#just spiralling and beating myself up and not being able to stop thinking about my fuckups

[alexa-crowe]

trying not to anxietypost rn

[all-risejd]

A New Judgment Chapter 6: The Dinner and Some Questions (A Poly Judgment Day Fic)

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4. Part 5. Part 6. Part 7.

Rhea turns towards the door that Nessa and Damien just entered through and a look of relief comes across her face. Nessa sees Dominik pacing and muttering under his breath in Spanish. "Oh, thank god, he won't listen to a word we say and can't understand a word he is saying," Rhea tells Damien. Nessa goes to stand between Rhea and Finn as Damien goes over and starts to talk to Dominik the conversation clearly heated.

"Dominik is bitching about me putting myself in harm's way, about his dad not being careful with me and is unhappy with the story Triple H wants us to do because the drama is real and not just a story." Nessa roughly translates and continues as they do. "Damien is just trying to calm him down and to not go after Rey because it was an accident..." Nessa trails off as Dominik begins to spout off specifics as to why it was not ok for Rey to grab her like that. Nessa's eyes go wide, and she jumps over and grabs Dominik's face, "Dominik, you need to stop and calm down. You are telling MY past to someone I barely know. That is my story to tell, not yours. I am fine physically and mentally, now will you calm the fuck down before I have to have Mami beat the shit out of you again" She tries to lighten the mood with a joke from the story last year that started it all. She feels him deflate, her hands still on either side of his face as he nods his head.

Rhea, Finn, and Damien share a knowing look and smile. Glad she was able to stop Dominik from spiraling and doing something he'd regret. "I'm sorry Nessa, truly for that and everything else." He apologizes again and she huffs, her hands dropping to her side.

"Dom I forgave you, I'm letting you rebuild a relationship and trust with me you can stop apologizing." She flicks his nose gently and laughs as he scrunches it up, his bad mood effectively broken.

"I know, but I don't think I can forgive myself." He glances at his partners who discretely gesture for him to continue then act like they are engrossed in their phones so they can talk sort of privately.

"Dom, forgive yourself. Don't beat yourself up, that is my job and I don't want to." Nessa tries to joke again but frowns as he doesn't even crack a smile that time.

"Look, since you are going to be traveling with us, let's go to dinner before returning to the hotel and I can give you that explanation I owe you now instead of later." He asks, grabbing her hand giving her puppy eyes.

"Dom, I would but I am going to dinner with Luis. We need to talk about our storyline among other things." She explains and he glances in Damien's direction before letting out a soft

"Oh..."

"Hey where are you all going till Monday since it's only a few days?" She asks coming up with a plan.

"We are driving up to Seattle and will spend a few days there. After Raw we are going to New York at Luis place until we fly out to Smackdown on thursday." He explains, still glancing between Nessa and Damien confused.

"Ok how about this I ride with you and we can talk then is that ok Dom?" She offers and gently grabs his chin so he will look at her. He nods again agreeing with the plan. She turns to the rest of the group. "I know you were listening, is that plan alright with you guys too?" She addresses them and gets a chorus of agreement.

"Are you rooming with me tomorrow in Seattle?" Rhea asks, winking at her.

Nessa rolls her eyes. "You already know the answer. Yes, I am. He wants us rooming together."

"And you are ok with that?" Rhea tries to make sure Nessa is comfortable.

"Why wouldn't I be Demi? You respect my boundaries. It doesn't make me uncomfortable to share a room with you." Nessa shakes her head.

"I just wanted to be sure babe," Rhea shrugs and goes back to her phone and tweets about the show. Damien puts his phone away and stands up and grabs his bag to go into the bathroom to change, Finn following suit. "Dom why don't you go change with the boys and let Nessa change. I'll knock on the door when she is done, I know it'll be cramped I'm sorry." Rhea strongly suggests gesturing to the bathroom the other two men are in.

"Yeah, uh, sorry Ness." He mutters again and disappears in the bathroom.

"You know I'm not changing right? I'm just going to throw on a jacket till I'm back at the hotel." Nessa looks at Rhea who is looking at her like she is crazy.

"You are going on a date with Damo? Wearing that? No I don't think so." Rhea stands up and goes through Nessa's bag.

Nessa stands stock still, the air pulled out of her lungs. "It. It's not a date, I, uh, wha?." Nessa stutters.

"Oh relax Nes, I'm just messing with you. Finn was right, you are too easy to rile up. I honestly thought I fucked up when I texted you good girl." Rhea tries to calm her down and get reassurance for herself..

"No that was fine honestly that did something," Nessa admits, blushing. She snaps her head towards the crashing sound that just came from the bathroom.

"Everything ok in there boys?" Rhea calls out hearing two ' yes 's and Damien's deep voice grumbling something they can't make out.

"A-ha." Rhea cheers as she finds the corset top Nessa wore at Wrestlemania.

"You can keep the pants on, they are fine but here put this on I'll turn around." Rhea hands it over and turns around dramatically covering her eyes. Nessa rolls hers as she does as told knowing it is no use arguing she won't win this fight.

Once she has the corset snapped in place she calls out, "Hey Demi can you tie it for me, I'm a little too sore to do it myself from earlier." Nessa admits holding the front so she doesn't spill out over the top.

Nessa hears Dominik call out, "Oh come on" and she snickers, guessing what he is thinking. Rhea quietly comes over and tightens up the back of the corset, unnaturally quiet for the first time since Nessa met her.

"Hey you ok?" Nessa asks and she hears Rhea take a breath and swallow before answering.

"Yeah, I just didn't want to make you uncomfortable while I did this for you." Rhea pats Nessa's shoulders letting her know she is done and Nessa turns around.

"I'm fine, I was more uncomfortable with the sudden silence, I thought I upset you." Nessa responds watching as Rhea goes over and knocks on the bathroom door, the boys spilling out shoving each other.

Finn nods in approval of Nessa's outfit. "You look good Ness, not that you don't always look good It's just you, gah" Dominik tries to compliment before running his hand down his face.

"I get what you are trying to say Dom relax we've been over this, please stop trying to walk on eggshells around me." Nessa throws the shirt she changed out of at him.

Damien just laughs at Dominik getting flustered before addressing Nessa, "He is right you look divine," He eyes Nessa up and down and she quirks her eyebrow up at him again.

"And you look fine!" She shoots back and he can't tell if she means just fine or the compliment FINE. Dominik laughing tells him it's the former.

"What... what's wrong with what I'm wearing?" He holds his arms out and turns around showing off his Jeans, slayer t-shirt and Jacket he is wearing over it.

"Nothing" Nessa shrugs and grabs her jacket and purse and tries to grab her bag but Dominik beats her to it.

"Nuh-uh, you don't carry your luggage around us, we do it for you and Mami."

"Dom, I'm not at the same hotel as you so give me my luggage." Nessa holds her hand out to grab the handle only for Damien to reach over and grab it, putting it on top of his since it is just a small carry on bag, daring her to argue with a look like she did to them earlier. Nessa huffs and stomps her foot, aggravated but thankful nonetheless.

Finn laughs at her reaction. "Get used to it love you won't win that argument ever." Finn warns.

"You ready Mamita, I'm hungry." He stands up grabbing the handle of their bags and gestures towards the door.

"Yeah, I'll see you tomorrow Dom, pick me up at my hotel yeah?" She asks verifying the plan with him and he smiles.

"Yeah see you then Nes!" Dom calls.

Nessa walks with Damien to where his rental car is, making silly small talk along the way. Once they get to the car Nessa goes to open the passenger door and stops when Damien clears his throat. She turns to look at him, he is standing with his arms crossed looking annoyed. "What do you think you are doing mamita?"

"Uh, getting in the car?" She answers sarcastically.

"Let me get that for you," He steps forward and reaches out to grab the handle only for Nessa to smack his hand away.

"I can open the door myself." She answers trying to open the door but Damien holds it closed and leans closer to her, she doesn't back down.

"Not while we are around you don't. We open doors for women around here. It's the respectful thing to do." He tries to explain.

"And if she wants to open her own doors?" Nessa yanks again but it is no use he is much stronger than she is.

"Then she deals with it and lets us treat her right. Do I need to have a talk with Dominik about how to treat a lady?" Damien quirks an eyebrow.

"No, he always insisted but I always beat him to the car. Seriously, why are you so insistent." She groans not giving up on tugging on the door yet.

"Because my mother raised me right, now do you want to eat or not because I can do this all night." He stares down at her, and she pulls her hand back and steps back both hands in the air in a temporary surrender.

Damien opens the car door, and she gets in and buckles up, "This isn't over Luis!" She calls out as he closes the door gently and Nessa rolls her eyes. He puts their luggage in the trunk and gets in the car.

"What sounds good hermosa?" He asks as he starts the car.

"A good burger honestly." She answers and he hums in agreement and pulls out of the parking lot.

"I will open my doors, you know. You won't win this." She all but challenges him.

"That's cute, mariposa." He taunts and she glares at him.

"What is cute?"

"That you think you win this" He laughs as he pulls into the parking lot of the restaurant.

"Oh it's on." She tries to open the door but it is locked and Damien full belly laughs.

"I told you, you won't win this." He gets out of the car smiling as she tries to open the door and can't. She huffs waiting for him to open the door. He winks as he opens the door and holds it open. She gives him a gentle shove once she is out of the car.

"Did you turn on the child lock on the door!" She asks incredulously. He only laughs, throwing his arm around her shoulders. They get to the door of the building and Damien smiles like the cat that ate the canary and opens the door for her, she steps in and tries to reach for the second door only for his giant frame to dwarf her and reach it first and yank it open. She looks up at him, "You are a very persistent person." She grumbles and enters the building stopping at the hosts podium and he laughs again, amused at her frustration.

Once they are seated and their food ordered they sit in a semi-awkward silence, Nessa not knowing what to say or how to ask what she wants to ask. "So you wanted to talk, Hermosa." He takes a sip of his drink waiting on Nessa to start.

"Yeah, I just don't know how to ask what I want without it sounding judgemental or rude..." She starts wringing her hands and Damien frowns, noticing this is a common occurrence for her.

"Just ask, I promise I won't get offended or upset. It is coming from a place of genuine curiosity." He soothes, reaching over the table to grab her hand. She can't help but blush at the sweet gesture even though she pulls back her hands, needing to keep them busy somehow.

"Ok uh, how does it work?"

"How does what work sweetheart? I need a specific question to be able to answer." He leans forward so she can ask as quietly as she wants so she can limit her embarrassment.

"You are all romantically together, how does that work? I just want to understand." She averts her eyes and starts chewing her thumbnail.

"Hey, it's alright hermosa." He reaches over and grabs her hand again and rests it on the table still in his grasp so she can't chew on her nails more.

"Yes, and it works because there are boundaries that we respect and do not cross. It is discussed at the beginning of the relationships to make sure it is right for them. We have different sexualities and preferences, kinks even. But that's not necessary to the conversation right now."

"Oh ok. So can you explain what it means that you all are romantically together? I am having a little trouble wrapping my head around it." She gestures her free hand around in a circle. Damien smiles at her, happy with her openness to learn.

"Do you have a pen in that black hole you carry?" He asks, trying to ease her discomfort with a joke. She lets out a shaky laugh and hands him a pen and he grabs a napkin and writes down four names.

"Ok so here is me I am dating Demi, Finn and Dom," He draws arrows from him to the other three and continues. "It is the same for them so we are all connected to each other." He looks at her to see her reaction.

"And how are decisions made, living situations, group dates, individual dates? Demi offered for me to join you. How would that change things? She starts rattling off questions.

"Woah, slow down mamita one question at a time and to answer some of them I'll need to ask a few questions. I'll need the truth as well." He tells her meeting her gaze and he can tell she is still nervous but nods her head in agreement. "Ok decisions are made together, we all have to agree or compromise until we agree. Telling you so quickly was one of our quickest decisions. For your second question. We don't always stay with each other, sometimes we need our own space. Most of the time however we take turns. Dom has a pretty small place, so we aren't there often. Demi and Finn have the biggest place so we go there pretty often. Sometimes one of us needs space or we all need space so we go on our own." He pauses again to gauge her reaction and she nods her head following along, "We do individual dates with each other and sometimes big dates but those have to be careful at least for now because of work." He smiles at her acceptance. He sees her relax the more he explains. It, so he continues, "Now to answer your last question I have a few of my own. Would you be able to be romantic with Dominik again?"

Nessa swallows her bite of food before answering. "Honestly yes, I still love him, I never stopped. There is just some trust to build back again." She takes a drink to try to clear the dryness forming in her mouth.

"We would all need to sit and talk and renegotiate boundaries as you are a new piece to the dynamic, so I can't answer for sure yet how it would change things but there are some things I can." He explains and writes Nessa's name on the napkin now and starts drawing the lines between people. "You are willing to be with Dom and we know he still wants to be with you in some aspect," She opens her mouth to say something but changes her mind so Damien can continue. "You clearly are willing to be with Demi, correct?" He asks and she blushes. He tries to suppress a chuckle as he draws the line between Nessa and Rhea. "And what about me, Hermosa?" He wiggles his eyebrows and she laughs at his ridiculousness.

"I think I could give it a shot." She snorts, laughing at his ridiculous expression. "I do want to learn more about each of you individually and see how you interact as a group," She admits quietly.

"Hey Mamita, there is no rush, you are just asking... it is a big decision to make." He points his fork at her for emphasis. He picks up the pen again to continue explaining.

"That leaves Finn," with that he draws a line to Finn finishing what appears to be a pentagram and she laughs, of course it would be a pentagram.

"Finn would take some time. You already have his attention, he wants to get to know you, but you would need to build a strong relationship with you before any physical intimacy would happen. He is demisexual." He explains and she nods along. She notices he stops speaking and sees he is expecting additional questions.

"I understand different sexualities. I told you mine the other day. However, I hear there is a new term which better explains it as Omnisexual. So no extra questions on that except you could tell me more about him." She gives him puppy eyes, fluttering her eyelashes.

"Nuh uh no, you gotta do the work there Hermosa," He shakes his head, smiling at her pouting. "Let's continue, Demi is the same as you sexuality wise, I am Pansexual. I'm sure you know of Dom's." He states and she nods, leaning back in the chair. "Are you ok Nes?" Damien asks, wanting to gauge if he should continue, worried it was too much.

"No, Yeah. I'm fine, it is a lot to process." She begins to chew on her nails again.

"Ok, that's it. Let's change the subject for now," Damien firmly suggests and Nessa drops her hand immediately.

"No, please, I do that for a lot of things, not just being uncomfortable. It helps me think. It grounds me." She tries to explain.

"Fine, but if you do it again the conversation gets tabled. I will not continue it if you are clearly uncomfortable." He lays down no room for negotiation this time. Setting a firm boundary for both of them.

"Ok, I am only uncomfortable because I don't want to offend you or ask or say the wrong thing." She admits, meeting his stern gaze which softens when he sees nothing but truth in her features.

"Ok just ask what you want and I promise I wont get upset or offended," he sits back and waits for her to ask her next question.

"Ok, how does the sex work? I see different scenarios in my head and don't know what to think." She asks and Damien belly laughs making some patrons of the restaurant look in their direction. Nessa blushes and stares down at her lap, pushing food around her plate in embarrassment.

"Oh that was adorable I'm sorry for laughing," He apologizes and tries to suppress a laugh again and Nessa whines, her face getting even redder.

"Oh pobrecita, I'm sorry now I have made you uncomfortable." He stands up and leans over the table, his hand gently under her chin lifting her head up to meet his gaze.

"I'm sorry Hermosa, I didn't mean to embarrass you, it won't happen again." He apologizes and she nods still pouting as he sits back down and begins to answer her question.

"We don't always have sex all together like an orgy, sometimes it's just a few of us or just two of us. It's situational. We can go in-depth on that later Hermosa. If you wish, I know you have more questions."

"Let's stay on the sex questions, so let's say you and...m.. Mami," she catches herself and continues, "You two can just have sex, and the others won't be upset?" She watches as Damien shakes suppressing his laugh and she pouts again.

"Yes, so long as we don't constantly exclude each other, we are equals in equal relationships," He answers knowing what she was going to say, "My turn for a question, remember you promised honesty too..."

She nods earnestly waiting for the question

"Have you ever been with more than one partner at a time? What are your interests in bed? How much sex do you need to be satiated?

Nessa takes a breath trying to control herself so he doesn't table this conversation and answers.

"Yes, there have been instances of multiple sexual partners at a time just not in a poly relationship. Varied interests,'' She blushes and continues "And I don't know honestly, because of COVID I've been touch starved I barely saw Dom then let alone been physical until late 2021 even then with the schedule and still quarantining if I was exposed to Covid again to protect him and his career I have been, starved for lack of a better word. Honestly, I kind of think that is why he left me and I can't blame him." She shrugs and Damien looks at her sadly.

"Well that will be different if you do decide to join us mariposa, will be discussed when you are ready. Can you answer a few more questions?" Damian asked, softly.

"Yeah," She smiles, now more comfortable in the conversation.

"How do you like it? Rough? Gentle? Do you prefer to be manhandled? Are you a cuddler? Do you enjoy being tied up or being told what to do?"

"Yes..." She answers, tapping her fingers on the table and meeting his gaze, she doesn't shy away this time. He however is taken aback by her concise answer.

"Yes what?" He shakes his head, confused.

"Yes to all of that, it is situational." She shrugs, owning her preferences, something she is always open about.

"Well, we don't have time to unpack that but I am glad to hear it." He tables the conversation for his own sanity so he doesn't overstep her boundaries.

"How do you like to be treated after?" He asks and sees her clench her fists and changes direction.

"One more question, are you asking because you are interested in joining us?" He leans forward, resting his forearms on the table and continues realizing how that sounded. "Now I'm not asking for an answer about joining us right this moment, just that you are considering it."

"It is something I am considering, I need more information before I decide." She keeps her promise of honesty.

"I will talk to the others and we will follow your lead when it comes to this conversation, but Nessa," He starts his voice getting low and serious,

"If we make you uncomfortable you have to tell us, we won't have you uncomfortable and suffer in silence because you don't want to upset us. That would upset us more than anything. You have to be vocal, promise me that or this won't work." He taps on the napkin where he drew the relationship chart.

"Yeah I promise Luis," She smiles, and he stands up,

"I'm gonna go pay Mamita I'll be back," She opens her mouth to argue but he is already halfway to the counter with the bill. She grumbles to herself, "Goddamn giant and his goddamn long legs..." Nessa eyes the chart on the napkin and smiles to herself. She grabs it and stows it in her purse making sure Damien doesn't see.

After a few minutes, he comes back and holds out his hand, she rolls her eyes but takes it allowing him to help her up and guide her toward the door. He uses his body to block hers as she reaches for the door so he can open for her.

"You know what, tall person you are unlikable sometimes," She grumbles and stomps her foot as she exits the building and Damien laughs, shaking his head at her temper tantrum. He sees the gears turning in her head as she decides to make a break for the car to get to the door before him.

"Oh come on," She groans, throwing her hands up in the air as he beats her to the car.

"I'm faster than Dom Dom Chiqui and bigger, you can't win this fight." She sticks her tongue out at him as she enters the car and he is just finding it hilarious.

"Hey Luis?" She calls his name to get his attention while he drives.

"Hmmm..." He hums, waiting for what she wants to say.

"Tell me about you? I want to learn more about you." She asks and he glances at her and is silent, unsure what to say for the first time.

"What would you like to know?" he finally asks.

"I know you are from Puerto Rico, I want to know more of your past, your likes and dislikes in general not from our conversations earlier" She lets out a nervous giggle.

"Uh, I love baseball, DC comics and metal music." He lists off and she snorts.

"Define metal," He glances at her again, appraising the shift in mood.

"Slayer, Metallica my favorite, Iron Maiden, Megadeath. Bands like that." He answers and she nods appreciatively.

"I quite like metal too, though it isn't my favorite. I love for whom the bell tolls and she aint my bitch, they are my favorite Metallica songs." His head jerks to look at her before returning to look at the road. Shocking Damien with her choice of music.

"I don't know why you are shocked. You see what I wear and some of my tattoos" She shakes her head and continues,

"I am a big fan of pop punk however and alt rock like Motionless in white and Black veil brides." At this admission Damien shakes his head and responds,

"You and Demi will get along just fine."

"You mentioned you like comics?" She asks for clarification,

"Yeah, specifically DC, I love Batman." He smiles appreciating her attempts at bonding especially after such a loaded discussion over dinner.

"I am more of a Marvel comics girl myself, specifically the x-men though there is a special place in my heart for Wonder Woman. The tv series is what got me into superheroes anyway. She is the most powerful and just the best. Out of all DC and Marvel comics."

"That is an argument we can have later mamita we are almost to your hotel. So you like Iron man over Batman then?" He asks as he pulls into the parking lot.

"I didn't say that, they are the same but in different fonts, orphan and rich being a vigilante, though Iron Man admits his ego, Bruce acts holier than thou and it is hilarious people won't admit it. Iron Man, at least owns up to his ego where Bruce just acts like he is always in the right", She laughs and tries to open the car door again and immediately pouts again and crosses her arms waiting for him to go and open the door.

He helps her out of the car, her bag in his hand. She holds her hand out for the bag expecting him to drop her off there and he quirks his eyebrow up at her. "Do you think I am going to leave you alone this late at night in a parking lot and not walk you to your door?" He snorts and gestures for her to lead the way.

"I mean it is a well-lit parking lot with cameras and the door is like 20 feet away." Nessa keeps her hand outstretched.

"No can do Hermosa, I'm talking about the door to your hotel room, no bag carrying."

"Du farkirst mir di yorn," she mutters under her breath,

"I'm sorry, what was that mariposa?" he laughs enjoying her frustration,

"You'll be the death of me." She complains as he jumps ahead and opens the door following her into the hotel.

"And when it comes to Batman you are entitled to your wrong opinion..." he winks as she does a rude gesture as they enter the elevator.

"It's not wrong, you can try to goad me, but you won't win." She bumps her hip into him and pouts when he doesn't move an inch and he laughs at her.

The elevator doors open and he stands aside for Nessa to exit first. "Ok then Mamita,I'll have to prove you wrong."

"Is that a promise!" She taunts trying to grab her bag from him and he only holds it over her head. She glares up at him through her eyelashes, "I will stomp on your foot you, you, you Mazik," She finally finds the word in her vocabulary.

"How about you tell me what that means as you guide me to where your room is then I will give you your bag." He suggests, gesturing down the hallway.

