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tsukimefuku · 6 months ago

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CHAPTER THREE PT. II: DIMINISHED CAPACITY ❀ HIGURUMA SENSEI SERIES

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❀ diminished capacity.

Diminished capacity refers to an individual’s impossibility to form the intent necessary for committing any criminal act, because their capacity to fully comprehend the nature of their actions is impaired. It doesn’t, however, completely exclude their responsibility, and they may be held accountable to a lesser offense.

wc: 5.5K ❀ pairing for the series: professor!higuruma x student!reader

❀ tags and c/w.

non-curse au. college au. slow-burn romcom. professor and college student pre-relationship. internship interviews suck. nobara likes to steal food from people. mentions of hypothetical violent crime. nanami gets pestered by gojo even here. higuruma likes sunflowers. nanami has a sixth sense.

❀ notes etc.

Apologies to any colleagues reading the word “evidence” in place of “proof” and feeling like tackling me with a broom, lol. Also, a huge thanks to everyone who came around for part one, I hope you guys get to enjoy reading this just as much I enjoyed writing it.

Argh… Monday.

Internship hunt was hell. There was no other way to spin that wheel. You knew it’d be incredibly hard, but not this hard.

Mondays were cursed days, but to know that not only cursed, they’d also start with terrible interviews — plural — was not in your bingo card for this week. Between oh, you just started criminal law I this semester? and we will let you know laid the crumbling sounds of your utmost despair of knowing full well you were in for a ride for those next few days.

Well, if only daydreaming about him could save you.

It didn’t, though.

Unfortunately.

You arrived at the campus cafeteria where you were supposed to meet Nobara. Even on a fairly uncomfortable chair, she slouched nearly enough to slide down onto the ground like a rag doll, and it didn’t take you much to realize these past few days were throwing her through the wringer too.

“You look like death,” you joked as you pulled your chair to sit with her, putting your tuna sandwich and can of soda over the table.

“And you look like… like… hmph,” she scoffed while rolling her eyes and propping herself back up again.

“No snarky comeback? Are you that tired?”

“Leave me alone,” she replied, and apparently, she really wasn’t in the mood for playful banter. You took a bite out of your sandwich, pondering if you should ask her about it, but she beat you to it. “Why is getting internships this early in college is so damn hard?”

“Apparently, places don’t trust complete newbies or youngsters,” you noted, “and they want someone who has already studied all the necessary subjects prior to hiring. Also, people with prior experience are preferred.”

“Yet these are internship opportunities! Aren’t interns supposed to be newbies who are going to learn from the experience they’ll get through the internship?” Nobara irritatedly inquired, her implied commentary more a complaint than a question. You nodded.

“Absolutely. It makes no sense, it’s like they’re just trying to hire a junior lawyer with less rights and a lower pay rate,” you churned out through your mouthful of tuna and mayonnaise, “now that I think about it, it’s probably that, actually.”

“I can’t go back home! I mean, I made it all the way here. If I had to go back I would never get over this. I need some money, and I need some money soon, otherwise this will all just have been a waste of my time. I should just get a part time job already instead of insisting in starting my internship as fast as possible.”

Nobara covered her face, and she sounded genuinely upset. You paused your munching for a bit, and after washing it all down with a few gulps of soda, you leaned towards her, pulling her hands from her face.

“Hey, Nobara, we’re not letting that happen, okay? Neither me, Maki, Yuuji or Megumi.” you offered in an attempt to comfort her. She let you peel her palms away, and gazed at you in a mixture of frustration and anger, which softly subsided after your comment. You decided to push your luck, just a bit. “We can refugee you in Megumi’s car. We’ll get you a hammer so you can hit passerbies for shits and giggles to let some collegiate steam out.”

Consternated, she shook your hands off of her while you chuckled. She made her best effort to still look pissed, but you noticed a tiny smile forming on the edges of her mouth.

“That’s a shit plan, but I’ll take you up on that hammer offer,” she said, and you smiled at her, a gesture she finally reciprocated.

“I’d expect no less from you. So, tell me, in which area are you looking for internships? Fashion law?”

“Nope, entertainment.” Nobara picked your half eaten sandwich in her hands and took a bite before you could protest. “Maki had told me it was easier to get internships in entertainment law to garner some experience for a future in fashion law, but honestly? I’m skeptical now.”

“There might be some openings soon. Have you tried Professor Gojo’s firm? It’s the same as Professor Nanami’s, isn’t it? I mean, that giant firm with dozens of departments and that nearly every teacher at our college seems to work for.” You stretched your hand to get your sandwich back, but she slapped you away. “Hey!”

“I need it more than you, I’m sad!”

“I’m sad too! I had four terrible internship interviews today, give it back!”

You both entered a silly slapping match, and the few people walking past the table would look away nervously in fear of getting dragged into the middle of whatever war was going on over a cheap cafeteria tuna sandwich.

“You were having interviews today too?! How come you never told me?! I’m gonna eat your food for not telling me stuff, you’ve been weird ever since that party that you went off for a smoke and dipped!” She took another humongous bite and you jumped over the table, finally snatching whatever remained of your food out of her hands.

“I haven’t been weird!” you had, “and yes, I did. I am interviewing for internship openings in criminal law, but… well, you’ve been through that these days yourself. You know the drill.”

She grunted with tuna smeared around her mouth, trying to reach for the rest of your sandwich, and it was your turn to slap her.

“Stop it, Nobara. Quit being so stingy and buy one for yourself!”

“Not when I can eat your food for free,” she joked while taking a big gulp from your soda can, and you sighed, which only gave her a shit eating grin. “Did you interview for that spot they announced today?”

“What? What opening?”

“I just saw it, there was a new flyer on the main hall board. It’s an internship for criminal law, apparently under the guidance of Professor Geto,” Nobara said while shrugging. “Apparently the huge firm now has a criminal law department too. It was announced last week or so.”

“Did it say up until when they were taking applications?”

***

Each and every tendon in your body tensed as you sat with the perfect lady-like crossed ankles at the 45º angle under your second-hand suit. The meeting room was, for the lack of a better word, mighty, having an entire glass wall peering into the rest of the office, and towered over you high enough to have you feeling like a tiny speck of dust humbly drifting its way over the clearly expensive brown, leather couch. A few people walked by as you waited, and the mahogany table seemed big enough to fit three people. It was probably worth your entire year’s tuition, and you wondered if the ceiling height really needed to be tailored for elves. Or ents. Tree people, perhaps.

The firm’s name hung high right in front of you, the logo and letters made out of stainless steel illuminated by LEDs behind it. Opulence wasn’t a big enough word to describe that pompous display of corporate wealth.

You were fished out of your rags to riches daydreams by the pivoting door opening, figuring it was your interviewer for the position.

Surprisingly, it wasn’t the already well-known foxy-eyed, long haired Professor to come in, but a much more stoic individual with the polar opposite for a hair, not only in length but in color too. You already knew him from afar, as your commercial law Professor. He carried himself in a dignified manner, and upon further inspection, not only was his navy blue suit absolutely pristine, he also didn’t have a single hair strand out of place. You got up to greet him, bowing respectfully, and he returned the gesture.

“Good afternoon, Mrs.,” he said as he sat down on his chair across from you, “my name is Nanami Kento and I’ll be responsible for your interview today.”

You introduced yourself, and remarked, “apologies, but I thought Prof- I mean, Mr. Geto would be the one responsible for this interview today.”

“As it stands currently, the criminal law department is my responsibility,” Nanami clarified, “so I decided I’d be the one responsible for interviewing our future team. I currently work in our corporate law department.”

You acquiesced with a professional smile. Something about how every tiny detail in him was on point gave you enough leads to conclude that of course this man took it upon himself to be the one responsible for the interviews.

“I’ve read in your resume that you are currently undertaking criminal law I and criminal procedure law I,” Nanami said as he held your resume in his hand, glancing at you and then at the paper, “which isn’t ideal for an intern entering a newly built department.”

Harsh enough?

You readjusted yourself on your chair before speaking.

“Yes, I am.”

He hummed quietly and pulled another paper sheet from his briefcase, and even if his facial expression was perfectly collected, something about how the edges of his lips curled gave away that he was less than happy about whatever was written on it.

“Our HR insisted I should bring this questionnaire with me today, so that I could ask you this list of questions as part of our interview,” he stated, his words followed by a quiet sigh. Nanami then proceeded to tilt the paper towards him and took a moment before proceeding. “Tell me more about yourself in three… captivating anecdotes.”

His voice sounded robotic, as if he was feigning not to loathe the question at hand, and deep down, you did find it amusing. Not enough to distract yourself from the fact that you were usually horrible at interviews altogether, though.

“I’m currently in my late twenties. I started law school last year, and worked during my early twenties to save money for tuition. I’m really passionate about criminal law, that is why I applied.”

Oh, God. What was that?

Well, you sounded robotic too, listing off obvious factualities as if providing a recipe’s ingredients. Both of you stared at each other in silence, wondering if that was what this question was supposed to infer, and it took the two of you so long to speak up again that it became uncomfortable.

Clearing his throat, Nanami unconsciously loosened his tie — barely — before continuing.

Well, at least I’m not the only one who’s uncomfortable.

“What…” he paused for a moment, and seemed to be biting down a discontented sigh, “animal would you be?” His gaze quickly darted down the sheet of paper, and his displeasure was palpable. For someone with such a straight face, his eyes were very telling.

What are these questions? Are we a hip tech company? Nanami thought to himself, wondering if he should make a new list to leave at HR. He was quick to discard the thought once he realized that meant he’d be telling other people how to do their jobs, something he did enough of already.

You didn’t quite know what the hell to answer.

“I… don’t know? I haven’t really thought about that in my life? A cat, perhaps?”

“I haven’t thought about that either, don’t worry, that’s unimportant. Let’s move on to the next question. How…” Nanami lifted an eyebrow, and that alone was enough to tell he was absolutely consternated, “many basketballs can fit inside a bus?”

“… Huh?”

Is this serious?

“I apologize, I believe there must have been some sort of mix-up at the HR, let me…”

Nanami was interrupted by three knocks on the glass wall. You both turned your heads to see Professor Gojo pointing at something — the paper Nanami held in his hands — while subsequently making a thumbs up, a wide grin smeared all over his face.

Without uttering a word nor missing a beat, Nanami got up, walked towards the glass and pulled on something you hadn’t yet noticed. Immediately, blinds slowly descended in front of the glass wall, and Nanami calmly walked his way back to his chair as Gojo’s face tried to keep peering inside the meeting room, descending alongside the rim of the blinds. He kept plastering his hands over the glass like a mimic.

A faint pained moan and a thud echoed once the blinds were about a foot away from reaching the floor.

“Is everything okay?” you inquired, pointing at Gojo’s direction.

“Ignore that.”

That wasn’t a request. You nodded.

“Yes, sir.”

“Perfect. Let’s also ignore this for a while,” Nanami remarked while putting the sheet of questions aside with his fingertips as if it was radioactive. “Let’s try something else.”

Nanami had this feeling — a familiar one — that he’d be able to pry from you what he needed to know if he went about this interview in a more practical fashion. It reminded him of someone, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

“I’m going to describe a hypothetical scenario, and I want you to debate it with me,” he stated.

“Okay.”

��A client comes to this office being investigated of homicide and he wants to hire the firm to represent them in Court. They intend to plead not guilty.” you nodded, and Nanami continued, “The victim was shot, but there was no gun to be found in the crime scene. However, the client was the only person in the vicinity apart from the victim’s body. The client’s clothes — a long sleeved shirt and jeans — are evidence that has been collected at the crime scene, but no forensics were requested for it by the prosecution. When questioned in their first meeting, the client is adamant that they did not commit the crime. The attorney needs to decide which path to take regarding evidence they’ll request or submit. Now, I ask you, which type of evidence would the attorney request if the client is truly innocent?”

You took a deep breath while mentally going over the hypothetical scenario Nanami had just relayed, and considering all he mentioned, there was only one possibility.

“If my client was truly innocent, I’d ask for forensic evidence on their clothes. Guns leave gunpowder vestiges on things like clothes, so if this person didn’t actually pull the trigger, there should be no gunpowder on their sleeves.”

Nanami acquiesced, but remained silent.

Ok, this is not the only thing he wants to know.

“Also… I’d tell exactly that to the client.”

Nanami’s face remained completely expressionless, but something about how he tilted his head less than an inch gave you the feeling that he seemed pleased with your answer.

“And why would you do that?”

“We need to work with accurate information. If the client was lying, and we submitted a request for that evidence — forensics on their clothes — we’d be tanking their defense. They need to know what we’ll be submitting as evidence and why. I believe telling that to our client would be enough to sway them into telling us the truth,” you sighed, before concluding, “people lie. Even when they shouldn’t.”

Nanami silently picked your resume back into his hands, and seemed to scan it quickly with his eyes. You knew your chances were slim, considering you had just started Criminal Law that very semester, something he didn’t fail to notice.

After a minute, he spoke again.

“Would you be willing to use some of your spare time to study topics you might not have seen yet in criminal law?”

“Yes.”

Your heart was thumping in your chest. This was it.

Here goes nothing.

“Then, it’s settled. Can you start on Monday?”

***

This wasn’t Higuruma’s usual go-to wish when he found himself behind the Passo’s wheel, but truth of the matter was, he hoped more than anything for his car to breakdown before he got to his destination. It wasn’t something completely out of the question considering his car’s track record, but as if some destiny’s mockery had been bestowed upon him that morning, even the clack-clack-clacks he was already used to hear for the past three months were gone. As Murphy’s Law would have it, the Passo glided over the asphalt like butter.

“Of course you won’t fail me when I need you to, you unreliable piece of-”he muttered to himself under a discontented huff.

Put upon wasn’t strong enough to convey how Higuruma was feeling, his knuckle-white grip around the steering wheel being enough to give him a sharp pain in his palms that would surely follow him for the next few hours. In a sense, he had been knuckle-white tense ever since that morning, thinking about this endeavor he was kicking himself to push through. It was the nth time he’d tried to make that visit over the past year, one that he dreaded with each and every fiber of his being.

The Professor eyed his passenger’s seat for a second, his gaze lingering on the plastic bag he carried with him that day. Inside, there were a bottle of Kirin, an incense, and a single sunflower. The flower was definitely too long to fit properly inside the bag, and it’s head peeped though the opening, yellow petals flickering while the car moved, every ridge on the road seemingly making it jump further and further out of its container.

With one hand on the wheel, and the other reaching out, he tried shoving the sunflower back into the bag, and in between eyeing the bag, then the road, picking the flower, pushing it, the bag sliding off the seat, loud news coming on the radio, Higuruma getting startled, his glasses slipping down his nose bridge, him pushing them back in place with his shoulder, tires screeching, a car horn, his heart pounding and his ears ringing, Higuruma came to the sensible conclusion that he should, as any responsible adult would, take a break.

I need a smoke.

Who he was visiting was definitely not going anywhere.

Checking where he was, Higuruma noticed a cafe nearby, and as fate would have it, there was a single parking spot right in front of it. He maneuvered the Passo, and the car fit neatly in between the white lines. Higuruma pulled his sunflower shawl — this time, not caught under any death trap, but laid over his back seat alongside your scarf —, threw it around his neck and got out. He took a moment to stretch his fingers in the cold air, his breath clouding in front of his mouth, and tapped around his coat to take his wallet, finally inserting some coins into the park meter and crossing the guardrail by the sidewalk.

He’d have exactly thirty minutes to get his shit together.

The cafe was warm, inviting, and strangely familiar, its orange light almost emanating the smell of coffee beans, croissants and decadent redemption for weary travelers. The store front had a glass display through which he saw an assortment of sweet and salty baked goods. Higuruma would probably pick one of those to eat — the greasiest one, if possible —, had he not been carrying a rock in place of his stomach for the past few hours.

With his resolution waning, he mindlessly took a step back while peeping, and sighed, his tired sigh weighing on his body deciding for him that an espresso was probably the way to go.

Stepping inside, Higuruma paid no mind to whatever was around him, and waited for his turn in line to order his drink. Across from him, you nearly choked, half a donut shoved into your powdered-sugar smeared mouth, nearly spilling your own coffee over your second-hand suit.

After your interview, you thought it’d be a good idea to have a snack, and made your way inside the closest, warmest, coziest cafe you found, which was across the firm.

At that moment, you found yourself in a cliché adult life predicament — you just saw someone you knew, but they didn’t see you. Should you go over to greet them? Should you not? Would simply leaving be rude? Should you go actually talk to the man you definitely had — and shouldn’t have — a crush on?

You clutched your coffee harder as the thoughts flew around in your mind, as second nature at this point to avoid giving him another beverage shower.

After some quick consideration, you decided you would at least say hello, after all, it was the polite thing to do. You shoved the rest of your food into your mouth, washed it all down with the rest of your coffee, haphazardly cleaned around your mouth with a napkin and slowly walked towards him, stopping a few feet away. Somehow, he still hadn’t seen you, apparently too immersed in thought.

That was when you noticed a shawl around his neck.

It was pretty damn ugly.

“Professor, hi!” you greeted, and Higuruma got yanked out of whatever daydreams — or waking nightmares — he had been simmering in while waiting in line.

“Oh, hello. I didn’t expect to meet anyone here,” Higuruma replied, “I just stopped by for a snack.”

“Oh, nice. Their coffee is pretty good,” you said, “I got the espresso.”

“And… I hope that you’re finished already? With your coffee, I mean.” he asked while checking your hands, his usually unaffected tone slightly playful, earning him a chuckle from you.

“Rest assured, I’m not assaulting you nor your ugly shawl with my coffee,” you quipped, but his eyes only widened. His owlish eyes blinked once, and then twice, in absolute silence.

That was when you realized.

Oh. I said that out loud.

“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“Awfully hypocritical of both of us, huh?” he noted, with a discreet smile pulling on his lips.

Relieved, realizing he hadn’t taken offense, you sheepishly returned his smile, “I guess so. I don’t think I’ll get to keep being hypocritical about our ugly scarfs, though. I can’t seem to find mine, it’s been gone ever since that party.”

It was like a light bulb went on in Higuruma’s mind, and he cleared his throat before saying, “well, I may just prove you wrong. Follow me.”

Not fully understanding what he meant by that, you stood by him while he paid for his coffee, got it and walked outside. The cold winter breeze prickled your cheeks and your uncovered neck like hair-thin razor blades, and you followed Higuruma towards a car that wasn’t all that strange to you. Upon further inspection, you noticed that it was indeed his car, the old navy blue beat up thing you used as a shield for the wind during that night when you tried and failed at least half a dozen times to light a cigarette.

And then met him, and gave him a vodka scare.

And helped patting him dry with your-

“Here,” he called out, opening the door to the back seat. Sure enough, you saw that red, frizzly old thing tangled up in a ball.

“My scarf!” you reached inside and took it out, instantly throwing it around your neck. Higuruma noticed how you were genuinely pleased to have finally found it, and thought to himself that he’d most likely feel the same way if he ever lost and found his beat up, old shawl.

It was just one of those things imbued with a sense of history and familiarity that only beat up, old tokens from days past had.

“Thank you,” you whispered, while sliding your fingers through the worn out cotton. “It was a gift. I might complain about it more often than not, but-”

“But it’s an important part of your life,” he replied, and you both glanced at each other while you nodded.

“Yes. Something like that. It’s my favorite curse to carry around while complaining about it, you know?” you mused, adjusting it around your neck and gratefully welcoming the warmth it brought around your neck.

“I think I do,” he answered finally, taking a sip from his coffee.

“Let me repay you,” you offered. “Can I offer you a snack, or anything? Perhaps a smoke?”

“I’ll take you up on that cigarette offer,” he replied, and you pulled your pack out of your coat. Giving it a few taps, a cigarette popped up, and you took it in your lips, pulling another one and handing it to him.

Against his better judgement, Higuruma was slightly disappointed, and for a second, felt like kicking himself over it.

Idiot, you can’t seriously be expecting her to light a cigarette for me every time she offers you a smoke. Actually, I shouldn’t expect that at all.

Against his will, Higuruma felt his cheeks warming up, and he tried his best to dive his face into his shawl while politely took the cigarette off your hands. You didn’t notice his moves and offered him your lighter — the same yellow, disposable one he had given you days ago. He picked it up, lit his cigarette and returned it.

“I see you still have it,” Higuruma noted, smiling gently, and you acquiesced.

“It has been my faithful companion for these past few weeks. I’m just glad I haven’t lost it like I lost my scarf,” you said before chuckling.

Higuruma leaned over the guardrail with his elbows, finally relaxing after… God knows how long. Slowly, he seemed to be getting lost in thought, and you seized the opportunity to better look at his shawl. It had a sunflower pattern that went in a straight line right in front of it.

Still looking around as he stewed in his silent contemplations, you noticed there was a bag laying on top of his passenger’s seat. Peeping through it, stood a single sunflower, and what seemed to be the top of a Kirin bottle.

