen at the comment before you shrug, crossing your arms over your chest, “well, i’m sorry if i’ve given you that impression but that’s not my intention, i don’t think i’m better than you, i don’t think i’m better than everyone else, and i can’t control how you feel about me but-“

“oh my god, even when you’re confronting me about being a dickhead to you you’re still being a sensible goddamn person, it’s like you’re purposely trying to piss me off-“

“okay, well, i’m not going to apologise to you for literally being myself because there’s nothing i can do about it. this is a you problem, not a me problem, so if you insist on being such an unreasonable drama queen for however long we’re going to have to spend time together, then i think the solution here is just for you to ignore me — which, you’re already doing a stellar job of, congratulations — and in return, i’ll happily ignore you.”

“i hate when people aren’t themselves. i pick up on that shit right away, and i gotta tell you, y/n, you might be the fakest person of them all.”

“what the hell are you talking about?”

“i think we both know you’re hiding something from all of us. i think you’re hiding something from yourself, too. i think you’re lying to yourself.”

there’s a pregnant pause in the conversation and for a second you want to ask him what exactly he’s implying here, but…

“alright, jimin, well-“ you turn around to head towards the stairs, “you’re fuckin’ being weird, and i’m just trying to have a good time, so i’m just gonna go back down-“

“yeah, have a wonderful rest of your evening, corpse bride-“

you resist the very strong urge to whip around and literally just strangle the man, but you remind yourself that before you had this little interaction you were actually having a very good time

“y/n!” jungkook stands at the bottom of the staircase as you make your way down, being careful not to trip over your heels, “hi!”

“jungkook! oh, there you are- i was wondering where you were-“ you loop an arm with his as you drag him through the hoards of people and towards the bar (you really need a drink and it looks like namjoon is back on the clock)

“there you are!” he laughs lightly, reaching over to tap your hand gently, “i’ve been texting you all night trying to figure out where you were but- is your phone on do not disturb or something?“

“no, it’s not! i’m sorry, i should’ve checked my phone-“ you smile sheepishly, “i’ve been dancing with namjoon this whole time but- where are you guys sitting?”

“i don’t know, some area that jimin squared off for us and a few others- ji-eun’s been asking about you, she wanted to say hi-“

“oh! oh my god, yeah, i should probably go say hi to ji-eun-“ you gesture for namjoon to get you some water and he nods, grabbing a cup and filling it up for you, :your ken costume turned out great, by the way-“ you laugh, patting jungkook’s bare chest, “it’s, uh- it’s really giving horses and the patriarchy.”

“thank you, thank you- and your costume turned out so cool too, we should watch corpse bride again when we eventually have another movie night-“

“sure! sure, for sure.” you clear your throat quietly, a moment of awkward silence settling in between the two of you

your friendship feels so… different now

like there’s this unspoken air of something in between you and jungkook like an invisible brick wall

and maybe it’s the liquid courage currently sloshing around in your body and the leftover exhilaration from finally calling jimin out on his bullshit, but now you have the urge to talk to jungkook about the weird tension

“hey, kook, listen-“ you reach up to scratch the back of your neck, “there’s something i’ve been meaning to tell you but i’ve definitely been putting off for a while…”

all of a sudden, a drum roll begins to boom from the speakers, the spotlights darting around the crowd before shining towards the main stage at the front of the room, whoops and cheers bouncing off the walls as jimin waltzes his way towards the microphone, a cocky smirk on his face as he raises his hand to get people to quiet down

“oh, shit, the costume competition results!!” jungkook nudges your side as the two of you turn to face the front, “we can talk about it later, i wanna see who won what- i voted myself for best ken costume, so-“

you let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding and you nod, thankful for the interruption

maybe it’s a good thing you were interrupted

telling him in the middle of a party probably wasn’t the best idea, anyway

»»————- 👻 ————-««

once again, you really have to hand in to jimin

the man truly knows how to throw a party, because it seems like just about everyone is having the time of their lives — and this costume competition just made things so much more fun

there are definitely a lot of good costumes here tonight and jimin decided to change it up with twenty-five different categories to go through so he’s kind of speed running through the names

most scary costume, most realistic costume, most well-made costume: he’s got a lot of categories to get through

you keep a content smile on your face as the costume contest continues to go on, enjoying jimin’s commentary to the point that you nearly forget that the two of you hate each other and he totally just disrespected you like he’s never disrespected you before twenty minutes ago