"You know what, how about you give me my bag now and then I tell you." She stands tall, not backing down.

"It seems we are at an impasse, reinita." He steps forward and leans down so his head is level with hers, not breaking eye contact.

"You seem to think being stubborn is going to get your way, let's make a deal."

"You want to know what I called you and I want to carry my bag. You can still walk me to my room door. That is the offer." She smirks at him and he matches her expression.

"Or, I can look it up later and carry your bag as we continue to your room." He counters still at eye level with Nessa, his eyes flick around watching her expression.

"Fine," She answers softly and Damien returns to his full height smiling triumphantly as she continues to grumble under her breath in a language he doesn't understand but he can guess from her tone she is complaining and potentially cursing him. She stops in front of a door at the end of the wall and he takes mental note of the number to tell Dom.

"Goodnight Nessa, I'll see you tomorrow in Seattle." He gently places her bag on the ground in front of the door Nessa just opened. They stand there awkwardly until Nessa decides to step forward and wrap her arms around his waist, her head barely coming up to his shoulder, Damien wrapping his arms around her shoulder and giving a chaste kiss to her hair. She picks up her bag and steps into the hotel room, gently closing the door.

[oooocleo]

👀 Hullo there

I just wanted to stop by to- for one- tell you that your art is absolutely beautiful! You have such a fluidity and waterlike quality to all of your drawings, they remind me of single frames from old school Disney, like they should start dancing around my screen at any second.

I was wondering, (I'm sorry if it's annoying, you probably get this kind of question a Lot 😭) how long did it take you to get where you're at? Or- how long did it take you before you were satisfied with your artistic quality? I'm a baby artist (if you could count me as such, I started last week 😭) and I know it's gonna take me probably 5+ years to get where I want, but I can't help the insatiable curiosity

Oke das all thank u I wish u nothing but boundless inspiration and perfect ellipses on the first try

hmmmmm! im in my late twenties now and have been drawing on and off since primary school (tho i had a big gap in middle/high school before picking it up again a few yrs into uni) and can only say that i only got to Some sense of satisfaction a few yrs back, which coincided with going fulltime freelance and Drawing A Ton All The Time because of that (paired w/ the external validation of having folks wanting to pay for my work)

i also became more conscious of what demotivates me when it comes to art, being comparing myself to others mainly, and am now usually able to nip that in the bud before i go into a wild death spiral lol.......... i dont know that ull ever be completely satisfied & thats fine, as long as it doesnt stop u from trying again 🤔

i always say to beginner artists that if u can help it, really try to keep the *process* fun for urself, whatever that looks like - dont think abt how marketable it is or how many likes or whatever u get, bc when ur just starting out that stuff is just going to make u feel bad

when u think about what u want it to look like in the future dont beat urself up if it feels like ur not getting closer - tbh, by the time 5 yrs have passed what u want from ur art might be really different from what ur thinking now & thats All Good Babey

hmm what else... it might be interesting to know that ive never taken any formal art education/classes besides middle sql 'drawing' - i think that shows in certain aspects of my work (perspective LOL) and potentially slowed down my progress but personally when i find artists i Really Like and that stick out to me theyre usually also self taught!!

[aropride]

ive been reading a lot about ptsd for like. academic reasons as well as for the normal reasons (for fun/to try and speedrun fixing my brain (it isnt working)) and something a lot of places emphasize is others’ reactions being a super important part of how someone copes with trauma and if they develop ptsd. and thats something i definitely kind of knew already from experience and it just makes sense but like. idk. i just think about how the first person i told (aside from my therapist who doesnt count and my best friend whos just an extension of my own brain and therefore also doesnt count) abt one trauma just flat out ignored it and kept being friends with the person who hurt me and eventually stopped talking to me entirely in favor of them. and how all i could really do was completely isolate myself from everyone bc i was scared and i couldnt even imagine like. talking to anyone else about it. especially when a professional i talked to was really dismissive and.. not rude exactly but i got the sense that she really didnt like me. but those experiences like back to back ended with me like. shutting down completely and hiding in my room all the time and not talking to anyone and also being actively psychotic and realizing i had a dissociative disorder and its like. 😭 i mean it kinda spiraled wildly out of control. but if that first friend i told hadnt completely brushed it off and ignored it i think things wouldve ended up a lot different. i dont think it had to be that fucking awful. bc now with This situation all my friends have been supportive and accommodating and loving, and my school has been helpful and for the most part making reporting as smooth as possible (still sucks though!), and even though it has definitely been very traumatic like. im also seeing how it Should have been. none of that should have happened. when i told my friend what happened he shouldnt have just REACTED WITH A HEART EMOJI AND THEN NEVER BROUGHT IT UP AGAIN.. he shouldnt have texted that person in front of me every time we hung out. i shouldnt have felt nauseated going to the cafeteria bc id see them together and it felt like being beat to death. i shouldnt have been spiraling into psychosis in my room alone bc i should have had a friend who would be there for me. i shouldnt have gone days without talking to anyone because my friend should have been there for me and wanted to spend time with me. i got through it alone but i shouldnt have had to. and now i dont have to and its just. so fucking wild to. be able to see how important a support system is in my own life and how wildly different its been this year. idk

[thedisablednaturalist]

All the stress has triggered a flare up so I stayed home to work on a report for my job at home and I slept in because flare ups make it really hard to wake up and my mom comes bursting into my room screaming at me listing all the things that I KNOW I NEED TO DO AND HAVE BEEN WORKING ON and have been stressing me out like "you haven't done any work, you haven't done anything about your health insurance, you haven't done anything about getting a storage unit, you haven't looked for another job" which except for the storage unit (which i worked on getting ready for last week) I literally worked on yesterday. I spent over an hour at the government center trying to figure out my medicaid shit. I did a whole nother job application yesterday AND helped my bf with his. Oh? And my bf? My mom said "he's not allowed to come by during the week anymore" HE WAS HERE TO HELP ME GET TO THE GOVERNMENT CENTER! IF HE DIDNT COME WITH ME I DONT THINK I WOULD'VE BEEN ABLE TO GO BY MYSELF. Because the stress causes me to flare up which started yesterday and I cried 10 separate times due to frustration, worry, and stress yesterday and was fighting the flare up and spiraling while trying to get this stuff ironed out. So yeah I needed my bf who knows im disabled and knows how hard im trying to help me. Because none of my ACTUAL FAMILY MEMBERS would. Because even my most accepting ones think I'm faking deep down. And my mom isn't accepting.

I tried to tell her to please stop yelling because it makes my flare up worse but she just yelled louder and said "you just don't want to hear the truth" and bitch I KNOW the truth I beat myself up over not being able to do things as fast or as well as I want to. And thats why im so stressed. And she just wouldn't stop so I raised my voice and she said "DON'T YELL AT ME" like YOU came and yelled at me and I calmly said please stop and you wouldn't.

She doesn't fucking understand. I had two migraines yesterday because of stress. I cannot handle too much stress. I have to do things in small chunks or I get overwhelmed and stressed and spiral. And my body PHYSICALLY can't handle that due to my illnesses. I'm not being lazy or avoiding the issue. Im trying to remain calm so my body doesn't fuck me over.

Well guess who's pain level rose by 2 just because of that ordeal? So now everything is going to be harder.

[laurensliminalspace]

Building confidence with chronic illness and disability

What does it look like to be empowered and confident with a disability or chronic illness?

I’ve been pondering this lately as I find it’s easy to get into the mindset that when my health improves or if I fully recover, then I’ll finally feel confident, badass and empowered. And yes, that’s partly true. Having more energy and wellbeing definitely gives me a huge boost in my mood and sense of self efficacy. I also think it’s great to work on improving our health as much as possible.

However, what do we do in the mean time? What would it look like to be the best version of myself, right here with my current circumstances? I've been pondering this question recently, and wanted to explore it further.

Unfortunately, many of us get trapped in a downward spiral that feels out of our control. Feeling unwell saps our self esteem, and having to stop jobs, reduce social activities or limit hobbies can be very depressing. It’s a vicious circle that can be tough to escape. Financial and health struggles can create so much anxiety and stress, it can feel crippling not just physically, but mentally, too. It can feel shameful and embarrassing, and often we just want to hide and protect ourselves.

There can also be a lot of self-consciousness about our physical bodies and appearance. For example, many medications can make people put on weight, fatigue can cause dark circles under the eyes, and allergies can make people’s faces look puffy. Surgeries can also leave people with scars and it’s normal to wonder if people will find you attractive, especially in the dating scene.

However, the great thing about working on our health and confidence is that it can also be an upward spiral. Confidence can help motivate and empower us to improve our health and life situation, and in turn the increase in energy and health can boost our confidence. I’ve found that even improving my health by 5% or 10% can make a surprisingly dramatic difference in my overall quality of life. Every little bit counts!

Here is my advice, based on my life experience - in no particular order:

One: Escape the comparison trap.

Stop comparing to others, especially other able bodied people. Even comparing to others with the same condition can be highly problematic, as people have wildly varying symptoms, different levels of severity, as well as different levels of support and financial resources. Many people with the same outward symptoms also have a completely different root cause (or combination of root causes). Not to mention the treatments that work for some may not work for others at all. Some people find a silver bullet solution, but for most people, it’s more complex than just one thing.

Focus on yourself and stay in your lane. Concentrate on your personal achievements and look at how far you’ve come. Being able to walk for five minutes may mean nothing to the average person, but it may be a huge milestone for you. Don’t forget to celebrate your wins! Even the small ones. Also embrace the reality that the journey is going to be up and down. You’re going to have good days and bad days. Don’t let that discourage you from continuing.

Two: Self compassion and self acceptance.

Work on talking to yourself with more love, compassion and acceptance. Acceptance is really important because we need to come to terms with our reality, which is often incredibly frustrating and painful. This often involves a great deal of grief too. It’s okay to feel all the emotions, and hold space for them. I find journalling, therapy and EFT tapping really helpful in this process. I also really like parts work, and the concept of unblending, as it helps me gain perspective on difficult emotions and parts.

Know that it’s okay to feel the sadness and anger. It’s also okay to feel envious and jealous of people who are able bodied and have easier lives. It’s normal. Don’t add insult to injury by beating yourself up over totally normal emotions!! Society encourages us to repress and deny our shadow, but we need safe spaces to talk about the tough stuff.

Being disabled and chronically ill comes with a huge amount of stigma, and often trauma, too. Get the treatment you need for any trauma that’s holding you back and sapping your spirit. I recommend EMDR and somatic therapy, but there’s lots of other modalities out there too.

Three: Own it fully.

This is easier said than done, but when you’re disabled or chronically ill, it’s better to own it and speak about it as confidently as possible. I find this is especially relevant in social or dating situations. I try to be honest, open and frank about my lifestyle and limitations, rather than hiding it or pretending I don’t have any conditions. This is sometimes a tough line to walk as you don’t want to overshare or freak people out, but in general I prefer to be up front with people.

This also includes freely using mobility aids in public settings, social situations or going on dates. I’ve become very comfortable using a mobility scooter to get around, and often take a walking stick with me too. It takes time to get used to this, but the more you do it, the less self-conscious you’ll feel. Some people find it helps to decorate their mobility aids or get a walking stick that looks funky. Canes can be incorporated into a steampunk, dark academia or dapper aesthetic in a fun way! Find a way to own it and make it your own, in a way that suits your personality and style.

Another area that can be challenging is dealing with dietary limitations. Strict diets and allergies can be tricky, but again, it’s better just to own it. I don’t eat at restaurants, but I still go to restaurants and cafes with friends and enjoy hanging out. Yes, it’s a little awkward sometimes, but you have to push through it. The right people won’t care, and will value your presence more than anything else.

Four: Seek supportive connections, friends and community, whether online or off.

Find friends, groups and events that are supportive, uplifting and accessible. Don’t hang around people who judge you or drag you down. Even people who constantly insist on giving annoying unsolicited advice (like "just drink more water!") can drain your precious spoons.

I know this is so much easier said than done, because being disabled or chronically ill can bring with it a great deal of isolation. It’s natural to just hang on to whatever connections you have, and not want to let go or burn a bridge. So be kind to yourself if there’s some people you’re just not ready to let go of right now. But keep looking for better friends who are going to life you up and who fully accept and celebrate you as you are.

Never, ever assume you have to tolerate any abuse or mistreatment because you’re disabled or chronically ill. You are not a burden and never deserve to be treated badly.

The same goes for dates and partners. Don’t settle for people who are toxic, judgemental or just tolerate you – rather than fully accepting and loving you right now, for who you are. Also, find people who respect and cherish you as a person, not for what you can do for them or what you achieve. People who are very focused on things like class, money and status are usually best avoided where possible.

Five: Cultivate a sense of purpose in your life that’s bigger than you.

I find when I’m focused on my purpose and calling, it’s easier to be confident because I’m not so focused on what other people think of me. I recognise that I have a calling that’s a lot more important than that! Obviously, this is easier said than done, especially if you can no longer work – or have had to change jobs, or reduce your work hours. Even volunteering can be surprisingly difficult when you have health limitations.

But purpose, meaning and calling in life are much greater than what we do for money, or even our hobbies. Relationships are a core source of meaning and purpose for many people. Being creative and growing spiritually are also significant. I’ve written more about this in other blog posts, but I find this is a significant piece of building a sense of empowerment in difficult circumstances. Reflecting on your core values can be really powerful and inspiring.

I’d recommend doing an exercise where you select words or phrases that represent your core values in life.

Six: Don’t be afraid to have fun, explore and try new things, as much as you can!

I find singing and dancing at home to positive, empowering songs can really boost my mood and confidence. It can be hard to be as spontaneous and active as I would like, but I still try my best to engage in life to the fullest extent of my capabilities. Sometimes this means asking for help or using mobility aids to get to certain events. It can also mean more planning ahead when travelling.

I really love riding my escooter, as it gives me an adrenaline rush but isn’t too tiring. Think outside the box and be open to new experiences. Brene Brown talks about engaging in laughter, song and dance in her guidelines for wholehearted living, and I think it’s applicable here. Watching hilarious movies and having a laugh with friends can be so uplifting.

Finally, don’t discount celebrating your sexuality. Disabled people are often portrayed as non-sexual, but exploring dating and sex can be a lot of fun and very empowering.

Practical suggestions:

Explore journalling about – what does it mean to live my best and fullest life with my current limitations? What does being empowered and confident look like for me right now? Brainstorm whatever comes to mind.

If you’re feeling rejected or unworthy, put your hand on your heart or your belly, and send love to the parts of you that are holding these emotions. I find self compassion practice can be really powerful.

EFT tapping is a great tool for working through negative core beliefs, like “I’m a burden” or “I’m not enough”.

If people give you a compliment, take a screenshot or write it down and save it into a folder on your computer for whenever you feel down and need a pick me up.

Try writing down your strengths, good qualities and things you like about yourself.

Create a celebration jar where you write down anything you’re proud of or qualities your love about yourself on little bits of paper. Put them in the jar and you can open it whenever you need a reminder. Another option is putting a marble or stone in a jar whenever you do something you’re proud of.

Experiment with visualising yourself as your most confident, empowered self. You could go back to a past memory where you were feeling your best, or imagine yourself in the future. I find doing this while listening to music can be really uplifting.

Use positive affirmations, for example: My worth and value is based on who I am, not on my achievements. I am confident. I am powerful. I deserve to be treated well. If it feels a bit fake or forced, you could try asking yourself, “What if I felt confident?” and see what arises.

Further links and resources:

Chronic Illness and Confidence: How to Rebuild

Facing the World with Confidence and Chronic Illness

How to be Confident While Being Chronically Ill

[iamamonsterofverity]

🪐 August 📖

It began with a bang. 

That's the fifth time I've read the sentence, still not really absorbing its words. In my mind I'm rehearsing what I will say to Henry, when he gets home. Not that I expect his answer to suddenly change since I last asked him . . . but I can still hope.

In reality I'm sitting at the kitchen counter, rolling a crisp green apple in circles with one hand and holding the Astronomy book open with the other. Even though the windows were closed I know it's dark out now because despite the steel walls everything seems to darken. Sometimes I look out and pretend I can see all the stars from my book and even though if the windows were open I still wouldn't be able to and I know it's silly but I still catch myself imagining them like the ones that cover Isla's skin. I wonder where Isla is now, she never leaves the compound so probably in her room. It's times like these when I wonder most how she stays inside, even now I can feel the city pulling at me through the walls, begging me to free it of a shadow.

I check my watch, the cuff of my shirt inching up to reveal the lowest of my black tally marks. Isla's voice drifts in from the other room, even though the words weren't meant for me, and from the nineteen floors below I can hear the layers noise, of voices, the rhythm of boots, the metallic snap of a gun being loaded, and the thousand other fragments sounds that form the music of the Flynn compound. Finally I drag my attention back to the book. 

It began with a bang. 

The words remind me of a T. S. Eliot poem, "The Hollow Men." 

Not with a bang but a whimper. 

It is strange how they could be so similar when one talks about the beginning of life and the other about the end, but it still gets me thinking: about the universe, about time, about myself. Before I can stop them the thoughts are falling like dominoes inside my head, one knocking into the next into the next into the—-

My ears hear it before my mind processes it, and instinctively my head flicks up just before the steel kitchen door slides open, and my father Henry comes in. Henry Flynn is tall and slim, with a surgeon's hands. He's dresses in the task force's standard dark camo, a silver star pinned to his shirt, a star that had been his brother's once and before that his father's and before that his great-uncle's, and on, rolling back fifty years, before the collapse and the reconstruction and the founding of Verity, and probably even before, because a Flynn has always been at the beating heart of this city.

"Hi, Dad," I say, trying not to sound like I'd been waiting all evening for this conversation.

"August," Henry says, setting an HUV—high-density UV beacon—on the counter. "How's it going?" 

The question is so simple but the answer is so complex, I sigh. I stop rolling the apple, close the book, and force myself to sit still, even though a still body is a busy mind—something to do with the potential kinetic energy, if I had to guess; all I know is that I am a body in search of motion. 

"You okay?" asks Henry when I don't answer. 

I swallow hard. I can't lie but sometimes it's just so hard to tell the truth. "I can't keep doing this," Is all I say instead. Henry eyes the book.

"Astronomy?" he asks with false lightness. "So take a break." 

I look at Henry, really look at him, attempting, somehow, to get my point across without having to use words but it doesn't work like that. I resort to analysing his expression. Henry Flynn has kind eyes and a sad mouth, or sad eyes and a kind mouth; I can never keep remember which one is right. Facial expressions have ways of twisting into an merging with each other that I'll never understand. Emily says that your eyes can be angry even if your mouth is sad or . . . wait which way was it again. Faces have so many features, infinitely divisible, and yet they all add up to single, identifiable expressions like pride, disgust, frustration, fatigue- my thoughts start to spiral, I'm losing my train of thought again, I fight to catch it before it rolls out of reach.

"I'm not talking about the book." 

"August ...," starts Henry, because he already knows where this is going. "We're not having this discussion."

I try again, if I'm going to convince him I have to make my case. Let me make my case, I think, just one more time, please, I'm dying here, "But if you'd just—" 

"The task force is off the table." The steel door slides open again and Emily Flynn walks in with a box of supplies and sets them on the counter. 

She is a fraction taller than her husband, her shoulders broader, with dark skin, a halo of short hair, and a holster on her hip. Emily's walk gives off an air of determination but she shares Henry's tired eyes and set jaw. This is one of the few easy expressions to read because it isn't really an expression at all. Both of their eyes have dark circles and I can hear Henry's teeth grinding subtly.

"Not this again," she sighs like she's tired of this conversation already even though it just started.

"I'm surrounded by the FTF all the time," I protest, hoping to reach at least one member of my now larger audience. "Whenever I go anywhere, I dress like them. Is it such a step for me to be one of them?"

"Yes," says Henry. His voice draws a hard line, one I should stop before crossing. Should . . .

Emily's tone is softer, more mothering. I think that's what the word is. "It isn't safe," she says defending Henry as she starts unpacking the food. She wants me to think well of him, to make sure I know he's doing this for the right reasons. And I do think well of him, very much so but . . . What are the right reasons?

"Is Ilsa in her room? I thought we could—" I cut Emily off

I'm not letting this go so easily, not this time. "Nowhere is safe, that's the whole point. Your people are out there risking their lives every day against those things, and I'm in here reading about stars, pretending like everything is fine." Angry, annoyed, upset, frustrated, mad, irate, cross, vexed, irritated, exasperated, irked, displeased, furious, infuriated, enraged. These words -a whole dictionary's worth- each meaning something just slightly different from the other, run themselves through my mind. Which one is right for what I'm feeling right now?

Emily shakes her head (not patronisingly, it's a sad headshake, I think) and draws a knife from a slot on the counter. She starts chopping vegetables, creating order of chaos, one slice at a time. "The compound is safe, August. At least safer than the streets right now." 

"Which is why I should be out there helping in the red."

"You do your part," Henry says. "That's—" 

"What are you so afraid of?" I ask. I think when human's say things like this it's called a rhetorical question but I know I'll recive an answer.

Emily sets the knife down with a click. "Do you even have to ask?" It's always like this, she thinks of me as her child, like she's my mother and it's her job to shield me but I'm not a child. I'm not even human.

"You think I'll get hurt?" And then, before she can answer, I'm standing up and slamming the kitchen knife down onto my hand. Henry flinches, and Emily sucks in a breath, but the blade glances off my skin as if it were stone, the tip burying in the chopping block beneath. The kitchen is suddenly very quiet. Good. "You act as though I'm made of glass," I say, un-wedging the knife from the wood block, "But I'm not." I take her hands in mine, copying what I've seen Henry do so many times. "Em,"I say as gently as I can, "Mom. I'm not fragile. I'm the opposite of fragile."

"You're not invincible, either," she counters. "Not—"

"I'm not putting you out there," Henry cuts in, his "hard-line" voice is back. "If Harker's men catch you—"

"You let Leo lead the entire task force," I argue somewhat pettily. I know Leo is different, but not that different. I'm trying to convince myself at this point. "His face is plastered everywhere, and he's still alive." 

"That's different," Henry and Emily say at the same time.

(A/N this part is also half finished but again I should get around to it when some of my bigger stories are more complete. Please like, reblog, and comment if you want me to continue.)