A sunflower man, hm?

The thought amused you as the corners of your mouth perked up in a gleeful smile, but you were quickly pulled out from it.

“Do you work nearby?” he asked, while taking a drag from his cigarette. “This is far from campus.”

“No. I mean, not yet. I was just… chasing my dreams,” you remarked, puffing some smoke. “What about you, Professor?”

Higuruma chuckled softly.

“I was being haunted by mine.”

You must’ve looked puzzled, because he quickly amended, “I was just on my way to visit someone and took a break for some coffee, that’s all.”

“Oh, I see,” you replied, realizing you were probably getting in his way. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to keep you from your appointment. I-”

“It’s okay, there’s no one waiting for me. Or so I like to think.”

That comment left you with more questions than answers.

“Apologies. I don’t mean to keep you from going about the rest of your day too,” he bid behind a curtain of smoke, “and thank you for the cigarette. I really needed it.”

With your final puffs, you put your cigarette out and smiled at Higuruma.

“It’s okay, Professor. I should really get going, though. We are, indeed, far from campus and I’d like to get to my dorm before it’s dark.”

With a bow, you walked away, leaving Higuruma to his own devices. He sighed, alone with himself and his thoughts once again, turning his attention once more to the bag he had inside his car.

“Hiromi,” a familiar voice called out. Higuruma turned around, only to be met by Nanami, who had a indecipherable expression on his face.

Minutes before, Nanami decided to visit the nearby cafe and check if they had his favorite casse croûte that day. He wouldn’t mind getting a croissant, though.

Upon stepping outside his building with dreams of pastries swirling around his overworked mind, he noticed you and Higuruma outside the cafe, and figured that was the perfect opportunity to approach you both and introduce you as the new intern for the criminal law department. It was just a matter of time before Higuruma accepted his offer, as Nanami thought, and you’d be both working together. However, before he could, Nanami noticed you and Higuruma were chatting, and not only that, but you approached Higuruma’s car and got something — apparently belonging to you — from his back seat. The ugliest red scarf Nanami had ever seen.

… What?

Nanami then remembered that you were a student on the very same university he tended to.

The same one in which Higuruma was a teacher too.

Why does Hiromi have things belonging to a student in the backseat of his car, of all places?

Nanami was at a loss for words, and faltered for a few moments, wondering how he should ask Hiromi about this. That is, if he even should ask Hiromi about anything at all. Nanami decided to watch from afar, and something about the way Higuruma was carrying himself bothered Nanami.

He had only seen his best friend behaving like that in very specific scenarios, ones in which Hiromi definitely shouldn’t be interacting with a student of his.

After you left, Kento finally walked towards Hiromi, still uncertain if he should question his friend about the nature of your relationship with him. He could be imagining things.

But something was definitely disturbing him, he was sure of it. Something he couldn’t quite put a finger on.

“Kento, hi! Oh… I had forgotten, your firm is nearby, isn’t it?” Hiromi asked while looking around. “Sorry, I always seem to forget where it is. That explains why this cafe felt so familiar. Care for a smoke?”

“No.”

“You haven’t smoked with me in a long time,” Higuruma offered, pulling his own cigarette pack from his coat’s inner pocket.

“I quit years ago,” Nanami reminded him, trying to put an end to this conversation detour.

“You still smoke on special occasions,” Higuruma offered, “eh, I wish I had your resolve.”

“You do, you just fail to direct it at things that will benefit you in the long run.”

“Just my little human shortcoming, I guess,” Higuruma finally replied, sparing Nanami a soft smile. He walked towards his car while unlocking it, “Let’s have something to eat, the coffee opened up my appetite. I just need to get more coins in case I end up going over the meter’s time limit, hold on.”

“Hiromi,” Nanami said once again, his tone graver than usual. That caught Higuruma’s attention.

“Hm, is everything okay?” Higuruma asked while leaning into his car.

Before Nanami could go on with his planned line of inquiry, he noticed what was over passenger’s seat. Especially the sunflower.

“Are you at it again?” Nanami asked, gesturing with his head towards it.

“Ah, you saw it…” Higuruma commented, as if he was a child being caught red handed while making a mess out of the house. “Well, yes. I’m trying to, and failing at it once again.”

“You know you don’t have to go, right?” Kento offered, while pulling some change from his pocket. “I have coins, we’ll be fine. Let me get you a snack, this cafe has the best casse croute around.”

“I do have to go, though,” Higuruma closed the door and stepped back onto the sidewalk. “I should, at least.”

Higuruma’s earlier energy seemed to wane ever so slightly, his shoulders falling while he slouched, unconsciously making himself smaller.

“I don’t think I’ll manage to do it today, either,” he finally said, his eyes low on his feet, and his voice barely above a whisper.

Assessing the situation, it was clear that Higuruma was in no way in the right mindset to have that conversation regarding you, so Nanami put a mental note on it to ask about it at a later time. He stepped beside Hiromi and put a hand gently on his shoulder, sighing.

“Is it low tar?” Nanami questioned, clearing his throat to disguise his displeasure.

“Hm, what?”

“Your cigarette. Is it low tar?”

Higuruma huffed, a tiny smile forming on his lips as he said, “yes, yes it is.”

In a smooth motion, Higuruma pulled his pack back out of his coat and took two cigarettes out of it, handing one to Nanami along with a lighter. With the disposition of a man ready to face the electric chair, Kento pursed his lips around the cigarette, and lit it, only to be thrown in a coughing fit moments later.

“How the mighty do fall,” Higuruma noted with a discreet smirk on his lips, “you used to smoke more than me.”

“Shut up,” Nanami managed to churn out in between coughs, “this brand is awful.”

His friend chuckled while taking one long drag from his cigarette.

“Hey, Kento.”

“What?” Nanami considered tossing the cigarette as far as he could, but tried his best to survive it, even if just for Hiromi’s benefit.

“Is that offer still on the table? To…” Hiromi paused for a moment, clearing his throat, “hm, work in your firm?”

Managing to get his throat and lungs under control, Nanami glanced at Hiromi, knowing full well that good things came to those who wait.

Just like he had.

“Yes. Why do you ask?”

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Rad, once again (you already listened to me screeching like a banshee and ugly crying over it, lol), thank you very much for this amazing piece. It is beyond my wildest dreams alsdjasldkj

Tag list (updated):

@arusearu @yammy-yammy-yama @redlikerozez @killerplink

@alwaysfreakingout @murderofravens @cmdrfupa @higurumapet @cindyneko-strider @howmanytimesamigoingtotrythis

@ohhheymessa @bigbaddulce @actuallysaiyan @s-witch-bitch @yeonjunarchives

@soft--cherry @quinnyundertow @traffi @shibataimu @shimadalluvia

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weirdsht · 5 months ago

Note

I have this random idea and I neeed to yap about it here lmaoo

I'm just thinking about krs taking care of a teen around locks age, he met them at some point of the apocalypse and decided to take them under his wing.

let's say they transmigrated together or reader a bit after krs, but they meet at some point in the novel, anyways bc krs!cale took care of them for a good 3-4 years before the transmigration he subconsciously does the things he did before without noticing.

another random thing that came to mind:

idk someone: "wow young master, you really know this kid"

cale: "I hope i do i took care of them for a good 3 years"

random person: "when???"

ignore how this might not make sense storywise and probably characterwise, I'm really sleepy 🙏

Homecoming - Cale & Teen! Reader

a/n: i want to write more but my brain is all out of creative juices because almost all of my profs are making us write essays every day. not to mention that directing thingy i need to do for that stupid uni short film

tags: fluff, platonic, reader is unhinge if you squint, gn!reader

Pls don't repost my work anywhere without my permission

Requests are open and welcome

Navigation Masterlist

“...What are you doing here?”

That was the first thing Cale asked you as soon as he saw you.

“And you are..?”

Was your question to respond to his question.

Because why is this random nobleman talking to you as if he knew you? Sure he reminds you a bit of Kim Rok Soo but still.

This guy is essentially a stranger and your big brother Rok Soo has taught you stranger-danger.

You can see the redhead sigh before pushing his hair back with his left hand. There’s a look of fondness and frustration in his eyes, another thing that reminds you of your big brother.

Kim Rok Soo wasn’t actually your big brother biologically speaking. Both of you were orphans who found each other in the middle of a ruined world. Two abandoned people who found solace within each other.

You quite literally tripped into Rok Soo’s life a few months after he became a team leader.

The same way how you literally tripped into this weird noble’s porch.

Speaking of which, that said noble is now telling everyone to give the two of you some privacy. He even asked the cute baby dragon to put a soundproof barrier around the room.

“Are you doing that to mask my screams when you kill me?”

You couldn’t help but ask once everyone was out of the room. Rok Soo had always told you about not letting your impulsive thoughts win but you couldn’t help it.

Cale sighed loudly and tiredly, exactly the same reaction your Rok Soo would do when you said something stupid.

“No I’m not gonna kill you, and no I’m not going to eat you either so don’t even ask.”

You clamped your mouth shut after that. The question dying on your tongue before you could even ask it.

“I’m going explain myself and then you’ll do the same okay?”

You nodded seeing as you don’t really have a choice. You’re in this guy’s turf and there’s no way you can outrun a dragon and whatever monster of a people this guy has with him. And so you behaved yourself and settled on the plush couch you were escorted to.

“My name is Cale Henituse, or at least that’s my current name. I used to be Kim Rok Soo back on Earth before I died.”

…okay what?

What now?

He was who?

Kim Rok Soo— well you guess he goes by Cale now — knows you well enough to know that this information would cause your brain to overdrive. And so he has a glass of iced water prepared for your poor self to drink.

“Wha- how- huh?”

You tried to formulate words after gulping the water but your mind is still reeling. There’s simply no comprehending this new information bought upon you.

But it’s fine since Cale is willing to wait for you to come around.

Even after 3 weeks of waiting, his still very patient.

He knows when to give you space, but also knows when to spend time with you. Cale knows exactly when you need him to be there for you and when your mind is confused about him being a stranger but also being the big brother you dearly love.

Of course, this raised some questions with the others. Cale suddenly took in another teen one day and he seemed to have known them all his life even though he just met them 3 weeks ago.

“Young master you seem to really know that kid.”

Hans asked one day. In a short distance, Ron was also listening in while dusting some decorative vases.

"I hope I do, I took care of them for a good 3 years."

Was Cale’s nonchalant answer before leaving the room in order to go to your bedroom. He had promised you that he’ll let you wander around the forest today after all.

Meanwhile, the two servants are flabbergasted — Ron was just hiding it better than Hans.

“...3 years? How did he hide from us that he took care of a child, an entire human being, for three whole years??”

Hans asked and the only answer he got was the dust from Ron’s feather duster flying towards his face.

#le asks #trash of the count's family #lout of the count’s family #tcf #lcf #cale henituse #lotcf #totcf #tcf x reader #lcf x reader #totcf x reader #lotcf x reader #x reader #x gn reader #gender neutral reader

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myownwholewildworld · 11 months ago

Text

wherever you go (a joel miller’s ff) - chapter 4

chapter 3 | series masterlist | main masterlist | chapter 5

pairing: outbreak!2003!joel x f!reader.

a/n: hiya! i already mentioned all of this in my snippet post, but i'll do so again. in this chapter we are going down some dark path. probably not wise considering how shit has been going down as of late in the pedro pascal fandom. i have tried to write this chapter as sensibly as i could given the circumstances reader is in. i know this is a sensitive topic so please, PLEASE, read the warnings before you go ahead. i promise i'll make it up to you guys in the next chapter. other than that, i do appreciate any comments, reblogs and/or likes you may want to leave! i love engaging with you guys. take care of yourselves <3

warnings: MDNI, 18+. please proceed with caution. if any of the following warnings trigger you, skip this chapter. DARK THEME. r4pe threats (it doesn’t happen, but still). death threats. mention of voyeurism. unsolicited dirty talk. slapping. reader is humiliated. derogatory terms (bitch, whore). swear words. masturbation (m to himself). body shaming (well deserved though). blood. violence. gore bc joel loses his shit. murder (but it’s okay because i say so). soft!caring!joel. pet name (dove). reader is female, no other description given. reader is mid-late 20s, joel is 36. no use of y/n. joel's and reader's pov.

w/c: ~2.3k.

tags (let me know if you want to be added/removed from the list pls!): @yesjazzywazzylove-blog

Joel groaned, face down on the ground. His head hurt like hell, to the point where he could not even open his eyes. A drilling pain on the back of his skull pierced through the whole way to the space between his eyebrows. He squeezed his eyes, in an attempt to clear his sight, before opening them. The whole world spun around him like a merry-go-round ― he felt like throwing up.

He motioned his hand backwards to where the searing pain was coming from, only to find a new source of aching ― his right shoulder felt like it was dislocated, but the reality was that he had been shot.

I have been shot, he repeated in his mind.

Why though? He couldn’t remember what had happened nor where he was.

“Joel! What the fuck is going on?!”, Tommy’s voice forced him to close his eyes again. He kneeled beside Joel, putting pressure on his shoulder. “Where is she?”

Where is who? he wanted to reply.

And then it hit him. You both gave in to your passion, and he ruined it by labelling it “a mistake”. And then hell broke loose ― his last memory was your screams before you were dragged away.

Consciousness flooded back into him. Joel sat up quickly ― too quickly as his head pulsed in excruciating pain.

“Easy, Joel”, said the younger Miller, removing his hand to inspect the wound and tying a piece of clothing around the shoulder to contain the bleeding. “The bullet has gone through cleanly. You’re going to need to take care of that wound but should heal just fine”.

“They’ve taken her, Tommy”, Joel managed to mutter.

Doom washed over him. He felt sick to his stomach at the mere thought of what your destiny might be. He should have paid attention; he should have known you both were being watched. But at that moment in time he was thinking with his cock, not with his brain. He put you in harm’s way. He knew he shouldn’t have exposed you like that. He would not have done it had he known someone was spying on you both.

His last words to you basically meant that you were a mistake he regretted. His heart contracted so hard at the realisation of what he had said, his lungs evacuated all air within them. Where those going to really be his last words to you?

Joel gulped down the knot in his throat. He truly was a damned man. Everyone he touched, died. His deceased wife, Sarah, now potentially you too.

Death might be her best way out, that intrusive thought scared the shit out of him. He shook his head at the idea, in denial.

“Who have?”, Tommy asked. Joel could hear fear in his brother’s voice, mirroring his own.

Joel stood up with the help of Tommy and touched the back of his skull, finding the sore spot. It was wet ― blood covered the palm of his hand, which he cleaned on his jeans.

“I don’t know, but I’m going to find out. If something happens to her, I swear to fucking God, Tommy, I will―”.

Tommy nodded in understanding and handed Joel the rifle and his jacket.

You were finding very hard to come back to consciousness. Your thoughts were a tangled mess, not being able to connect them in a way that made sense. You felt like you had been sleeping for ages, but it had only been five minutes. Your heart was beating slowly on your chest, your breaths shallow.

You heard two male voices nearby. For a second, you thought they were Joel and Tommy. But even in your semi-conscious state, you knew it wasn’t them. You managed to open one eye, looking around. Memories started to crawl back ― you and Joel fucking like the world was ending, him being a prick once again, then the gunshot, Joel falling to the ground, two men approaching and taking you away. Your heart began to race.

Was he alive? He had to be. He couldn’t have died. You would know, you would feel it in your guts. You felt like your chest was being crushed. No, he can’t be.

“God, I am gonna come”, you spotted the first man you saw, the one who shot Joel, jerking off besides you.

Had you been fully conscious, you would have retched when he cleaned the cum off his hand on your T-shirt.

“She was fucking that guy like a whore, she won’t mind if we use her for a bit”, said the second man. “I bet her cunt is still fucking wet. But we should wait for the others to get here first”.

You were slowly coming back to your senses, starting to understand the gravity of your situation. By the way they talked, it was pretty clear what their plans for you were. The prospect of being raped awakened your fight-or-flight instinct, your brain racing with thoughts, trying to come up with an escape plan. Either you fled, or you died trying.

You were sat up, your back against a tree, your hands loosely tied up in front of you. You rubbed one hand against the other, the right one slowly coming off the knot.

“I want to fuck her mouth so bad ― I don’t think that lucky bastard did”, you were not sure who said it, but you didn’t care.

“With such a small dick, I bet you I still would have plenty of room in my mouth to be able to talk unbothered”, you couldn’t stop the snarky remark.

The first man didn’t take your comment very graciously, probably ashamed of such a small dick. He slapped you with such force, the ring on his finger slashed the skin on your right cheek. You fell to the ground on your belly, your hands becoming free in the process, which you hid under your body so that monkey of a man wouldn’t notice.

“We’ll see how much you laugh after we’re finished with you and leave your broken body somewhere for your boyfriend to see”, he threatened with a laugh, touching himself again. "Open up, bitch".

He grabbed you by your hair, forcing you to face him, his ridiculously tiny dick too close to your mouth. You pulled away from him with all your might, releasing yourself from his grasp.

Although you put on a mask and pretended this was not affecting you, you were so fucking frightened. Your survival instinct kicked in again when the same ape tried to snatch you by the T-shirt as you slithered away, partially ripping it. You turned around quickly and scratched his face ― your nails sinking in his skin as deep as you could. You thought you hit his eye ― and you wished him blind. You growled like a cornered animal when the second man approached you, while the first one was on his knees wailing like a newborn baby.

“So you’re a fighter, huh?”, he chuckled.

When he got close, you knocked him off his feet by swinging one of your legs sideways under him. That was your chance ― and you took it. You got up and started running, the second man shouting blasphemies while going after you.

You had only run like five yards when a gunshot echoed in the middle of the night. You ducked and tripped, falling to the ground.

You looked back and saw that guy face down on the dirt, not moving. The back of his head was blown to pieces, half of it had disintegrated into thin air. Blood and brain bits had started to soak the leaves under him.

Then you saw Joel a few feet back, rifle on hand, Tommy just a few metres behind him.

You sighed with relief.

Joel had one look at the state of you and wished he hadn’t shot that man. He should have suffered a more terrible death. He felt anger ―no, fury― burning up his insides. Joel was seeing red, not being able to tame his feelings back under control. Adrenaline was rushing through his veins with solace ―you were alive― but also with rage.

“Man, we’re sorry, I’m sorry, it’s not what it looks like, I had nothing to do with this”, begged the man who had shot him ten minutes earlier.

Joel slowly turned around to face him. The asshole was on his knees, his left eye bleeding profusely, trousers pulled down and his micropenis dangling out of his underwear. With his eyes fixated on the poor excuse of a man praying on the ground, Joel handed the rifle to Tommy and unsheathed the folding hunting knife he kept in his boot.

“No, please, I promise you I didn’t touch her, I would never―”, his pleading fell on deaf ears.

“You fucking liar”, Joel said under his breath, positioning himself behind the kneeled man.

Joel grabbed him by his hair, pulling his head backwards to expose his neck. He could see tears on the edges of his eyes. He was young, probably around twenty, but Joel didn’t give a fuck. He deserved to die. Joel unfolded the hunting knife by removing the safeguard, placed it under his chin and slit his throat slowly but steadily. The man gagged, desperately trying to fill his lungs with oxygen ― his hands had flown to his neck in an attempt to stop the bleeding, but blood was pouring out like a fountain.

Joel looked at him dead in the eye until the man’s arms fell to his sides. When he was sure that motherfucker was dead, he let go of the head, the body making a thudding sound when it hit the floor.

Only then he dared to look in your direction. He wasn’t ready to see you down on your knees, dry tears on your cheeks. You looked like a baby deer in the middle of the road at night, blinded by the headlights. One side of your T-shirt was ripped from top to bottom, one of your breasts showing. You were not moving, your big eyes widened in shock.

Joel did not want to imagine what had happened to you, but he saw semen on your T-shirt and his brain started wandering off to the darkest of places. He was frozen in place for a few seconds before finally approaching you slowly, afraid you were going to step back away from him. He wouldn’t blame you if you did. He put away the knife before kneeling in front of you ― his hands, palms down, up in the air.

“Are you…?”, he didn’t finish the question because it was obvious you were not okay.

“It’s okay”, you answered immediately.

Joel gave you a puzzled look.

“No, it’s not fucking okay”, he whispered.

Then reality dawned on you. Your body had been on high alert this whole time, your instincts forcing you to put your feelings away so you could focus on the task at hand ― escaping as unscathed as possible. It wasn’t until those men were dead and Joel faced you, that you allowed emotions to take over you.

Your eyes welled up, your entire body shaking as the adrenaline abandoned your system.

“I… I don’t… It’s just…”, you couldn’t form coherent sentences.

Joel closed the distance between you two and hugged you. You buried your face in his chest and sobbed silently for minutes on end. His left hand stroked your hair as he held you and whispered calming words in your ear. When your eyes dried up, you looked up at him through damp eyelashes and he swept away the tears from your cheeks with his thumbs, the rest of his fingers gently placed on your jawline.