“i wonder how that guy made it look like his head was floating… that shit was so cool.” jungkook claps his hands along with the crowd and you nod enthusiastically

“i know, right?! i’m sure he probably took it off tiktok or something - we can definitely look it up after the party and maybe we can try to recreate-“ you stop yourself mid-sentence, suddenly remembering that you guys haven’t exactly been the closest as of late so it feels weird to be offering to do something together, “um-“ you clear your throat, offering a half-hearted shrug, “yeah, we can, like, look it up later or something. maybe you and ji-eun can figure it out and let me know.”

“yeah! or- you know, you and me-“ jungkook licks over his chapped lips, “like- you know, like- old times or whatever-“

“yeah, yeah- maybe! maybe-“

“now, before i announce this special category, i have something to read because-“ jimin sucks in a breath through his teeth before cocking his head to the side, “well, let’s just say it’s some context for the best simp costume of the night.”

you can’t help but frown at the strange category — out of all the halloween costume competitions you’ve been to, “best simp” has certainly never been one that you’ve seen before

“just wanna remind everyone that this is just a costume competition, everything is based off the costume you’re wearing.” jimin adds, taking a slip of paper out of his back pocket before unfolding it with nimble fingers, “so, uh- you know. don’t take anything seriously, you know? just gotta loosen up and have fun.”

your brows dip slightly at the weird disclaimer

…

something about this doesn’t feel right.

“dear j, this is something that i’ve wanted to tell you for a while but have never had the courage to until now. throughout our entire friendship, you’ve been so kind and loyal and honest with me, and i think that you deserve the same, so this is me being honest with you.” jimin speaks into the microphone, reading the words off the slip of paper with a tone of amusement laced in his powder-soft voice, “to be honest, i’ve liked you for nearly a year now, and i’ve tried so many times to push those feelings down but it’s clear that my feelings aren’t going anywhere anytime soon…” he recites, a smirk twitching at the corner of his mouth as he puts the piece of paper down, “any thoughts on who the winner could be? or should i keep going?”

your eyelids flutter slightly at the weird change in mood of the lines and a strange feeling of familiarity of those words

“me at that one hot english professor.” a voice pipes out from the crowd and that gets a round of laughter

you laugh along politely, but you can’t help but feel as though something is off

something is off

something is very, very off

“i cherish you as a friend and the last thing i want to do is to make things weird, so… you don’t have to worry about my feelings, you know?”

oh my god.

you feel the blood immediately drain from your face when you finally realize why these lines are so familiar — it’s because they’re from the note you wrote for jungkook when you were going to tell him you liked him.

your brain begins to work overtime to figure out how the hell jimin got his hands on that note and why the hell he’d think it’d be okay to read it aloud to this massive group of people and what the hell he’s even doing right now

“what i’m trying to say is that i like you, j. i like you so much that i don’t know where to even put my feelings, and i’m sick of holding my feelings back and pretending that i’m fine with being just your friend.”

you know that jimin’s never really been a fan of you, but even this seems like too much of a dickhead move even for him

you pluck at the cuff of your sleeve anxiously, tracing your steps all the way back to the day you were going to tell jungkook about your feelings for him and the note that you’d accidentally given him that you were hoping was rotting away somewhere in a dump yard but clearly isn’t

jungkook said he’d given ji-eun the note to spit her gum out into

but what if she uncrumpled the paper and saw the note?

and what if jimin was there when she uncrumpled the note?

and then they read it together and ji-eun mentioned that you were reciting this aloud in the bathroom and-

your heart starts to race in your chest and you feel the hairs prickle on your arms as anxiety begins to bubble in your stomach, and you know that no one’s looking at you but you feel like everyone’s looking at you

you feel sick

you feel like you’re going to throw up and explode at the same time

“how could you like someone for a year and not tell ‘em?” jungkook snorts, nudging you with his elbow, “who do you think the poor sucker is who said that?”