[things-to-tell-my-therapist]

I really don’t know how people can tell me to be open about when I’m feeling suicidal or about all the destructive thoughts in my head when we both know for a fact it just ruins everything if I do and doesn’t make a difference. I will still be thinking those things, screaming them in my head at myself constantly and it’s just not something you can sit down and have a chat about then move on to the rest of your day. You really want me to tell you what goes on in my head when I’m spiralling? You really want to know? It’s just flashing images of smashing my fucking skull into the wall or breaking my arm or tearing my goddamn eyeballs out. It’s screaming like I’m being murdered, shrieking at myself to do better to shut up to get over it to stop crying to get up and do SOMETHING but not being able to do anything. It’s that voice at the back of my head constantly telling me it would be easier to just end it whenever I can’t do the dishes or I missed a deadline. It’s screaming at people to go away when I’ve got messages I haven’t opened in weeks from my closest friends that I’ve left mid-convo but also feeling incredibly depressed at the idea of being alone and missing them with all my heart. It’s wanting to beat myself into a pulp yelling WHY CAN’T YOU DO IT, WHY CAN’T YOU BE NORMAL on repeat since I was 8. It’s this innate NEED to be understood but stopping people at every chance from doing so because I can’t bring down these walls without being intoxicated or in the middle of a breakdown. I used to rip my hair out as a kid and try to smother myself with my pillow every night before bed because I couldn’t stand the way I felt and my tiny brain couldn’t understand it. It used to be my nightly routine to kneel at the side of my bed and pray, beg, to the God I was taught was a saviour and cry myself to sleep every time He failed me. I would beg with tears covering my face for a friend, a better family, a better life where people didn’t hate me just for existing, just somewhere that I felt I belonged and wasn’t a burden or punished for being one. I got so used to being groomed that I would seek out adults on the internet as soon as I got access to it because their attention felt like a good thing and it made me feel valued instead of worthless. My self-esteem was purely built up from adult attention growing up and now that I’m nearly 20 I’m disgusted if someone even a few years older looks at me. The things I used to do to get their approval makes me sick now. My entire experience of growing up felt so performative and dysfunctional, I don’t even know who I really am sometimes because I certainly don’t want the person I remember to be me. I hate myself because I hate who I was and what I did and how I let it all just happen to me AND THEY NEVER GOT ANY CONSEQUENCES. NONE OF THEM. AND I’LL NEVER STOP HATING THAT OR MYSELF AND WANTING TO BE DEAD.

[yeonjuins]

hey I’ve been feeling kind of uninspired lately and idrk to fix it.. like I have ideas and WANT to do them but when I open ps I cant do it. I even have ideas written down but nothing comes out when I try to follow through and I give up very quickly 😕

do u have this same problem or could this just be a personal thing ? I did just recently finish a big project that I’m really proud of 🫶🏾 so I could probably just be burned out? But that was weeks ago lmao

june anon - also I saw u answer my rec list so I’ll read that rn

(lengthy response! 1/2)

honestly i 100% get what you mean PAHAHA i feel like i'm constantly surrounded by inspiration and new ideas and it gets me pumped and motivated to begin creating but the moment i sit down and actually try to start, i have no idea what i'm doing whatsoever... then it spirals down a whole rabbit hole of 'my taste in xyz is significantly larger than my actual skill level'

likewise, i went into my summer so mentally prepped and ready to begin designing for yeonjuins a lot more and making silly little kpop edits or even venture off into bigger projects to challenge myself but alas, i felt so burnt out without even beginning. prior, i had finished a major design project in one of my classes (to which i ended up getting a 98% in so it was worth <3) which pretty much pushed my creative abilities all around. i sort of had the mindset that i'd go into summer being able to expand off of it but i didn't even begin to create things until what.... two months into my summer? and school being right around the corner now too? PAHAHHA

a lot of creatives will say this as well but you have to make a lot of shitty things in order to make good things. even if you are feeling uninspired and don't know what to make but you know you want to make things, make it. it'll probably end up shitty, you'll probably hate it and think you wasted your time, but literally, in order to make good shit, you need to make actual shit first LOL

there's a lot of, what i recently learnt was called, 'invisible work' that goes into making things. even with my he he ha ha graphics with yeonjuins that are just based around my silly little kpop boys, i do research, make sure all my references are correct, making sure i pull from the right sources, etc etc. it seems overwhelming at first, but if you just get down to the mindset that you need to just make something, whether it be good or absolutely awful, it's a lot less daunting.

one of my favourite favourite quotes is from this book called 'tiny beautiful things' by cheryl strayed. i cried my heart out to this book, and specifically, this part made me get down on my floor and sob.

“do you know what it is to be humble? [...] i’d finally been able to begin [to write again] because i’d let go of all the grandiose ideas i’d once had about myself and my writing-

so talented! so young!

i’d stopped being grandiose.

i’d lowered myself to the notion that the absolute only thing that mattered was getting that extra beating heart out of my chest. which meant I had to write my book.

my very possibly mediocre book. my very possibly never-going-to-be-published book. my absolutely nowhere-in-league-with-the-writers-i’d-admired-so-much-that-i-practically-memorized-their-sentences book. it was only then, when i humbly surrendered, that i was able to do the work i need to do.”  (page 57)

tldr: just make shit. there are so many scrapped versions of my gfxs people don't see and so many scrapped ideas that don't even see the light of day on this site. but i think that's also the beauty of being a creator ! you build resilience. you make shitty things to only then make good things. just be patient with yourself my love, ideas will flow when it all fits together but you need to allow for your ideas to flow first (":

[nightowlwriting]

summary: steve is acting weird. avoiding you, being snippy and mean, leaving the room when you enter. all you want is your boyfriend back, but all he wants is to pretend you don't exist. when he's almost hurt on a mission, you do what you're made to do.

word count: 11k

reader specifics: no race/gender/sexuality/body type mentioned, no pronouns for reader used, powered!reader, insecure!reader

warnings: steve is mean to the reader in the beginning, heavy angst, hurt/comfort, canon-level violence, brief ptsd symptoms, slight description of blood, brief mention of racism in the '30s & '40s

brief mentions of: reader's parents being toxic, homelessness, past accidents, ableism in the past & present

note: this one hurt me lmfao. idk why this went the way it did but i'm not mad at it // also i am a queer, trans, disabled american. i have fundamental disagreements with things that marvel/the mcu as it stands for and some of the more nuanced things that you might not notice unless you're looking for it. this will take place in my writing because i cannot separate myself from the lens in which i consume/create content.

title credit: lil nas x

mobile masterlist - request - support my work? - ao3

Falling in love with Steve Rogers went against every instinct you had. You knew that he was going to hurt you from the first moment your lips touched his. Sure - he’s clever, righteous, courteous… You can’t forget he’s also drop-dead gorgeous because every trashy gossip magazine in a three-state radius of New York doesn’t let you forget. Neither does the sight of him waking up in your bed every morning. (Well, actually, maybe that would remind you if he was still fucking doing that.)

But lately, you’ve had to rely on the fucking tabloids to catch a glimpse of your super-hero boyfriend. The university class you had picked up on a whim at the end of the summer - Life & Times of the ‘30s and ‘40s - avoids any mention of Steve Rogers and the Howling Commandos. Not that your classmates do because, Christ on a bike, those magazines manage to catch pictures of you and Steve in moments that you don’t even remember. Plus, you’re an Avenger too. It’s bound to catch some attention when you waltz into a college classroom.

You’re sure if you were an undergrad trying to fill a gen-ed requirement and were sitting next to someone who could kill you without blinking but also dating Captain Rogers you’d be a little distracted too. You try not to blame your classmates too much, but they do make it hard to concentrate with their -really dating Captain America?- and -wonder if I could get an autograph- whispers. None of that matters because you’re learning, really studying, in between missions and missing Steve and believing that maybe the gossip reporters are right.

Maybe he’s forgotten about you.

You grit your teeth and push the thought away. It does you no good right now, while you’re training with Peter. He’s working his way up to bona fide missions and, because you’re the only one on the team who has experience with real-life teenagers outside of saving their lives, it’s up to you to get him to the level that he needs to be. Plus, the mission where he’s going to get his gills wet is just you, Tony, Steve, Nat, and Bucky. You’d much rather be the one to train him because you won’t traumatize him.

Right now, though, you’re just kicking his ass to try and get rid of some of the tension in your body. You feel a little bad about it, but when you started as his mentor you told him point-blank that you’d never go easy on him. That meant if you were having a bad day he either needed to up his game or he’d have a bad day too. It appears he’s taken that to heart as he struggles to dodge the hits you’re throwing his way. He lunges out of the way when you try to land a right hook but practically walks into the leg sweep that sends him crashing to the ground.

“Awe,” Peter groans, letting his guard down. You take the momentary lapse of focus to grab him by the collar of the hoodie he’s wearing and haul him to his feet, jerking one fist back to cold-clock him but he beats you to it. You hear the sound of your nose cracking before you feel it but then the pain rushes you all at once. You’ve had worse but coming from Peter, the move surprises you. You don’t yell out but he does when you push him away from you and call the fight off. Peter practically yelps your name, hands up by his head as he watches you bend at the waist, both hands over where your nose is absolutely gushing blood. “I am so sorry, I just reacted-!”

“It’s fine, Pete,” You shake your head and stand straight again, the blood beginning to leak through your fingers, “Just go get me a towel, okay?” Peter practically trips over his feet to get something for your nose and as you track him on his way into the locker rooms, you see Steve, Bucky, and Nat. The latter are looking your way, eyebrows raised like they’re asking you if you’re okay. Steve hasn’t even broken stride in his conversation so you wave them off with a bloody hand. Peter’s back in a flash, pressing a wet towel into your grasp and snapping you out of your self-pity party. “It was a good hit,” You compliment as you wipe your face off, “I just wasn’t expecting it. Prob’ly wouldn't have landed it if I had.”

He wrings his hands, shifting from foot to foot. “I’m sorry-”

“It’s a good thing, Peter, means you’re getting better.” You deadpan, checking to see if your nose has stopped bleeding yet, “I don’t think you actually broke it, but I’ll go down to medical to check later.” You do your best to clean up your hands with the wet towel, but it’s so soaked with your blood that it mostly just smears it around. You grimace and shake your head. “Well, I should go now before our sparring match ends up looking like I murdered you.”

“I’ll go with,” He offers, “I’m the one who broke your nose.” You let Peter walk you down to medical even though you were originally going to refuse. Perhaps petty, but it was the way that Steve didn’t even look your way as you left that made you let the teenager walk you the two floors to where you’d be able to clean yourself up. He hums in the elevator and you know that he wants to ask you something - it’s the way he holds his mouth when he’s prying for information or keeping a secret that tips you off. Finally, just before the elevator opens, you sigh and turn to him.

“What, Peter?” He grins but then it falls when he has to skitter after you down the hall. Maybe that’s why it falls - the question he asks next nearly sends you to your ass.

“Is everything okay with you and Captain Rogers?” He easily catches up to you when you stop in your tracks, ignoring that you’re still bleeding a little bit down your face and you might be dripping blood everywhere from where it’s run down your arms.

“What?” You do your best to look confused like everything is fine, but Peter is perceptive. He may fumble around and be pretty awkward, but those are really just teenager things that he’ll hopefully outgrow. You should have known that when someone caught onto how bad things are on your end, it would be Peter. (You wonder if Nat or Bucky has brought it up with Steve, considering he’s spent more time with them in the past week than he’s seen you in the past month.) “We’re fine.” Your words are stilted as you begin walking to the medical wing much faster than before.

“I just thought I’d ask, well, because I’ve sort of noticed… Something just seems off, you know? Like, you two used to spend a lot of time together, and maybe it’s the recon mission coming up, but I was just thinking that you two really barely look at each other even when you’re in the same -”

“Peter!” You say his name much louder than either of you expected and both of you jump. “Peter,” You say softer, looking at the glass door to the medical wing instead of him, “Just leave it, okay? It’s nothing you have to worry about, kid.” Peter ducks around to open the door, forcing you to look at him. “He’s just focused on his stuff and I’m focused on getting you whipped into shape for this mission. We only have two days.” Once you’re inside and surrounded by the medical crew Tony keeps on staff, he thankfully drops it. You love Peter, you do, but it’s a lot like having a little brother. You can only love them so much before you want to fucking strangle them. Eventually, as the doctor checks to make sure he hasn’t broken your nose, you have to order him away to go study or something. “I’ll join you later,” You promise him as the doctor prods at your tender flesh, “I have an essay due soon.”

That’s another thing that’s been bugging you that Peter surely picked up on. Nearly everybody knew you were taking a course at the local community college, but nobody knew what it was about. You’d wanted to keep it a secret until you told Steve, but the day you had registered he’d flown out for a two-week mission without telling you or saying goodbye. After that, you decided it didn’t really matter if anyone knew what class you were taking, and keeping it a secret sort of spiraled from there. If they wanted to know they could look it up. Maybe it was petty, but you just wanted the class to be over and done with so you could forget that you really only picked it up so you relate to your boyfriend more.

If you can even call Steve your boyfriend anymore. You’re not so sure where you stand and, honestly, you’re really close to giving up on the relationship as a whole but you can’t do that. Before you were dating, you were friends, and Steve… He never gave up on you. Not once. How could you repay him by giving up on your relationship? The one that you thought was The One? Even if it hurts, even if you’re unsure more than sure these days, how could you? Somewhere, though, you know you deserve better. You don’t deserve the sinking, dark feeling that lingers in your gut for most of your days now or the way that you second-guess every move you make - even in the field. It’s dangerous but you can’t do anything to fix it.

You’re too scared. You know that eventually, it will happen, he’ll break up with you, but you’d like to put that day off for as long as possible. To relish in the love he once had for you, how pure and powerful it was. You’re sure that you’ll never experience anything like that again.

Hell, you might never fall in love again.

Those thoughts don’t do anything to help you, though, so you try not to have them. You get clearance from the doctor and get cleaned up as much as you can without taking a full body shower. The idea to go back to your room and take one crosses your mind but you know that Steve’s probably done training, probably heading back for his own shower, and you don’t want to open that can of worms. Instead, you go to the common room and drop into the couch between Peter and Tony. They’re talking about something something science something something, but you pull your stack of books and notebooks out from the shelf underneath the coffee table and continue outlining your essay from where you left off. The assignment was focused on how the end of WW1 changed American life and then how life changed leading up to and during WW2 but that had hit a little too close to home for you, so you’re writing about the racial tension and overall racism of the times. Tony and Peter keep talking over your back and then you hear footsteps heading toward the common room.

You barely look up when they enter - Nat and Bucky - because it’s fine. It’s normal. They’re just two of Steve’s best friends, that’s all, nothing to be jumpy about. You don’t even register that emotional pain that hits when you realize that, yeah, you’re not one of his best friends anymore. You doubt you’re even considered a friend in his book.

You groan and lean back into the couch, bringing your study materials with you. Peter glances over, skimming over your page and a half of shorthand, and gags. “Jesus, can you write like a normal person?”

“Oh, sorry,” You say lazily, not looking up as you continue to scribble in your incomprehensible code, “I do forget that some of us had privacy at home.” You lift your lips just a little bit to let Peter know you’re kidding, looking up at him through your lashes as you slouch next to him. He looks red in the face. “Besides, once you have to start doing mission reports you’ll be begging me to learn my shorthand and use my stenography machine.”

“I keep telling you that I can update that ol’ thing,” Tony draws your attention. For the first time, you realize that Nat and Bucky are on the loveseat looking at you expectantly. Steve is standing in the corner over their shoulder reading a book from the bookshelf in front of him. His back is tense and he looks like he’s not reading, just listening. You force your eyes back to Tony on your right and shake your head.

“No, because then you’d know my shorthand and it makes me too happy to see you spend hours trying to decipher it.” His eyes wander to your essay again, trying to find any patterns that he can use to figure out what the hell you’re writing on anything ever. He’s opening his mouth to make a smart-ass remark that will no doubt lift some of the weight off of your shoulders when another voice speaks up.

“Wow,” Steve doesn’t even look at you even as he says your name sardonically, “Way to be a team player.” Your mind comes to a screeching halt, trying to figure out what the fuck he’s playing at. Even Bucky and Nat look surprised at the cold way he spoke to you, Tony and Peter both gasping from your side. You can’t say anything, throat tight and burning with tears as you stare at your boyfriend with raised eyebrows. What do you say to that? How do you respond? You know it wasn’t a joke because he’s not laughing, not smiling, not even looking up from that fucking book in his hands. You can’t tell if you’re more hurt or embarrassed, but either way, you don’t want to stick around for someone to get the nerve to say something.

Instead of replying, you slam your textbooks shut and bundle everything into your arms. You doubt Steve even notices that you’re making such a hasty retreat but if he does, he doesn’t say a fucking thing. You feel like you’re in high school - practically running through an empty hallway with your notebooks and textbooks pressed to your chest, trying not to cry. It’s ridiculous. You’re a trained assassin, you’re an Avenger, you are strong and powerful and yet… And yet. You’ve given so much of your heart and soul to Steve Rogers that he can knock you down eight pegs without even trying. Without even looking at you. You can’t wait to go on this fucking recon mission, where you can put all of your focus on making sure Peter is doing okay and gathering the intel. Where you can stop thinking about how easily Steve Rogers seems to be pushing you to the side.

You spend the next two days writing your essay, ignoring almost everyone, and working on your essay. On the day of the recon mission, you’re running out the door for your eight a.m lecture, printed essay in hand, and reminding Tony that he promised to pick you up on campus after class for the mission.

You’re lucky that you went, too. You hadn’t counted on the professor making everyone stand up and tell the class the subject of their essays - didn’t realize that it would be twenty-five percent of the grade on the paper. You’ll never understand college professors and the weird shit they do, but the class is informative and entertaining. He goes around the room, starting on the opposite side of you, so you’ll be last. Great.

Several students did their papers on the propaganda of the time, one student was brave and did her essay on the ethical dilemma of the super-soldier serum and eugenics, and most of the other students focused on pop culture and how it changed. When your professor looks at you it’s almost like he’s expecting you to have done nothing but fawn over Steve and Bucky, considering you know them personally. He looks surprised when you clear your throat, stand and say: “I focused on the casual and institutional racism that faced non-white Americans at the time.” You almost preen when he looks impressed and then the shame fills you. It’s just… You want Steve to be proud of you. You want him to congratulate you on going back to school, even if it’s just for one class. You want him to be happy and surprised that he was the inspiration for taking the class.

Though, lately, the class has been more for you than for him. You like learning new things, pushing the boundaries of assignments, making people uncomfortable with the truth of the times you’re studying as told to you by two people who lived it. It’s nice. Normal.

Everyone needs a little bit of normal.

But, honestly, normal is fucking boring. By the time your class is over and you’re handing in your essay it’s like ants are crawling over your skin. A combination of nerves from the upcoming mission, a head full of fog from whatever is happening with Steve, and a little bit of fear at the thought of taking Peter into the field has you bolting for the door the moment your essay is taken from you. You’d worn your tac-suit underneath a pair of baggy sweats and a loose hoodie, so you don’t even bother slowing down as you head toward the car that Tony has waiting for you. He’s in the front seat, grinning at you from underneath his aviators and Peter is driving.

You slip into the backseat without thinking or looking at who’s there, tossing your bag in the back and peeling your hoodie off. “God, Tone, we’re goin’ to die before we even get to the mission with Petey driving.” You toss your hoodie back to join your bag and finally see who’s sitting next to you.

Of course, it’s Steve. He’s looking at you - but not really. He’s looking through you, like he can’t stand that you’re both crammed in the backseat of Tony’s electric car. His gaze catches you and holds you in place. Everything around you goes cold and fuzzy, making you miss Peter’s indignant complaining that he has his license so he should be able to drive… And then Steve scoffs and looks out his window, ignoring you. It stings but you have a job to do. You make some witty retort back to Peter, but it falls flat as you struggle out of your sweats. This is what life is, you think. Relationships aren’t meant to be forever - you learned that at a young age.

Until your accident at fifteen, you had watched your parents run out of helium, their relationship expanding and cooling in arguments, in days spent not talking, in trips to your grandparents without the other, in passive-aggressive computer searches for divorce attorneys left open for anyone to see. Then, after you were trapped between those machines - after you spent hour after agonizing hour with electricity pressing between your atoms, being torn apart and rebuilt as a young god - after that day you watched them expand against each other before the neutron core of their relationship collapsed on itself and the resulting supernova sent you to the streets. But then Fury found you. Then Tony, then Nat, then Steve.

Your parents exploded out from each other and the shockwaves ruined your life. At least now, your relationship with Steve is ending silently. There’s no explosion, no collapse, no rapid expansion to take over your cosmos. Your relationship with Steve is simply approaching the event horizon, where it will hang in the air until one of you takes the final step and you both become frozen, two collapsing objects on opposite sides of the universe. Maybe that’s what you already are. You feel so far away from him in the back of Tony’s car - like he’s eons and light-years away from you - and you feel so cold. Frozen, down to the bone. It makes you stiff in your replies to Tony and Peter, slow on the uptake when the car pulls up to the quinjet, nearing stasis and unable to respond when Nat asks if you’re okay.

Finally, you turn to look at her, nodding. “Fine,” You clear your throat, “Been a rough day.” You do your best to smile at her, but your face feels heavy. Your chest feels cold and tight, making you worry about your performance on the upcoming mission. When Peter shakes his head next to you, discreetly telling Nat not to press, you’re focused on Steve and the electricity humming in the most base part of your body.

He scoffs and rolls his eyes. You turn away and force yourself to smile, throwing a weak and numb arm over Peter’s shoulders. “Are you ready for this, Pete?” You jostle him back and forth, leading him toward the sitting area behind the cockpit. “Gonna get your ass kicked?”

“Please,” He shoves you off, nervously laughing, “Not with the skills you’ve taught me.” He mimics throwing webs, making hissing noises under his breath, and you bark out a laugh, shaking your head.

“You’re payin’ my medical bills when I have to save your ass, Spidey.” You shake your head and strap in next to the wall, Peter taking the seat to your right. Tony, from the aisle across from you, points a thick finger your way.

“You don’t pay medical bills anymore,” He waggles his finger, “So you’ll just have to make him do your homework for a week.”

“Mister Stark!”

“He’ll have to earn shorthand to do your essays,” Nat chimes in from between Bucky and Steve, who are both doing their best to not look at you - or anyone really. “You willing to share that with him?”

You lean back in your seat and jab at Peter with your elbow. “Hell no, so I guess Spider-Boy better do his best.” The arachnid in question grumbles, crossing his arms and slouching in his seat.