“Your cheek”, Joel’s lips wrinkled as he hovered his thumb over the wound.

You could tell he was trying to control himself, but as the seconds went on, he got calmer.

“Can I?”, he muttered, looking down to your teared T-shirt.

You nodded and he helped you take it off. Joel blocked Tommy’s vision with his broad body while he removed his jacket and helped you put it on, discarding your dirty T-shirt to one side.

“They didn’t…”, you tried to explain, your bottom lip trembling.

“We don’t need to talk about it now, only when you’re ready ― if you’re ever ready”, he spoke softly.

You greatly appreciated he didn’t push you for an explanation of what had happened. You were not sure you could talk about it without breaking down again. You breathed in deeply and nodded again. Then you noticed the blood on his shoulder. You raised one hand, softly touching the improvised dressing.

“You’re hurt, Joel”, you mumbled.

“It’s nothing, it’s not even painful. Let’s go back to the cave. You need to rest and I need to clean that wound on your cheek before it gets infected”, said Joel while helping you up.

You saw Tommy in the distance ― he had been kind enough to give you some privacy. Joel guided you through the trees, his left arm firmly wrapped around your waist to aid you in your walking.

You didn’t get too far though, not even with his help. Your legs were so wobbly you were afraid you couldn’t stand any longer. Joel saw you struggling and with no hesitation whatsoever, he picked you up in his arms to carry you to the cave.

"You're gonna hurt your shoulder even more, Joel", you complained.

"Nonsense", he whispered, softly kissing your forehead.

You did not protest after that again and hugged his neck, your face hiding in the curve of his neck.

In his arms, you felt safe. Your haven on this twisted, revolting earth.

“One of the men said they were waiting on more people to arrive”, you remembered suddenly.

Joel briefly looked down at you. You could tell he was controlling his face expression.

“Don’t worry about it, dove. I’ll take care of each one of them”.

That was a promise he kept religiously.

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whumpinthepot · 1 year ago

Text

@febuwhump 2024

Day 19. “Please don’t”

Content: BBU adjacent pet whump, caretaker is new master, child oc mentioned? (mouse),

Thank you @ilasknives for looking it over <3

…

Ratty waited on the staircase for Mouse to come home from school. They leaned their head against the bottom of the railing poles and watched the door. They had been sitting there since Mum left this morning, and would continue to sit until someone came home.

There was a sound of a car pulling into the driveway, then footsteps coming up to the door. Ratty perked their head up, watching as the doorknob rattled with the movement of a key. It turned and opened.

Doug walked through it, wearing an unbuttoned suit with a loosened tie around his neck. His locks were pulled up into a bun. He was home early today, and Ratty leaned their head back against the poles in disappointment.

“Hello, sir,” Ratty greeted half-heartedly.

“Oh, Ryland, I didn’t see you there.” Doug sounded surprised. “Where’s your mother?”

“She left to run some errands. Said she would be back later and to wait for Mouse to come home.”

“I see…” Doug sat down beside Ratty on the staircase. It weirded Ratty out, and they shifted an inch away from him. He was too close to them.

Doug was staring at his hands in his lap, and kept his voice quiet. “I know you miss August, and that your mother won’t let you talk to him. I don’t think that’s right of her. I tried to talk to her about it but she, well, it might take some time for her to accept the idea.”

Ratty didn’t know how to respond and just stared at him with distrust still clouded over them.

He continued. “So, what I was getting at is… If you want to call him on my phone while everyone is out, you can. If you don’t tell your mother or sister.”

Ratty blinked. “Wait. Really?!” Was this a trick? “Really, sir? Are you serious?”

“Yeah. You can call him right now if you want.” Doug pulled out his cellphone and held it in front of Ratty. “But it can only be a small phone call for now. Is that okay? I’m sorry it can’t be longer but maybe next time.”

“Yes, sir!” Ratty practically shouted. Their hands trembled with anticipation. Was he really going to call Auggie right now?

“Okay then.” Doug winced and tapped in August’s number. He put it on speaker and handed the phone over.

The phone rang a few times until a nervous voice picked up. “Um… Hello?” It was Auggie.

Ratty’s words were caught in their throat. “Hi,” they managed to croak out.

“Tee? Is that you?” August asked incredulously.

“Yes, Auggie. Mr. Doug let me use his phone in secret. He told me not to tell Mum.” Ratty curled inwards against the phone.

“Oh. Huh. Are you okay?” He asked.

Ratty assured him that they were more or less okay, and the two had a little back and forth of worried small talk.

Ratty was building up to their main question until they finally dared ask. “Auggie? Can you come and get me now? I did everything you told me to. I've been good. I’ve been here for so long, when can you come and get me?”

A pause, then he sighed. “Ratty, I can’t come and get you. You know that. You’re going to have to stay there a little longer. I’m sorry.”

Tears welled up in Ratty’s eyes, fogging their glasses. “Please don’t leave me here, Auggie. Please don’t…”

“I’m sorry, Tee. It’s not that simple. Keep being good for them, alright? You just have to wait this out. I’ll see you as soon as I can, I promise.”

Ratty clutched the phone with a lump in their throat as tears dripped off their chin. “Please come soon…”

“I’ll try. I miss you.” August’s voice gripped around Ratty’s heart.

They gulped in some air. “I miss you too, Auggie.”

Doug waved to get Ratty’s attention, then tapped his smart watch. He put five fingers up then closed his fist.

Ratty got the gist and sniffled. “Auggie? I have to go now. Please come soon, okay?”

“I’ll try, Tee. I’ll try…”

—

General writing tag list: @frogkingdom @coppercoyoti @alittlewhump

Febuwhump tag list: @why-not-ask-me-a-better-question @blackrosesandwhump

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slytherinshua · 2 years ago

Note

OKAY OKAY

I’ve been thinking about comfort fics for a while but everyone else writes for the characters comforting reader, so I was thinking maybe you could write for reader coming home from work and comforting a stressed out wonnie

He’s like stressed because he thinks he’s too young to be a leader and he thinks the other members want a different leader or something like that 🫶

Insecurities

𝐍𝐨𝐰 𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠. . .

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ genre and tags: hurt/comfort. fluff. ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ warnings: mention of crying, hate comments, and jungwon's just sad in this tbh 😭 ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ pairing: jungwon x reader. ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ wc: 957. ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ a/n: i loved this idea sm angieee, hope you enjoy!! 💖

Your day at work had been soulsuckingly exhausting, and all you wanted now was to cuddle with your boyfriend and get some good sleep. You hadn’t even been able to text him throughout the day because of just how busy you had been.

And once you finally got off of work, you were too tired to bother, just focusing on catching the correct bus to take you home as soon as possible.

You opened the apartment door, shrugging off your bag in the hallway, not caring to put it in the correct place for now. You took off your shoes as well and threw your coat on the chair, sighing and running a hand through your hair.

Now to find where your beloved boyfriend was. You doubt he was sleeping already, but it wasn’t impossible. It all depended on how exhausting his own day was.

You opened the door to your bedroom slowly, finding him sitting on the bed, blanket over him already and scrolling through his phone. You smiled at first, not noticing that anything was wrong, until you looked a little closer.

His eyes were puffy and slightly red, and there were clear tear stains on his cheeks. He looked up when he heard the door open, smiling when he saw you were back. He patted the spot on the bed next to him, silently asking for you to join him, as if nothing was wrong.

You walked to the bed, sitting down beside him and snuggling into his chest. You waited for a bit before bringing up the elephant in the room, just enjoying the hug for a few minutes in silence.

“Did something happen, baby? Don’t think I didn’t pick up that you were crying.” You said softly, looking up to him with tired but loving eyes.

He gulped, wondering if he should lie and say it was nothing. But you would understand how he felt, right?

“I just saw this post… and I know it’s stupid, but I can’t help but think that they’re right.” He said, and you could already see the tears forming in his eyes again.

“What post?” You sat up, ruining the hug but determined to shut down Jungwon’s negative thoughts.

He handed you his phone, the lengthy hate post clearly the culprit here. You skimmed through it, scoffing at each paragraph and your anger rising at the sight of the hurtful words.

“Jungwon doesn’t bring anything to the team”, “He’s too young to be an actual leader anyway”, “They should’ve made Heeseung or Jay the leader instead of him”. The post went on with similar statements, and you knew each hateful word pierced Jungwon’s heart.

You turned Jungwon’s phone off, setting it far away from him, before turning back to him and hugging him again, this time much tighter.

“Do you think you’re a bad leader… because of what the post said?” You asked, your hand gently combing through his hair. He nodded, looking down and resting his head on your shoulder.

“But, the post was stupid.” You said simply. “They didn’t have any good reason - it was mostly based on you being young. Which is true, you are young, but that doesn’t mean you’re any less capable.”

You grabbed his hand, “Who cares if you’re one of the maknaes in the team? Trust me, you are the perfect leader for Enhypen, and you do it so well.” You said, the words of reassurance flowing out of your mouth as a natural response. You needed to drive your point home that Jungwon had no reason to feel insecure about this.

“Ask any of your hyungs, or Niki, or Engenes, or me… we all love and appreciate you as the leader. Heck, you placed 1st in I-Land for a reason.”

“Listen,” You cupped his cheek and turned his face towards yours. His eyes were big and watery, but you saw that he was hearing every word you were saying and believing them.

“I love you so much. You impress me every single day. You’re mature, and smart, and talented. And it’s not fair that you have to deal with this kind of hate. But if you’re ever feeling sad… just know that I’m here for you. You can always come to me when you don’t feel good.” You said softly, staring into his eyes, making sure he knew you meant every word you said.

He stayed quiet still and you pouted, “Where’s my happy, smiley boyfriend? I want him back.” You prodded, smiling and trying to make the mood a bit happier.

Still nothing.

“You won’t even smile?” You asked. He shook his head slightly. “Not even a little smile?” He stayed still, acting like a little kitten and just snuggling closer to you without staying a word.

You reached for his chin, tilting it up and pressing a kiss to his lips, “What about now? No?” You kissed him again.

“What about now?” You saw his lips start to curve up subtly and you smiled, pressing another kiss to them.

3rd time’s the charm, as you were rewarded with his cute smile finally.

“There it is. And my dimples too.” You said fondly, pointing out his dimples that appeared with his smile.

You let him rest his head back on your shoulder, urging him to fall asleep since he was tired. You played with his hair softly, and your presence alone was enough to make him feel a million times better.

He was just about to drift off to sleep, his eyes closed and a small smile still on his face, “I love you.” He whispered.

“I love you too.”

He soon fell asleep, and you followed not long after, still curled up together under the blankets.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ enha taglist: @kangtaehyunzzz,, @yeonjuns-bluehair,, @syrxiee2

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werewolf-cl4ws · 2 years ago

Text

Hello again! Another long gap between posts but for the last few months creative stuff has been kinda hard/not quite hitting the right notes.

But I stumbled onto some folks doing "Wholesome Sonic and Tails Wednesdays" and it set me off on my current obsession on just wanting to dive a little more into my version of these two's relationship and such.

But this is also me and I had to connect it to some angst . Or more specifically my AU of an AU involving my TimeSkip stuff where Sally is the one that goes missing and I accidentally made it more traumatising for Sonic lol

This got long, too. Like 7916 words long. I don't know how long that takes to read but I did want to warn people that it got long just in case.

I've also never done content warnings before so bear with me here. There's mentions of trauma, disordered eating, and old people being yelled at. I'm trying to be more mindful of content I write for warnings just in case.

I also made a universal tag for this version of my TimeSkip AU so they're easier to find. Hopefully. This is Tumblr.

It was a little after midday when Tails ventured towards the edge of Neo Knothole, his breath puffing white in the chilled air as he stomped through the fresh layer of snow that had fallen the night before.

To him it wasn’t too cold, his thicker winter coat along with his padded jacket making short work of the cold, but the village was quiet at this time of the day as almost everyone had retreated indoors to escape the ever lowering temperatures. Even on this journey Tails swore he encountered maybe two other mobians the most, and they too were also heading indoors, not wanting to deal with the cold any more than they had to.

Which meant that maybe, just maybe, he could convince a certain recluse of a hedgehog outside.

For the last couple of days Bunnie had been ill, unfortunately thanks to the winter chill she had caught a particularly nasty cold that all but completely knocked the cyborg rabbit off her feet. She had tried valiantly to continue her duties of watching over the village, but after barely making it through the first day of her illness the remaining Freedom Fighters had forced her to go to bed and rest, and took turns to make sure she stayed put while attending to other duties in her absence.

Before she reluctantly gave in, Bunnie had also asked Tails to check in on Sonic to make sure that in Bunnie’s absence he didn’t fall into his own trap of bitter solitude. Which he was doing now that he had finally gotten a small break from his imposed duties.

Tails couldn’t help the wince of sympathy at the thought. It had been about seven months since Sonic’s return, maybe more, and the hedgehog was... Tails wasn’t really sure what he could say about Sonic’s current condition. Sonic had gone through many changes – both figuratively and literally – and they had all compounded into making Sonic withdraw from the world. Doubly so since he had his own hut built, where he had chosen to have located so far out from the rest of the village that Tails felt like he was trekking into an unknown world through the snow to reach him.

Up until this point Bunnie had been mainly looking after Sonic, with Bookshire’s help and on occasion the other Freedom Fighters in the rare moments that Sonic allowed them to. Tails had stepped in a few times himself, and whenever he did Sonic always seemed okay, but Tails could sense the underlining misery Sonic was trying to hide from him, which made Sonic gently push the fox away for both their sakes.

It probably didn’t help Sonic either that Sally was still missing, and with his main voice of reason and means of grounding himself gone, the hedgehog seemed to be utterly lost and endlessly spiralling in this new chapter.

Tails’ chest tightened at the reminder of his adoptive aunt’s disappearance, and he forced a gulp of freezing air into his lungs to get it to loosen. Everyone was feeling Sally’s absence, but Sonic had been gone when Sally went missing, so Tails could imagine how shocking that would have been to him. So much so that everyone feared that it actually broke him.

Well, despite all that, Tails still wanted to make an attempt. He just prayed that he could catch Sonic in one of his seemingly rare good graces today.

Eventually he reached Sonic’s hut, and took a moment to stand on his porch and catch his breath before knocking on the door. He waited, his long ears perked for any signs of life inside, then frowned when he heard nothing. The fox tried again, only to get the same result, and for a brief moment Tails wondered if maybe Sonic had actually left his hut for once on his own accord.

Glancing around himself Tails quickly dismissed the thought. Sonic hated the cold, and under normal circumstances he would usually do anything in his power to stay inside where it was warm. The cold would just be another reason for Sonic to back up his antisocial behaviour.

When no signs of life made themselves obvious however Tails sighed, and took a chance with the doorhandle. To his surprise the door was unlocked, and he pushed the door open to allow himself inside.

The hut was dark, with only some spots of light coming through the few shutters that weren’t completely shut or blocked by the forest surrounding Sonic’s hut outside. Tails’ night vision was able to kick in thanks to those bits of light, which allowed him to take in the disarray the hut had gotten into.

Sonic had always been a messy mobian, but Tails always remembered Sonic’s hut being more organised chaos than a straight up mess. Tails had to wonder if it always looked like this, or if everything began piling up after Bunnie got sick and stopped checking in on Sonic. Tails also wondered how Sonic managed to accumulate so much stuff in such a short amount of time – even with the few belongings Tails had managed to salvage from Knothole for Sonic on the chance of his return, he doubted he had managed to save this much.

As Tails looked around his eyes focused onto Sonic’s bed, spotting what looked like the hedgehog’s entire collection of blankets piled on top of it, and somewhere in that mass a pillow. The only thing that gave Sonic’s true position away was his long tail sticking out from under the blankets, as he could see and hear the tip of it slapping irritably against the floorboards. Which told Tails that Sonic was awake, and aware of his presence.

“No,” Sonic muttered, his voice muffled yet stern.

“I haven’t even said anythin’ yet,” Tails sighed as he stepped closer to Sonic’s side, making sure to glance down at the floor with each step so that he wouldn’t trip over anything.

To his surprise however the tip of Sonic’s tail stopped twitching, and Sonic lifted his pillow just enough so that he could peek out from under it so he could look at Tails. In the darkness Sonic’s amber eyes reflected strangely, for a brief moment making the hedgehog look wild to Tails, and his slit pupils widened as they tried to catch more light to see better.

“Oh. Hey, Big Guy,” Sonic greeted one he spotted Tails, all traces of any annoyance gone from his voice. “Wha’ are you doin’ here?”

As he said this Sonic pushed himself into a sitting position, dragging his mountain of blankets with him. In that instance Tails wished he could point out the irony of being referred to his old term of endearment, but knew better as he didn’t want to upset Sonic.

Tails by now was thirteen, and puberty had hit him with a growth spurt that shot him up to almost five foot in height, maybe more. While to an average Mobian that would be considered tall, Sonic’s own growth spurt thanks to his mutation made him tower over everyone at over six foot, beating Tails easily.

His height, combined with the other changes his mutation had granted him, gave Sonic a pretty imposing silhouette that made him stand out, which Sonic was very, very aware of. Hence his new habit of becoming a recluse whenever he wasn’t being badgered by Bunnie into forced social interactions.

Which hadn’t been happening since Bunnie was sick, and Tails realised that Sonic was most likely enjoying the peace. If one could call this enjoying. Which Tails couldn’t considering what he was seeing at the moment.

“Bunnie wanted me to check up on you,” Tails explained, his ear twitching at the frustrated huff that shoved itself out of Sonic’s chest. “She’s uh, she’s actually sick at the moment.”

The brief grimace of annoyance that had crossed Sonic’s face dropped, instantly replaced by genuine concern at the mention of his friend being sick. Which brought some relief to Tails, as he had to admit there were some days where Sonic’s compassion for others got swallowed completely by his own mental baggage. Tails understood why it happened, but the stark contrast of genuine indifference verses Sonic’s bluntness was staggering to Tails.

“She’s sick? What’s wrong wit’ her?” Sonic asked as he turned to face Tails completely, though his hunched his shoulders greatly to make himself appear somewhat smaller. Even then he still almost towered Tails, but now they were at least at each other’s eye level.

“It’s nothin’ serious, just a bad cold,” Tails assured. “She’s been in bed for the last three days now.”

“Three days? Shit, it must be hittin’ her hard,” Sonic winced. “So why are you here? Ain’t someone lookin’ after her?”

“We’re keepin’ an eye on her, ‘nd she’s restin’ up most o’ the time,” Tails explained. “But I’m here ‘cause she told me to make sure you’re not holin’ yourself up in here while she’s out o’ action.”

Sonic huffed a short laugh and waved Tails off, before wrapping his blankets closer around himself so he could lie back down.

“You don’t need to do that, just worry about Bunnie,” Sonic assured. “I ain’t goin’ nowhere or doin’ nothin’ so you don’t need to be here.”

“But you do need to be goin’ somewhere ‘nd doin’ somethin’, you can’t just stay in here all the time,” Tails pointed out. “So get up ‘nd get dressed.”

Sonic tilted his head at Tails, giving him a deadpan look for being ordered around. Most of the time Sonic rebelled hard whenever Bunnie tried to coax him to do anything, still very much in the mindset of everything feeling pointless and not wanting to be part of the world.

But he did this because he knew Bunnie was just as stubborn as he was, more so whenever it came to someone’s wellbeing, and could handle him being a jerk on his rough days. With Tails it was a little harder to want to push back, even when every fibre of his being wanted to.

Which is probably why Bunnie sent Tails over to him in her absence.

Sonic sighed, the sound rolling into a soft growl at the back of his throat. He pulled one half of his blanket cocoon away from himself to reveal that he was wearing something, though Tails noticed that they were obviously Sonic’s night clothes.

“I mean get dressed in somethin’ for the day. It’s pretty cold outside,” Tails clarified, raising an eyebrow at his brother.

“I thought you were tryin’ to convince me to get outta here,” Sonic gritted. “’nd either way no. I feel like shit ‘nd don’t wanna do nothin’.”

“Yeah, ‘cause you’ve been in here for three days straight doin’ nothin’,” Tails pointed out, making Sonic roll his eyes. “C’mon. Just come outside for a bit, please?”

“Why? I’m just gonna end up back here anyway,” Sonic retorted.

“Do you have food?” Tails asked. “’nd on top o’ that have you eaten at all?”

“’course I have,” Sonic gritted, though as he said this Sonic’s eyes flicked away from Tails, making the fox frown. “’nd I’ve got food, so I don’t have to go anywhere.”

“Show me.”

With a flurry of frustration Sonic threw his blanket cocoon off him, then stalked over to his kitchen cupboard. Before Bunnie got sick she had been helping Sonic keep his food supplies topped up, giving him supplies that he could store without the risk of them spoiling too fast and make a decent enough meal with very little effort. Between that she would make him some meals and treats – which were limited given their own food surpluses – as she was at a point that she had to convince Sonic to eat as his low points even made eating seem like a hassle.