“beats me.” you breathe out, feeling yourself shrink slightly when you notice jimin starting to scan the audience, clearly laser-focused on finding you, “i have to- um, i think i need some fresh air, it’s a little warm in here-“

“oh- okay-“ jungkook doesn’t get the chance to say much else before you’re turning around, pushing yourself through the crowd of people and trying your best to stay calm

just breathe

in and out

in and out in and out in and out oh my god HURRY UP MOVE MOVE MOVE-

you’re sure that no one will notice if you slink out through the back

and you can always text namjoon later and say that it was great spending time with him but you had a personal emergency and needed to leave the party earlier

and if jimin decides to expose you, at least you’ll be gone and out of this house and nowhere near any of these people and you don’t have to look at their stupid sympathetic faces and you don’t have to deal with-

“and the best simp of the night goes to our lovely corpse bride.”

you freeze when the spotlight lands on you, your heart going a hundred miles a minute as it starts to beat harder and faster in your chest

you only manage to turn your head weakly to glance over your right shoulder, catching jimin in your peripheral view before you’re slowly twisting around to face him, feet glued to the ground

“why don’t you come up here and accept your sash, corpse bride?” jimin smirks, plucking the satin sash from (a shocked looking) taehyung’s arms before raising it up in the air slightly, “congratulations on winning, you get two free drinks from the bar. one for you and one for… well, probably also you. get on up here and claim your coupons!”

you feel your face burning bright red in humiliation and you’re unable to tear your eyes away from jimin, your hands clenched into tight fists at your sides

this is a nightmare

this is actually a nightmare

this is traumatising in so many ways

the music seems to quiet down, a loud silence washing over the room as people look at you with expressions of confusion on their faces, everyone clearly a little thrown off at the weird category

eyes, there are just a million pairs of eyes on you and you feel like you can’t move or breathe or even do anything but stand still in shock

it’s only then that you notice the calculating look on jungkook’s face, his eyelids fluttering slightly before his eyes widen and his head snaps up and over to look at you

his lips part slightly as his eyes dart over the features of your face and you feel your entire body flushing in humiliation and shame, forcing your eyes away from your friend and back to the dickhead on the stage

“you are really something else, park jimin.” you manage to mutter out before turning on your heel and pushing your way through the crowd, people stepping aside to let you out

“aw, where are you going? you had a great costume, that’s all we were trying to say!” jimin laughs, actually laughs into the microphone before shrugging, tossing the sash over his shoulder before moving on, “alright, well, more drinks for me, i guess. the next category is best couple’s costume-“

“y/n- y/n, wait!” jungkook’s voice is the one thing you hear among the music and bustle of the crowd but he’s the last person you want to talk to right now so you pick up your pace upon spotting the front door

tears blur your vision as you finally burst out into the open air, your chin trembling as you try your best to keep your composure and not completely burst into tears

“oh my god, oh my fucking god-“ you whimper, sucking in large breaths of air

run, run, run, the only instinct you have is to run, and you reach down to yank both heels off before taking off into a sprint, the grass slightly damp beneath your bare feet

it feels very cliché to be running out of a mansion in a big poofy dress, but you can’t even take the moment to laugh at yourself because the only thing you can focus on is the fact that everything has changed completely and you’re forced to face reality a lot sooner than you would’ve liked

“y/n, come on!” you turn to glance over your shoulder to see jungkook hot on your trail, “you can’t just run away from a discussion you don’t want to have, we need to talk because we both know that things have been off since i started dating ji-eun and now-“

“okay, well, now you know, then!” your chest heaves as you come to a stop to catch your breath (you have no idea why you thought running would be a good idea, you get winded after thirty seconds on the treadmill), spinning around to face your friend who skids to a stop, tripping over his feet a little before standing up straight, “the secret’s out, jungkook. we finally solved the puzzle. i love you. i’ve loved you for so long that i don’t even remember when i started feeling this way, but all i know is i love you. you’re the first person i think of when i wake up and you’re the last person i think about before i fall asleep. i would literally drop everything i was doing if you needed me, and you’re the only person i want to spend my free time with.” all the words that you’ve been holding in for the last who knows how long finally spill out, your mouth running uncontrollably, “i love you so much that i helped you set up your date with ji-eun, i love you so much that i’m willing to run in the rain just to get you a teddy bear and a bouquet that’s not even going to me, jungkook, i-“ you blubber, reaching up to wipe at your eyes, “i don’t know what to do. there is no one else in the world i’d rather be with than you, jungkook, and i- to be honest, maybe it’s a good thing that jimin did what he did because you do deserve to know the truth and you do deserve to know how i really feel about you. if this didn’t happen i think i’d just keep it to myself for the rest of my life, but you deserve to know this. i love you, jungkook. i love you and i don’t know if i can keep being friends with you if you’re dating someone else because it’s actually killing me on the inside-“