“No pressure, right?” He complains, “Not like I’m already nervous or anything.”

“You’ll do fine, kid,” Bucky pipes up, drawing your eyes back to Steve, “It’s goin’ to be a cakewalk.”

“Don’t jinx it, Barnes,” You warn half-heartedly, tucking in on yourself, “We need this to be easy.” From the look on his face - everyone’s face, really - you know that they heard you loud and clear when you were really saying I need this to be easy.

After an uneasy laugh from Bucky, a claustrophobic silence settles over you all as the jet begins to take off. You’re in for an hour ride and plan to spend it going over battle plans with Peter when harsh whispering catches your ear. It’s Bucky and Steve nearly crushing Nat between them until she gets up and sits across from Peter, rolling her eyes. Still, you try your best to run him through the actions you both had planned - the names, the setups you needed to execute them, everything. If something happens to Peter, you’ll never forgive yourself.

And then, cutting through your soft promptings to Peter and his equally soft replies, Bucky’s voice. “Leave it, Steve. Until after this mission.” Even Tony looks up from his tablet, curiosity piqued. Their faces are both red, set hard and angry at each other and your stomach drops. What the hell is going on that Steve ‘Till The End Of The Line Rogers is fighting with Bucky You And Me, Pal Barnes? You must shift, or lean too far into Steve’s eyesight, because for the first time in what feels like years he is looking directly at you - and seeing you, too. It makes your pulse jump and, almost instinctively, you want to reach out and ground yourself on the rubber of the seat underneath you.

You don’t get the chance, though, because Steve speaks. “No, why should I? This is clearly affecting the team.” He’s still looking - glaring - at you like you’ve done something wrong. “What’s the point of waiting? I’ve been waiting to talk about this.”

“Bo, I don’t think this is the time,” Bucky looks over his shoulder at you, then, and you know what’s coming. You know that it’s time, that Steve is about to break up with you in front of your teammates. Your friends. Your family. You steel yourself for the anguish you’re about to feel and then jerk your chin out, hardening your resolve.

“Buck, it’s fine. If Steve wants to address something, he can.”

Natasha says your name, a low warning over the hum of the quinjet. “I think he should wait.”

“Well, I’m not goin’ to wait!” Steve unbuckles himself and stands, “I have tried waiting, and look at where that has gotten me.” He puts his hands on his hips and puffs out a breath. You unbuckle and stand, too, unsure of where this is going. “You need to,” He holds one hand out, pointing at you while his voice shakes. You notice his hand is shaking, too, but fractionally. If you didn’t know Steve as well as you do you may have never noticed it. “You need to get it together.”

“I need to get it together?” You question, eyebrows nearly hitting the ceiling with how fast they shoot up. You’re not totally sure you’ve heard him right because what do you have to get together? The broken shards of your relationship? The information and research for your final paper? The awful way you’ve let yourself be treated for what seems like forever?

“You heard me,” Steve says, at the same time Bucky leans his head back and groans deep in his chest. “What? Someone had to say it.”

“We should wait for this,” Nat speaks up again, but lifelessly. She knows now that you and Steve are both on the warpath, neither of you are going to stop. (That’s also why the two of you work together as a couple so well. Very rarely are you both so worked up about something that you can’t back down, so the other is always there to meet you halfway and get you back to earth.)

“No, no, no,” You say, near hysterically, “No, he wants to do this now? Before a mission? Instead of the fuckin’ weeks we had to hash whatever crawled up his ass and died out? Be my guest. He’s already dragged everyone into this by treating me like a pariah.” You’re not sneering, but your teeth are gritted so tightly together you can hear them scraping and feel a tension headache beginning to bloom in your temples. Bucky looks… Almost incredulous at your statement. Like putting the blame on Steve is a dick move or something.

“Oh, so I’m the bad guy here?” Steve is curling his lip, glaring at you. There’s something behind his eyes, but he’s buried it so deep that you can’t reach it and figure out what it is. “I’m the bad guy, right. Right, right, right.” He scoffs, shakes his head, and then he’s running his fingers through his hair like he really can’t believe what you’re saying to him.

“Well, what else am I supposed to think?” You throw your hands out to the side and let them slap back down on your thighs. “You ignore me, you make me feel like shit, you talk down to me like I’m some insignificant foot soldier. How else am I supposed to take that, Steve?”

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe ask me what’s wrong? Maybe ask me why I’m acting like this, instead of ignoring all of your problems like a child?” He mirrors your moments, but the sound his hands make when they hit the outside of his suit is more powerful than yours. Fueled by anger, you think. Anger and whatever the hell was in the serum Erskine pumped into Steve.

“Ask you?” You repeat, near-hysterical, “Ask you? Oh yeah, let me get right on that. Hey, Mister Rogers? Mister Captain America? Mister Ignores-His-Partner-For-God-Knows-Why? Hey, just why are you doin’ that?” You’re surprised that you’ve said something so snotty, but you don’t back down. (Steve looks surprised, too, and Bucky has stood up next to his friend like he’s about to start berating you as well. At least he looks more cautious about it, like he’s not totally sure that this fight should be happening.)

The more surprising part of your fight is how fast it’s shut down. Tony and Nat stand at the same time and exchange a glance like they’ve surprised each other. “That’s enough,” Tony starts.

Nat cuts him off. “I don’t care if you fight this one out instead of talking, but if you do it before this recon mission you two are going to blow it. Do you understand me?” She looks dangerous, the sharp edge of a knife spiraling through the air. You force yourself to look away from her, from Tony, from Bucky, from Steve. She’s right. You know she’s right - especially on this mission. Peter is there, going to be in real danger even though there’s not supposed to be one Hydra agent in a four-mile radius. You have to clear your mind and focus on protecting him.

Steve seems to think the same thing because he stands down. When you watch him collapse in on himself, Bucky’s arms around his shoulders, into the little quinjet seats your everything aches. Heart, lungs, eyes - everything. Even though you don’t know what’s going on, what could have possibly happened to make your relationship sink this quickly and out of the blue, you still love him. He’s still The One for you. You still want to be the one to comfort him and make him feel whole when he’s struggling.

But you can’t. You can’t and it kills you.

The heat of battle makes a lot of things fade into the background. Important things like why the fuck are there Hydra agents here? and Steve is going to break up with you when you get back on the jet and Tony swore on the fucking limited edition AC/DC vintage tour poster he has in his office that this would be an easy in/easy out information mission. None of that matters, though, because you’re in deep shit. There are seventeen of them, all primed to the teeth with weapons made to take your team down permanently.

You’re practically glued to Peter, calling out commands and plans for him to initiate. It’s when all of your plans fall through that you take a hit from a heavy fist on purpose, hitting the ground hard. “Plan F, Spidey, Plan F!” You cover the instruction with a groan and then you’re back on your feet, working your way toward him.

“Plan F?” Tony says, somewhere above you in his suit. Your comms crackle ominously as another heat-seeking grenade is launched, interfering with the radio waves your tech relies on. You don’t worry about it, because you know Tony is on it. He’s your eyes in the sky.

Peter is the one who answers his question, watching your close hand-to-hand tilt out of your favor briefly. “Plan Fuck It, Mister Stark.” He grunts as he webs up a Hydra agent, jerking him away from where he was about to slip a knife up and under Natasha’s kevlar. You finally drop the guy in front of you, ignoring Steve’s disappointed Language! and toss one of your knives toward Nat for her to use. Tony is still laughing in your ear, wheezing as he drops down and snags the rifle from one of the snipers and then takes back off.

What your little protégé failed to mention about Plan F is that it’s not just chaos, but controlled chaos. You let loose, letting a soft current cover every inch of your skin as Peter switches to his conductive webbing and takes special care to not web any of his allies. Except for you - if you’re in the way and he catches you in a web it doesn’t matter because you’re you, alive with electricity that drops the men that get caught in the web, too. You rip out of the webs and turn the current off when one of your teammates gets too close.

More Hydra agents are pouring out of the woods, topping out their numbers around twenty-five. That’s twenty-five too many in your opinion, especially when you can see Peter getting tired, his anxiety spiking, his moves having more and more hesitation behind them. You need to get this over with quickly, but you don’t have the options to do that. Steve, Bucky, and Nat are really the heavy-hitters - you, Pete, and Tony are the only ones without serums despite all of your individual abilities. Desperately you reach out for a web that’s still connected to Peter’s arms, pulling him out of the way of a baton that’s about to come down on the back of his neck.

The baton the agent is wielding glints in the coming dusk, freezing you as Peter scrambles past you with a quick apology. You’ve seen that before - seen it, felt it, know it like the back of your hand. There’s no way that you could ever forget that weapon. The man stumbles when his hit doesn’t connect but then rights himself and searches for a new target.

A long, black baton that splits into two prongs at the end is heavy in his hand. Electricity crackles between the bulbs at the end, flashing in the setting sun and your memories. The man only has one, but if it was hooked up to a machine, spinning. If there were four, five, six. If you were pinned between them, screaming in the pain as they rewrote your DNA… You’ve only felt it once, but you’ll never forget it.

And now, you’ll taste it again. On purpose this time. The man holding the stun baton is going for Steve’s back - his strong back, the one that protects people, the one that holds the weight of the world, the one that lays in your bed, the one you see whipping out of rooms as you’re entering just so that he doesn’t have to look at you - and you can’t let that happen. It only takes ten amps to kill a regular human, but you know those things are cranked up to twenty minimum. You don’t want to see how many amps of current it will take to stop Steve’s heart. You’re between the baton and Steve before you can think about what you’re doing or what comes next, the hard bulbs settling unyielding into your side and cranking out maximum power for maximum damage as soon as the current is connected and able to flow from one bulb to the other.

The pain hits you and your throat catches on it. It burns through your body, setting everything on fire - your chest hurts as your heart protests the electrons and then your powers kick in, sweeping them into your very atoms and cells. You’re a live wire now, ears humming and body thrumming with power you’ve only dreamed of. It hurts, and it burns, and you feel tears rising in your eyes because you’re back there - back begging for death or for life or for God and god at the same time - but then it’s over. The man sees that you’re not seizing up, not dropping dead in front of him, and he takes three steps back.

It’s not far enough.

You’ve only felt like this once before - right after you were unhooked from the machine that changed your life and brought you to your new family. You remember how you looked when you were put in front of a mirror with all of the pent up electricity circling your body - how your eyes were filled to the brim and dripping with bright and blue electricity, the way it was jumping across your body, how you didn’t need to breathe because your body was fully saturated with pure, unadulterated power. You wonder if you look like that now and assume you do because you can see the bright blue reflecting in the terrified eyes of the Hydra agent.

Your suit, unlike everyone else’s, is not grounded. It’s metal, metal, metal. You’re made to conduct, born for it, and the earth beneath you comes alive with bright white as you release all of the energy, the power, surges down and out. You’re practiced. You can reach out and feel the synapses and neurons of every human being in the clearing, know exactly where your teammates are standing, and know exactly how to target everything but them and the pitiful amount of electricity their brains carry. You grin, something truly feral and unhinged, and you can see the fear in the Hydra agent. Then, you let go.

You know that everyone is going to be pissed. (Maybe not everyone.) You’re not built for this, not made to take down nearly twenty fucking people at once. As you let go, you feel what they feel. The seizing muscles, the stopping of their hearts, the inside of their bodies crisping against their bones. At that moment, that delicious moment, you see the universe.

You become God. You become everything - your mother and your father and God and god and anyone else who’s watching your life from the ether. You become the judge, jury, and executioner of souls that you don’t know from Adam. You become lightning, and thunder, and exposed nerves of the cosmos at the same time. The world bends to your will and you relish in it, taking that power in your fist and wielding it to protect the man you’ll love for the rest of your life and the family that you’ve made. You will stop at nothing to end this, even if it means turning yourself inside out to do it.

You damn near do turn yourself inside out too, but that doesn’t matter, does it? The blood spilling from your ears, nose, and eyes feels like heaven. It’s hot, and thick, and it’s proof of the power that your body holds. You’re a temple and a sanctuary, a war-room and a bunker, a field of flowers and a sun-dry desert. It does not matter if Steve doesn’t love you at that moment, because you are love and hate wrapped into one package. You are everything and nothing, spread thin at the beginning and the end of time.

And then none of that is true. You are just… You. Standing in a clearing, surrounded by twenty-something dead Hydra agents and your terrified, terrified family. It hurts to breathe and you can taste blood in your mouth, but that’s an afterthought. Steve is still standing behind you, but he is alive. That is what matters.

This is what love is, you think.

Pain and pleasure.

Even if he leaves you, you will always love him.

Pain and pleasure.

You’re weak at the knees when he finally turns to see you - and you’re a sight. Struggling to stand, fingertips blackened with soot but not burnt, blood pouring from your nose, ears, eyes… You look like death, but you feel like life. Someone says something behind you - Peter, maybe? Or maybe Tony, in your comms? - but you don’t hear it. Everything tunnels out, your weak knees finally collapsing as you keel backward.

Steve bears down upon you almost immediately. You’re halfway to unconsciousness when he wraps you up in his arms, keeping you from falling in with the pile of bodies around you. He’s saying your name, harsh and soft and then in a voice like he’s ordering you to wake up. You loll about as he drops you down onto a patch of clear grass, hands searching your body for wounds. When he skims over your side, where the baton has burnt through your suit and your flesh, you surge back toward being able to have cohesive thoughts. The pain brings you back, hands wrapping around Steve’s arm and calling out his name. “Steve! Fuck, that hurts!”

“Honey,” He breathes, “Fuck, we have to get you back to the jet.” His jaw ticks, hair dirty and loose from its normal style. “Why’d you do that?” Steve doesn’t wait for an answer from you, ordering Peter to web something up to carry you over your protests.

“I’m fine,” You argue, only slurring slightly, “I feel fine.” But you’re going to let Nat and Bucky load you up on the webbed stretcher anyway because it’s the first time Steve has cared for you in a long time. You want to relish in this moment, the way that he didn't say your name but called you honey.

Well, and because Natasha slides a thumb across her neck over Steve’s shoulder in a silent threat.

You groan when Bucky accidentally grabs your calf where there is an absolutely awful stab wound, but you wave off his apology. “How could you have known?” To be honest, you hadn’t even known it was there until his Vibranium hand was slipping against it and sending shockwaves of pain through you. Peter is next to you the whole time that you’re being carried back to the jet - Tony staying back to begin scanning the bodies of the Hydra agents for the information you need and any other information they may be carrying. The poor kid is nearly at a breakdown, so you reach out to him and shake his arm when his fingers twine with yours. “Chill out, kid, I don’t know how you got it into your head that this is your fault, but it sure isn’t.” He sniffles, but hands back with Steve as Bucky and Nat get you situated in the small medical room of the jet. They transfer you and then make to leave, only Bucky hesitating near the door.

“Stevie’s goin’ to be here soon and… I don’t know what made you do what you did but you have’t explain it to him. He’s bendin’ over backwards to figure it out, and we don’t have’a clue. Came out’a nowhere.” He looks at you for another moment before shaking his head and stepping out of the room. Your head is spinning, partially from what Bucky just said and partially from the pain and stimulus of electricity. You wait there, then, because this is it. This is the event horizon. You wait there, eyes closed, until you hear footsteps approach the med room, and then the door slowly opens. Steve says your name, holding all the finality and weight of an atomic bomb. You don’t open your eyes until he swings a chair next to the stretcher and lays a hand on your calf.

“You don’t have to do this,” You finally say, pushing yourself up onto your elbows to watch him. “I know that you don’t want to.” Steve only scoffs and begins to wash the stab wound using a packet of soap and a water bottle. You say his name twice before he looks at you, something between hate and hurt curdling into a glaze over his eyes that stops you in your tracks.

“Just let me do this. It is the least that you can do.” His words are painful and stilted, like it’s taking force to push them past his teeth. You lay back down and close your eyes, content to just feel the pain of Steve beginning to stitch you up and then dress the wound before you feel the pain of Steve leaving you like you knew he always would. (Falling in love with Steve Rogers went against every instinct you had. You knew that he was going to hurt you from the first moment your lips touched his.)

When he’s done he sits back and puts his elbows on his knees, head in his hands. He heaves a heavy sigh and then shakes it off, “I’ll dress your burn, and then we’ll talk.” And normally, yes, you would agree but this is too important. You want to get it over with so you can lick your wounds metaphorically and dress them literally - and then you want to go home, you want to pack your bags, and you want to disappear and remake your life somewhere else.

Some far-off place where everyone you know won’t take one look at your face and know that you’re still painfully, deeply in love with Steve Rogers, end of your semester be damned. Family you’ve made be damned. You can’t sit around and be in love with him like a neon sign on a dark highway while it’s painfully clear that he hasn’t had a sign on his highway in a long time.

So instead of agreeing, you swing your legs over the stretcher and swallow your flinch when the burn pulls tight. Steve opens his mouth to argue but you give him a tight-lipped shake of your head and his jaw snaps shut. “No,” You say, voice not giving in to the emotion swirling in your chest. “I have let this go on long enough.”

It’s the wrong thing to say because Steve fucking scoffs again and looks away from you. “One day was long enough.” He says, cutting straight to your core. Okay, ouch. You take a deep breath and shake your head to try and bite back the tears that are inevitably rising in your eyes. If one day was long enough for him to realize he doesn’t want to be with you, why did he let it go on for nearly a full year? Why did he spend so long leading you on, pulling you by a thread before garroting your heart with it? What was the point?

“If you want to leave me, just say that,” You reply harshly, standing and wobbling away from him. He just watches you go, watches the way you struggle past the lead weights your muscles have become, the way you’re starting to feel the stab wound on your leg, the way the skin on your burn is beginning to blister and only just now losing its heat. He just watches you, where the Steve that loved you once upon a time might have helped. You turn your back on him, hands on your hips so that you can hide the way that you’re crying and your hands are shaking.

“If I want to leave you? If?” He says. You hear the scrape of his chair as he stands, “I think after what you’ve done, it’s not an if, sweetheart.” The way he says it tastes like iron. Steve never calls you sweetheart like he never calls you by your name. It’s always honey, lover, dovie. You don’t turn to face him because you’re struggling to keep yourself above water. “I spent so long thinkin’, wonderin’, askin’ myself - God damnit, will you look at me?” You turn slowly, not because you’ve never heard Steve speak like that but because his voice is desperate and raw. When you turn, you’re not sure what to expect. Maybe him, standing in front of you, broad-shouldered and disappointed like in those PSA’s he had to film once. Maybe he’d be angry, hands clenched at his sides and eyes narrowed like he gets in meetings when he doesn’t agree with something but he’s out-voted. But you never expect to see him crying, lip wobbling, folded in on himself like a young boy instead of the strong, invincible man you’ve come to love.

He looks so different.

It hits you, then, that you’re not looking at Steve Rogers. Not really. He's not Steve Rogers, not Captain America, not even Captain Rogers. You see him as he was - before America spat it’s untruths all over him and injected him with a serum that changed who he was, is, will be. He’s not the able-bodied man that you know, not strong and unreachable, not the heartthrob that overshadows the team during press events. He’s not America’s Darling, not really. Not where it counts.

You’re looking at Stevie Rogers. Stevie Rogers who, for all intents and purposes, was supposed to die before he made it out of toddlerhood or soon thereafter. Stevie Rogers who the doctors said wasn’t supposed to survive. Stevie Rogers who grew up sickly, rattling painful breaths and never playing ball with the neighborhood boys. Who couldn’t walk until middle school when he got his braces off. Who never had a partner because Bucky, strong and handsome and tall Bucky, was always deemed the better option. Who believed in his country so much that he tried to sneak into the second world war, subjected himself to a painful medical procedure so that he could change his very DNA to be what the world wanted him to be.

Captain Steve Rogers. Captain America. Strong, blond, patriotic, resilient.

You’re sure that if men don’t want to go to therapy now, in the modern age, they certainly didn’t want to go in the ‘40s. So where did that leave Steve, your Steve, standing in front of you and looking small, and broken, and sad, and alone? Did they expect him to take his new, taller, working body and run with it? Did they not think about how he would lose a part of himself in the process? How did they expect him to go from disabled to abled without some disconnect?

You think about the You That You Were Before and the You That You Are Now, and how you lost a part of yourself when the accident gave you your powers and how you’d lose yourself if someone figured out a way to take them away. You Before formed your identity around being normal - living in a shitty home with shitty parents, sure, but normal - and You Now form your identity around your powers, your team, your job, your love. If you lost those things, what did you have left? Who would you be?

When Steve lost his identity and became everything that America wanted everyone to think that America was, what did he have left? Sure, he could tell himself that he represents America - strong and patriotic and just - but it must have conflicted with everything he knew about himself before that. You know that disabled people now know that American society is unjust, unfit for them with abled people not willing to make room to allow them to thrive. You can only imagine what it was really like for Steve in the ‘20s and ‘30s and ‘40s. What he had to do just to survive. (Medical experimentation, you remind yourself. Did they know it wouldn’t kill him? Did they know his body wouldn’t rip itself apart with the new sinewy muscle they were packing on? Did they care? Or was he just a body they saw as broken? A project to fix? To turn him into something more like them and call it patriotism?)

You shake your head at him, still filled with despair, and try to figure out what he’s talking about. “Stevie,” You start, pet name easily replacing what you had been calling him because it’s not fair to shoe-horn him into a body that doesn’t feel like his own. You wonder if he still expects the bone-grinding pain that he used to tell you would happen when it rains. He raises a hand, a strong and family hand, shaking his head.

“I just need to know why I wasn’t enough for you,” Steve looks sad, slouching in on himself like he’s expecting to get his ass handed to him in another alleyway and hope Bucky is there to save him. “I need to know why you wouldn’t just break up with me if you wanted to see other people so badly.” You suck in a shocked breath because, okay, that’s not what you were expecting. Between that and the paradigm shift you’ve had on how Steve must view his identity, body, and self, you’re stunned. Steve continues like he doesn’t even register that you look shocked and pale and now you’re crying because he thinks you’re cheating on him? “And I get it. I get it. You have no idea how much I understand. If I were you, I wouldn’t want me either, okay?”

You cut him off there because what the actual God damn fuck is he talking about? “No, Stevie, I’m not cheating on you.” You shake your head again and this, your statement, lights a fire in him. He still looks like Stevie rather than Steve, but there’s anger there. You imagine that’s what it might have looked like moments before he got himself in trouble back before he was serumed. “I’m not.”