“There, look,” Sonic stated as he threw open his cupboard.

Only to realise that there wasn’t anything in said cupboard, not even a scrap of what used to be in there to show any proof that he did have food in there at one stage. Somehow Sonic had managed to go through his supplies without realising it, and considering how easily he lost track of time, Sonic wouldn’t be able to tell anyone when he had last ate either.

Sonic slapped the cupboard shut, and pointedly looked away from Tails.

“Don’t look,” Sonic muttered.

“Get dressed, we’re gettin’ food,” Tails retorted.

“I hate you.”

“No you don’t.”

“I don’t but I dislike you a lot.”

This was said as Sonic stalked back towards his dresser, barely giving Tails another glance as he could feel the smugness radiating from the fox. Which made him a little resentful at how powerless he was at the moment. Sonic knew he could easily shove Tails out of his hut and slam the door in his face, but Sonic still had enough sense in his mind to not be that much of a jerk.

At least for now.

He still rebelled by taking his time in getting dressed, on the off chance that if he dragged this ordeal out long enough Tails would give in. However when he emerged from his bathroom Sonic couldn’t help but wilt a little at the seemingly infinite amount of patience Tails was still showing. The fox even had the nerve to nod approvingly at seeing Sonic dressed and groomed to look somewhat presentable, despite the fact that Sonic had done the very bare minimum there also.

“The second someone stares at me I’m out,” Sonic warned as he shoved his hands into the front pocket of his hoodie, still needing to show some defiance at his current situation.

“There’s hardly anyone around, ‘nd even then I can’t stop them from lookin’,” Tails reasoned. “You need to give this a chance.”

“I don’t like it when they stare,” Sonic huffed.

Tails’ ears twitched at the way Sonic’s voice wavered with those words, and some of his resilience withered. Bunnie had warned him about how hard it was to get Sonic to do, well, anything, which was a stark contrast to what Tails was used to with the hedgehog. It was part of why Bunnie had taken it upon herself to work with Sonic, and the last few months after Sonic’s return Tails hadn’t had much contact with Sonic as he would have liked despite the circumstances.

He still only knew a few details of what exactly Sonic had been through during his disappearance, just enough to understand why Sonic’s wasn’t himself. The growth spurt from his mutation after his return didn’t help matters either. But it still hurt to see everything compounding onto Sonic and dragging him down into this misery when once upon a time hardly anything could bring Sonic down.

It only made Tails want to fight harder, as he was sure if the roles were reversed Sonic would be dragging Tails out of his hut kicking and screaming just to help him out of whatever funk he was in.

“If they stare for more than ten seconds we can come back,” Tails offered. “Normal seconds.”

Sonic’s ears perked at the offer, then his frown deepened.

“Five seconds,” Sonic countered.

“Ten,” Tails rebutted.

“Four.”

“Nine.”

“Six.”

“Eight or I’m droppin’ the offer.”

“Ugh, fine!”

Tails led Sonic to the village, making sure to keep his pace even with the hedgehog so that he could keep him in his sights at all times. Both so that he could make sure that Sonic wasn't getting genuinely overwhelmed, and to keep an eye out for any signs that he was going to do a runner despite their agreement. Not that Tails had any way of stopping Sonic really, but after enduring more debating and rebelling from him Tails wanted to make this last for at least a good while before either of them threw in the towel.

After a few minutes of trekking through the snow the two reached the centre of the village, and Tails glanced back at Sonic to see how he was fairing. The hedgehog held his head low, his hands deep in the front pocket of his hoodie, and while he didn't shows signs that he was preparing to do a runner, the combination of being outside in the cold and doing something against his will had left him looking quite sour. Tails felt his heart drop a little at Sonic's expression, and wondered if he could keep this up. He was determined to keep Sonic occupied in Bunnie's absence, but the thought of genuinely upsetting Sonic didn't sit well with him.

It wasn't helping either that as they walked through the village Tails realised that there were more mobians out and about than he had previously seen. They were most likely doing some last minute chores or errands before they hunkered down for the night that seemed to come earlier and earlier every day, but Tails had still hoped that they would have been inside way earlier than now.

When some of the villagers saw Tails they greeted him warmly, but true to Sonic's prediction their friendly demeanours faltered the second they spotted Sonic, some even stilling in their tracks with clear fear on their faces that Tails was barely able to break them out of by greeting them back.

Tails kept moving, not wanting to look at Sonic or his own reaction, but at the corner of his eye he could see Sonic's pace starting to slow as he fell back, each stare making him flinch like he had been struck. Tails mentally cursed at the villagers, and fell back so he could be by Sonic's side again.

"C'mon, we'll just grab some food from the Mess Hall," Tails reminded Sonic, hoping that his voice sounded more confident than he felt.

Right at that moment another villager came by them, and just like the others they stopped and stared at Sonic. Tails almost barked at them to keep moving, but stopped himself when Sonic yanked the hood of his hoodie hard over his head and pulled the drawstrings to hide his face from the villagers.

"I'm pretty sure that was more than eight seconds, Tails," Sonic growled, pointedly looking ahead of himself as he waited for the villager to leave.

Tails felt his heart drop at the clear anger in Sonic's voice, and when he tried to answer he felt himself get tongue-tied, what little confidence he had on handling the situation gone in an instant. Even with Sonic's face obscured Tails could see he was glaring at him too, and Tails had to remind himself not to stare in fear at the hedgehog himself in that moment.

"Fox boy! Stop right there, fox boy!"

Now fear snapped through the fox, and in an instant he grabbed Sonic by his arm and yanked him forward to force him to keep walking.

"No Tails, I'm done! Wha' the hell are you doin'?" Sonic snapped. He tried to pull his arm away from Tails, only to be surprised by the death-like grip he had on him.

"Please just keep walkin'," Tails hissed, before he yelped as he was suddenly pulled back by his shoulder.

Sonic was nearly taken back with him, and he turned to try to figure out what had just happened. Only to discover the grouchiest old possum he had ever seen in his entire life standing in front of Tails and giving him a glare that Sonic swore could turn a field of flowers brown in an instant.

Tails meanwhile wished the ground would open up and swallow him whole, but when that didn't happen he addressed the possum, his smile crooked and forced.

"Oh hey, Mr. Rootgravel. I didn't see--"

"Don't you "Hey Mr. Rootgravel" me, fox boy!" the possum interrupted, banging the end of his walking stick into the snowy ground with every word. "You said you were going to fix my fence. And it still hasn't been done!"

Tails barely hid a wince, his ears folding back briefly as he took a soft breath to try to centre himself. He hadn’t expected this particular villager to be out at this time of the day, only because the older possum seemed to haunt Tails’ shadow in the earlier hours of the day. He glanced in Sonic’s direction, noticing the hint of confusion in his eyes, but there was still a good amount of frustration there, too, which made Tails realise he needed to sort this out quickly before he had two angry mobians in his hands.

“Mr. Rootgravel I told you, it doesn’t need fixin’,” Tails explained. “I even checked it yesterday.”

“No, you said you would fix it! And I saw you looking at it yesterday, you barely gave it a glance!” Mr. Rootgravel snapped.

“I did look at it, ‘nd it’s fine. There’s nothin’ for me to do to it,” Tails explained, his voice just barely levelled.

“Now you’re just being lazy! I was told that you and those two other boys were in charge of the village and you’ve been doing squat for no one. Why the village has been left in charge of a little brat like you I’ll never know, you young ones wouldn’t know a hard day’s work if it bit you in the face,” Mr Rootgravel ranted, his voice rising in volume as he rambled.

Tails gaped at the possum, looking like he had just been punched in the gut. He tried to say something back, but like before he became tongue-tied, his words just forming so thickly in his mouth that he couldn’t speak.

As he struggled Sonic frowned at the display, then stepped over so that he was slightly in between Tails and Mr. Rootgravel, trying to coax Tails into standing behind him so that he could shield off any more attacks from the old man.

“Hey, pal. That doesn’t sound like Tails at all. Lay off him, wouldja?” Sonic stated, holding his hands up in a non-threatening manner.

Unlike the other villagers, Mr Rootgravel didn’t seem to recognise Sonic, instead only seeing him as a tall loudmouth that was covering his face. So he jabbed Sonic in the chest with his walking stick, pulling out a sharp yelp from Sonic.

“Stay out of this, stringbean!” Mr. Rootgravel snapped, giving Sonic another few jabs in the chest in an attempt to make him back off.

Before anyone could react, Sonic grabbed the walking stick and yanked it clean out of Mr. Rootgravel’s hand. Without breaking eye contact with the possum Sonic tossed the stick aside, and Tails watched as it sailed over a good few metres away from them, landing on a hut’s roof.

Stunned, Tails turned back to Mr. Rootgravel and watched as he gaped at Sonic, then his face twisted into a new wave of anger that turns his salt and pepper fur red in the face.

“That’s my walking stick! I need that!” Mr. Rootgravel hollered.

“Then you shouldn’t o’ poked me wit’ it, you old fart!” Sonic snarled, and Tails swore a part of his soul died right there and then. “Now wha’ the hell is your deal anyway?”

“You can’t hear me up there?!” Mr. Rootgravel yelled, then cupped his hands over his mouth in an exaggerated imitation of a megaphone. “I said this lazy fox boy needs to fix my fence. Now!”

“’nd he said it doesn’t need fixin’!” Sonic boomed back.

“It does! And I want it done now!”

“Show me this stupid fence,” Sonic snarled.

“Not without my walking stick, stringbean.”

Sonic rolled his eyes, then cocked his head towards where he had tossed the stick.

“Get the stupid thin’ down so we can get this sorted out, Tails,” Sonic muttered.

Tails winced at the request, then slinked up to Sonic’s side, his tails curling around his legs.

“It’s okay, I can look at it later. You don’t have to do this,” Tails mumbled.

Sonic shook his head, tossing another frown at Mr. Rootgravel before he looked at Tails.

“He’s not gonna fuck off until he thinks this is sorted. ‘nd I ain’t leavin’ you alone wit’ him,” Sonic assured. “Just go get the stupid stick.”

Tails hesitated, but when he glanced at Mr. Rootgravel once more the old man was glaring daggers at the two of them, his arms crossed over his chest as he waited for someone to do something. Tails sighed and twirled his namesakes to fetch down the walking stick, but he couldn’t help but feel frustrated at this turn of events.

Once Tails retrieved the walking stick Mr. Rootgravel led the two back to where his hut was situated, which wasn’t too far from the village centre. As the three approached the hut Sonic looked around the area, and couldn’t help but notice that compared to all the other huts in the area, and beyond, only Mr. Rootgravel’s hut was surrounded by a wooden picket fence. The fence even cut in between the gap between his hut and the one next to him, with the gap being just barely a metre wide considering the limited space of the village entirely.

Sonic’s mouth twisted with disgust at what he saw. New Knothole was small, hosting maybe thirty to forty mobians the most on the surface, and another thirty in Lower Mobius last he checked. While for some that might not be the most ideal living arrangement, the village was quiet, homely, and everyone was willing to share their space as there were only so many luxuries that could be spared given their circumstances. The thought of one villager being this demanding over something so unnecessary made Sonic’s quills prickle.

“Why are you the only one wit’ a fence anyway?” Sonic asked, needing to resolve this for himself.

“Because I wanted one. This is my home after all, I demand privacy!” Mr. Rootgravel growled.

“It’s a village. If you wanted privacy go live in a tree. Or Lower Mobius. Or in the forest away from all o’ us,” Sonic pointed out, before adding under his breath, “Preferably inna ditch.”

“I wanted a hut, and I wanted a fence. So I got both,” Mr. Rootgravel gritted. “End of story.”

“Wha’ever,” Sonic sighed, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his muzzle as he swore he could feel a headache starting. “Just show me where it’s busted.”

Mr Rootgravel led him to a section where the fence opened as a hinged gate. When they were close enough Mr. Rootgravel used his walking stick to tap at the gate, pulling Sonic’s attention to the damage that had gotten him so worked up.

“Here, this needs to be fixed,” Mr. Rootgravel stated.

Sonic crouched down and looked at where the possum was pointing to, then frowned, not quite seeing what the problem was. Sonic didn’t really consider himself anywhere near a handyman, as those sorts of jobs were usually left to Rotor to handle – and apparently to Tails now, too – but even he knew how to spot something that would need repairs.

He turned to Tails, hoping for a clue of some kind as he felt like this was something that should have been very obvious to anyone involved. Only to have the fox shrug helplessly at him. Sonic pressed his lips together into a thin line, then sighed, hating everything.

“... I ain’t seein’ it,” Sonic admitted at a length.

He barely flinched when Mr. Rootgravel tapped at the gate rapidly with his stick, as if that was going to clear up the issue as now the possum was opting to not waste any more words on Sonic. Sonic tried to focus on where he was tapping, and eventually he realised that the picket panel had somehow been snapped near the top, leaving a splintered mess.

At least, that’s all he could see. Which made Sonic slow blink at the fence as a quiet sort of rage began bubble through him.

“You’re kiddin’, right?” Sonic asked, then pointed at the broken picket. “Is that all?”

“Is that all?!” Mr. Rootgravel snarled. “It’s broken! Look at it, it’s making the gate uneven, I can’t have it looking like that!”

Sonic had to stare at the fence for a moment longer to consider his life choices and how he ended up here, then took in a slow, deep breath. When he released it, Sonic grabbed the broken panel, and with one sharp motion he yanked it off, pulling it free from the gate with a squeal of loosening nails.

“There,” Sonic said simply, tossing the picket aside as he stood up, dusting his hands off. “Now leave Tails alone, you old coot.”

Tails stared at Sonic in horror, feeling his blood run cold. He didn’t even dare look at Mr. Rootgravel, as he could practically feel the rage that was rising in the old possum, but he could hear him sputtering as he tried to comprehend just what had happened. And when he did, Mr. Rootgravel shrieked.

“How dare you do that to my property?!” Mr. Rootgravel hollered.

“How dare you harass Tails over somethin’ so stupid?!” Sonic snapped back, his voice so loud that it startled both Tails and Mr. Rootgravel. “You shouldn’t even have this fuckin’ thin’ in the first place, ‘nd you think you can order Tails around when he’s busy lookin’ after more important things?”

Before Mr. Rootgravel could protest further Sonic loomed over him, making sure to get as close as he was able to against the old possum before he yanked the hood of his hoodie down, revealing his face. The moment Mr. Rootgravel caught sight of Sonic’s full appearance he froze, the words forming in his mouth faltering as he gaped at Sonic, he outrage and entitlement completely evaporating.

Usually such a sight would have Sonic backing down, as he honestly hated the idea of scaring anyone. But after spending the last few minutes with the old possum Sonic needed this encounter to end as quickly as possible, even if it meant having someone genuinely be afraid of him.

“Now, I’m only gonna say this once. ‘cause if I see you buggin’ him, or anyone else about anythin’ this stupid again, I’m gonna come back here ‘nd take another picket until this whole damn thin’ is gone. Leave. Tails. Alone,” Sonic snarled, before gritting his teeth, pulling his lips back enough so that the possum got a full view of them. “Got it?”

Mr. Rootgravel continued staring at Sonic, his words seemingly going right over his head. It was only when Sonic clicked his teeth together that he snapped out of his stupor, but only long enough to give Sonic a half nod in confirmation. Sonic figured that was good enough, and he took in another calming breath before he cocked his head towards Mr. Rootgravel’s hut.

“Go home. ‘nd don’t let me catch you bein’ a jerk anymore.”

Tails watched in awe as the once feisty old man half hobbled, half ran through his gate and back into his hut, barely giving him or Sonic a backwards glance. Once he disappeared into his hut Tails felt some relief, but he couldn’t help the pang of guilt that flashed through him at the same time. The last thing he wanted to do was drag Sonic into some silly drama, especially after he had reassured Sonic that his first trip out of his hut in who knew how long was going to be a good thing.

Even as he looked up at Sonic he could see the below surface rage that was now rushing through the hedgehog, and Tails was sure that after this Sonic would not want to set foot outside ever again.

“Sonic, I--" Tails began.

“Has he really been messin’ wit’ you this whole time?” Sonic cut in.

Tails hesitated, his gaze falling down to his feet as he desperately wanted the subject to be dropped. He felt bad enough as it was having Sonic get involved, but what Mr. Rootgravel had said earlier about him being in charge and supposedly doing a poor job of it had really gotten to Tails. That, alongside utterly failing to help Sonic in the short period he was looking out for him, made Tails realise that he wasn’t very good at being responsible as he thought he was.

As he looked down at the snowy ground Sonic forced himself into Tails’ view, and to his surprise the hedgehog’s expression was a look of genuine concern.

“Tails, tell me the truth. Has he been messin’ wit’ you?” Sonic asked again, his voice gentle now.

Tails blinked at Sonic, then sighed before he nodded, feeling defeated. He heard Sonic click his tongue in frustration, and the hedgehog straightened, going quiet as he thought for a moment.

“Has anyone else been buggin’ you?” Sonic asked.

“Everyone else has been fine but... I guess there are a couple o’ villagers that are gettin’ a bit impatient?” Tails offered. “I thought I was doin’ okay but if he got that mad...”

“Show me who,” Sonic demanded. “Let’s sort ‘em out too before they pull anythin’ like this on you.”

Tails gaped at Sonic, then shook his head, his eyes pleading now.

“Don’t worry about it! I’m supposed to be lookin’ after the village, not you. This is too much!” Tails protested.

“Oh no. You think you’re the only one that can go draggin’ folks outta their problems?” Sonic countered as he stood, setting a fist on his hip as he regarded Tails. “Spill it, bro. Who else has been tryin’ to push you around?”

Tails still tried to protest against Sonic’s request, but when Sonic threatened to go around the village to figure it out himself Tails yielded, not wanting the hedgehog be let loose on the village in such a way that it would risk Bunnie needing to intervene while still sick.

So he led Sonic to any villagers her remembered approaching him over the last few days that he hadn’t been able to assist, or had tried settling their issues only to have them repeatedly come back to him in an attempt to get Tails to do what they asked.

To Tails’ surprise despite Sonic’s clear discomfort at being seen and gawked at by the villagers, he seemed to push that discomfort aside so that he could play bodyguard for Tails. He even stepped in when arguments started to get heated with the few villagers that refused to see reason, taking full advantage of his towering height and wild look to intimidate said villagers into either agreeing with Tails’ recommendations, or to outright abandon their frivolous demands.

They were also able to resolve quite a few legitimate issues that had been lingering in the village when other villagers caught wind of what the duo were doing. While Sonic’s attitude towards any villagers that were less that hospitable was to push back tenfold, Tails witnessed Sonic being quite compassionate and understanding to those that were just flustered with their situation, even as they hesitated at Sonic’s appearance at first. It was in these moments that Tails could see Sonic’s old self shining through, and as they day moved on one by one the villagers seemed to become more comfortable around the hedgehog, and vice versa.

Eventually though the two began to tire out, and a few hours after the sun had set they decided to stop for the day, reasoning that everyone was now retiring for the night as it was, and that it would be too dark and cold to do much else anyway.

Upon that agreement Sonic had begun wandering back to his hut with barely another word to Tails. Tails had taken this as a cue for him to depart to his own hut, until Sonic called back to him.

“Hey! You promised me food,” Sonic pointed out. “Go grab some ‘nd have dinner at my place, yeah?”

Tails was ecstatic for the offer, and rushed over to the Mess Hall to gather up some food for both of them, making it just in time before the majority of the food on offer was packed away. About ten minutes later Tails was back at Sonic’s hut, and balancing his two plates on one arm he entered the hut.

The contrast of what he had walked into earlier that afternoon to now was like night and day, even in the short amount of time the two were separated. The pile of blankets that Sonic had been using as his messy cocoon were now folded somewhat neatly on the end of his bed, the hut was well lit thanks to the overhead lighting, and it looked like Sonic had tidied up the few stray belongings he had that were scattered all over the floor, as Tails didn’t need to watch where he was stepping.

The only thing that almost matched what he had walked into that afternoon was Sonic lying on his bed with his head buried under his pillow. Which would explain why Sonic had asked Tails to get some food instead of picking it out himself with him, as it seemed like Sonic was more overwhelmed than Tails had realised.

For a moment Tails wondered if the two of them had pushed Sonic’s limits too far, and considered taking a raincheck on Sonic’s offer of having dinner together. But as Tails approached Sonic’s side the hedgehog lifted his pillow slightly, then sat up fully once he realised it was Tails.

“Sorry, I needed a sec o’ not bein’ vertical,” Sonic explained as he brushed down his quills with his hands, getting them somewhat back in line along his neck and back. “Man, that was a long day.”

“Yeah, but you survived. So that’s gotta count for somethin’, right?” Tails smirked as he passed Sonic his plate.