“i love you, y/n,” jungkook breathes out, and you feel yourself letting out a breath that you didn’t even know you were holding

relief

for the first time in a long time, you feel relieved, like a massive weight’s just been lifted off your shoulders

you feel your heart soar in your chest, and suddenly it’s like all the humiliation and shame has completely washed away, and suddenly you have the feeling to run back into the house to thank jimin for doing this because you know you wouldn’t have said anything if it weren’t for this slightly traumatising experience

“i love you, i do, but… not in that way.” his shoulders droop slightly and you feel your heart beginning to crackle like a delicate glass sculpture, each splinter creating more damage than the last, “i love you like you’re the first person i call when i get good news because i know you’ll be proud of me, or when i get bad news because i know you’ll be there to comfort me. i love you, like i envision you standing next to me at my wedding fixing my tie or calming me down when whoever i end up marrying is walking down the aisle. i love you like you’ll be fun auntie y/n who spoils my kids with shopping sprees at the mall and who allows them an extra scoop of ice cream after dinner. i love you because you make me a better person, i love you because you encourage me to be the best version of myself i can possibly be. i love you because you remind me to be smart and kind and humble and honest and i trust you to be the one to put me in my place if i ever need it but i-“

“stop.” you feel nauseated hearing all of these words coming out of his mouth, telling you that he loves you because and he loves you because but not just i love you too. “just stop, jungkook.” you know that you can’t control someone else’s feelings but you can control your own reactions, and if jungkook would’ve kept rattling on you don’t know what you would’ve said but you know you probably would’ve lashed out at him

and it’s good that you finally got your answer, right? he loves you, but not in that way — not in the way that you love him

“y/n, please-“ jungkook whispers, reaching out for you, his eyebrows scrunching together when you take a small step back, wrapping your arms around yourself, “please, i can’t lose you as a friend, you mean so much to me-“

“i need some time.” you manage to force out, the sickening feeling of humiliation and shame and embarrassment and disappointment and frustration and anger swirling around in your stomach, “i just need some time.”

“how much time?”

“you should probably go back to the party.” you clear your throat quietly, offering your friend a weak smile, “i heard you and ji-eun were up for best couple’s costume. not saying that jimin rigged the system or anything, but-“

“y/n, how much time?” jungkook’s looking at you with sad puppy-dog eyes, and though it breaks your heart to see him like that, you need to put yourself first for once

every instinct inside of you screams to console jungkook, to reassure him and let him now that you’ll still be around but you just need some space from him and the whole situation

your eyes begin to water again as you press your lips together, shaking your head quietly, “i’m gonna go see if i can catch the bus home.”

»»————- 👻 ————-««

(- “the FUCK is wrong with you, huh?!” jungkook barks, slamming jimin up against the wall before grabbing two fistfuls of his shirt, “you sadistic fuck, who in their right mind would ever fucking do that to another human being?!”

“i’m the sadistic one?” jimin laughs, reaching up to wrap his fingers around jungkook’s wrists, “are you fucking serious? you’re the one whose been dangling yourself in front of y/n like a damn carrot to a starved rabbit-“

“what are you talking about?”

“you can’t stand here and honestly say that you didn’t have an inkling that y/n liked you more than a friend. i’ve seen the way you talk to her, i’ve seen the way you look at her, i’ve seen the way you are around her- you think i’m the evil one? at least i don’t take advantage of my friends who are CLEARLY head over heels in love with me and would obviously do anything i wanted them to do and ask them to help me set up a date that i’m taking someone else out on-“

“get a fucking life and mind your own damn business for once, you motherf-“)

🎙️ console y/n or call out jimin because what the hell was that?! (talk to my characters!)

📚 why not explore the rest of the library while you're here? (go say hi to yoongi and y/n in la vie en bonsai!)

💫 or perhaps you want something shorter to read? (drabbles and mini series!)

🌟 or something even shorter? (teeny tidbits!)

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