“Oh, yeah?” He challenges, jaw ticking and chin jerking up, “Oh, yeah? You can’t lie to me. I know, okay? The act is up, it’s over, I know, okay? You can stop pretending.”

“Steve, I do not fucking know what you’re talking about but I”m not cheating on you!” You raise your voice, not really angry but more out of necessity. You need to get it out of his head that he is anything less than everything you want - that you could possibly love anyone more than you love him.

“I wanted to clarify something for you,” Steve says like he’s reading an old script from when he was just a beefy, red/white/blue stage prop for the American military, “I am excited to meet with you, but there are some rules. Do not talk about Captain Steve Rogers. I don’t want to hear about him,” As he continues to recite something that has clearly hurt him, you go lax. You know exactly what’s happened - your fists unclench, your jaw drops a little bit, and it feels like someone has gutted you, “I think it is wise to keep work and pleasure separate, and it’s a rule I will enforce heavily. I look forward to seeing you again.” He’s sneering at the end, tears falling down his ruddy cheeks.

“Steve,” You try again, but he cuts you off.

“Am I just work for you?” His voice is shaking more than you thought possible, and so are his hands. You’ve never seen Steve so off-kilter, so thrown, and it breaks your heart that yes, technically, you’re the cause of this. Before this, before this horrible misunderstanding, your relationship with Steve was the paragon of trust so neither of you cared if the other read emails or texts. You remember the email - the email from your fucking college professor - because it had made you so angry that he’d referred to your relationship with Steve as something as simple and base as just pleasure - like you could even put words to the galaxy of a relationship you had with Steve - that you’d gone to the gym to work off some of that irritation. You hadn’t wanted to take it out on anyone accidentally. When you came back from the gym, Steve was gone on that two-week mission that he’d left on without saying goodbye.

Oh, God. You feel sick to your stomach as the paradigm of the way that Steve’s been treating you shifts violently to the left. You have to physically hold yourself up and try to speak past the lump in your throat. Steve looks… Brokenly smug. Like he knows he’s right, but he’d rather gnaw his own legs off than be right.

“No,” You croak, “No, Steve, you’ve got it all wrong.” You want to reach for him, but it feels like the room is closing in on you. You’re second-guessing everything now - especially what you’ve just said. How many people said the exact same thing to him pre-serum because they said something meant for Bucky to him? How many times did he hear that when he was getting a new diagnosis, hoping for the best? How many times had his own mother said it to him when he told her something someone had said, fresh-faced and not yet used to the way that abled people sometimes treated disabled people? You think you might be sick. “That email was from my professor, Steve. I’m not cheating on you, I’d never.” He laughs darkly and sits back down in his chair, head in his hands again. You try to gather the strength to move toward him when you see his shoulders shaking, a telltale sign that he’s crying.

“A professor,” He says with a watery laugh, “Right.”

Finally, you realize that he needs you, needs to know you love him, that you’d do anything for him. You can iron out the kinks later - figure out why he didn’t want to come to talk to you past the original hurt, why he treated you so coldly, why he didn’t trust that you wouldn’t do this to him - but now, you need to show him that you’re here. That you choose him. That you’ll always choose him.

You make your way to him and set a shaking hand on his shoulder. For a brief second you think he’s going to shake you off but then Steve’s hand shoots up and latches onto where your hand is resting, dipping his head to press against your arm. “Stevie, please,” You say, unsure of what you’re asking him to do, “I picked up a class, just one, and it’s… I picked it up for you, it’s about the ‘30s and ‘40s and…” He looks up at you and he looks so broken - face ruddy and wet with tears, lip wobbling, chest heaving as he tries to not sob. His brows are knit and he looks confused, “I just wanted to be able to understand you better. You had to leave so much of yourself at the door when you joined the Avengers, had to leave so much of yourself in the ice… In Erskine’s lab… Stevie, I just wanted you to be able to be you when you’re with me. I wanted to know the you that you were before you became Captain America.” Your voice is shaking, knees knocking together, and honestly? You feel like you might blackout.

“What?” He rasps, “What?”

“He sent that email because too many kids signed up for his class thinking that they’d be able to look at pictures of you and Buck for a semester. Emailed me directly because he knows we’re…” You choke on your words, shaking your head because you’re not even sure there’s a we anymore, “Because he knows I’m on the team. Didn’t want me walking in and making his class about just a few years in the ‘30s and ‘40s rather than the culture of the time.” You don’t know how else to explain it to him, but Steve isn’t saying anything - practically isn’t moving or breathing- so you continue to try and explain what’s really happening as best as you can, “And - and that email made me so angry because he singled me out, didn’t email anyone else about it, and I left to try and work some of that out; I didn’t want to take it out on you, or let it spoil - let it spoil… But when I came back from the gym, you were gone. You were gone for two weeks and I didn’t know why.” You’re crying harder now and pretty sure that within the next sixty seconds you’re going to collapse if you don’t sit down.

Steve shakes his head, still looking like he doesn’t understand. “What?” He says for a third time, “A class? A college class?”

“I just wanted to feel closer to you,” You confess, “Just wanted to understand a fraction of your life without making you do the heavy liftin’ and teachin’ me. Shouldn’t have’t do that,” You’re sobbing, barely biting out your words as you realize that something you’ve done to strengthen your relationship with Steve has destroyed it, “Shouldn’t have to explain a whole different time just to feel loved, Stevie. Should be able to be with someone who understands without you havin’ to explain.” You’re not sure you can say Peggy’s name out loud, and you hope he understands what you’re saying without making you actually say it, “Should’a been able to have love with someone who knew, and I know I’m nothin’ compared to what you should’a had, but I want to be. I want to be in the same ballpark instead’a watchin’ from the stands.” You wipe your face with your free hand and look away from Steve when he stands in front of you. You don’t want to see the look on his face - what he’s thinking about what you’ve said.

He says your name and you glance at him, but his expression stops him in your tracks. Where Steve looked broken and hurt and fuming with anger to hide the anguish, now he looks stricken. You shake your head, “No, no. I didn’t say that to make you feel guilty-”

“You think that I care about whether or not you can understand the ‘40s?” He cuts you off, hands moving to curl around your biceps, “You think that I care whether or not you can relate to a time in history when you weren’t even thought of?”

“Of course I love you. I love you more than anything in this world, but you shouldn’t have to not care, Steve,” You argue, shaking your head, “That’s what I’m trying to say. You should be with someone who understands without explanation. I just wanted to give that to you - didn’t know that this would happen.”

“I should be with someone who loves me,” He argues back, “If you love me, that’s all that matters. My past be damned.”

“But your past is you!” You try to pull away from Steve, but he anchors you there. You’re dizzy from being so close to him after this long, but also because of how many different twists this situation has taken. You can barely keep up with how bad your communication with Steve has become - barely keep up with how you need to fix it, or how to fix it. “Your past is you,” You repeat when you realize that Steve isn’t going to let you go. “And you shouldn’t have to give that up so that someone will love you.”

“But you love me,” He says desperately, ducking his head so that he’s nearly nose to nose with you, “You love me, right?”

“More than anything,” You say, closing your eyes and relishing in the feeling of being so close to Steve, “I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone. I don’t care about what anyone else thinks, or anyone else. I’ll even stop goin’ to class if you want me to - Steve, I just can’t do this anymore. Can’t do this thing where you don’t talk to me about what’s botherin’ you.” You’re choking up, barely whispering, but you know he hears you. YOu can feel his warm breath on your face, “Nearly fuckin’ killed me.”

“I thought it was goin’ to be easier,” He breathes, nose bumping yours, “When you eventually decided to leave me for him. Thought I was savin’ myself some trouble.” You can practically taste his tears as they fall again, “Buck and Nat tried to tell me that you weren’t - that you wouldn’t - but I just couldn’t believe them.”

When you open your eyes, his are closed. This close to him you can see the soft freckles that are blooming over his eyelids, his soft eyelashes kissing his cheekbones. You can feel him breathing, feel him nearly pressed against you in a way that feels hauntingly nostalgic and terrifyingly fleeting; like you’ll be able to feel his warmth for years to come, but he’s about to disappear. “That’s okay,” You finally whisper, “It’s okay that you didn’t believe them. That you thought what you thought. It’s okay.” He shakes his head against yours, opening his mouth to protest, but you refuse to let him feel guilty about feeling this way - you have plenty of time to sit him down and talk to him candidly about the way he acted because of these feelings, anyway. “If I would have been in your place I’m not sure I would have believed them.”

“I treated you so badly…” He shifts and wraps his arms around you. It’s almost immediate - you relax into his arms and wind yours around his waist, keeping him pulled against you as he presses his face into your neck and you press your cheek against his chest. “So awfully.”

“We’ll talk about that, okay? But later. Right now you just need to know that I love you, Steve. I love you more than I can tell you - more than I can express.” You want to kiss him, but you can’t. Can’t kiss him, you need to wait for him to kiss you, for him to close that gap and show you that he still loves you like you love him. “We’ll have to have a talk, a long and hard conversation about this, Stevie, but for now… For now, I’m just content to be with you, okay? MIssed you so much.”

He sighs, nose pressing against yours again. “Missed you too, dovie. Missed you more than I can even say,” His voice breaks as his lips brush yours. Your relationship is not without its flaws and problems - Steve’s actions when he thought you were cheating on him are proof of that and, well, the fact that you didn’t realize what was happening, why it was happening, or a large part of your boyfriend’s psychological makeup having an impact on your relationship while it went unknown by you… There is a lot of work for the two of you to do, a lot of work to do, a lot of communication to be done… But you’d do it all for Steve, over and over again.

When he presses forward and presses his lips gently to yours, you know that he’ll do it all for you, over and over again, too.

[allthatyoulove]

Butterflies and Flowers

Fred Weasley / Reader

Summary: You help a very drunk Fred Weasley to bed.

Includes: underage drinking/smoking, fluff,  suggestive/sexual situations (nothing explicit)

Words: 2.1k

A/N: This was a one shot I wrote that was requested by one of my friends :) Will probably do another one like this in the future, I really enjoyed writing it! Hope you enjoy the story! Feel free to leave any feedback and please let me know of any warnings or errors I missed! Thanks for stopping by :)

(Also: In my version of this story, the boys and girls dorms are still separated, but each person has their own room)

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It was 3 am.

On a school night.

Everyone else had left the gryffindor common room, with our group being left with all of the confetti, plastic cups, and streamers on the floor.

The music continued to play in the back with the group around the room. Hermione and Ginny were dancing in the middle of the room, with Ron sitting on the couch and dancing along with them from there, struggling to keep his eyes open. Harry was filling up his drink again before I spotted him and stole it from him, telling him he was cut off. He drunkenly smiled at me, before he stumbled over to Ginny and started to dance with her. He always complains the next day about a hangover, so I figured I’d help him out. Especially considering it’s a Thursday.

Fred and George were in the corner, smoking. Fred was already drunk out of his mind, so I giggled upon seeing him staring at a spot on the floor. George was moving his head to the music and singing along. The party had died down a couple hours ago, but our group always liked to stay a couple more hours by ourselves.

I had a few drinks earlier with everyone, but I stopped after my 5th shot. Fred… kept going. I decided I’d save the blackouts for the weekend.

I started to walk over to Fred, him raising his head to look up at me as I was halfway. He smiled at me, opening his arms as wide as they could go. I smiled back at him, laughing at how adorable he looked.

“Having a good time, Freddie?” I said, plopping myself on the couch between him and George and setting the cup on the table. I rested my hand on his knee as he wrapped his arms around me in a side hug, pulling me into him. I brought my other hand to rest on his arm that was around me, smiling to myself.

“The best.” He whispered in my ear, putting his head against mine. Butterflies stirred in my stomach, my body heating up.

Hermione came up to us with Ron behind her, both of them red in the face.

“W’re g’nna head off. See you guys t’morrow!” She said, waving to everyone before going up the stairs to the rooms. Everyone giggled to themselves before Harry came up to us as well.

“Right, well, Ginny and I are going also. See ya” He said, taking her hand and heading up after Hermione and Ron. Ginny giggled the entire way up, trying to push Harry up the stairs.

George was the first to speak up. “Do you think they know where the girls' dormitories are?”

Fred and I laughed, choosing to not reply and let him come to a conclusion himself. A couple seconds passed before he spoke again.

“Ohhh…… ew” he faked a full body shiver before he stood up, brushing himself off and looking around to make sure he didn’t forget anything.

“I’m going to see if Angelina needs to be tucked in, you kids be safe”

I blushed and laughed, slapping his arm as he walked by. He winked at me and left, leaving Fred and I alone.

He was still resting his head on mine, with his arms around mine. The music had been turned down, which I just came to realize.

I tapped his arm that was wrapped around me, moving to get up as he let out a groan next to me and mumbled something incoherent.

“C’mon Freddie, let’s get you to bed”

He smiled up at me as I stood, his hands holding onto mine as his smile turned into a smirk.

“Try’na get me to bed, are ya?”

I laughed and blushed, pulling his arms to help him get up.

“Yes Fred, I’ve just been dying to get you to bed. Now let’s go” I said in a monotone voice.

He gave a short laugh, standing up and wrapping his arms around my neck, looking down at me. We were standing between the table and the couch, extremely close.

“Hi” he whispered to me, touching my cheek with his knuckle lightly.

“Hi” I whispered back, giving him a short smile before clearing my throat and looking down. “Can you walk?” I asked him, trying to ignore the tension between us.

I didn’t want our first kiss to be while he’s plastered, I wanted it to be something he’d be able to remember. And something he’d be aware he’s doing.

“Can walk just fine.”

I could feel him staring down at me, so I chose to instead focus on wrapping my arms around his hips and helping him anyway because I knew he was lying about being able to walk.

He let out a low chuckle and kept his arm around my shoulder as I picked up the drink I set down earlier and chugged the rest of it, throwing it near a pile of other cups.

“Woah... maybe I should be the one walking you to your room, love” He said, placing a kiss on the crown of my head. He waited a beat before talking again, “Actually, that sounds like a great idea. Can we go over to your dorm instead?”

The butterflies in my stomach came back full force, warming my face and filling my brain with the thought of Fred in my dorm room.

“What’s wrong with your dorm? Wouldn’t want to miss George sneaking in at 5 am, would you?”

“Ther’s  like.... 4 horny teenagers over there. I don’t feel like trying to sleep in the room next to them”

I laughed lightly, tightening my hold on his waist and beginning to walk towards the stairs.

To the girls dormitories.

“Yay” He said, wiggling his hips a little bit and smiling. I laughed at him, guiding him up to the first step of the spiral staircase. He held onto the railing and stumbled a bit, but had surprisingly good balance for the amount that he drank.

He reached the top of the staircase and walked down the hallway to my exact room, throwing me off a bit. He turned to wait for me to open the door with a neutral expression on his face while I looked at him confused.

“How do you know this is my dorm?”

His eyes were closed, but his eyebrows raised and he pursed his lips as he thought of an excuse.

“Umm…. I…. I jus- I guessed.”

He opened one eye to look at me as I brought my eyebrows down in thought, pursing my lips as well.

“Right.” He smiled a this-is-my-best-excuse smile at me as we stared at each other in silence for a moment.

“Fred if you don’t tell me how you know this is my dorm y’aren’t going inside, bud”

He shot his hand up to his chest, pretending to be wounded at the use of “bud”, knowing I only use that when I want him to tell me the truth about something.

He laughed to himself about the gesture as I smiled, waiting for him. He waited a second before seeing I was serious and sighing.

“Okay, fine. Y’know those… flowers? That you got the other day?”

“...The ones with the secret admirer note?”

He winced and closed his eyes in embarrassment, leaning on the threshold of my door.

“Those would be it.”

My mouth fell open as I gave a short laugh in shock, staring at him.

He opened his eyes and laughed with me, taking my hand in his in a loose, but soft hold. I used my other hand to unlock and open the door between us.

“Go on in”

He smiled at me and kissed my forehead before he stumbled into the room, looking around at the posters on the walls as I closed and locked the door behind us. I turned around and watched him gawk at the posters, occasionally pointing at one and whispering “wicked” under his breath. I smiled at him and put my hands behind my back, just admiring him.

He eventually made his way around the room, walking back towards me in the middle. He stood right in front of me, as close as we were downstairs. He looked down at me with a soft smile. He brought his hands back up to my face, holding it softly as if he were to hold any tighter I’d break.

He slowly started to lean in, looking into my eyes as my own started to flutter close, waiting for him to kiss me. I felt his lips barely touching mine before he whispered.

“Did you like the flowers?”

I opened my eyes, staring at him to see him smirking down at me. I shoved him away playfully.

“Oh piss off Weasley”

“What? I want to know!”

I tossed my keys on my nightstand, sitting on my bed and taking off my shoes.

“They’re beautiful. They’re in the bathroom, so I can look at them as I’m getting ready” I said, motioning to the door that led to the restroom. He smiled at me, walking towards me again. He didn’t speak until he stood in front of me again, making me crane my neck to be able to look at him towering over me. He started to move forward, making me instinctively move back with him. He set his hands on the bed, on either side of me, and looked at me directly as he spoke softly, his gaze darting to my lips.

“I’m glad.”

I swallowed, not closing my eyes even as he moved closer. I thought he would do the same thing again, so I followed his lips until he gently kissed me. It was so quick, I thought I had imagined it for a second.

He pulled away and studied my reaction, searching my face. I looked at his eyes before looking back at his lips and going back in, my hands going to the back of his neck.

One of his hands went to rest on my hip, the other still on the bed behind me. He leaned into the kiss, making me lean back farther as he guided me farther onto the bed. He put his legs between mine as I scooted back, slowly climbing over me and onto the bed.

I used one hand to hold me up, the other staying at the nape of his neck, the tops of my fingers in his hair.

He was a really good kisser.

He leaned further, pushing me all the way onto my back as he never broke the kiss. He was leaning on his knees, his hands holding my face. He slowly broke away as my eyes fluttered open.

“I really really like you” He whispered, stroking my cheek with his thumb softly.

I smiled at him and put my hands on top of his that were on my face.

“I like you, too” I whispered back, looking between his eyes and his lips. He suddenly huffed out in irritation, and fell on top of me with an oof.

“I’m sorry, I’d like to go further, not saying you have to- it’s up to you, of course, but I’m so drunk, and I’d like to- I’m enjoying myself, of course, but-”

I laughed at his rambling before raising his face to meet mine, moving some hair out of his face and cutting him off.

“Fred.”

He stopped talking and grinned, “Yeah sorry I’m quite nervous”

I put my hands on his face, looking him in his eyes and trying to look serious.

“We’re not in any rush. I don’t want you to feel pressured. I really like you and I like kissing you, but we can kiss all day tomorrow. When you’re sober”

His grin grew as I talked, looking at me with admiration.

“Just kiss tomorrow, eh?”

I laughed at him, pushing his face away from me playfully as I moved to sit up.

“All right, you git- how about you focus on getting into bed without passing out first”

He pretended to think before he nodded against my hands and puckered his lips as a silent asking for a kiss. I kissed him and went to pull away, but he pulled me in again and stayed there for a while longer before pulling away. He kissed my forehead and patted my thigh a couple times.

“Scoot over”

I got underneath the blankets, moving to the other side of the bed and opening the blankets for him. He rolled underneath them, groaning the entire way through. I chuckled to myself as I turned around to click the lamp off, scooting so my back was to him. He wrapped his arm around me, taking my hands into his, laying them against my chest. I gave a soft kiss to his knuckles and wiggled a little more to get comfortable, suddenly feeling something against my back.

“Fred?”

“Just ignore it. And don’t move.”

[glassartpeasants]

If you don't make a happy ending for couldn't care less you better keep bob with you at all times

HOW DARE YOU THREATEN BOB YOU KNOW WHAT-

Couldn’t Care Less .2

Shigaraki x GN!Reader

Warnings: Angst, death, blood, abuse, gore

~~~

“i hope that blue haired fuck got what he wanted. I hope that handyman freak dies alone.” You say to yourself as you walk down the alleys way of Musutafu. The smell of the dingey and moldy alleyways flood your nose as the laughter of happy couples ring in your ears. 

How come they got they’re happily ever after but you didn’t? It wasn’t fair. You did everything you could to be there for him. Yet he still treats you like shit, all because you cared about him? And then he thinks your cheating all cause you ask a male friend for advice! What an insecure asshole.

A vibrating in your pocket brought you back to reality as you realize your phone was ringing. Letting out a sigh you answer,

“Hello?”

“Come pick up your shit.” Oh, you thought you blocked this fuck.

“Keep it asshole. I don’t want anything that smells like ‘lonely bastard who only gets action from his hand’  on my clothes.  Burn it, decay it, I couldn’t give a shit less.”

“God you were always so dramatic. And there’s no reason to be a cunt.”

“And there was no reason for you to be an insecure dick. You either block my number or im calling the police and ratting on you.” A silence fell over the phone. Nothing was said until you finally spoke up.

“Jeez your pathetic. I’ll do it myself.” He was about to say something, insult your most likely before you hung up the phone and blocked him not seconds later.

“Now he’s outta my hair. I can finally feel some sort of calm.”

~~~

3 weeks later

After a day of coming back to your musty apartment you decided it needed a little bit of cleaning, considering you haven’t been their in about 4 months. You paid up front all the time even when you weren’t living in it. Just in case ya know?

You swept up the floors, vacuumed the carpet AND shampooed it.Cleaned the tub, shower and sinks, cleaned out your empty refrigerator, washed all you sheets and what clothes you left there. It wasn’t much so you knew you had to get some more before anything else. That and groceries.

 After all that was said and done, you sat down on the couch and just relaxed. Well you tired, that was before Shigaraki popped into your head again. It wasn’t a sort of loving way, it was a hatred sort of. The thought of his stupid face made you just want to punch a wall, pretending to be his face.

But you ignored it as you turned on the Tv, hoping that would get your mind off him. Nothing interesting except the news. Always talking about violence and war. Same old thing over and over. Blood, death, tragedy.