Sonic laughed, then cocked his head to motion for Tails to sit on the bed with him.

“Can’t argue that. But I ain’t gonna lie, my social card is totally punched out.”

As Tails made himself comfortable on Sonic’s bed he watched the hedgehog start on his food, glad to see that there wasn’t any hesitation. While Tails was getting their food he had realised that Sonic hadn’t eaten all day, and without knowing just how long it had been since his last decent meal Tails was worried that Sonic wouldn’t be up for eating, despite asking him to get food. Tails had tried picking out things he hoped were enticing enough to the hedgehog, but was relieved to see that at this point Sonic just wanted any food.

“I think mine is, too. But on the bright side that just means tomorrow there will be less to do,” Tails pointed out. “’nd thanks for helpin’ me out. I’m sorry that I let it all get so outta hand.”

Sonic paused mid-bite, before he sighed and set his fork down.

“No, I’m the one that let it all get outta hand. Not you, bro,” Sonic said. “You shouldn’t have to be pickin’ up the slack like that.”

Tails tilted his head at Sonic, his eyebrows furrowing with confusion.

“Wha’ do you mean? It’s not your fault so many villagers needed help,” Tails said.

“That’s not wha’ I’m talkin’ about,” Sonic clarified. “Wit’ Bunnie outta commission you should have someone else you can turn to for help, but instead I was makin’ everythin’ more difficult for you. ’nd on top o’ that I didn’t even know she was sick, or that folks were strugglin’, all ‘cause I was stuck in my own head. That ain’t right.”

Tails frowned, then shook his head firmly.

“You went through a lot o’ stuff though, Sonic. ‘nd we know it’s gonna take you some time to recover,” Tails explained. “We just want you to be okay.”

“I know, but I ain’t gettin’ okay. I have to get pushed just to do the bare minimum, ‘nd even then I don’t do that wit’out makin’ it a whole drama,” Sonic sighed. “I’m sorry, Tails.”

The apology startled Tails. Not that it was rare or anything like that for Sonic to admit his mistakes, even in his own ways. But because it never occurred to Tails that he would have anything to apologise for. Like Tails had said since Sonic’s return everyone that was able to worked alongside the hedgehog to help him recover, just wanting him to get better for his own sake.

The journey though had been rough, especially after Sonic’s third mutation that seemed to have cause Sonic to completely fall apart. It had been scary to witness at first, as Tails was so used to Sonic being so brave and confident not just in himself but in everyone around him. Watching Sonic withdraw completely from the world was surreal at best.

Everyone had tried so hard to help him, but Tails knew what was missing. It was missing for everyone else as well, and even though everyone had been able to move on in their own ways, that missing detail still hung at everyone’s neck like an albatross.

“I’m sure it would have been easier if Sally was here,” Tails voiced, knowing he had guessed right when Sonic stiffened.

Sally’s disappearance was still a hard topic to bring up with anyone. Coupled with Sonic’s disappearance there were times that everyone had felt hopeless, and they had all switched from wanting to fight back against the rising threat that had come out of nowhere, to wanting to just survive.

It didn’t help either that earlier attempts at tracking down Sally and Sonic had led them into wild goose chases that involved freakishly accurate illusions of their leaders. Over time said illusions would bait whoever were chasing them down into dangers they would just barely escape, or worse, distractions that left others in danger until it was almost too late. It had been a collective, yet hard decision amongst the Freedom Fighters to let their leaders go in exchange for their own safety, and just pray that somehow they would find their true selves alive and well someday.

“… yeah, it would have,” Sonic murmured, and Tails could hear the slight tremor in Sonic’s voice as Sonic looked away from him.

“You guys are helpin’, I don’t want to diss that,” Sonic added. “It’s just that… I dunno. Sal just knew how to not make me feel like a freak. Unc did, too, but he ain’t here either. ‘nd wit’ everythin’ else that’s happened to me I just keep wonderin’ wha’ they’d think o’ me now. But then I go back to ‘em not bein’ here ‘nd—-“

Sonic cut himself off, clicking his teeth together loudly like he needed to physically bite his words. Tails could see his eyes shining over with unshed tears and felt his own throat constrict at his brother’s turmoil.

“I don’t wanna dump that on you, bro. This is already too much,” Sonic sighed as he rubbed the heel of his hand into his eyes to chase off the tears. “But I wanna try to get back into the swin’ o’ things. There’s no way I can let you guys do everythin’ on your own no more.”

“Today was a good start I think. I mean it did take a while for you to get started, but once you got into it you seemed okay,” Tails stated. “So, we could just take it a day atta time, y’know?”

“That works for me. ‘cause really I don’t have a clue wha’ I can do no more,” Sonic admitted.

“Well I already know you can shut down grumpy old men,” Tails laughed, drawing a snort from Sonic. “Seriously, even Bunnie’s been havin’ trouble wit’ that guy.”

“That’s ‘cause she’s tryin’ to be a good guy. I don’t care if people get prissy wit’ me,” Sonic shrugged. “‘nd if he does harass you again tell me, I don’t care wha’ I’m doin’ or how I’m feelin’, he ain’t gettin’ away wit’ that.”

“I think after today he’s probably never gonna leave his hut again,” Tails teased.

“Good. That means I can knock his stupid fence over. Seriously, why does he even have that thin’?” Sonic muttered as he jabbed at some food on his plate with his fork with a little more force than needed.

“Also didja hear wha’ he called me? Stringbean?” Sonic added, outrage clear in his voice. “That’s like the last damn thin’ I would have thought anyone would call me. Such an asshole.”

“That’s how he is. But lookin’ back on it now, it was pretty funny when you tossed his walkin’ stick onto the roof,” Tails snickered. “I thought for sure he was gonna blow an artery when you did that.”

“Well he shouldn’t o’ poked me wit’ it,” Sonic smirked. “Though don’t tell Bunnie I did that. ‘nd then yelled at him. Or that I yelled at that other guy that was just bein’ lazy about gettin’ his own firewood. Who was also a jerk. So many jerks in the village...”

“Don’t worry, your secret’s safe wit’ me.”

The two ate in silence after that, giving each other some time to wind down from the day. Once they were finished Sonic took their plates and rinsed them off so that Tails could return them to the Mess Hall on his way back to his own hut. By then it was getting late, and they were both looking forward to getting a decent night’s sleep.

“So I’ll catch ya tomorrow?” Tails asked.

“Yeah, we’ll finish off the stuff we didn’t get to so you won’t have so many villagers on your back,” Sonic stated. “Though I’ll need a favour from ya.”

“Oh? Sure, anythin’,” Tails confirmed. “Whaddya need?”

“Can ya swin’ by here ‘nd drag my tail outta bed again?” Sonic asked. “‘cause I know I’m gonna forget. I promise I won’t fight ya.”

Tails laughed, the tips of his tails swaying gleefully at the confession.

“I can swin’ by at six, how does that sound?”

“Yeah if you do that I’ll fight ya ‘nd toss ya onto the roof,” Sonic miffed, his muzzle scrunching up with disgust even as Tails laughed harder. “Just make it a reasonable time, wouldja? At least ‘til I get used to bein’ a functionin’ guy again.”

“Okay, okay. Let’s try eight then. ‘nd I’ll brin’ some breakfast, too,” Tails yielded.

“Now that I can deal wit’,” Sonic smirked. “I’ll catch ya tomorrow, bro.”

“Catch ya tomorrow, Sonic.”

When Tails stepped outside and closed the door behind him he stopped and leaned against the door, taking a moment to reflect on everything that had just happened. After a few minutes the fox couldn’t help but grin to himself, before he quietly danced around in a tight circle to channel his giddiness.

He hadn’t expected his attempt to get Sonic out and about to be this successful, especially with the false start he had. But now he was thrilled that not only did Sonic leave his hut, he also seemed to have cheered up quite a bit. Tails knew that this didn’t mean Sonic was completely free of his depression, but he hoped this would lead to Sonic coming out of his reclusiveness a little more.

Tails headed home, mentally keeping his fingers crossed that tomorrow would go just as well for the hedgehog.

With hopefully the absence of any more grouchy villagers.

#wstw #wholesome sonic and tails wednesday #SatAM-TimeSkipAU #SatAM #SatAM Sonic #Sonic the hedgehog #tails the fox #Sonic AU #fanfiction #sonic fanfiction #long post #queue

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ererokii · 4 years ago

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Sooo... This request thing. You're aweosme 👉👈

Ooh boy it's a long one (changed it a bit)

-Erens so cute when he purrs and when you mention his curiosity and twitching ears ears and gentle touch, so as not to hurt the reader.

-when he kinda is paying attention to, analysing the reader or protecting them its SO cute

-It would maybe end as like cuddles and things and just... Talking. To him and him grunting or just nodding or thinking replies.

-Maybe be at night.

-Maybe it would start with... Eren In human form.

-Maybe he figures out that you don't think his titan form is so ugly but still a little new and scary and that maybe you like it

- Bam if you can somehow NSFW that... Uhmm?

So he... Turns into a titan and then. Some NSFW or just. Maybe he like. Scares or teases the reader on purpose for a reaction?

-And then NSFW somehow if you wanna put that in. Sorry for the way I type I'm kinda doing it as it all appears in my head lol

-I like your cute, and desperate eren, but also attentive and caring. I haven't seen you write a very cheeky or playful titan eren so maybe that would be nice.

I REALLY ENJOYED WRITING THIS ONE. Here you monsterfuckers, take your TITAN SMUT.

WARNINGS: MONSTERFUCKING. Oral (f receiving), mention of voyeurism, overstimulation, dumbification, multiple orgasms, edging, characters are 18+.

If these themes make you uncomfortable or you rather avoid, please block the tag “AOT SMUT” WC: 1.7K

Also thank you to the amazing @galair for this beautiful art🥺 everyone go check her out

Eren stays deep within his thoughts as he hums to himself, staring up at the starry sky. His loose strands tickle the shell of his ear, itching to scratch away at it but refuses. He can’t recall the conversation before the silence. It’s always been on his mind, but he’s been inquisitive as to what you saw him as, even if he knew the answer.

Am I a monster to you? Or am I just like you?

You knew Eren was quite insecure with himself when it came to his titan powers; no matter how many times he asked you that, you always gave him the same answer.

You were never a monster; you’re just a broken human like me.

For some reason, that has never failed to put a smile on his face. Being able to categorize himself with humans made him feel complete, separate from the monster people used to call him when he discovered the powers.

But know that he’s aware (once again) of how you feel, does he scare you?

Maybe he could ask you--, but he doesn’t want to ruin the mood at all. Now that he thinks of it, he can’t recollect a moment where you’ve seemed scared to be in his presence, unlike other comrades who look like they’ll leak themselves any moment.

Without even thinking, he blurts out the question. His eyes widen slightly when he realizes the words slipped past his lips.

“Am I scared of your titan form?” you ask, glancing over at him as you sit up, staring down at him from your position. “I mean, it is always somewhat overwhelming to see something so much bigger than me, and when I sit in your hands but no, besides that, I'm not.”

“Do you think it’s ugly?”

“I don’t,” you say with a smile, legs crisscrossed. “I think it’s unique. You know, just for you. I think it’s quite cute and--” you trail off, glancing over to the side. “--somewhat hot,” you cough in between words, hoping he missed that.

“Hot?” he asks, a hint of smugness evident in his tone.” You think it’s hot?” he leans up on his elbows, a smirk curled at his lips. “Why is that?”

“W-Well, I’m not going to tell you that! That’s too personal.”

“What if I turned right now?”

“Y-You can’t! Captain Levi and Hanji would come to chew you out if you did!”

“Hanji gave me the go-ahead to transform whenever I wanted to, just not to cause destruction,” he gets up with a grunt, backing up a few feet back. By the time he was in position before you could speak, lightning struck the earth, the ground crumbling from the shock.

You dug your fingers into the ground, lowering your head from the gusts of wind. In no time, it calmed down as you avert your gaze upward, emeralds stare down at you from high above, brown tresses swooshing in the air.

“You did,” you breathed out, releasing your grip on the dirt. Your hands are unsteady, still trying to compose yourself from the sudden change.

He’s not moving, standing as still as a statue before he drops to his knees, the birds sound asleep in the trees now awake and flying away from the commotion. Your heart feels as if it could burst from the confinements of your chest.

Your left eye peeks open, cowering within yourself. Your body freezes when you see how close he is. His body is lowered to the ground; knees pushed in like a Sphinx. His eyes glow in the darkness, a new feeling taking over your body.

His heavy breathing fans over your face, his head cocked to the side as if he was examining your small figure. He finds humor in your expression, nudging your body with his nose.

From the small force added, it caused your body to get pushed back. His ears twitch, the tips sticking upward. He moves forward, doing it once more.

“Eren, quit it,” you huff, sticking your arms out to keep him from doing it again-- which he’ll end up doing too. There’s no doubt that in that nape, he’s having the time of his life.

He wonders what else he can do like this. He thinks for a minute, noises emitting from his throat. He sticks one of his hands out, shakily raising a finger, and places his hands in between your legs.

He catches your gaze, his tongue peeking as he leans forward, barely pressing the tip against the bare skin of your neck. The new sensation causes your breath to hitch in the back of your throat, eyeing the pink flesh before gulping lowly.

Eren pulls away, looking at your skirt that happened to ride up your legs. His eyes seem to darken as his mouth closes, teeth grinding against each other.

“Eren?” you question him as he inches closer, his head lowering slightly to the ground. You’re about to call for him again, but his tongue makes an appearance also, pushing the material up more. Your eyes enlarge, fingers curling around the fabric of your shirt-- to which looks like fear in his eyes.

A noise of somewhat sadness comes from him, his ears lowering.

“N-No, it’s okay, Eren,” you stutter, face heating up from his motions. If you were honest, you could feel a small wetness pool in between your legs.

Before you know it, the tip of his tongue is in between your legs, the muscle lapping over your clothed cunt. Your arms are shaky as you let out a little gasp that sounds so cute to his ears; he can’t help but circle it around your clit.

A predatory look is in his eyes, looking down like you were his meal. The muscle goes sound, poking at your slicked entrance. Panting, you glance down at the position and pull your panties aside, shivering from the chilly wind and hot breathing in between your legs.

His jaw slacked; he works wonders on your needy cunt. The texture and saliva are enough to make you sensitive on the spot. Your eyes roll back as you chant his name, his tongue licking stripes up and down your folds, squelching noises occurring from his rapid movement.

Your legs are shaking from the overwhelming sensation. God, it’s becoming too much, but you can’t stop him, nor if you wanted to. You felt as if you would fall to the depths of the earth but yet stayed in reality.

The tip flicks at your folds, an incoherent noise getting stuck in the back of your throat when he begins to move it side to side rather than up and down.

You’re so needy for him at this point. You want him to stuff your tight cunt with his cock, to feel him stretch you out as he fucks you to no end. Having him do this to you was on another level of ecstasy, but you would accept it if this came up again.

The pressure he puts on your fragile body is enough to send you backward, but the way your heels dig into the ground and his gentle touches prevent that from happening. The slick left in between your thighs trickle down to your ass; the feeling becomes uncomfortable but erotic.

“Fuck baby,” you whisper, head falling back, staring up at the sky with lidded eyes. “Fuu..p-please don’t stop,” you slur, thoughts clouding with nothing but immense pleasure.

God, what if someone caught you? The adrenaline running through your body wouldn’t even let you care about that. But the thought of someone hearing you moan out pathetically as Eren licks away at your cunt, have you moaning out.

You wouldn’t be surprised if someone overheard. Eren’s tongue was a gift that meant to be cherished, even if that meant having him do this every day for you to get used to the sticky yet warmth radiating from the muscle.

The inside of your legs trembles, your head spinning in circles, rubbing small lazy circles on your puffy clit, desperate to be touched by his tongue. Your hole was being circled, his tongue barely pressing before retracting; the little shit was teasing you.

One of his fingers gently places over your leg to keep you from moving so much. His finger alone is enough to make you feel weighed down.

Your lips are moving, but nothing is coming out; no noise, no words. You’re completely out of it. Your fingers are clenching and unclenching around nothing, barely holding onto whatever it was you were. If someone were to ask you what day it was, you wouldn’t be able to tell the time of day or where you were at.

“ ‘M gonna cum,” your voice comes out soft yet needy, shifting your hips side to side, bucking your hips to the best of your ability. “I wanna cum on your tongue.”

His eyes flicker, a stripe licked up between your folds before resting on your clit-- a place that desperately needs attention.

Your delicate body is on the brink of defeat; an orgasm after orgasm washes over your body, and he shows no signs of stopping. You’re practically gushing at this point, your juices running down his jaw. You’ve made many feeble attempts to push him away; a growl would emit from him when you tried to do so.

Sweat trickles down your face into your clothes, causing the front of your shirt to stick onto your skin—short breaths of air, hiccups erupting from your throat. Your eyes roll back as your body finally gives out, falling backward onto his hand that was keeping you upright.

As you fall, a purring sound reaches your ears as his tongue finally retracts from your mess cunt, his eyes glancing at your slick sticking to you. His finger rubs the inside of your thigh, gently wiping away the transparent substance. His ears flicker as he listens to your heavy breathing, trying your best to catch the air that was taken away from you.

He lovingly nuzzles his nose against your patella, his dark tresses tickling your supple skin. After being pushed through multiple orgasms, you weren’t even sure if you could walk or get up from this position.

But he finally got his answer as to why you thought he was hot.

Taglist: @trafalgar-temptress @galair @shisoaya @eremiie @bakuhoesworld @sweetdanibear @blueelionn @grabakitcata @erenstellar @onyxoverride @vinishsama @cellarhapsodos @connieswifey @murmikaa (please message me to be added!!)

#eren x reader #eren jaeger x reader #eren x reader smut #Eren Jaeger x reader smut #tw: monster fucking #Titan Eren #Titan Eren smut #aot x reader #snk x reader #attack on Titan x reader #shingeki no Kyojin x reader #aot imagines #snk imagines #eren imagines #eren Jaeger imagines #aot smut

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from-a-reckless-writer · 4 years ago

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RE: the tags about being tempted to post a half finished fic and guess the ending, well you are a reckless writer for a reason

this is long overdue, so here have a fic.

It has come to the point that nothing fazes her anymore.

A kidnapping? Been there, done that. It means calling Sam Arias to intimidate the board of members into temporary submission.

An explosion at the office? Just a typical Tuesday. It means relocating to the 23rd floor and sharing the desk with two other interns for 2 months tops.

An assassination attempt? It means bracing herself for at least 3 deliveries of donuts and coffee for the two following weeks that Kara Danvers would be protectively hovering over L-Corp, until her boss snaps and shoos her away back to CatCo.

She’s seen it all, endured it all and she sure as hell is prepared for it all. She’s got three different ironclad statements ready to publish for whatever PR disaster will most likely turn up that week. She’s got contacts from the FBI, DEO, CatCo, Daily Planet, Gotham Gazette-- hell she even has Lillian’s personal cell (just in case the Luthor matriarch ever tries anything y’know? ) and yes, even the number of that 'Mexican place at 5th and Spring, you know the one Kara likes, Jess?'

She’s got two pairs of heels, a raincoat and four sets of outfits neatly folded in a duffel bag, at the back of the office, reserved for any emergency that requires a change of clothes.

The point is, she is an independent Asian-American woman who has worked her ass off for the better part of the decade and has long learned to take no shit from anybody.

Not even stupid superpowered Kryptonians.

See, it takes a lot to be her. It takes unlimited patience to put up with a woman like Lena Luthor, not because she’s a terrible person. Oh no, no, the complete opposite, actually. She is so overwhelmingly kind to a fault, and she doesn’t want nor let anybody see it. It’s infuriating to see sometimes. Okay, fine, she sides with the Krytonian on that one matter. But oh, ho, ho, not today. Today, she’s mad.

She’s livid, actually and it’s all Supergirl’s fault. (and Lena Luthor's too.)

Jess has had her fair share of ‘I-Should-Not-Have-Been-Here’ moments, like that one time she forgot to knock and stumbled unto Lex mid-yell with Lena whose eyes were shimmering but was still keeping a rigid posture.

Or that one time when she thought her boss had long left the office, only to be greeted with quiet sobs and an empty bottle of scotch rolling on the floor. Or that time she happened upon Lena, skirt and sleeves on fire with fumes rising from a green solution.

Apparently, her staff from the lab refused to let her in after three days of their CEO holding herself in isolation with the experiment. Lena had gotten the great idea of smuggling the chemicals to her office instead. Luthors are nothing but determined. Jess still remembers the adrenaline rush of holding a fire extinguisher—as if she were the chosen 5th grader for a school fire drill—and shoving her boss out of the way.

Like she said, nothing fazes her anymore she’s seen it all, except maybe, this one. Yep, definitely this one. This one just made a hot ball of fury unfurl at her very core. This one might just take the cake.