“This world is a cruel unjust place. The only way it seems to be recognized in this world is death or doing horrible things. Nothing good every comes to fruition.” You grumble before walking to your room and plopping down on the nice clean and still warm sheets. The nice smell of lavender slowly dragging you to sleep.

~~~

A loud bang hit your door which ripped you from your slumber. You were questioning on checking it out before you heard something that made your heart stop,

“If there’s anyone in the house kill them, we can’t have people knowing we ransacked this place.” You slowly get off your bed before moving slowly and quietly to your window. Your push your fingers on the glass and you gently push it up. Grabbing at the sides of the window you pull yourself out of it, not before hearing a gunshot and a burning pain inside your calf.

“Fuck! They’re getting away!” You could hear them from inside the house.

“Did they see you?!” You fell from your window onto the ground. Thankfully your apartment was on the first floor so it wasn’t a high drop.

“Not that i know of! I did shot them in the leg so they shouldn’t have gotten far!” You try your hardest as you run towards the main street. Cutting through alleyways, going as fast as you can as you hear they’re footsteps behind you. Looking up closely you see a hero, knowing he was your only chance you scream for help.

“Help me please!” The hero’s head turned towards you and ran towards you. You guess the robbers heard your cry for help because they’re footsteps seemed to be heading back your probably trashed apartment.

“Oh my! What happened?!” The sound of the hero’s concerned voice calmed you down a bit. 

“Some people tried to rob my place and i tried to get out of there silently but they must have came into my room and saw me leaving and shot me in the calf!” You wince as putting pressure on the wound burned hotter than hell.

“Don’t worry! I’ll get you to the hospital in no time!” You felt relieved before hearing a crunching sound, you looked to your left and see a familiar patch of blue hair in your peripheral vision. You ignored him before getting picked up by the hero and was carried to the hospital. The blood loss from your calf slowly dragged you into unconsciousness.

~~~

After waking up you notice the white room you were in. It was pristine to the touch and smelled of lemon cleaning products. The bright lights hallways peered inside your room from the crack of your door.

Looking around the small feeling of pain crept back into your leg except not as painful anymore. Pulling back the covers you notice bandages and a small bit of blood that stained through the bandages around your wound.

“Ah fuck that’s gonna scar. It’s gonna be a pain to heal too.” You say to yourself as you pull back the blankets and wrap yourself up in them. 

Right as you were falling back asleep the ringing of your cellphone brought you out. Grumbling in annoyance you grab it and look at the caller id. It was a number you didn’t recognize so you just let it ring thinking it’ll be the end of it. That was until it started ringing again. You sighed in frustration and picked up the phone, not wanting it to ring longer since it was in the dead of night at the hospital and you wanted people to be able to sleep.

“What the hell do you want? It’s the middle of the night.” You annoyed voice rang into the other side of the phone.

“Why tf were you talking to a hero? Did you fucking break your end of the bargain?” You were confused at first. You definitely knew the voice behind the phone. Then you remembered earlier that day when you saw him in the shadows.

“I was literally shot. You think im not gonna ask someone for help?” You rub the bridge of your nose.

“I don’t believe you. You always were a two faced bitch.”

“Oh jesus fuck, thanks for the insult. Glad to know what you always thought about me.”

“I’m going to kill you you backstabbing bitch.”

“Love ya too. goodnight and goodbye Shigaraki.” You hung up and blocked said number. You weren’t going to lie, hearing him spill such an insult and threat hurt you and made you very weary and afraid if he would actually go through with it or if he was just saying that to scare you.

You knew what those hands could do and you knew how painful that death would have been. You were hurt more than you liked to admit, at the beginning of your relationship he wasn’t aggressive or mean at all towards you.  He’d try to get you flowers or your favorite type of drink. He called you pet names that would make your heart flutter and beat, you don’t know what you did wrong for him to change so suddenly. It was like on day he flipped a switch, and you never knew why.

You tried recalling the day where it started and remembered that everyone was annoyed or being rude to Dabi, you didn’t know why and when you asked Spinner or anyone else they just said it was national, be a bitch to Dabi day. You laughed and shrugged it off ignoring it before walking up to your boyfriend giving him a kiss on the lips, only to be pushed into the wall and ignored. You just looked at him in shocked and it had only spiraled down from there to where you are now. 

Something had to be wrong. You knew it, Dabi had to have something to do with Shigaraki’s switch in behavior. You looked around the room for any camera and when you noticed that there were none, you called up the burnt male himself. He surprisingly picked up on the first ring.

“(Y/N)? I haven’t heard from you in 3 weeks. Or was it four? Doesn’t matter, where have you been?”

“Dabi, i need you to be honest with me, did you say something to Shigaraki?”

“Huh?”

“Dabi, five months ago Shigaraki flipped a switch and went from a caring boyfriend to an actually nightmare. I need to know if you or anyone else said something to him.” Dabi was quiet on the other line before sighing,

“About that time range i made a joke about sleeping with you, everyone knew it was a joke but apparently Shigaraki didn’t. I didn’t think he’d treat you like he did. Im sorry.” You fell silent. All this shit treatment because Shigaraki couldn’t a joke. Sure it pissed you off that Dabi made such a stupid joke but you were more mad at Shigaraki that he just treated you like shit instead of asking you and confronting you about it.

“Thank you for telling me. Do you know where Shigaraki is now?”

“He left about an hour ago, why?” Shit. You knew this was the only hospital close to your place and Shigaraki knew that too. You got up from your bed and locked the door before going back into your bed, watching the crack under your door incase the light was blocked.

“Dabi, I just want you to know that i forgive you.”

“What? What the fuck are you talking about-” Your phone went silent as the battery died.

‘Shit shit shit shit!’ you thought to yourself as you beg for the phone to turn back on. But you fell silent as the light from the outside of your room was blocked.

“(Y/N), I know you're in there, open the fucking door before i decay it down.” You said nothing in fear. You were glued to your bed as you faced the door.

But that fear was nothing compared to seeing him actually decay the door.

“You stupid snitch. i should make your death as painful as possible.” he said as soon as he stepped inside your hospital room. 

“Shigaraki, I didn’t snitch I promise. Why don’t you believe me!” You say as you get off your bed and try to get as far away from him as possible. The pain of the bullet would making you wince.

“Why would I believe a cheating bitch like you?” Before you could speak a four fingered grip wrapped itself around your throat. Shigaraki was always fast, you should have known that you were gonna die even if you tried your hardest.

“I didn’t cheat on you!” You try to pry yourself from shigaraki’s grip.

“Dabi says otherwise.”

“Are you really going to believe him?! You didn’t even talk to me or ask me about it! Just went straight to believing him!” The grip on your neck got tighter.

“then why was they’re a hickey on your collarbone?!”

“You gave it to me! It was fading out!”

“That doesn’t change the fact you snitched!” His pinkie was grazing closer to your skin.

“I never snitched, I was robbed and then they shot me. If you went to my apartment you would see i was right.” He said nothing just staring at you with cold dead eyes. 

“Look! I have bandages wrapped around my calf!” Shigaraki looked down before saying something back.

“It was something the hero’s did so they could protect you in this shit hospital.” I was at that moment you knew, nothing you said would change his mind. You shed not a tear while looking him in the eyes

“I wish I never met you. Fuck you Tomura Shigaraki, I hope you die alone and I’ll see you in hell.” You move your head so his last and final finger touched your skin.

The pain of your skin decaying and falling off was much more painful than you thought it would be. You can remember screaming in pain but, it felt more of a emotional scream rather than one of physical pain. but it seems you weren’t the only one screaming.

The sounds of Shigaraki wailing and screaming your name reached your ears before all you heard was silence and saw nothing.

Shigaraki scrambled to try and grab you and even put you together, but your bloody ashes stuck to his hand. Remains of your existence covered his clothes as he screamed in pain. 

“No no no no! Wait please! I didn’t mean it!” He cried as his tears fell onto your ashes, the tears collecting the ashes and forming a grey tear drop. He wasn’t thinking clearly, he’s sorry! He didn’t want to kill you! 

Bile rose from his throat as he puked all over the ground, inches away from your ashes. He grabbed your ashes trying to pick them up to hold what was left of you. But all he got was the remains of your smeared all over his hoodie. He shook violently as  memories of you guys replayed in his mind, your happy face and the way you use to love him and care for him.

But now, you were nothing more than ashes on his sleeve, reminding him that he was now truly alone.

[strawberry-lemonade-kisses]

Family Ties

Recovery was a long and tiring process. Kyojuro always struggled with it, having to rest and take the time to heal properly instead of helping with anything and everything he could. Shinobu had scolded him endlessly on why he couldn’t be messing around and trying to sneak out with his injuries, they were too severe for him to be acting like a child. He couldn’t help it though, his family was at home waiting for him. His beautiful baby girl and her adorable face, those tiny fingers and hands, the small tufts of blonde hair that she had. He only got to hold her once before Shinobu had him taken to the butterfly estate. He felt restless, knowing he couldn’t see his wife in her motherly glow, a glow that he only got to hold onto for a few minutes. It had been a full week since he was brought to the butterfly estate, confined to one of the rooms designated for the hashira, away from the chaos and yelling the rest of the estate contained.

“Rengoku, time for painkillers!” Shinobu fluttered into the room, a small packet of pills in one hand and a letter in the other. “Another love letter, I may have to start charging delivery between you two!” she flashed a smile, setting down the pills and handing Rengoku the letter. He tore it open quickly, not trying to save the envelope as he read over the letter his wife had penned.

My flame,

Hinata and I both miss you very much, her big eyes are always looking for something, I think it’s you. Shinobu says tomorrow if you keep behaving we can start visiting you. For the first time ever my flame, please relax. I don’t know how much longer I can hold out not seeing you. It’s cold at night, I find myself missing your company, your warm hands that are always wandering, holding onto me. Your chest, so warm and firm, I miss laying on it, listening to your heart. I miss hearing your voice, always so loud but so quiet when you only want me to hear what you are saying. It makes me feel so special. Hinata is the only one keeping me sane. She looks so much like you it's almost scary, but I won't lie. Nothing compares to you. I miss you. It's harder knowing you are so close but I can't see you or hear you, I can't even hold you. Please relax so I can come to see you, my love.

I love you to the sun and back,

Your flower

“Let me check your bandages and then I will let you know if they can come tomorrow” Kyojuro jumped at the sudden closeness of the insect Hashira, not quite used to the lack of peripherals on his left side. Setting the letter on the nightstand he scooted towards the edge of the large four-poster bed he had been resting in. Sitting as straight as he could without feeling pain, he raised his arms slightly, letting Shinobu unravel the bandages around his stomach. The wound had hindered most of his movements for the first few days in the estate but he had been getting better, small walks and even sitting in a chair had helped him regain some of that feeling of normal, even through the haze of the painkillers. He had decided not to bother struggling with a shirt, knowing it was too painful to go through the hassle when Shinobu came in every few hours to check the bandages. She mumbled small apologies as she unraveled the tape and gauze directly on the wound, trying to drown out the hisses of pain from Kyojuro.

"The staples are holding well, no tearing, no bleeding or abnormal discharge. You are healing as well as you could Kyojuro. I think it's safe to say you can see Y/N and Hinata tomorrow. But I will warn you now and later, Kyojuro. Do. Not. Exert. Yourself. I know you are excited and restless to spend time with your family and your new baby but if you hold her for too long and strain yourself I don't know if I have the knowledge to save you. You are lucky to be here now" Kyojuro understood her warning. He was beyond grateful to work alongside such a skilled and intelligent woman. The people she had trained to deal with life-threatening and fatal wounds like the one on his stomach have led to many lives saved that should have been lost, including his. He owed his life to her. He made a noise of agreement, trying not to move much while she laid a fresh bandage on the fist-sized wound his stomach sported. She was careful as she wrapped the gauze on his stomach, holding his bandage in place and stabilizing his torso so the quilts he was rolling around in didn't scratch him or remove his bandage.

"Tanjiro, inosuke, and Zenitsu have been asking about you. Do you think you feel well enough to see them?" Kyojuro perked up at the mention of the young slayers, their intervention of his fight with the upper 3 was another reason he was alive. He went straight to his estate after the battle, asking the Kakushi to assist him home once they stabilized him, not taking no for an answer. They only agreed once he tried crawling away from them, not bothering to listen. He didn't even explain his eagerness to get home so they deserve answers.

"Yes, is that their names? I would very much like to speak with them. Could they visit?" Shinobu chuckled at the excitement Kyojuro radiated as she threw the dirty bandages into the waste bin before turning back to the flame hashira.

"I'll have aoi bring them. She'll be coming soon with your tea and sweet potatoes. I don't know how you talked her into making your favorite snacks all the time but I think you may be her new favorite." With a smile she bowed, fluttering back out of the room as quick as she arrived.

Morning couldn’t come soon enough, having spent the rest of the afternoon focusing on what he wanted to do while he had the time with his wife and daughter, Kyojuro was distracted. The anticipation had made it hard for him to sleep, thoughts hounded by the idea of finally being able to hold the two most important people in his life. He was feeling strong enough to hold his daughter for more than a few minutes, he had willed his muscles to get better, trying to lift more and hold them for longer amounts of time. Just enough so Shinobu wouldn't yell at him and he could hold his baby girl. He couldn't hold back from the fact he missed his wife as well though, He had been away for a whole month, missing the final month of her pregnancy. When he received the letter from Shinobu, urgently written to tell of his wife giving birth, his heart sank, knowing he wasn’t any closer to going home. Now home had been within reach, and he couldn’t wait to close his fist around it and never let it go.

Kyojuro had adjusted the collar of his shirt for what seemed like the hundredth time, even though the shirt laid almost fully open, tucked into his hakama pants. He felt anxious at the arrival of his wife and daughter, ready to see them and spend all the time he could with them, but also, what if he messed up? This was only the second time he got to see his daughter, what if she didn’t like him or didn’t want to be held by him. His lack of full strength and the pain in his abdomen may be a hindrance to his quality time with his family. His thoughts were everywhere as he fiddled with his shirt and his hair, constantly adjusting everything, it had to be perfect for them. The door opening behind him pulled him from his downward spiral. Looking towards the door Kyojuro met the eyes of the person he had been missing, her reflection staring back at him through the mirror. Her yellow Kimono had been covered with one of his spare Haori, wrapped tightly over the sling on her chest, a gurgling baby nestled into her.

“Hi Handsome” She walked up to him, moving to stand in front of him as he turned to her. She stopped, eyes running over his face, the eyepatch he had been gifted from Shinobu, to cover his injury while it finished healing. The bruises on his temple had almost healed fully, and he was moving. It felt like she could breathe again, finally seeing with her own eyes that he was doing better. She trusted Shinobu with her life, but she felt so anxious not knowing exactly how Kyojuro was doing. He smiled down at her, His hands immediately finding their way to her hips, pulling her into his embrace. Tucking his head into her neck he breathed in, eliciting a giggle from the woman as she wiggled in his grasp. “You're tickling me, Kyo.” He chuckled, the rumble in his chest shaking their daughter who had begun to fuss, the squeals of joy quickly turning to sorrow. Kyojuro jumped away from his wife, her attention turning to their daughter as he looked on. Pulling her from the sling she had she cooed at her baby, softly bouncing her as she sobbed into her shoulder.

“Kyo” She looked at him as she moved to the edge of the bed, sitting down as she patted Hinata’s back. Kyojuro followed her, slowly seating himself next to his wife. He moved as carefully as he could, looking at his crying daughter's face as she wailed into her mother’s shoulder.

“Can I?” He hesitantly reached for Hinata, eyes looking at his wife for permission. With a smile on her face, she lifted Hinata, Allowing Kyokjuro to wrap his hands around her small body, cradling her in his arms so she was on her back.

“Hinata, My beautiful sun child. I’m sorry I shook you like that, Your mommy is so ticklish around her neck, I'm surprised she lets you lay there” He cooed, leaning closer to her face. “Sweet girl, daddies sorry” He rocked her, swaying back and forth, moving Y/N in the process. As they swayed he hummed a tune his mother would often hum. It had no words, but it always reminded him of the early morning, before the sun was fully in the sky, just poking itself over the horizon. He would be in bed, just waking for the day when his mother walked by, humming to herself as she went to the kitchen, getting ready to start breakfast. Her loud humming followed her to the kitchen, where the notes were accented with her chopping the fruits and vegetables to the beat. The cries quickly turned to hiccups. Hinata's round yellow eyes were still glossy with tears as she stared at her father, his tender gaze as he looked down at her, singing softly. Y/N stared at the two of them in awe, the child's enamored look as she listened to her father's melody, the soft song she had heard him humming as he sat in the gardens early in the morning. Motherhood was such a blessing and being able to witness a moment like this was even better. Chubby hands reached up, grabbing at the air as the song came to an end. Her fingers wrapped around nothing before they dropped back onto the blanket she was swaddled in, gripping onto the fabric.

“She’s so beautiful. I could look at her all day” He looked up at his wife briefly before he looked back at his daughter, a smile gracing his lips as he held her closer to him, snuggling into her.

“She really is something special, huh? From her cute little toes all the way to that golden hair. Kyojuro, I think we made the perfect child. Hinata, my sunshine.” Her mother cooed, running her fingers over the small tufts of blonde hair, smoothing it against her head.

“You know” He started, looking back up to Y/N. “I was scared for you to come today. As much as I wanted to see the two of you, What if it didn’t work? What if I wasn't strong enough to get her to stop crying, I would have left you to do it when you’ve been doing it for so long without help. What if I had no-”

“I’m going to stop you there Kyojuro. Shinobu was telling me how you’ve been healing, how you’ve been working. I wouldn’t let you take Hinata from me if I didn’t think that you could handle it. Also, my flame; look at her, look at you. Take a deep breath before you completely lose it.” She stopped, watching as he inhaled and released it, slowly letting out the breath. “Now. Kyojuro, it's scary, I know. I’ve been trying to figure this out almost entirely on my own, but luckily I had some really good advice and a bit of help. my love, I’m right here, we are going to figure this out together and I promise you right now, we aren’t going to be perfect. But look at her, she’s happy, and that’s all I can ask for. She knows you and she loves you, I love you, so incredibly much. Kyo, I was scared you wouldn’t make it, that once Shinobu took you away from me I wouldn’t be seeing you after that. I need you to be patient with this. You are doing so well already, you quieted her faster than I've been able to since she was born. Hinata and I will spend so much time with you once you are home, none of us will leave that bed until you are healed, I mean it.” She leaned forward, pressing her forehead against his as he let out another long breath. “Everything will be fine my flame, don’t worry one bit. You are doing just fine with her.” Pulling away from her husband to sit on her heels she reached for Hinata, scooping her out of Kyojuro's arms. A small whine left Hinata's lips, her drooping eyes shooting open as she laid against her mother's shoulder. “Lay back against the pillow, I want to show you something” Kyojuro gave Y/N a puzzled look but did as he was told, moving to the head of the bed and laying flat on his back, head propped up on a pillow. Moving around the bed she stood next to Kyojuros still figure she smiled, moving Hinata so she was laying on his chest, her head instantly cuddling into the warmth his chest always radiated, a spot Y/N also liked to lay on. The lack of a shirt or a kimono on most of his chest created room for direct heat, Hinata own personal heated pillow. Kyojuro burst into giggles as his daughter quickly fell asleep against his chest, her quiet breaths becoming less frequent as she drifted to dreamland.

“She just fell asleep like that!?” it was Y/N’s turn to laugh as she climbed over her husband, laying down next to him.

“You are so warm, and she loves the warmth. When I light a fire at night, she always falls asleep so fast when I sit close to it, or when I bundle her in blankets. You are always so warm my flame, she obviously loves it” He chuckled again, running his fingers over the blanket that covered Hinata.

“Two women that like the heat, huh”

[hpimaginesandblurbs]

hey hey hey, could you make sub harry x dom fem reader smut where the reader finds out that harry spying on her in the showers with his cloak, so she takes revenge after the quidditch match on the showers? basically shower sex but reader being dom as hell. face slapping, choking, eating out, lots of degration, just pure sub harry smut!! and i loveee your writing btw love 💖🤧

pairing: harry potter x reader 

warning(s): 18+, dom!reader, mentions of voyeurism, shower sex, oral (female receiving), choking, slapping (like once), degradation, mentions of orgasm control/edging 

word count: 1.6k 

a/n: sorry i haven’t uploaded in a while, i’ve been busy but i have the week off so i hope to post more often! as always, enjoy! 

Once you saw the last of the team travel out of the locker room, you were quick to barge in - knowing your boyfriend, and the team’s captain, was the only one left. 

He was taking his jersey off when you arrived, his muscular back facing you. 

“You were great out there,” you said softly as you approached him, wrapping yours arms around him from the back despite how sweaty he was. You knew you’d be showering with him anyways. It was a little post-game ritual the two of you often loved to share. 

Harry leaned into your touch, letting some of the weight from his sore body rest on you. You almost felt bad for what you were about to do to him. He didn’t even know what was coming. Didn’t even know he had been caught this morning. But you surely weren’t going to let it slide. 

“Where were you this morning?” You asked him, innocently enough. 

“Went to breakfast then came down here,” he answered easily, moving out of your grasp to turn the water on. 

“And before that?” You asked him, raising a sly brow at him. 

You saw him freeze for a moment, but he recovered quickly. It almost made you giggle - the thought of him thinking he could get away with it. 

“What do you mean?” He asked, not turning around to face you. Instead, he opted to begin removing his pants. 

“Don’t act stupid, baby boy,” you said, almost mockingly. “We both know exactly what I’m talking about.” 

He froze for real then, his hands glued to the hem of his pants. You could practically feel him wracking his brain for something to say, but you both knew he already lost. 

When he turned to face you, his expression was filled with guilt and shame. It was almost cute how pitiful he looked. You walked up closer to him, completely invading his space until your chest was pressed against his. You could hear the way his breath hitched before he released a shaky breath, and you knew he was exactly where you wanted him. 

“Did you think it was okay to peep on me in the shower? You’re not slick, you know? I know when you’re using the cloak,” you questioned, referencing what had happened just that morning. 

You had been taking a shower, excitedly getting ready to watch your boyfriend play in his game today, when you heard an unmistakable swishing along the bathroom floor. You barely even had to look up when you saw it hit the light in exactly the right way. To anyone else, it may have just been a trick of the eye, but you knew exactly what it was. You had been underneath it enough times to know. It was Harry, underneath his invisibility cloak, watching you shower. 

And as aroused as you were that Harry had managed to sneak all the way in there just for you, just to see you naked, you refused to give him the show he wanted. After all, he didn’t need to know you knew was there. So you continued your shower as you normally would, finally hearing the unmistakable swishing leave the bathroom once more. 

“I’m sorry,” he finally said, looking down at his feet bashfully. 