Jess was just going about her day, returned from a hearty lunch and feeling reinvigorated from that dose of sunlight and fresh air. It was a quiet day today, she noticed, which should’ve been a foretelling.

Nothing really is ever quiet. Well, when it comes to L-Corp, at least.

She’s been sitting on her desk for about a good fifteen minutes and finished with screening a few papers from their new contractors, when it occurs to her that the latest blueprints from R&D are still on her desk instead of already being reviewed by her boss.

She grabs the drawing tube and quickly makes for her boss’s private office. They’ve spent enough time with each other that Jess could just come and go as she pleases, instead of having to knock each time. Saves both of their time, that way.

Although, usually, she buzzes through the intercom first to double check, but it was 1:20 P.M and she knows Lena doesn’t have anything scheduled after lunch. So, she pushes the door, confidently strolls in and promptly stops in her tracks.

Jess stops breathing for a moment, blinks once, twice, stares at the scene before her.

Lena Luthor sat atop her work desk; blouse open, eyes closed, cheeks flushed, neck currently being ravaged by Supergirl with legs wrapped around the waist.

She probably should’ve just turned and left while they haven’t seen her yet. That would’ve been the smart decision, right? Yes. Yes, it was so very clearly The Right Decision.

Of course, she doubts she could look Lena in the eye for the next few weeks after that, but at least she wouldn’t know that Jess walked in on them during an er- make-out session? Office tryst? Oh God, she shudders internally. It sounds even worse.

Incident? Yep. Yeah. She’s sticking with incident. Indecent incident sounds more apt really.

She should’ve left. Would have left, if her eyes didn’t just land on the desk—well, more like Miss Luthor’s as- backside—and felt the stirrings of rage make itself known. Because there, underneath Lena’s ass (Backside!! Jess, that’s your boss!) is the squished—probably crumpled—pages of a contract.

A contract they’ve spent 5 months securing!!

Jess decides to do what everyone else would have done in a situation such as this; she clears her throat. Loudly.

Classic move.

Supergirl’s head immediately shoots up and Lena’s eyes snap open.

“Jess!” Supergirl squeaks and she sees the exact moment the realization hits Lena. Her eyes widening at her girlfriend’s exclamation, whips her head to the side, spots Jess, hands scrambling to a panic to close all the buttons of her blouse.

She hears Lena hiss, “Fuck, shit. Oh my God. Shit. How did she even- You have superhearing!!!” as she pushes Supergirl—who lets herself be pushed, stunned by the intrusion, face redder than a tomato.

Lena gets off the desk, fixes herself all the while to futile results. Her hair is tugged down from her usual ponytail, her neck and chest is marked, her lips swollen.

Supergirl's hands twitch at the sides and Jess sees her gulp as blue eyes frantically dart to Lena and her, and then Lena, and then back to her.

Lena finally turns around after those few awkward beats.

"Jess," she begins, clearly trying hard to put on her business bitch persona, but come on, there's a hickey under her jaw for fuck's sake.

"It's not what you-"

Jess doesn’t let her finish, she stomps her way across the office and forcefully puts the drawing tube on the desk. It makes a hollow thump.

“Jess I-”

“Supergirl, do you know how long it takes to finalize a business proposal, pitch it to the board, persuade the board and finally have a contract drawn?”

Supergirl gulps again. Lena’s eyes are wild next to her, she doesn’t like not knowing what the next best move is, Jess knows this all too well.

“Uhhh- no?”

Jesus Christ, you’d think after years of shadowing Cat Grant, she'd had at least learned a thing or two. Then again, if somebody is full on glaring at her after getting caught red-handed, Jess doubts she could answer coherently too.

“That’s right,” Jess says, “You don’t.”

“Jess,” Lena repeats pointedly. She knows that tone. It’s a warning.

“Ms. Luthor.”

A period not a question mark. It’s a challenge.

"I've spent all my evenings working late on that, do you know how many dates I've had to cancel? Just so I can secure a meeting with Qatar and simultaneously sync it with Beijing's time? My boyfriend hasn't seen me in two weeks!” Jess bursts out.

“Two weeks, Supergirl!” She gets close enough to jab a finger to the Girl of Steel’s chest. A feat she will gladly tell all her coworkers later when she’s calmed down enough.

“Not to mention, the 10 other people who worked their ass off trying to make sure that Miss Luthor's presentation is airtight, bulletproof and waterproof!” Lena has the decency to look a little guilty at this point, nothing big though, just a slight tug at her lips, but it was enough for Jess.

“IT TOOK ME 3 FUCKING MINUTES TO PRINT THAT GODDAMN CONTRACT WHICH MIGHT NOT SOUND LONG—” Jess raises a finger in emphasis, “BUT BELIEVE ME WORKING IN L-CORP? A 3 MINUTE DIFFERENCE CAN MEAN AN ASSASSINATION ATTEMPT OR PSYCHOPATH PRESS!”

Supegirl of all people should already know this! For fuck’s sake!

Jess’s chest is heaving. She takes a deep breath, kneads her knuckles to her eyelids, “So, please if you're gonna have sex in the office, please, pleaseeeee clear the desk first. And at least, lock the door.”

She stares them both down, till Lena gives her a solemn nod; cheeks and ears still red. Supergirl squeaks out an, “U-understood, Ma’am.”

“Good. Glad we’ve come to an agreement.” Jess gives them one final nod before finally fulfilling what she came in here to do, “Miss Luthor,” She turns to Lena, “here are the R&D blueprints. Good day, to you Supergirl. I'll be going now. "

When she finally goes home, tells her boyfriend, and wonders aloud if she’ll still have a job the next morning, he tells her she’s such a badass.

And well, Jess can’t disagree with that.

*****

"Did I just- Did I just get yelled at by your secretary?? D-did she just chew us out?"

"She did, and she deserves a raise."

#i call this fic how many commas can i use in one sentence?#i think this is by far the most crack thing ive written #poor jess #in this house we worship and praise jess the secretary and her thrity second cameo in that ONE scene #if u see a typo no u didnt #the reckless writer writes #a supercorp ficlet of sorts

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sunflowervolvimp3 · 5 years ago

Text

42 Hours

Content: an enemies to lovers au in which Harry and Y/N are forced into a cross country road trip to make it to their best friends’ wedding on time

Warnings: language, mentions of nsfw content

Pairing: Harry Styles x reader

Word Count: 20k

A/N: I actually cannot believe that this is finally being posted over almost a month of working on it!! originally, I was going to make this one long stand alone fic, but once I hit 35k with no end in sight, I decided to split it into two parts so that it would be easier to read for you guys. I’m hoping to have part 2 posted within a week, so keep an eye out for it!! this fic was partially inspired by this post by @avhrodite (thank you miss bailey!!) and can I just say that I had so much fun writing it!! I love road trips!! it makes me so sad that I had to split this fic because there are so many fun music scenes in the next part but those will all come in due time!! I would also like to give a big thank you to miss andrea @adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy and miss alex @darthstyles for putting up with me bouncing ideas off of them and for proof reading for me!! and miss andrea again for editing this stunning header pic!! also everyone I tagged is a wonderful writer and if you’re looking for more to read after reading this then I HIGHLY suggest taking a look through their masterlists. and as always, if you like this fic, please like and reblog it!! and shoot me a message!! feedback is always appreciated, not just by me, but by all content creators <3

{masterlist}

also!! if you want to set the mood for a road trip with Harry, here is a link to the playlist that is mentioned and referenced in this fic!!

When she was a little girl, Y/N’s grandmother had told her about Murphy’s Law. Grandma Sarah’s favourite activity was staring at her granddaughter over the kitchen counter, a knife in one hand and half an onion that she’d been cutting in the other, spouting various wisdoms at the young girl, who would often be sitting and peeling vegetables for her. The old lady had hoped that, after being lectured enough times on life’s difficulties, Y/N might be able to avoid making the same mistakes that she had made in her own time. She always had a list of advice that she’d cycle through, as if she were a record on a loop.

“Always look both ways before crossing the street. Your great uncle Albert didn’t, and he never regained full function of his left hand.”

“Beauty fades, but there’s no shelf life on your mind.”

“The grass is always greener on the other side, so stop staring at it, and focus on taking care of your own lawn.”

All of the advice was, by any accounts, useful for anyone to know, especially a young girl. Of course, sometimes the advice would get a little scrambled after Grandma Sarah had had a few glasses of wine, but even her tipsy thoughts were useful to Y/N in her later years. To this day, Y/N still sets a glass of water on her nightstand before going out to a bar, and her hungover self is always grateful the next morning. And Y/N had yet to find anything that smelled as sweet as a vanilla dabbed behind her ears and on her wrists when she runs out of perfume. However, perhaps the most important piece of advice Grandma Sarah ever gave her came one afternoon when Y/N was eleven years old, and her older cousin Grace was due to get married the next week.

Grandma Sarah had cracked egg after egg into her mixing bowl, always without getting any unwanted pieces of shell in the egg whites, and gave her granddaughter a long look across the kitchen counter.

“When you get married, Y/N,” She had said, voice firm. “Remember Murphy’s Law. Anything that can go wrong, will go wrong, and at the worst possible moment. When Murphy’s Law comes into play, there’s nothing you can do except roll with the punches.”

Eleven year old Y/N had nodded her head seriously, as she always did when her grandmother told her seemingly important things. The advice, despite its usefulness, however, didn’t stick around in her head, and Murphy’s Law didn’t cross Y/N’s mind for fourteen years.

It takes fourteen years for Y/N, who is standing in front of a flight check-in at LAX, two large suitcases next to her, one of which contains two gold wedding bands, passport in hand, and a distressed look on her face, to remember the law her grandmother had once told her about.

“When you get married, Y/N…anything that can go wrong, will go wrong, and at the worst possible moment.”

Taking a deep breath to calm herself, Y/N pushes the echoing words of her grandmother out of her head. “I’m sorry, just—” She gives a pained smile to the lady working the check in. “Can you explain that to me again, please?”

The lady also takes a deep breath, the smile on her ruby tinted lips just as pained as Y/N’s. “There’s a storm system moving through Utah and Colorado. These systems have the potential to become tornadoes, and because of that, the conditions for flying are too dangerous right now, so all flights through that area are grounded until further notice.”

“So my flight is cancelled?” Y/N holds up the ticket in her hand that’s stamped with LAX – JFK. “This flight, this flight to New York, which is nowhere near Utah—that’s cancelled?”

The check-in lady, whose name tag reads Brynn, gives another tight smile. “Yes, ma’am. It’s cancelled.”

“Okay, no, I’m sorry, Brynn, but that doesn’t work for me.” Y/N shakes her head fiercely as the manic rush of emotions through her begins to set in. The denial, she finds, keeps the oncoming panic at bay, and so she decides to focus on that to ground herself. “My best friend is getting married in the Catskills in one week.” Y/N holds up one finger, as if her words are hard for Brynn to understand. “That’s one week from today. I’m the maid of honour. I have to be there to help organize, keep her calm, and make sure she actually makes it down the aisle, because—between you and me—she’s got some commitment issues—” The more Y/N speaks, the more her panic begins to spill out in her words, like a dam with a leak that’s about to burst. “And she forgot the goddamn wedding rings, so I have those too, and I just—I really need to get to New York, like, now. Right now.”

Y/N finally pauses to take a sharp breath, and Brynn, who had been waiting for her to finish, speaks again, her voice flatter than before.

“I’m very sorry to hear that, ma’am, but as I said, all flights are grounded right now.”

Pinching the bridge of her nose between her fingers, Y/N takes another deep breath. Roll with the punches, her grandmother had told her. What else is there to do? “Okay.” Y/N is careful to keep her voice in check when she speaks again. “Alright. Do you know when they’ll be ungrounded?”

“As I’ve said,” Brynn’s smile is more of a grimace now, and Y/N knows that she’s treading on thin ice. “All flights are grounded until further notice. We’re not sure when we’ll be able to open them again. It could be a day, or it could be five. If you’d like, I can put you down on a list to be called when flights are available again, but I’m afraid that’s the best I can do.”

“Let’s do that, then.” Y/N relents in a tired voice, already making plans to pick up a coffee on her way back to her apartment. In the back of her mind, she begins to wonder if she has any Baileys Irish cream liqueur left in her kitchen cabinet—and if 8:30 A.M. is too early to be drinking Baileys with her coffee.

…

It takes Y/N two cups of coffee with Baileys (it had been 10 A.M. by the time she arrived home, thanks to L.A. traffic, and she had decided that 10 A.M. was a fine time to drink when one’s flight gets cancelled indefinitely) to work up the courage to call Jo and tell her that she isn’t sure if she’ll be able to make it to the wedding.

Josephine Waters, or Jo to anyone who doesn’t want to get punched in the arm, has been Y/N’s best friend since the girls were five years old. They became fast friends on the first day of kindergarten, as Jo liked how Y/N could already colour inside the lines, and Y/N liked how Jo tackled a boy who tugged on Y/N’s pigtails. From the very beginning, the two were a perfect match for each other; where Y/N was reserved, Jo was wild. Where Jo was disorganized, Y/N was focused. Each girl balanced the other in the most natural way, and it’s this fact that Y/N and Jo credit for the two of them staying friends for twenty years. As they grew up together, they grew together, taking the very best traits from the other and using it to help themselves develop. Y/N had been the first person that Jo came out to, confessing to her best friend during an eighth grade sleepover in a quiet and nervous voice. To Jo’s pleasure, Y/N had been completely supportive, and returned the favour from the first day of kindergarten by punching a boy in the nose for calling Jo a homophobic slur. Jo helped Y/N through her parent’s divorce. Y/N helped Jo manage her ADHD. Jo talked Y/N through discovering her bisexuality in university. Y/N answered every 3 A.M. phone call to comfort Jo after a panic attack. In every sense of the word, the two girls had been there for each other.

And now Y/N is going to miss Jo’s wedding.

The harsh realization digs a pit in her stomach as she opens her phone and clicks on Jo’s name. It’s noon in L.A., which means it’s 3 P.M. in New York time, and Y/N knows Jo will answer. She always does.

Sure enough, after three short rings, Jo’s voice chirps through the phone. “Hey, Y/N! Has your flight landed already?”

“No, there’s—there’s been an issue.” Y/N downs another gulp of her coffee, wishing she had added more Baileys when she had the chance, and clears her throat before continuing. “There’s, um, a storm in Utah, and apparently it’s bad, and so all flights from L.A. to New York are grounded until further notice.”

Jo makes a scoffing noise, and Y/N can practically picture the indignant look on her face that she’s seen so many times before. “That’s ridiculous. Did you tell them that New York is nowhere near Utah?”

“Uh huh.”

“What about that my wedding is in one week?”

“I told them that, too. Brynn didn’t seem to care.”

“Bitch.” Jo mutters under her breath. “Okay, just wait a second, Laure just walked through the door, so I’m putting you on speakerphone—”

Y/N hears rustling on the speaker, as well as muttering in the background as Jo speaks to her fiancée, and then Jo’s voice is back, sounding slightly more distant.

“Okay, so I told Laure what happened—”

“That’s awful, Y/N.” Laure’s voice is laced with stress, and Y/N can only imagine how much anxiety this information is adding to her already full plate. “They won’t tell you when flights will be leaving again?”

“Nope.” Y/N pulls her knees to her chest and wraps her free arm around them, leaning her head against the back of her couch.

“Okay, well, planes aren’t the only way to get here.” Laure says, always the more rational out of the two. “Maybe a car—?”

“Y/N doesn’t have one.” Jo chimes in, a hint of teasing in her voice, despite the serious problem that’s in discussion. “She’s scared of driving—”

Y/N sits up, an indignant look on her face. “I’m not scared of driving!” She says hotly, setting her empty coffee mug on the table with a thud. “I just hate L.A. traffic, and honestly, there’s no point! I can walk to work, and Uber anywhere else I need to go! A car would be completely useless to me!”

“Except now, when you’re about to miss your best friend’s wedding.” Jo points out. “What about renting one?”

Y/N sighs, her moment of indignation already fizzled out. “I tried that already. There’s nothing available for a cross country trip.”

“And the drive is so long.” Laure murmurs, and Y/N knows it’s more for Jo’s benefit than hers. “It’s over forty hours. She can’t do that by herself; it’s not safe.”

“But—”

“Look, Jo, don’t worry about this, alright?” Y/N cuts across her best friend’s anxious voice, assuming her usual role of protector. “I’ll figure this out. I promise you; I will make it to your wedding on time, looking pretty in my dress, and with your wedding bands. I promise.”

“We’ll keep thinking about it and see what we can come up with.” Laure promises through the phone, her voice sounding further and further away. “This is just—it’s a bump in the road, but it’s fine. We can work around this. We’ll find a way.”

…

The way that Laure finds for Y/N pounds on her door at 7:30 A.M. the next morning.

Y/N, like any exhausted and stressed out adult who has already begun her ten days of vacation time that she booked off for the wedding, is fast asleep in her bed when she hears the knocking. The loud noise pulls her out from her dreams abruptly, and she cracks one eye open, squinting through the sunlight that’s lighting up her room. When the knock echoes through her apartment again, she pulls herself from her sheets with a groan, grabbing her robe from the back of her door and tying it around herself as she makes her way to the front hallway to yell at whoever has the audacity to wake her up.

When she opens the door, Harry Styles is peering down at her with an irritated look on his face.

“Took you long enough, Y/N.” He rolls his eyes as he speaks, finally stepping back from the door that he had been pounding on a moment ago. “Are you ready to go?”

Y/N rubs her eyes, suppressing a yawn as she does so. “Styles, I have no idea what you’re talking about. What are you doing here?” She demands. She doesn’t have the energy to deal with him right now, she thinks, let alone the mental capacity to listen to anything he has to say.

Harry crosses his arms across his chest, and it’s then that Y/N notices the duffel bag strewn over his shoulder. “It’s a forty-two hour drive from L.A. to the Catskills.” Harry’s eyes scan over Y/N’s appearance, the very corner of his strawberry pink lips twitching, and Y/N tightens her robe around herself with a glare.

“A drive?” Y/N asks, uncertainty growing in her voice as she crosses her arm over her chest. “What are you talking about?”

“Your flight was cancelled, right?” Harry’s voice grows more impatient as Y/N’s half asleep brain struggles to piece together what’s happening. “So was mine, so I decided to drive to the wedding, and then Laure called me last night, begging me to take you with me.” He shrugs a bit, fixing his sunglasses on top of his head as his jade eyes scan over her appearance one more time. “Not my first choice of road trip partner, but I don’t think the best man can say no to bringing the maid of honour. And splitting the cost of gas will be nice.”

“Okay, wait, I…” Y/N’s finally coming out of her fog of exhaustion, and the newfound clarity of her mind is causing a newfound pit to develop in her stomach. “Laure and Jo didn’t tell me any of this.”

“Well, I expect they’re a bit busy, given that they’re getting married in a week.” Harry adjusts the strap of his duffel bag on his shoulder with a sharp sigh. “Look, are you ready to go or not? It’s over a five day drive, so we need to leave as soon as possible.”

“I—yeah—” Y/N nods before taking a hesitant step back from the doorway, positioning herself to the side so that Harry can get by her. “I just have to get dressed and grab a couple last minute things, so…come in, I guess.”

Harry flashes an insincere smile to Y/N as he steps into her apartment, his eyes darting around at the furniture and home decor. Y/N watches as his gaze lingers on her library of books, her yellow bicycle leaning against the wall, and every other little touch of herself that she likes her home to have, and she can see the judgement that’s clearly apparent in his eyes.

“You can sit, if you want.” She mutters, turning on her heel to go back to her bedroom. “I’ll only be a few minutes.”

The first thing Y/N does when she shuts her bedroom door behind herself is assess the situation in the analytical way that usually calms her. Alright. So a road trip across the country isn’t exactly ideal, and a road trip across the country with Harry Styles is even less ideal. But, at the present moment, being stuck in a car with Harry seems to be the only sure way that she’ll be able to make it to Jo’s wedding on time. And for Jo, Y/N would put up with anything. Even Harry.

As she rummages through her drawers for some leggings and a tank top, Y/N wonders what she could have possibly done to bring this much bad karma into her life. While she gets dressed, her mind flickers back to Murphy’s Law, how everything that can go wrong will go wrong, in the worst possible way, and then she thinks about being in a confined space with Harry for five days, and—yeah. That seems to be the worst possible thing she can think of.

Y/N remembers the first moment she’d met Harry seven years ago, and the unfortunate circumstances under which that meeting had happened. Jo and Laure had just barely met back then, and Jo had begged Y/N to come out on a double date with her and “this really hot girl from my women studies class who I’m, like, 83% sure swings my way.”

Y/N had groaned at that comment, flopping back on her bed in the tiny dorm that she and Jo shared. “No! I have an essay due in three days that I haven’t even started!”