“I’m sure you’re not, but you’ll make it up to me. Won’t you, baby?” You asked teasingly, palming him through his briefs to find him already half hard. When all he could do was whimper, you couldn’t help but chuckle, but you let it slide. “Help me strip.” 

He moved eagerly, quickly helping you out of your layers until you were naked. You moved under the water, letting it encase you before you turned back to him. He was watching you with eagle eyes, not daring to take them off of you. 

“Down on your knees, baby boy. I don’t know what you think you were doing, but I’m in charge now,” you told him, spreading your legs seductively, leaving him with a perfect spot to place his mouth. 

He was down on his knees within a second, not even minding the cold, hard bathroom floor. His lips sucked around your clit harshly, forcing your hips to buck up from the wall. He didn’t miss a single beat, almost effortlessly working your body with his lips and tongues. Regardless of how you felt about this morning, your man was good and you both knew it. 

“Look at you finally being good. Maybe if you had been good all day, I would have been the one on my knees,” you told him between your moans. You felt more than heard him whimper against your body, picturing the roles reversed. 

He got you off quickly after that, wanting to prove to you so badly that he was good, so that hopefully, if you allowed it, he could get off too. You came with a deep moan, your back arched against the cool shower wall and your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him as close as possible to your body. His tongue didn’t stop until you were writhing, forcing him off of you. 

When you looked down at him again, a whole new rush of arousal shot through your body. His hair was a beautiful mess, tousled under your fingers and the water. His lips were swollen and wet, slightly parted as he finally got the chance to breathe. And his eyes. Oh his fucking eyes. He looked like an absolute glorious fucked out mess even though you hadn’t even touched him yet. He looked as breathless as you felt. The power you had over this man was borderline insanity. 

“Do you think you did a good enough job to fuck me?” You asked him lowly, watching his eyes widen. 

“Please. I’ve wanted to all day,” he told you honestly, the plea evident in his eyes. 

“I really don’t think you deserve it after your stunt this morning but I’ll be nice. You can fuck me, but you better make me cum twice of your cock before you even think about cumming,” you gave in with a dark chuckle, watching as a blush crept to his face and his cock twitched. 

He was on his feet in an instant, easily lifting you up and balancing your body between the wall and his strong chest. It didn’t take him much longer to slip his cock inside of you and from the angle, you could feel everything. Every vien, every ridge, every throb. He definitely chose correctly when he picked this position. 

WIth every thrust, his pelvis was brushing against your clit and the tip of his cock was perfectly hitting your g-spot. You couldn’t even hold the moans back. He was proving just how good he was tenfold, he deserved to hear how good he was making you feel. 

“You were so fucking bad this morning, you know that?” You asked, slowly dragging your hand up his chest and to his throat. You didn’t clench down hard, but the fact that your hand was there was enough to make him moan. “Who gave you the filthy idea that peeping on me was the right thing to do?” 

“Y/N, fuck,” he said back, not quiet an answer, but you knew exactly what it meant. It meant that as your orgasm was building, so was his and he was having a hard time controlling it between your words and your hand so perfectly placed. 

And you knew exactly what to do to tip him over the edge. To make him cum and break the rules some more just so you could fuck with him more later. It was devious, but it was the perfect punishment. 

“You’re not showing me how good you can be. I know how close you are. Are you thinking about me in the shower again? How good I looked touching myself while you watched?” You questioned, your hand only gripping his throat tighter. 

“No. Fuck. I’m being good, please,” he begged aimlessly, thrusting inside of you erratically, just proving how close to the edge he was. 

“If you were good, you wouldn’t act like a desperate little boy,” you told him, trying your best to sound coherent through your own moans. 

You gripped his chin between your fingers to hold him steady before bringing up your other hand and swinging it against his face, a resounding crack echoing around the empty locker room. His head remained steady, but his entire body trembled. He managed to keep you upright, but he was breaking down slowly, spiraling to his release. 

“You better make me cum before you do,” you got out, at least managing to sound menacing enough. 

“I’m so close. Please cum, please,” Harry whimpered, fighting against himself to get you there. 

No matter what, you could never say that Harry Potter was a quitter. He raced to get you to your finish, and when you did, you contracted around him so tightly he hissed and you released with a scream, unable to hold back the sound. He came with a groan, his head buried in your shoulder. 

You took a moment to catch your breath before opening your mouth to speak. “I thought I told you to make me cum twice before you did,” you offered weakly, still a little breathless. But nevertheless, your words had their desired effect. 

Harry’s head immediately snapped up and you could already see the apology in his eyes. You chuckled slightly as you slid back down the wall, gracefully landing on your feet. 

“Don’t worry, baby boy. You’ll learn your lesson for that one later - nothing a few edges won’t be able to fix. But first we need to finish your shower, hm?” You asked softly, moving his messy hair back out of his face. 

He gulped but gave you a steady nod before flashing a barely there grin. He was a little shit - basically asking for a punishment. But he was all yours.

[edie-baby]

we're okay, we're alright | lando norris

summary: When Lando Norris has a panic attack, McLaren's personal assistant, Olivia McKinnon, is there to calm him down. Even if they have to penguin walk.

word count: 2337

warnings: panic attacks

When a seventeen year old Olivia McKinnon first joined the McLaren F1 team as a personal assistant to their drivers, Fernando Alonso and Stoffel Vandoorne were in the cockpits, and she got along well with both of them. Fernando had become a bit of an uncle to the teenager, teaching her Spanish whenever she asked, and ruffling up her hair in the most inconvenient of situations. Stoffel was much like an older brother, he joked around with her, teased her endlessly, and was always quick to worry if anything happened to her - he also threatened to beat up her boyfriend when she found out he was cheating on her, but that’s beside the point.

The day the news broke that two new drivers would be filling the seats of the two men she was incredibly close to, it shocked Oli. She was finally getting used to the specifics of the older men’s orders - how they liked coffee, water, what food they liked in what moods, who they were always happy to answer calls from, and who to consistently avoid. And now she’d be having to learn it for two completely new people.

Carlos Sainz she had seen around the paddock, never spoken to nor been introduced to, however after the first few weekends of seeing her multiple times, they began exchanging smiles in passing. He seemed nice, and Oli figured she might be able to continue her Spanish lessons if they got on well enough.

Lando Norris however, Oli had a complicated relationship with. They had bumped into each other multiple times around the MTC when he was there for meetings or sim work, or during race weekends when he hung around the McLaren garage on account of him being a test and reserve driver. Zak introduced them multiple times, sure that a friendship would blossom between the two youngins quite quickly, however Lando was always quick to leave whenever Oli was near. After wondering if she had offended him, or done something wrong, she began to worry and spoke to Zak about the issue, not wanting to have tension between her and one of the men she would be working for. Zak spoke with Lando a few days later, and found out in quite a memorable conversation, exactly why Lando had such an aversion to the small brunette.

“I’m scared of her.” Lando muttered ashamedly. Zak couldn’t help but bark out a laugh, that the boy who drove fast cars was scared of a five foot two pixie of a girl who had a beaming smile and cute nose.

“How? She’s so small.” Zak chuckled, the image of Lando cowering away from a girl six inches shorter than him was one he wouldn’t forget.

“I don’t know, she’s just so scary. I feel like if she wanted to, she could say five words and I would be ruined. Completely, like she could tear me apart in a sentence. I also think she could probably take me in a fight.” Lando replied, fiddling with the bracelet on his right wrist, a nervous habit he had developed after his Mum gifted it to him. Zak merely laughed in response, a fond smile crossing his face at the young driver. He could see from the beginning the two were made for each other, Lando didn’t know it yet but it seemed he already had a very strong connection with the girl.

“Anyone could take you in a fight, Lando. Just be nice to her and I’m sure she won’t bite. Unless you ask, of course.” Zak teased, thankful for his easy going and close relationship with the eighteen year old. Lando went bright red, covering his cheeks with a nervous laugh, the serious eyes Zak was giving him pushing him to flee the room in the mess of flushed cheeks and embarrassed laughter.

I

“Oli! Have you seen Carlos or Jon?” Charlotte yelled, startling the brunette who was pouring over the weekend’s schedule. Olivia looked up, shaking her head at Charlotte who sighed in frustration.

“According to his schedule, Carlos should be in interviews for the next hour, and Jon should be floating around somewhere. Why? What’s gone on?” Oli questioned, double checking the schedule in front of her.

“I think Lando’s having a panic attack and I don’t know how to calm him down. I figured one of the boys would know.” Charlotte rushed out, causing Oli to stand up from her chair abruptly. She had dealt with many panic attacks during her high school years and knew firsthand how hard it was to ground yourself sometimes.

“Where is he?” Oli demanded, already gathering her belongings on the table while Charlotte pointed wordlessly to the drivers’ rooms. Oli set off, jogging through the McLaren hospitality, making a beeline for the Brit’s room. When she got up there, the door was partially open, and that was enough for Oli to push the door all the way open, then quickly closing it behind her to give Lando some privacy.

“Lando? It’s Olivia, Charlotte’s out looking for Jon and Carlos at the moment. She said you were having a panic attack, and I don’t know if you have them much but I wanted to try some breathing with you? You just have to follow along with what I’m doing, okay sweetheart? Big breath in through your nose, one, two, three, four. Now hold that breath in, two, three, four. And let it out through your mouth, one, two, three, four, five, six. Okay, we’re going to do it again. In, two, three, four. Hold, two, three, four. And out, two, three, four, five, six.” Oli attempted the most well known ‘calm the fuck down’ technique, something that never really worked for her but was often good for others. Lando didn’t seem to be able to hear anything she was saying, barely reacting to her presence when the door opened.

He was curled up in the corner of the small bed, his back against the wall, legs pulled tight up to his chest. His breaths were heavy and uneven, and Oli wondered how long he had been breathing like this as it most definitely wasn’t good for his oxygen consumption.

“Sweetheart, I’m going to try something different. I’m going to talk, and I want you to focus on my voice. You don’t need to listen to what I’m saying if you can’t, but just listen to the noise, alright?” Olivia tried again, slowly making her way to the bed. She sank down onto her knees in front of the bed, trying to come off as non-threatening as possible.

“You know, I really like your shoes. I usually don’t like the look of trainers, I’m more of a sneakers girl myself, but they look really nice. But we’ll have to get you some cool socks, they’ll get hidden by your pants most of the time but it’s always fun to have a bit of a secret. I’m wearing beer socks right now. They’re pretty cute, and no one can tell unless I pull my jeans up.” Oli’s ramblings didn’t seem to be doing much to help Lando either, his breathing and rocking completely undisturbed. Olivia wanted to try one more thing before she began repeating the process of different techniques.

She stood up, leaning slightly against the bed Lando was curled on and reached her hand out slowly. She aimed for his bicep, the skin to skin contact startled something in Lando and he jumped. Oli moved back immediately, scared that she had made everything worse when Lando’s hands landed on her own arms, hauling her pliant body up onto the bed and curling his body around her. His head rested next to her shoulder, his nose lightly brushing the fabric of her team shirt, his arms wrapped tightly around her waist. He was still curled up quite a bit, his knees tucked close to his chest, the bony joints resting against Oli’s hips.

She heard Lando sniffle and turned to look at him immediately, a choked sob left his lips as tears trailed on a warpath down his tanned face. Oli wrapped her arms around Lando, pulling his head to rest on her upper chest, close enough to her heart that he would be able to hear it beating, whilst not completely smothering him in her boobs. Her hands began brushing through Lando’s hair, listening to the heartbreaking sounds of him sobbing so hard he was coughing.

“It’s okay sweetheart. You’re gonna be okay.” Oli whispered, her lips brushing the top of Lando’s forehead. His sobs began slowing, turning into whimpers and sniffles, then finally stopping to the rare sniffle.

“I’m sorry.” Was the first thing from the driver’s lips when he had calmed himself down. He attempted to untangle himself from his assistant, but she only held on tighter. Lando relaxed straight away, her fingers carding through his curls was so soothing that he could have fallen asleep right there.

“Do not apologise. There’s not a single thing to be sorry for, honey. Are you feeling a little better now? Your breathing is much better and your tears have stopped.” Olivia spoke, softly brushing the slowly drying tear tracks with the back of her index finger, the gentleness of her touch causing a lone tear to fall from Lando’s eye, catching on Olivia’s hand. He hadn’t been touched like this in so long, and knowing that she was only doing it because it was her job could have sent him spiralling again, but Oli caught the look swimming in his eyes.

“Hey, hey! Look at me, okay? We’re okay. We’re alright. Do you want to come with me to get you some water? Maybe a cup of tea? And we should get you a hoodie, you’re shivering like crazy, love.” Olivia was so patient with him, allowing him a few moments to process everything she was saying and speaking a little slower than she usually would. She made a move to get up, her arm outstretched reaching for a hoodie hung over the back of the couch that she presumed Lando had ripped off when he first got in the room. Just as her fingers grasped the material, Lando tightened his arms around her, his breath hitching at the lessened contact with the only thing that was holding him together at that point.

“Honey, I need to get your hoodie. You’re freezing and you’ll get sick if you don’t rug up soon. Look, we can shuffle over there together.” Oli held tight to Lando, scooching her body closer to the edge of the uncomfortable bed to reach out for the teen’s hoodie. She got it this time, letting out a breath that she had held in order to stretch her appendage further. She turned back to Lando, his orange and grey hoodie clutched tightly in her hands, his arms still wrapped in a death grip around her waist.

“Can you sit up for me? You’ll feel better once you’re warmer, and you can go right back to holding me once this is on, I promise.” Olivia assured, using her warm hands to coax Lando into a sitting position, his arms still around her, legs coming to rest on either side of her hips as she sat on her knees. His thighs were pressed tightly against hers, trying to keep as many points of contact with her as physically possible, and she would be lying if she said it wasn’t comforting.

Slowly, Oli got one arm off her waist, slipping the orange hoodie onto Lando’s arm, letting him return it to her back once it was pushed up far enough. She did the same with the other arm, pulling it over his head moments after. Once the hood was down off his head, Olivia fixed his hair, small fingers threading through his curls in an attempt to return them to their previous perfection. Lando remained in his spot, eyes trained on a spot on the floor just over Oli’s shoulder.

“How about that water, sweetheart? I don’t care if we have to penguin walk there.” Oli joked, and she saw a flicker of confusion pass over Lando’s face. She figured it would be something to explain in detail at a later date, instead choosing to spin in her spot on the table, still folded up on her knees with Lando’s legs around her.

Olivia slipped off the bed, her own hands covering Lando’s to reassure him that he could keep them around her waist, his body following hers onto his own two feet when she got too far away from him. Oli continued shuffling forward slowly, hands still holding Lando’s while he followed her small steps to the door of the room.

“Are you okay?” Olivia whispered, feeling Lando curl himself around her more, his chin coming to rest over her shoulder, his curls tickling the underside of his jaw. She felt him nod against her and took it as her queue to open the door and begin the slow adventure to the canteen in the hospitality centre. It took them about three times as long as it usually would, and garnered a lot more looks than usual, however a lot of those stares were in awe of the young couple shuffling through the building. The innocence the two possessed while both working in such a cutthroat environment was adorable, the naivety in their unwillingness to let go of each other.

Zak Brown checked his phone when it buzzed, only to be greeted with a video of the company’s youngest employees that he had a certain fatherly protectiveness over. And after seeing them together, much of the McLaren staff were extremely protective of the two youngsters. They were comforted that their young driver had found someone he trusted and could rely on like the two before them.

The connection they made was an unbreakable one, and there was a bright future for McLaren with Lando and Olivia taking on everything side by side.

[jungshookz]

skate a little piece of my heart; jjk

➺ pairing; jeon jungkook x reader

➺ genre; rollerskatinginstructor!jungkook!! sfw!! fluff!! honk honk humour!! jungkook is a very handsome instructor and y/n can’t tell if that’s a bad thing or a good thing

➺ wordcount; 6.3k

➺ summary; your two left feet and complete lack of balance isn’t the only thing that’s making you weak in the knees this valentine’s day. 

➺ what to expect; “rollerskating is already hard enough as it is, and now i have to do it in front of him?!” 

➺ currently spinning on the record player; how deep is your love; bee gees

                                     »»————-　💫  ————-««

“this is so dumb.”

“safety is never dumb, y/n!” taehyung raps his knuckles against the top of your helmet and you scowl before swatting his hand away, “now, where are your kneepads?”

you let out a groan before tilting your head back slowly, your eyes widening in slight panic at the surprisingly hefty weight of the helmet

your arms flail for a second and you immediately reach up to grip both sides of the helmet before forcing your head back up

jesus

you nearly snapped your own neck there

of course, snapping your own neck would mean not being able to skate because you’d technically be dead… so maybe that’s not such a bad idea after all…

(by the way, it’s concerning how many times you’ve considered literal death just to get out of doing something.)

“are you going to lift your leg for me or do i have to do everything for you?”

you look down to see taehyung down on the ground in front of you holding one of the knee pads and you frown lightly before lifting your leg and placing your sock-clad foot on his knee

“please tell me this is the last of the safety gear…” you whine, “tae, i literally look so dorky right now- no one else is wearing helmets or knee and elbow pads!” you gesture to seokjin and namjoon who are busy putting on their skates over on the other bench before scoffing lightly and crossing your arms 

if namjoon (arguably the klutziest one out of this group of people) isn’t even wearing a helmet, then what does that say about you??

you’ve seen him trip over nothing and scrape both his knees so why are you the only one wearing all of this junk?!

“i took you ice-skating over christmas and you fell flat on your ass more times than i could count, and you insisted that you didn’t need any safety equipment even though it was alarmingly clear that you did. i basically spent two hours making sure you didn’t die-” taehyung looks up at you with a raised brow, “do you want to fall and split your skull open in front of everyone?”

“if it means not having to gear up in all this dorkware- then, yes. i would love to have my brains splat across the rink in front of everyone. in fact, that would probably be less embarrassing-” you grumble, flinching slightly as taehyung suddenly yanks hard to tighten up your laces, “i’m an adult, taehyung! grown-ups don’t need to wear all of this!” 

“grown-ups don’t throw tantrums either, but here you are…” taehyung mutters under his breath, putting your foot down before giving your knee a slap, “perfect! we’re good to go!”

“yeah, yeah…” you reach under to scratch at your elbow only to feel your nails scrape against the smooth surface of the plastic protection shell and you resist the urge to rip it off out of frustration

taehyung decided that it’d be a great idea to bring everyone to a rollerskating rink for valentine’s day this year instead of… letting people go out to intimate dinners and celebrate on their own… because, quote, ‘i just want all of us to spend more time together, and what better day to do that then on valentine’s day?? …ooh, we should call it pal-entine’s day. ha! get it?? because we’re all pals-’

(he was dumped recently, so everyone’s kind of letting him run the ship for now. …basically, no one can say no to taehyung unless they want to see him burst into tears. he’s still in a very delicate state.)

but, honestly… a rollerskating rink!

out of all the places to go to!

you already have two left feet, so forcing said left feet into shoes with wheels is a horrible idea

“i think it’d be best if i just sat back and watched you guys!” you try for the umpteenth time to get taehyung to let you off the hook, “plus, they sell chilli dogs here and they actually smell really good and i kind of want to order one for myself even though it might end in me having to get my stomach pumped-” you gesture back towards the refreshments counter and taehyung shakes his head before sticking his hand out for you

“there’s plenty of time for you to scarf down a rubbery hotdog later- now, c’mon-”

“i don’t even know how to skate!”

“that’s fine, you’ll learn! it’ll be like riding a bicycle except you are the bicycle-”

“you know, i’m just going to be complaining the whole time, and it’s going to ruin your time here. honestly, tae, why am i here??”

“because i’m not emotionally stable enough to spend valentine’s day alone yet and i need to surround myself with as many people as possible otherwise i’m going to be alone with my thoughts and i’m going to spiral!” taehyung’s voice cracks as he snaps at you and you immediately press your lips together and avert your gaze, trying to ignore the weird glances the two of you are getting from the strangers around you

…

“okay, well-” you push yourself up off the bench before wobbling slightly and reaching over to grab onto taehyung’s arm for stability, “i don’t know about you, but i’m most certainly ready to tear up that rink!”

“perfect!” taehyung chirps, quickly reverting back to his ‘everything is fine and i’m definitely not dying on the inside’ state, “and don’t worry. rollerskating is much easier than ice-skating, so there’s less of a chance of you potentially embarrassing yourself here-” taehyung gives your hand a pat as the two of you shuffle your way towards the entrance gate, “trust me, you’ll get the hang of it as soon as you start!”

“you saw me on ice…” you snort, your knees already wobbling as you take your first step into the rink, “i really don’t think i’m going to be any better on wood-”

“well, lucky for you…” taehyung lets go of you and you immediately cling to the railing in panic, “i went ahead i hired an instructor for you!”

you frown as you pull one hand away and rub your fingers together 

god, why are the railings so sticky-

“you- woah, hold on a second-” you look up and over at taehyung with wide eyes when you finally catch on to what he just said, “i’m sorry, you did what?”

“what? i can’t stay by your side and watch you all night.” he shrugs, placing his hands on his hips as he stands in front of you, “we were moving so slowly on the ice that i was sure it was starting to melt underneath our skates-”

“you just told me you don’t want to be alone and now you’re handing me off to someone else instead of spending time with me??” you frown, manoeuvring your stance so that both your hands are gripping onto the railing behind your bum, “why force me to skate if you’re not doing it with me?”

“i mean, i obviously want to spend time with you, but i also don’t want to be skating, like, one mile an hour-” taehyung snorts, “i’m forcing you to skate so that one day, we can skate together without me having to worry about you slipping and sliding all over the place like a baby giraffe!”

“well, why can’t you teach me instead of paying for someone else to do it?”

a brief moment of silence passes as taehyung rolls over to get you to release your iron grip from the bars

“…because teaching you how to skate instead of actually spending time skating sounded really boring-” he mutters quickly, your eyes widening as you turn to look at him

“wha-”

“also-” he cuts you off, placing his hands on your hips from behind as he starts to roll you forwards slowly (though, you haven’t noticed this yet because you’re still focused on the fact that he didn’t want to teach you - you’re a great student!!), “there was a girl who kept smiling at me when i was strapping you up in all your gear, and i need to find out if i still have game or not-”

“this sounds more like you’re trying to fill the empty void inside of you with meaningless sex, which, by the way, isn’t a very healthy coping mechanism-” 

“i will fill this empty void inside of me in whichever way i want, thank you very much-” taehyung snorts, shaking his head, “plus, it’s too late to back out because the policy states that they don’t take refunds and he’s already here-”

“wait, what??” you immediately look back to the front, the fact that you are being rolled towards someone now sinking into your brain, “who- oh my god, stop rolling me-!”

taehyung’s fingers dig into your hips as he comes to a sudden halt, “what??”

“spin me around.” 

taehyung blinks before slowly turning you around so that you’re facing him and you pray to god that you don’t look like some kind of rotating rotisserie chicken right now  

you open your mouth to speak when you finally see taehyung’s face again but he continues to spin you slowly so that you end up in the same position you were in a second ago

...

“for god’s sake, taehyung- spin me around so i’m looking at you, you moron-”

“ohh, okay, i thought you just wanted to spin you around for fun-”

“why would i want you to spin me around for f- okay, that’s not important right now-” you shake your head, “i just want to say that the only reason why i’m doing this is because you kind of sprung this on me last minute and i don’t want to inconvenience anyone, but just know that you now owe me big time- now, spin me back around and wheel me to whoever i’m going to be stuck with for the next couple of hours.”

“noted!” taehyung chirps as he rolls you back so you’re facing the front, “he’s right over there by the other entrance- the guy in the yellow-” your eyes flit around until they land on the guy in the yellow and you immediately feel your heart starting to beat a little harder in your chest at the sight of the guy in the yellow, “his name’s jungkook, he has a shining five-star rating, he’s a wonderful teacher according to all the parents whose kids he’s taught- i’m pretty sure you’re his oldest student so don’t embarrass yourself-”

you feel your mouth go dry when jungkook reaches down to adjust the bottom of his tied button-up shirt before opening the sides of it a little more to show off his chest

he reaches up to twirl a loose tendril of hair around his finger before gently pushing it back and running his hand through his hair, poking his tongue against the inside of his cheek briefly 

oh no

oh, no

he’s attractive

he’s very, very attractive

“tae.” you keep a polite smile on your face as you slink your right arm behind you to attempt to blindly punch him in the gut, “why didn’t you tell me that the instructor was cute?”

“oh, i’m sorry.” taehyung responds sarcastically, “i didn’t think attractiveness was an important factor when considering an instructor.”

“well, it is when the instructor looks like that-” you feel your cheeks warm when jungkook smiles brightly at the two of you before waving enthusiastically, “rollerskating is already hard enough as it is, and now i have to do it in front of him?!”

“i don’t know what there is to freak out about. the guy’s handsome- so what?” taehyung waves back at jungkook before giving your hips a playful squeeze, “if anything, you should see this as a bonus - you get some eye-candy while you learn!”

“okay, well, don’t make me sound pervy-”

“not to mention, he’s your age! so it’ll be like you’re just hanging out with a friend-”

“a friend?! taehyung, i’m wearing overalls, my hair is in pigtails, and all this protective gear that you shoved me in makes me look like an eight year old-!” you gasp when you feel yourself suddenly bump into something hard and taehyung quickly loops his arm around your waist to keep you from toppling over

it’s a second later that you realize the something hard that you bumped into was jungkook’s obviously broad chest, so obviously this rollerskating lesson is already off to a fantastic start 

“woah, you got it?” jungkook holds both his hands out in case you fall over and you let out a nervous chuckle before reaching up to push your helmet up slightly

“i’m fine!” your voice cracks and you clear your throat quickly, “…hello.”

“hi! it’s nice to meet you- y/n, right?” jungkook sticks his hand out for you to shake and you smile nervously before reaching out to take it, “my name’s jungkook! i’m super excited for today. we’re going to have a lot of fun together.”

you don’t know if it’s just because he’s clearly one of those fun and overly friendly! instructors or if he’s just naturally bubbly but he’s talking to you like you’re a child

(you probably could’ve ditched the pigtails today.) 

“okay, i’m going to go off now so let me just hand y/n over to you-” taehyung arm slips from your waist before he gently rolls you towards jungkook, “you two have fun!”

your hands immediately slap down on the railings right as you feel yourself about you slip and you let out a breath of relief

that was a close call

“we will!” jungkook smiles, waving at taehyung as he skates off, “you enjoy yourself out there!”

you watch helplessly as taehyung skates away, jungkook turning back to look at you with a (very handsome) smile

you feel your heart skip a beat once again and you immediately curse in your head 

…you’re screwed.

                                    »»————-　💫  ————-««

“because of the balance and control required, it’ll take a little bit of getting used to- but once you get the hang out it, rollerskating is super fun!” jungkook reaches out so you can take his hand, “do you wanna let go of the bar for me?”

there are a lot of things you’d like to do for jungkook but letting go of the railing and potentially falling in front of him is most definitely not one of them

“you know, i think i’m good!” you chuckle, your knuckles practically going white at how tightly you’re gripping onto the railing, “why don’t you just keep talking while i… you know, get used to the feeling of just standing while wearing skates?”

“okay, if that’s what you’re comfortable with, that’s what we can do. let’s see… ah!” jungkook perks up, clapping his hands together before gesturing down to his own feet, “so, you’re gonna wanna keep your feet shoulder-width apart. can you do that for me?”

you look down at your feet, not at all surprised to see that they’re practically glued to each other

okay

shoulder-width apart

you can do that, right?

you lift your right foot up slowly before quickly moving it farther away from your left foot, your skate skidding slightly against the floor as you stomp down

goD these skates are clunky

you’ll never understand how people find this activity genuinely enjoyable

“see? not so bad, right? now, i’m really going to need you to let go of the bar for me so that we can move onto the next step- i swear i won’t let you fall if you take my hand.”

your eyes flicker down to his outstretched hand and you twist your lips uncertainly, “you promise?”

jungkook places his hand over his heart, “i promise.”

you lift one hand off the rail and quickly take jungkook’s hand, pausing for a second to make sure that everything feels okay before quickly lifting the other hand off the rail

you practically slap your hand down on jungkook’s other palm and let out a breath of relief as soon as he grips it tightly, and you look back in concern when jungkook starts to pull you away from the railing

“there you go! see?” jungkook smiles brightly, giving your hands a squeeze to get you to focus on him instead of the bars, “not so bad, right?” 

“yeah, i guess so…” you puff out, feeling your heart starting to pound harder not onLY because the safety of the railings have been taken away from you but also because jungkook’s hands are… very soft.,,. and very warm,.,. and very pretty.,., and all-in-all very nice

“okay, step two. so, this next part is going to make you feel a little silly, but we have to walk like ducks because it just makes the process of walking easier. you kind of have to point your toes outwards- yeah, just like that! and don’t forget to squat a little-” jungkook hums, leaning over a little so he can look to see if your stance is okay, “perfect! we’re just going to keep practicing until you get used to walking...”  

“you know, taehyung actually took me ice-skating over the holidays and i fell, like… ten times.” you snort, keeping your eyes on your skates as you take one small step after another, “i thought rollerskating would be easier but i feel like there are more rules to worry about…”

“oh my god, don’t even worry about it-“ jungkook snorts, shaking his head, “i’m an awful ice-skater. you’d think it’d come naturally to me because i can rollerskate- plus, i don’t see the fun in ice-skating! i know it’d never happen but i’m always paranoid that the skates are going to slice-”

“-the ice open and you’re going to fall through and plunge into the icy water?”

“exactly! see, you get it.” jungkook grins, leaning down a little to check your posture again, “you know, you’re a complete natural. i don’t know why you were so nervous to begin with!”

you snort in response and resist the urge to tell him that his face was one of the major things that contributed to your nerves 

“ooh, and you know what else i hate about ice-skating?” jungkook gasps, “that if i fall and get my hands on the ground, someone’s going to skate over them and amputate all of my fingers.”

you immediately burst into giggles and he gawks playfully

“are you laughing at a genuine fear of mine, y/n?? i didn’t take you to be someone who could be so cruel…”

“no, i’m not laughing at you!” you smile softly and you can’t help but note how warm and comforting his presence is, “i’m just- i said that exact same thing to taehyung when we were ice-skating and he said i was being ridiculous, so it’s nice to know that someone shares the same opinions on ice-skating as i do.” you instinctively squeeze jungkook’s hands when you feel the wheels roll out from underneath you a little and you end up jerking forward a little 

“woah-! you’re okay- i’ve got you…” jungkook rubs his thumbs over your knuckles reassuringly as he waits for you to regain your balance and start walking again, “i told you i wouldn’t let you fall, remember?”

“yeah…” you smile shyly, feeling your cheeks heat up a little

you don’t feel as nervous anymore

no wonder jungkook has a five-star rating as an instructor

he’s great!

“also, you do realise we’ve walked, like, an entire round around the rink, right?”

“what? we have?” you pause, looking up from your skates for the first time in ten minutes 

you’re almost at the spot you were at right when you first started

woah

wow!!

you didn’t even realize!!

that’s so cool!!

you walked an entire round without falling (a lot of almost-falling, but you’ll take it)!!!

“i mean, i don’t know about you, but i feel like we can move on to gliding now…” jungkook whistles lowly, “you’re a very fast learner so i’m not worried.”

“gliding is…” you lean over a little when you notice taehyung having a blast at the other side of the rink with his new companion, the two of them skating side by side

she laughs at something he says before playfully swatting at his arm

it’s just good to see him smiling and not crying for once 

one of the things that you love most about taehying is that he’s so in tune with his emotions, but when his ex (he forbade you from saying her name) broke up with him, he cried so much that you were pretty sure he had completely dehydrated himself 

so it’s nice that he seems to be enjoying himself! 

“so, gliding is-” jungkook steps over to get right into your line of vision and you quickly look back at him with an attentive smile, “basically turning your steps into smoooooth strokes. instead of dropping your foot straight down, you’re going to be pushing it forward and out. it’s kind of hard to explain gliding… you kinda just have to let momentum carry you forward and do its thing, you know? it’s literally just a one foot after the other situation.”

“well, if you can glide backwards, i’m sure i can figure out how to do it normally.” you point out, jungkook snorting in response

“trust me, you’ll be able to pick it up quickly. remember that when you’re gliding on one foot to keep your other slightly hovering above ground so it doesn’t interfere-” jungkook stops himself when he notices your brows knitting together (you seem to do this a lot when you’re focusing too hard on something), “ah, you know- i find that it’s easier to glide when you’re not actually focused on the gliding!” he chirps, giving your hands a reassuring squeeze, “if it helps, you can keep your eyes on me instead of staring down at your skates.”

hAh

if anything, staring directly at jungkook is going to throw you off your game compared to keeping your eyes glued on the ground

“okay, i will... try not to focus on the gliding while simultaneously focus on the gliding.” your tongue instinctively pokes out slightly in concentration as you push forward with one foot, being sure to keep your other a little above ground just like jungkook said 

you quickly switch to the other foot when you feel your right foot slowly starting to lose momentum, pushing off with your left instead and lengthening your stride so you can skate a little further 

hey

look at that! 

not bad!! 

“look at you go, superstar!” jungkook cheers encouragingly, grinning from ear to ear as he watches you gliding flawlessly, “you were born for this!” 

“you know, you may have a point- woAh-” your skates roll out a little from under you and you lurch forward, jungkook quickly sliding his grip from your hands to underneath your elbows to keep you from falling, “...yeah, so i spoke too soon.” you huff, blowing a strand of hair away from your face as you glance up at jungkook, still bent over at a ninety degree angle

“it’s my bad, i think i may have blown up your ego with all my compliments-” the sides of his eyes crinkle as he laughs, “all good?” 

you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror and feel a piece of your soul float out from your body when you realise you basically look like a little old woman clutching onto one of those rolling walkers

wow

the possibility of jungkook being interested in you was low to begin with, but now it’s probably been squashed entirely

“uh, yes!” you clear your throat as you force yourself to stand up stick-straight, your knees clacking together for a second before you get back into position, “all good! i’m all good. we’re good.” 

oh boy 

if it makes you feel any better… it can’t get any worse than this, right?

“i-” you jolt when the music suddenly clicks off and is replaced by the shrill ringing of microphone feedback

“youch.” jungkook winces, raising his shoulder slightly and tilting his head down towards it so he can try to cover up one of his ears 

your brows furrow in confusion as you look up towards the speakers, unsure of if there’s just a technical difficulty or if something important is happening, “what’s going o-”

“sorry for the interruption, skaters! we just wanted to cut in and wish every single one of you a happy valentine’s day...” 

a large disco ball lowers from the ceiling as the lights begin to dim, the room suddenly engulfed in a warm pink glow as visions of glinting sparkles and hearts reflect from the disco ball onto the wooden floors along with the velvety walls

oh, god

seriously?!

you look up towards the speakers and resist the urge to curse and shake your fist at them like an angry old man

haven’t the people here considered that there might be single people in the rink?! 

…on valentine’s day…??

yeah that doesn’t make much sense

“grab your lover and glide along the floor as we play you some romantic tunes on this romantic evening… also, to the owner of a baby blue mercedes-benz convertible- i repeat, a baby blue mercedez-benz convertible... your car is parked in a tow-away zone. that’s all!”

the bee gees’ how deep is your love starts to play and you quickly pull your hands away from jungkook’s, your face flushing in embarrassment at the sudden change in atmosphere

you wobble slightly as soon as you pull away and immediately stick both your arms out in a poor attempt to keep balanced

okay

all you have to do is glide your way towards the exit so that you’re not just awkwardly standing in the middle of the ring while lovey-dovey couples skate around you

it’s only then that you realise that jungkook is facing away from you and seemingly looking for someone

you tap him on the shoulder and he turns to glance at you, “yes?”

“who... who are you looking for?” you frown, leaning over to peer over him so you can see what he’s seeing

“hm? oh, i was just looking for your boyfriend…” he trails off, continuing to look around the rink, “the two of you probably want to skate together right now and you’ll get to show off your brand new gliding skills, which is exciting-”

“boyfri- are you talking about taehyung?” you snort, quirking a brow in amusement, “he’s… oh my god, he’s definitely not my boyfriend. i’m only here for emotional support because he just got out of a relationship- we don’t have to get into it- the point is, he’s not my boyfriend. i don’t, uh, i’m not in a relationship at the moment. i’m… very single.”

why are you still talking?!

you clear your throat as you look for the nearest exit gate

“oh!” jungkook blinks before turning back around to face you, “in that case-“ your eyes widen in surprise when he sticks his hand out for you to take, “shall we?”

you blink down at his outstretched hand cluelessly before suddenly realizing what it is he’s asking

“oh, i-” you snort, immediately shaking your head, “no, you don’t have to do that…”

“what do you mean?” jungkook frowns, tilting his head curiously, “you don’t want to skate with me? after all we’ve been through?? y/n, you’re breaking my heart here!” he jokes, clutching at his chest before pouting (quite cutely) at you 

“n-no!” you laugh lightly, shaking your head, “i mean, of course i’d love to skate with- i-it’s very nice of you to offer, and i know you’re obviously being paid and stuff but you don’t… ah, you don’t have to force yourself to skate with me if you don’t want to...” you mutter, reaching up to scratch the back of your neck, “like, i’m sure taehyung’s already planning to give you an extra big tip for basically babysitting me all night so you don’t have to force yourself to do anything extra-”

“no, i wanna skate with you!” jungkook interrupts, skating over so that he’s standing next to you instead, “plus, it’ll be good practice, right?”

“well, i-” you don’t get a chance to respond before jungkook’s suddenly slipping an arm around your waist and holding onto one of your hands for extra support, “i don’t know, i suppose i’m just not used to gliding without holding both of your hands so i’m just worried i’m going to make both of us fall somehow which would be mortifying-”

“that’s alright, i can hold both your hands if you feel safer that way,” jungkook chuckles, his arm sliding away from your waist so he can swivel around and stand in front of you again, “after all, it’s better to be safe than to be sorry!” he takes your hands gently as he starts to skate backwards, his thumbs rubbing the tops of your knuckles comfortingly

-‘cause we’re living in a world of fools... breaking us down... when they all should let us be... we belong to you and me...

how deep is your love continues to echo all around you and even though you feel a little awkward skating around with your instructor to a very romantic song, you have to admit that this was a great choice of song for valentine’s day 

it’s a timeless classic! 

“so, you, um…” jungkook clears his throat after a minute or two of comfortable silence, turning back for a second to glance over his shoulder and make sure he’s not about to crash into anyone, “what kind of things do you like doing?”

and it’s me you need to show... how deep is your love?

“rollerskating. is it not obvious?” you joke, looking up at him and reminding yourself that you should make more of an effort to look at him and noT constantly at the ground, “um, i don’t know! that’s kind of a broad question, i guess. i like... i like... i like painting-! i mean, i’m not good at it, but it’s a pretty relaxing hobby...” 

“painting is nice!” jungkook nods slowly in agreement before perking up slightly, “say, have you ever been to a pottery studio?” 

“you know, i actually haven’t!” you shake your head before staring past jungkook’s shoulder in thought, “i should go to one... it sounds like a lot of fun! do you...” you cough quietly and avert your gaze slightly, “do you go there often with your... uh, significant other?” 

“me? oh, i’m not in a relationship.” jungkook chuckles before giving you a shrug, “none of my co-workers wanted to take the valentine’s day shift because they actually have someone to spend valentine’s day with, so... that’s why i’m here!”

“oh! so, you’re…” you trail off before pressing your lips together and giving him a firm nod, “i see.”

so you’re both single?

interesting

very interesting 

you can’t help but wonder if he’s looking to change that  

“i-”

“incoming!”

you don’t even get a chance to turn around to see what’s going on when suddenly someone’s basHING into you from behind and making you lose your balance

and the next thing you know you’re stumbling forwards and poor jungkook’s reflexes aren’t fast enough because-

“oh-!” you land on top of jungkook with your legs on either side of him, your knee pads clacking loudly against the ground, “oh, shit-” 

“sorry! my bad!” taehyung glides past you with a sheepish smile before not-so-subtly gesturing to the girl he’s got on his arm and giving you an obnoxious wink and a thumbs up as a way to let you know he’s definitely getting boned tonight

you want nothing more than to rip your skates off right now so you can chase after him and bash his head in 

you turn to look down at jungkook, immediately raising your hands up off his (broad, broad) chest as your entire face flushes bright red, “i am- i am so sorry- are you okay?? is your head okay?? i can- i can give you my helmet!” you wince, reaching up to unbuckle your helmet before hastily taking it off and tossing it aside

“don’t sweat it, i’m completely fine-” jungkook laughs lightly before shaking his head, propping himself up onto his elbows and blowing a curled strand of hair away from his eyes with a puff, “my head’s fine! luckily i didn’t hit it on the ground or anything like that, but my ass-”

“oh, god. i’m so sorry- here, i’ll-” you attempt to get up off the ground only for the wheels on your skates to roll out from under you and for your knee to smack against the ground again, jungkook grunting as you bounce on him a little harder than intended, “oh, jesus christ-”

great

there’s no way you’re going to be able to get up because of these stupid skates and now your very cute instructor is a hostage in between your thighs!

“this is so humiliating, i am... so, so sorry- i’m definitely forcing taehyung to give you a generous tip after all of this is over-” you laugh uncomfortably, your hands about to place themselves on jungkook’s chest again before you quickly move them so that they’re on either side of his head instead

of course, this position isn’t any better because now you’re just staring down at his face directly 

little white hearts from the disco ball float over his face and though you know this is hardly the right time, your heart can’t help but go badumpbadump at the reminder of how pretty jungkook is 

“okay, wait, what if i-” he suddenly sits straight up and your eyes immediately cross at the close proximity of your faces, “hi.”

you don’t know if it’s even possible but you feel your face get even redder and you find that you’re unable to look away from jungkook 

he has very sweet-looking eyes 

they’re a very nice shade of brown 

“i- uh, hello.” you clear your throat quietly, pressing your hands as close to your own chest as possible so that you’re not touching jungkook, “hi.” 

the last thing you want is for him to accuse you of groping him

but maybe it’d be a good thing to get a lifetime ban from the rollerskating rink

then taehyung will never be able to force you to skate again!

“we should take your skates off so that we’re not stuck like this all night.” you twitch when you feel jungkook’s hand slide down the side of your calf before reaching the top of your skates, “do you think you can undo your other one for me?”

“ah- yes. yes, i can do that.” you turn away so you can look back at your skate, reaching down and ripping the velcro strap before hurrying to undo the laces

you feel jungkook fumble at your skate, yanking the tie loose before trying to help you wiggle your foot out of it, “okay, just pull your foot out-”

“yeah, lemme just-” you have to shuffle forwards in order for jungkook to pull the skate off of you and your nose crinkles when you realize you’ve just gone ahead and fully pressed your chest to jungkook’s 

wonderful

just wonderful 

(for the record, he smells really good... but you’re pretty sure you sound like a creep right now, so maybe you should go ahead and scrap that thought.) 

“what happened to not letting me fall?” you joke lightly as you get up off the ground, hoping to ease the tension a little from whatever all of that was, “are you sure you’re okay? i didn’t break anything?” 

“i promise you i’m totally fine-” jungkook gets back up onto his feet and bends down to pick up your skates before popping up to look at you with a grin, “and it only happened because i was distracted!” he pauses for a brief moment before tilting his head, his smile softening, “can you blame me? you’re very pretty.”

oh

you weren’t expecting him to say that

“oh, that’s- ha… that’s very nice of you.” you reach up to scratch the back of your neck before letting out a nervous chuckle, “you are… also… quite… visually appealing.”

quite visually appealing  

why are you speaking like an alien trying to convince everyone that they aren’t an alien?!

“so, there’s still about half an hour left of your lesson left, but i feel like you’ve had enough of skating for now.” jungkook changes the subject quickly and you can’t help but notice that his ears are starting to get red, “we can just sit on the bench and rest... or do you... uh, do you maybe want to share a chilli dog with me?” he asks quietly, and for the first time since meeting him he’s the one who looks away from you first 

“...you know, i think that might be the most romantic thing anyone’s ever said to me.” you giggle, reaching over to loop your arm through his when he sticks it out for you, “i would love to share a chilli dog with you.” 

“not to flex or anything, but i do get the employee discount…” jungkook clicks his tongue, reaching up to pop open his collar obnoxiously before turning to give you a wide grin, “and if that doesn’t impress you, i don’t know what will.”

🎙️help me help you make your wishes come true (send me a request!)

✨why don’t you explore the rest of the library while you’re here?

💫or perhaps you want something shorter to read?

🌟or something even shorter?