Jo rolled her eyes as she flopped down on Y/N’s bed as well, ignoring her own half-made bunk that was across the small room, favouring her best friend’s bed like she always did. “We both know you’re not starting that essay until the day before it’s due, and that it’s just an excuse because you don’t want to go!”

“I don’t want to go.” Y/N had agreed with a sharp and fervent nod. She shut her laptop and pushed it to the side of her bed, knowing from experience that she wasn’t going to be able to focus and argue at the same time. “Why would I want to hang out with a complete stranger while you make googly eyes at a girl from your class?”

“Okay, first, I don’t make googly eyes.” Jo made a face at that comment, nudging Y/N’s calf with her own foot. “And second, he’s her best friend from high school, and he’s coming to visit all the way from London!”

“So? He’s still a stranger!” Y/N pointed out, her eyes drifting to the sticky note covered novel beside her. She picks it up and begins to flip through the marked pages as she speaks. “Knowing where he’s from doesn’t change that!”

“It should, because he’s only going to be here for a week, and Laure almost cancelled the date because she doesn’t want to miss spending time with him—” Jo grabbed one of Y/N’s pillows and tossed it at her arm, knocking the book from her hands. “Focus! So I said that he could come, but she said that she didn’t want him to be left out, so I said that I happen to have an incredibly beautiful and witty best friend who would be able to entertain Harry while we all hang out together.”

Y/N inhaled deeply as she gave Jo a withering look. “Did you already tell her I’m going?”

Jo, in return, gave Y/N her most dazzling smile. “Yes. We’re meeting them for dinner at 7.”

Y/N shakes herself from her memories as she runs to her bathroom to toss her toiletries back into the bag she’d taken them out of the day before, working as quickly as she can. It does her no good to think of Harry in the past, she thinks, because the present Harry is currently sitting in her living room, probably snooping through her stuff, and the longer she takes to get ready to go, the more he’ll go through. Not that there’s anything incriminating in her apartment, really—or at least, nothing incriminating in her living room. When Y/N makes it back to her bedroom, however, to quickly zip up her suitcase, she does make sure she grabs her favourite vibrator from the box under her bed, tucking it between her half-folded underwear. If she’s going to be gone for a week, she’ll need something to help her relax.

Within a few more minutes, Y/N is repacked and ready to go. Her hunter green bridesmaid dress is carefully arranged on the very top of her clothes in her suitcase, all of her makeup and toiletries are packed inside, and Jo and Laure’s wedding rings are secured in little velvet boxes stashed between her socks. As far as physical preparedness goes, Y/N is ready to go on a coast to coast road trip. As far as mental preparedness goes, however…that’s the thing that Y/N’s not quite sure about.

…

“What are you doing?”

Y/N glances at Harry from the corner of her eye, her hand still half stretched out to the radio dials in his car. Although Harry’s green eyes are hidden behind his sunglasses, and his face is turned towards the long road in front of them, he still somehow manages to catch her motions, and it irritates her to no end.

“I’m changing the radio station?” Y/N answers after a moment, giving him a puzzled look. “I don’t know why you listen to this weird oldies station, but—”

“First of all—” Harry’s hands turn the steering wheel slightly to guide his car over the curve of the road, his jaw twitching as a smirk works its way onto his pink lips. “This isn’t a radio station, it’s my Spotify playlist. I put a Bluetooth connection in Stevie a year ago. Secondly—”

“Stevie?” Y/N repeats incredulously, twisting her whole body as best she can to look at Harry straight on. “You named your car? You’re one of those guys?”

Harry finally gives Y/N a flicker of a glance, the glare obvious in his eyes even behind his dark sunglasses. He turns his attention back to the road before replying. “Secondly—” He continues from before, ignoring her comment as his right hand readjusts the gear shift. “Driver picks the music.”

Y/N makes a face, the corners of her lips pulling down into a grimace as she settles back into the passenger seat with her arms crossed. “So we’re just going to listen to ‘Tiny Dancer’ for the entire drive, are we?”

“Not the entire drive, no.” Harry flicks on his turn signal with a ringed hand before shoulder checking to change lanes. Y/N glances at him, her eyes training on the strained muscles in his neck as Harry continues. “We’ll listen to ‘Don’t Go Breaking My Heart,’ too.”

“Great.” Y/N exhales slowly and presses her head back into the seat’s headrest, closing her eyes as Elton John’s voice continues to float through the speakers. “Really looking forward to it.”

“You know, maybe you should try to sleep.” Harry says, his voice prickled with irritation as Elton John bleeds into The Zombies. “I think you’ll be in a better mood after you take a nap.”

Y/N readjusts her crossed arms as she mutters a short reply. “Don’t tell me what to do.” Still, she shuts her eyes again, twisting her body towards the window in an attempt to get comfortable enough to sleep. Being in the car with Harry is already giving her a throbbing migraine, and they’ve only been on the road for less than two hours. Sleeping through most of the trip will probably be the only way she’ll be able to survive it.

Despite that realization, however, her phone vibrates in her lap three minutes later, pulling her away from her thoughts. Y/N glances down at the now lit screen, catching her bottom lip between her teeth when she registers the name on the message. Opening her phone quickly, she reads over the reply as a guilty feeling begins to build in her stomach.

BRANT: Hey, what are you doing tonight? Want to grab some dinner?

“What’s wrong?”

“Hm?” Y/N’s head snaps back up, her eyes jerking in Harry’s direction. Like before, he’s watching her from the corner of his eye, catching every one of her movements, and the constant surveillance is annoying to no end.

Harry, it seems, is either oblivious to her annoyance, or is choosing to ignore it. “I asked what’s wrong. You have a weird look on your face.” Harry’s blunt words are accompanied by the sound of him tapping his ring covered fingers against the gear shift. “Everything alright? Is it Laure and Jo?”

“No, it’s just—” Y/N glances down at her phone again, fingers poised over her keyboard as she crafts a reply in her head. “It’s no one.”

Harry snorts once, a short and harsh sound that grates against Y/N’s nerves like nails on a chalkboard. “I don’t buy that for a second.”

“It’s no one to you.” Y/N updates her retort, turning her full attention back to her phone. “My personal life is none of your business.”

Y/N: I’m sorry, I can’t!! Caught a last minute ride to New York with somebody. Maybe once I’m back?

“Personal life, huh?” Harry clicks his tongue once, and the childish noise is even more irritating than his snort. “What, you can’t talk to me about whoever you’re shagging?”

The blunt remark hits Y/N like a shot to the chest, and she sputters for a moment as she struggles to form a response. “I—we’re not—” Taking a moment to gather herself and clear her throat quickly, Y/N avoids Harry’s gaze as her cheeks begin to burn. “We’re not like that. We’ve just…had a few dates, that’s all. There’s nothing…official.”

“You don’t need to be official to have a shag, now, do you?” Harry lifts his hand from the gear shift to fix his sunglasses, settling it back down on his jean covered thigh once he’s done. “If you don’t want to date the bloke—”

“I didn’t say that.” Y/N cuts over him, pulling herself from her embarrassment enough to give him a cold glare. “He’s very nice—”

“Boring, you mean—”

“And I—this is none of your business!” Feeling the flush of embarrassment rise back to her cheeks, Y/N once again turns her attention to her passenger seat window, avoiding Harry’s pressing gaze. “I’m done talking about this.”

Harry gives an indifferent shrug. “Whatever.” He says casually, tapping his finger against his thigh as his shoulders once again lift slightly beneath his fitted black t-shirt. “I just feel bad for the guy, that’s all.”

The comment is bait. And the thing is, Y/N knows it’s bait. She knows that the only reason Harry is saying it is to get under her skin and keep her talking about Brant, further embarrassing herself in the process. She’s been around Harry enough to know how he works, and she knows that the only reason he would say that is to bait her. She knows she shouldn’t take it. And yet—

“There’s no reason to feel bad for him.” Y/N scoffs as she fidgets with the position of her seatbelt, trying to stop the strap from cutting into her chest. “We’ve been talking for a month, and there’s nothing official happening. Just because you can’t go that long without trying to stick your dick in someone—”

“You have no idea what I can do, Y/N. Don’t pretend that you do.” Harry’s tone of voice is just as scoffing as hers, his eyes still set on the road in front of them intently as he gives his sharp response. Y/N watches as he shifts the gears of the car and speeds up, just enough to make the engine roar, but not enough to lose control of the car. Part of Y/N wistfully wishes that he would just slip up and crash the car, just so she wouldn’t have to continue this conversation.

“All I meant,” Harry continues, unaware of the dark daydreams running through Y/N’s head. “Is that I feel bad that you’re clearly not interested in him, which is proven by the fact that you haven’t wanted him in your bed.”

Irritation flares through Y/N’s body again, stronger than the embarrassment of discussing her sex life (or lack thereof) with Harry, and she half considers just grabbing the steering wheel and yanking it into a passing cliff so she can finish them off herself. “For Christ’s sake, Harry, sex isn’t the only way to—”

“I don’t mean actually having it, that’s not a given.” Harry rolls his eyes from behind his sunglasses as he slows down for a curve in the road, his practiced hands once again changing gears with ease. “You don’t have to fuck him. But you should want to, especially if you’ve had a month of dates, and you clearly don’t want to.”

Y/N doesn’t hide the incredulous stare of disbelief on her face as she turns to look at him. Harry’s face, though turned towards the road still, has a look of amusement mixed with contemplation on it, and it takes all of Y/N’s self control not to smack the expression off of him. Although there’s the ghost of a smirk on his strawberry coloured lips, his brow is furrowed behind his sunglasses, as if he’s thinking hard about the conversation between them. Normally, Y/N would be amazed that Harry is thinking hard about anything. However, given that their conversation is apparently turning into whether or not she wants to have sex with someone, Y/N’s not too thrilled about his sudden investment and serious contemplation of the topic.

Shaking her head decidedly, Y/N finally spits out a finishing phrase. “You don’t know what I want.” She says decidedly, reaching into the backseat to grab the sweater she stashed back there. She clumsily pulls it over her body without taking off her seatbelt. Harry keeps the AC cranked as high as he can, and she knows that he’ll kill her if she tries to change it. “You don’t know anything about me.”

“I know more than you think.” Harry counters, the tip of his tongue running along his bottom lip. “And I’m pretty good at reading body language. You don’t really want him. He—what’s his name?”

Despite her better judgement, Y/N answers in a flat voice. “Brant.”

The corners of Harry’s cherry lip twitches. “Brant. Yeah. It’s clear you don’t really want him, and you’re wasting your time. You’re wasting his time, too. Poor Brant.”

“Poor—you’re such an ass, you know that?” Y/N’s irritation bubbles over as she gives Harry a nasty look, her hand squeezing her thigh hard in an attempt to ground herself in their conversation. “You can try to pretend otherwise, but you don’t know anything about me, or him, so—”

“You think I’ve been friends with Laure and Jo this long and haven’t learned anything about you?” Harry cocks an eyebrow, risking a glance at her as he presses a heavier foot onto the gas. “I told you, I know more than you think, and that includes your type.”

An incredulous scoff leaves Y/N’s mouth, and she shakes her head in obvious disbelief before responding. “My type. Right. What is my type, then? What’s Brant like, exactly, since you seem to know everything?”

Harry goes quiet then, his brow furrowing again as he returns his full attention to the road. With his incessant chatter gone, the only sounds in the car being “Maps” playing quietly in the background and Harry’s ringed index and forefinger tap on the steering wheel. Y/N breathes out a long sigh of satisfaction as she relaxes back in her seat, her attention turned back to the blurred landscapes speeding by her window. Finally, she’s managed to get Harry to stop with his ridiculous assumptions—

“You like someone that’s stable and secure, so he probably works in some corporation, or an office job. Majored in business, I’d think, but has a minor in something like mathematics.” The side profile of Harry’s nose wrinkles in disgust at the thought. “He wants to work his way up in the company, but never wants to actually start anything on his own. He likes the stability of a blueprint. You’re obsessed with punctuality, so he’s probably always on time to pick you up for dates—and he has to pick you up, because you don’t drive—and your dates are never really dates. Dinners, or movies, or something like that, but they never really have that spark.” Harry’s shoulder lift slightly as he continues to make his conclusions. “Which, honestly, is probably a big reason in why you don’t want to fuck him, because as much as you like stability and safety, you also like the idea of a grand gesture, or something like that. And you probably split the bill a lot at dinner, right? Because it just seems fair, but really it’s because you know it’s not a real date. But it passes the time, and he’s nice, so it’s fine. But it’s only fine.” Harry licks his lips once more as he collects his next thoughts, his teeth catching his bottom lip just barely as his tongue retreats back into his mouth. “And he’s probably already talking about you coming to meet his family for some holiday. Not in a romantic way, but just because he likes to plan everything in advance to every minute detail. Just like you.”

Halfway through Harry’s speech, a flush had begun to creep up Y/N’s neck, continuing to warm her jaw and ears before settling on the apples of her cheeks. She keeps her eyes trained on her window and her mouth pressed into a tight line, refusing to look at Harry and give him any hint of just how shocked she is that he’s guessed so much.

Harry, however, doesn’t plan on letting her get away from his inquisition. “Well?” He impatiently prompts after a moment, and even though she’s not looking at him, she can feel him looking at her, his emerald irises burning into the back of her head. “Am I right?”

“I—” Y/N clears her throat quickly, but her voice is still strained and tight when she replies. “No.”

Harry hums low in his throat, and his voice is laced with curiosity with he replies. “Really?” The irritating tap of his fingers on the steering wheel to the beat of the music continues. “What did I get wrong?”

“He—” Y/N hates the way her skin is burning from his interrogation, how her voice shrinks smaller and smaller the more she speaks. If Harry knows her so well, then he knows how much she loves being in control, and in this situation, with Harry managing to pull every one of her most secret inner thoughts and feelings out of her without trouble, she feels anything but in control. “He has a minor in accounting, not mathematics.”

The laugh that leaves Harry’s mouth is loud and bombastic, and his whole body curves over the steering wheel as the sound rolls out of him, his eyes just barely managing to stay on the road while his sunglasses slide down his nose. “Right.” Harry says between belly laughs, his voice stretched out in amusement. “But everything else was spot on?”

Y/N keeps her stiff body turned towards the window, refusing to engage in the conversation any further. That doesn’t stop Harry, however, who fixes his sunglasses as chuckles continue to roll out of him.

“I take it back. Maybe he’s the one wasting your time.” His hand runs through his hair lazily, fixing the curled strands that had fallen into his eyes as he laughed. “I don’t blame you for not wanting to sleep with your bore of a boyfriend—”

“He’s stable!” Y/N breaks her silence to protest Harry’s words, her voice heated. “And he’s not my boyfriend. We’ve been seeing each other, but we’re not—it’s not exclusive, or—nothing serious—”

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me. It’s fine.” Harry waves off her arguments with a flick of his tattooed hand. “Besides, like you said, it’s none of my business, right?”

Y/N can practically picture what Harry looks like in this moment. His chestnut curls are probably a mess from fidgeting with them, and his cheeks are most likely rosy beneath his stubble from the peels of laughter that left his equally red lips a moment ago. Most infuriatingly of all, his dimples are probably present, making little indentations in his cheeks to show how entertaining he’s found embarrassing her. Bastard, she thinks, clenching her fists so hard that her nails dig into her palms, pressing them into her sides beneath her makeshift blanket.

She refuses to let herself confirm if her suspicions about Harry’s appearance are correct, and instead keeps her gaze on the blurred trees whipping by outside her window. “Right.” She mutters, leaning her head against the headrest as she closes her eyes. “It’s none of your business.”

…

As soon as the paint-peeled door to the motel room swings open, Y/N knows that she’s not going to be sleeping soundly tonight.

She’s not sure what her first hint should have been. Perhaps it was the half-flickering blue and red light of the Motel 6 sign that should have tipped her off, or the front-desk attendant who looked as though he was hiding a few secrets himself. When Y/N and Harry had first approached the front desk of the tiny, vaguely mildew-smelling lobby, their clothes rumpled from the drive and their attitudes just as bothered, the employee in the Motel 6 uniform had barely raised an eye at them, not bothering to look up from his computer until Y/N and Harry were directly in front of him.

“Hi.” Harry had said, his voice taking on a cautious but polite tone that, Y/N remembers thinking, she would have appreciated hearing throughout their eight hour drive that day. “We’d like two rooms, please—”

“Here.” The attendant’s gum snapped in his mouth as he reached behind himself and grabbed an old key with a flimsy blue plastic tag from a wall of empty pegs. “Queen sized bed, the first door on the left. It’ll do you two nicely.”

“Um, no.” Harry cleared his throat loudly as he gave a slight shake of his head. “We need two rooms.”

Finally, the attendant looked towards them, his eyes scanning Harry before Y/N. The latter had self consciously pulled her sweater around her, as there was something in the attendant’s eyes that had bothered her. “Don’t have two rooms. I got one room left. Everything else is booked.”

Harry had glanced at Y/N then, and she knew that his thoughts mirrored hers: there was no way that they’d share a queen bed together. No way in hell. They’d barely survived eight hours in the same cramped car without one of them driving them off a cliff. If Y/N had to share a bed with Harry, even for just one night, she’d probably end up smothering him in his sleep before the first snore left his obnoxious mouth.

“That’s really not an option.” Y/N had stepped forward then, crossing her arms around herself as the attendant’s eyes canvassed her again. “Isn’t there something—”

“Look, lady, I’m telling you what’s available.” The attendant’s eyes continued to flicker between her face and her chest, making Y/N’s skin crawl more and more with every word that fell from his gum-filled mouth. “The room might have a pull out chair—some do, but I couldn’t tell you which. Now do you want to share the room with him or not? If you don’t want to share, then I could try to find something else for just you—”

Before Y/N had the opportunity to respond to the lewd suggestion, Harry was already stepping forward, his body angling protectively in front of her own. She watched from behind as his broad shoulders squared beneath his black t-shirt, his shoulder blades flexing as he straightened up to his full height. When Harry answered, his voice was just as firm as it was dark, lacking its previous polite tone.

“We’ll take the room.” He had said coldly, reaching into his back pocket to pull out his wallet before tossing a few bills on the front desk. “Thanks for the help.”

Yes, Y/N thinks, all of that should have been a sign for the state of the motel room that they now find themselves standing inside.

The same mildew smell from the lobby surrounds them, permeating through every inch of air that Y/N breathes in. Dust seems to coat every surface as well, with thick layers of it covering the decades old TV and stand, the small coffee table, and the ledge of the window to her right. To her relief, there is a small arm chair in the corner, which must be the pull out that the attendant had mentioned. However, her relief is short lived when she sees the ratty beige comforter on the bed, and wonders if maybe sleeping in Harry’s car, which she had sworn to him that she didn’t want to do, might have been the better choice.

Harry shuts the door behind them with a firm thud, turning the deadbolt lock before attaching the chain from the door to the door frame. “Let’s keep that locked, yeah?” He mutters, walking to the window and making sure the beige curtains—everything in the room is a sea of beige, like some sort of khaki coloured nightmare—are pulled closed tightly. “I don’t trust that front-desk prick not to sneak in here.”

Y/N nods, fixing the strap of her duffel bag with her overnight clothes on her shoulder. She’s not quite sure where to set it down, as everything around them seems to have been sitting stagnant and uncleaned for a while. “Yeah. Thanks, by the way. For that.”

Harry acknowledges her thanks with a small grunt, barely lifting his head to look at her. “You don’t need to thank me.”

Despite her gratitude for his actions, Y/N can’t stop herself from rolling her eyes at his gruff response. “Jesus, can you not just say you’re welcome?”

Harry chooses to ignore her comment, and instead sets his bag down on the arm chair, unzipping it roughly. “You can take the bed.” He says simply, tossing his sunglasses into his bag before pulling out a small bag filled with what Y/N assumes are toiletries. “I’ll take the pullout.”

“Fine.” Y/N reluctantly sets her own bag down on the creaking bed, pulling back the covers to check for anything unsightly. To her relief, the interior of the bed looks cleaner than the exterior, and she returns the covers to their previous position before grabbing her phone charger from her duffel.

Harry glances at her as she gingerly sits on the bed and plugs her phone into the wall. “I’m going to shower.” He says slowly, as if gauging her reaction to the simple phrase. “Do you, um, need in there, or—?”

“Nope.” Y/N shakes her head, her cheeks flushing slightly as she checks her messages. “You’re good.” She keeps her eyes glued to her phone until she hears the click of the bathroom door behind Harry, signalling that she’s alone.

Taking advantage of what she knows will be a rare moment of solitude over the next week, Y/N changes from her tank top and leggings into her pajamas, wishing that her past self had realized how likely it would be that she’d be sharing a room with Harry. She’d brought exactly two pairs of pajamas with her on the trip, and neither pairs were something she wanted Harry to see her in. The first pair, a baby pink silk set she’d bought on a whim from her favourite lingerie shop, is eliminated before Y/N even considers them, leaving her with just her usual casual pajamas. Unfortunately, Y/N’s usual casual pajamas consist of an old sports bra that she’d had since moving to L.A., and a pair of men’s boxers that she stole from an ex in college. Still, despite her hesitancy, she knows that plaid boxers and a faded grey sports bra are better than pink silk and lace, and she changes into them quickly before sitting cross-legged on the bed and dialing Jo’s number.

Jo, like she usually does, answers on the third ring, her voice extra chipper to compensate for the verbal lecture that she knows is coming. “Hey, Y/N! How was driving today?”

“It would have been better if I’d known Harry was driving.” Y/N sighs, rubbing her palm over the cold skin of her exposed thigh. “Shouldn’t I have been informed of that decision?”

“It completely slipped my mind, actually.” Jo says casually, and Y/N can just picture her leaning her chin into her palm. “How was the first day? Are you calling to ask me to help bury his body in the desert? Because, like, you know I would in a heart beat, but I think it may put a damper on mine and Laure’s nuptials if my best friend murders her best friend.”

“No one’s been murdered. Yet.” Y/N glances at the bathroom door, the sound of the shower echoing through the vents and into the bedroom. “Although a ‘help me hide the body’ phone call may be coming soon.”

“Uh oh.” Y/N hears something crackling against the speaker, and pictures Jo shifting the phone from one ear to the other. “Is it that bad?”

Y/N pinches the bridge of her nose as she contemplates the easiest way to answer Jo’s question. “He’s such an irritating ass. He really is.” She lowers her voice, but only slightly. If Harry’s eavesdropping, she thinks, then let him hear. It would serve him right. “He wanted to pick a fight over every little thing, and he’s so particular about his car—did you know he named it? He named it, Jo. He talks about it like it’s a person!”

A loud sigh echoes through the speaker. “That’s really not that weird, you know.” Jo replies in her best peace keeping voice. “And, by the way, did you know that you’re really the only person who finds Harry irritating? Laure adores him, and I really like him, and everyone who meets him thinks he’s very thoughtful!”

“Then they haven’t been trapped in a car with him and his playlists for eight hours.” Y/N begins to tap her fingers against her knee in a quick staccato pattern. “He practically interrogated me about Brant today, as if he has any clue about the people I date.”

“Did he?” There’s a trace of curiosity in Jo’s voice now, and Y/N can imagine her leaning forward in interest. “What did he say?”

“He said he thinks he’s boring.” Twisting a lock of her hair behind her ear as she speaks, Y/N leaves her hand resting against her cheek. “He was rude about it, too. I didn’t ask for his opinion.”

“Well, honestly, Y/N…” Jo’s curiosity twists into hesitation. “Brant isn’t exactly the most thrilling person. You know that.”

Y/N tugs her bottom lip between her teeth, her cheeks flushing for what seems to be the millionth time that day. “I’m aware of that. But he didn’t need to be so smug about it!”

“Okay, well, what’s done is done.” Jo says as she takes on her mediator persona once again. “So there’s nothing else to do now except go to sleep, get back in the car tomorrow, and continue driving.”

The sound of the shower stream cuts off, leaving just the pitter patter of rain beginning to hit the roof of the motel as ambiant noise. “I guess.” Y/N mumbles, fidgeting with the waistband of her bra. “I’ll talk to you later. Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

After the line clicks dead, Y/N flops back on the squeaking mattress and begins to scroll through her phone, opening her work email to check if everything is running okay back home while she’s gone. On top of all this, the last thing she needs is for her work to completely blow up in her absence. Within minutes, Y/N becomes so engrossed in her phone that she doesn’t even notice the bathroom door creaking open and Harry walking out with just a towel around his waist.

Until she looks up, and then her mind goes completely blank.

Immediately, Y/N feels overstimulated. There’s just…so much going on that she doesn’t even know where to look first, let alone have the ability to remind herself that she shouldn’t even be looking at Harry like this in the first place.

Harry’s curls are soaking wet, curling down around his flushed cheeks in a way that, if it were anyone else, she’d immediately describe as attractive. Droplets of water are clinging to every inch of his skin, his toned and tanned and tattooed skin, that seems to continue forever as her eyes travel down his bare chest, noticing every curve of his muscle. His jade cross, which is almost the exact shade of his eyes, sits between his pronounced pectoral muscles, moving ever so slightly with each step he takes. Y/N notices tattoos she’s never seen before, like the giant butterfly across his toned stomach, and—her mind goes blank for just a moment—two vines that are tattooed over his prominent pelvic muscles, which just barely dip beneath the white towel that’s wrapped loosely around his hips.

As Y/N’s eyes glue themselves to the way Harry’s towel is moving as he walks, arousal begins to pool in her stomach, travelling all the way down to her core and back again. For a split second, she thinks that maybe Harry is right. Maybe she doesn’t want to fuck Brant, because she knows for certain that she’s never thought about him the way she’s thinking about Harry in this moment.

But it’s Harry, she reminds herself, as she tries to force herself to snap her gaping mouth closed. Underneath all those muscles and tattoos—and there are a lot of muscles and tattoos—it’s Harry, who annoys her to no end, who is one of the most self-absorbed individuals she’s ever met, and who has had it out for her since the day they met.

“Sorry.” Harry’s low accent snaps Y/N from her thoughts and pulls her wandering eyes back to his face. “Forgot my clothes out here.”

“It’s—” Y/N’s voice cracks in the middle of the word, still hyper-focused on just how it’s possible for one person to be as attractive as they are irritating, and she clears her throat before trying to speak again. “It’s fine.”

If Harry notices the slip in Y/N’s voice, he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he just walks to his open bag, locking one hand firmly over his towel as the other searches through his clothes. He pulls out a t-shirt and a pair of shorts, examining them for just a moment before nodding in satisfaction and heading back to the bathroom. Y/N almost swears that she sees him glance at her one last time before he shuts the door, but then she gets lost in the taut muscles of his back, and forgets what she’s thinking entirely.

She’s only just begun to contemplate that maybe she should pull herself together when the door opens again, and Harry exits the bathroom in a way that’s a little more presentable. His hair is still damp, but his body is dry, proven by the faded Rolling Stones t-shirt that’s now clinging to his arms and the boxers that are hanging low on his hips. His tattooed hips. His incredibly sexy tattooed hips that could probably—

“What are you wearing?” Harry asks, raising an eyebrow at her as he moves his bag from the chair to the ground. He begins to unfold the bed from the armchair cushions to reveal a creaking twin bed, carefully stretching it out as he waits for an answer.

“I—pajamas.” Y/N glances down at herself self consciously, fixing the strap of her sports bra as she does so. “I just—I didn’t think we’d be sharing a room, so…”

Harry nods tersely as he finishes setting up the bed, his expression unreadable while he walks to the closet and grabs a set of sheets and a blanket. “Cute boxers.” He says casually. “Are they Brant’s?”

Within a flash, the intense rush of attraction and desire Y/N had been feeling is gone, and is instead replaced by the familiar irritation as she watches a smirk grow in the very corner of Harry’s mouth. “No.” She says flatly, turning her attention back to her phone.

“Interesting.” Harry says slowly, laying the sheets and blanket on the bed in a haphazard manner. “Whose are they, then?”

Y/N gets up from the bed and grabs her toiletry bag from her duffel before answering. “An ex.” She says shortly, tucking the patterned bag under her arm. “And why does it matter to you?”

The sound of the rain against the roof and windows gets louder and louder as they speak, and Harry raises his voice to be heard over the precipitation. “It doesn’t.” He shrugs as he maneuvers his lanky body under the blanket without causing the bed to fold in on itself. “Just curious, that’s all.”

“Well, you don’t need to be curious.” Y/N opens the bathroom door, sparing one last withering glance at Harry over her shoulder. He’s sitting up on the bed with one leg hanging out from beneath the covers as one hand plays with his hair, the other fiddles with a ring on his finger, and the way he looks at her from the corner of his eye lights a fire in Y/N’s chest. Except she can’t tell if it’s a fire of anger or arousal.

When she slams the door behind her, it’s her own confusion over that distinction that frustrates her more than anything else.

…

“Took you long enough.” Harry scoffs while leaning against the side of his car, his white t-shirt a contrast to the dust covered body of the black Chevy Impala. His dark sunglasses are perched on top of his head, keeping his unruly curls out of his eyes, while his arms are crossed over his chest impatiently as he waits for an answer. “I dropped off the keys ten minutes ago.”

By way of explanation, Y/N holds up the cardboard drink tray in her hands, a brown bag balancing in between the two coffee cups. “I was getting us breakfast, Styles. Calm down.” She walks to the passenger side of the car, opening the door and climbing in one handed. “I figured you’d be even crabbier hungry.”

“You mean you’d be crabbier without caffeine.” Harry retorts, climbing into the driver’s side in one smooth motion. “Here—” He takes the tray from her so she can buckle her seatbelt, carefully removing the two coffees and setting them in the cup holders between them. “Just be careful not to spill anything.”

Y/N rolls her eyes as she picks up the coffee closest to her (she’d gotten them both black). “Why? Worried about me ruining Stevie?”

Harry reaches into his pocket, pulling out his keys as he gives her an irritated look. “Yes, actually. I’ve put a lot of work into her.” The car roars to life as Harry turns the key in the ignition, buckling his own seat as the motor warms up. “Adding on two thousand miles to her in five days is already worrisome enough, and that’s not even counting the other two thousand she’ll get on the way back.”

Y/N doesn’t respond to the comment, and instead lets the sound of Harry’s playlist fill the silence of the car as Harry peels out of the Motel 6 parking lot. She’ll be glad to leave that place behind, she thinks, and focus on finding something better—and more private—for tonight, wherever they end up.

Harry, however, doesn’t seem content with letting silence fall between them. “How did you sleep last night?” He asks after a few moments, one hand on the steering wheel as he takes a sip of his coffee.

Glancing at him from the corner of her eye suspiciously, Y/N reaches into the paper bag and grabs her Danish, taking a small bite before answering. “Not great.”

“Was the bed bad?” Harry asks curiously, his brow furrowing while his eyes stay glued to the road, moving only to glance at the occasion sign directing him back to the highway. “The pull out wasn’t great, but I’ve slept on worse. I would’ve thought the bed would be better than that.”

“No, it—I mean, the bed wasn’t amazing, but it—” Y/N clears her throat and swallows the bite of pastry in her mouth. “I, uh, I don’t sleep well when it’s raining.”

At this new information, Harry’s eyebrow quirks up, and he risks a look in her direction to attempt to read her face. Y/N’s own eyes are focused on the Danish in her hands, refusing to meet his gaze as she lifts the pastry to her mouth to take another bite.

“You don’t?” Harry asks after a moment, the confusion in his voice almost visible within the space between them. “But it’s like white noise, isn’t it? Supposed to be relaxing, and all that.”

Y/N gives a half shrug of her shoulders. “It’s—well, it’s not the rain, exactly, just—what it’s usually paired with.” Y/N hopes that her clear hesitancy to answer will be enough of a signal to Harry for him to drop the subject. Harry, however, doesn’t seem to pick up on the reluctance in Y/N’s voice; or, at least, he doesn’t care enough to acknowledge it.

“What do you mean, what it’s paired with?” Harry takes a small sip of his own coffee, careful of the temperature of the liquid. “Like…wind, or—?”

Y/N debates back and forth with herself internally, but she knows that Harry won’t drop the subject without getting a satisfying answer. “Thunder.” She answers finally, setting her coffee down in her cup holder before turning her gaze towards her window. “I don’t like thunderstorms, ever since I was a little kid, and when it’s raining, it always feels like thunder is around the corner. Puts me on edge, like I’m waiting for it. And I can’t sleep.”

“So you never sleep when it rains?” Harry asks slowly, and the tone of incredulous disbelief in Harry’s voice is enough for Y/N to be able to imagine the expression on his face. His forest green eyes wide, strawberry pink lips agape, brow furrowed in confusion, his jaw slack as he contemplates a response to a grown woman admitting that she’s afraid of thunder. The image in her head is enough to make the back of her neck flush.

There’s a tightness in the back of her throat, and Y/N attempts to clear it again before answering. “Never.”

“Huh.” Harry taps his fingers against the gear shift in succession three times. “You’d hate London, then.”

The casual comment catches Y/N by surprise, but she doesn’t allow herself to lower her guard. “That’s why I don’t live in London.” She mumbles the words as her fingers pick at the napkin wrapped around her Danish. “I picked L.A. for a reason. It has lots of heat, barely any rain, and I’m reasonably close to Disneyland whenever I feel like I need something magical.” The last part slips out without Y/N thinking, and the flush creeps further up her neck as a surprised laugh leaves Harry’s mouth.

“Something magical?” Harry repeats, new crinkles appearing next to his eyes as he laughs, as if the dimples that crease his cheeks aren’t proof of his amusement enough. “Do you frequently feel like you need something magical?”

It’s Y/N’s turn to give an incredulous look now, her body half twisting towards Harry to observe his confusing reactions. “How did I just admit that I’m afraid of thunder, and the thing you’re focusing on is that I like Disney?”

Harry shrugs at her words, flicking on his turn signal to exit towards the highway. “I don’t know.” He says as he peers over his shoulder to check for oncoming cars. “I mean, everyone has fears. Not liking thunder isn’t exactly uncommon, you know. However, hearing that Ms. Serious Type A Perfectionist likes magic—” His grin grows bigger by the second. “Now that’s surprising.”

“Oh, shut up.” Y/N mutters, finishing her Danish in a few more bites. She waits until she’s entirely finished chewing before continuing the conversation over the voice of Billy Joel coming through the speakers. “Since I’ve admitted something I’m afraid of…” She starts, glancing at Harry from the corner of her eye. “I think it’s only fair that you admit something, too.”

Harry snorts in response, his hand freezing its movement with his coffee cup still half lifted to his lips. “Is that so?”

“Mhmm.” Y/N hums as she slips off her shoes in order to pull her legs beneath her to fold into a cross-legged position on the car seat. “Not so much fun when it’s your turn, huh? C’mon, what’s the Brit scared of? Not enough biscuits for afternoon tea?”

A short and harsh breath of air leaves Harry’s nose, half a snort as he sets his coffee down in his cupholder. “No, actually, diminishing biscuit levels are a low level fear for me.”

“Then what’s a higher one?” Y/N prods, watching as Harry’s neck muscles tense as he shoulder checks to change lanes. There’s something about the movement that catches her eye, but she can’t quite figure out why—or rather, she can, but she’d rather pretend that she’s unaware.

“Uh…” Harry’s fingers nimbly switch on his turn signal before he transitions to the left lane, his right hand moving the gear shift to its desired place. “Crowds. I’m not a fan of big crowds, really. Like when everyone’s pressed together, so tight that you can’t breathe, and you can’t hear yourself think because it’s so loud…yeah. I don’t like that.”

The simple answer surprises Y/N as much as she imagines her answer surprised Harry. “Crowds?” She repeats back to him, a forgotten memory of long gone conversations coming to the forefront of her mind. “But what about, like, concerts and stuff? Laure always told me when she’d go to shows with you…”

“That’s different.” Harry shrugs as one of his ringed hands comes to his lips, rubbing over them slowly as he contemplates his next words. “I…When I’m at concerts, I always go with someone, and if we’re in the general seating area, where there’s a lot of people, I always stick with them. Like, sometimes, if it’s getting crowded, or people are pushing, Laure will hold my hand, so…” Redness begins to creep up Harry’s pale neck, staining the tops of his ears a deep berry colour as he trails off.

Not for the first time since their conversation began, Y/N is surprised at how candid they’re being with each other. As she watches Harry’s blush grow, she feels her own diminish, a physical representation of her trading her embarrassment for something more empathetic.

“I get it.” Y/N says after a moment, once it’s clear that Harry isn’t going to continue. “When there’s thunderstorms, um, I feel better when I’m with someone, or talking to someone. It makes me feel less…”

“Alone?” Harry finishes for her, his eyes flickering from the road to her profile. His green irises capture hers for longer than they should, his focus completely gone from the stretch of highway for at least five seconds before Harry’s attention turns back to driving. “Yeah.” He says slowly, pulling his sunglasses down from his hair to hide his eyes. “Yeah, less alone. It helps.”

Y/N nods slowly, unable to look away from Harry’s side profile. It’s apparent that he’s on edge after their conversation, and she knows her body language is the same. Tight in the shoulders, hands clenched, back rigidly straight. And yet, seeing her own body language reflected in front of her bothers her. Part of her wants to reach out and take Harry’s hand, soothe him like Laure does in the crowd of a concert, but she knows that’s ridiculous. It’s ridiculous, and it’s Harry, and Harry, of all people, does not need her comfort. Not in the slightest.

She watches as Harry clenches his fist on top of his thigh.

…

“Is this really necessary?” Y/N asks, slamming her car door shut as Harry does the same on the other side of the vehicle. She leans over the roof of the car, crossing her arms on the cool metal as she tilts her head to the side in an inquisitive manner. The clouds in the sky are getting darker by the minute, signalling the beginning of the storm that canceled her flight, and the angry black colour above their heads is making Y/N anxious.

Harry, however, seems unbothered by the gathering storm, and nods tersely as he pushes his sunglasses up onto his head before opening the door to the backseat and grabbing his army green jacket. “Of course it’s necessary.” He says, slipping the jacket over his broad shoulders before slamming the door shut and locking the car. “I’ve never been to Utah before. I want a souvenir.”

“Okay, but—” Y/N follows Harry as he walks towards the dilapidated building in front of them. “Here? Really? Does this seem like the best place?”

Harry glances at her over his shoulder at her, pausing his long strides to look up at the building he spotted from the highway. If the chipped grey paint that was once pastel blue and dust-coated windows are any sign, the structure is probably older than Harry and Y/N combined, with a splintered front porch wrapping around its small perimeter. The building has one faded sign above the door that reads “SOUVENIRS/SNACKS” in hand-painted capital letters, and seems to be hanging onto the outside façade by three small bolts and sheer willpower. Y/N’s almost certain that she’s seen this exact building in a horror movie before someone gets murdered, and while getting back into the car with Harry isn’t at the top of her list of wants, it’s certainly preferable to getting stabbed to death by a serial killer.

“It’s fine, Y/N.” Harry waves off her concern without a second thought about the appearance of the shop. “If you’re really bothered, you can wait in the car.”

Y/N considers it for a moment, but decides against it. She needs to stretch her legs, and honestly, Harry seems too trusting. He probably wouldn’t be able to tell if someone was sketchy until their knife was in his back. And, seeing as how he has the keys to the only getaway car available, Y/N kind of needs him around without a stab wound carved into his flesh.

“Let’s just get this over with.” She sighs, pulling her own jacket around her tighter as she steps over the worn wooden steps to the door. “We’re on a schedule.”

When Harry pushes open the door, the smell of stale air hits Y/N before anything else. Despite one open window and a fan in the corner of the shop that’s being used in a weak attempt to circulate the air, it feels like nothing fresh has been in the shop for a while. Y/N shoots a glance at Harry, caution and warning written all over her face.

While Harry sees her glance, he waves off her concern, turning his attention to the few shelves and wire racks around the small shop that are lined with inventory. Within a few moments, he’s entertaining himself in the post card section, comparing different photos of the Utah landscape to each other with great care and concern. Y/N observes him for a few moments before wandering off on her own towards the snack section of the shop. Although there are a few items that she thinks about picking up, the thick layer of dust over the packaging puts her off from purchasing them. She grimaces as she continues walking, stopping in front of a tower of silver key chains in the back corner of the shop. Most of them, she finds, are crosses and bible verses, and all of them give her an ominous feeling in her stomach. Y/N runs her finger over a miniature silver version of the Ten Commandments, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth as she does so.

“I think we should go, Harry.” She calls to him without turning around, setting the key chain back down on the rack carefully. “Just pick your post card and—Harry?”

When Y/N turns around, Harry’s broad figure is nowhere to be seen. She walks back over to the post card section slowly, her brow furrowed with confusion as a knot tightens in her stomach. Where could he be? She wonders, running her hand along the dusty wire rack in front of her. It’s not like there’s anywhere for him to go in the small shop, and she would have heard if he left, or if he drove away.

“Harry?” She calls again, her steps slower now as worry fills her voice. “Where did you—fuck—!” Y/N screams as something grabs her from behind, its fingers digging into her sides harshly. She whips around to find Harry standing over her, loud outbursts of laughter spilling from his strawberry pink mouth at the look on her face.

An indignant flush rushes over Y/N’s face. “You’re such an ass!” She hisses, gripping his shoulders and shoving his laughing frame away from her. “I swear, you’re like a five year old—”

“Did I worry you?” Harry snickers between his words, a wicked look of mischief alight in his dark green eyes. “Were you afraid something happened to me?”

Y/N’s cheeks burn with anger as she turns away from him, crossing her arms defiantly. “No. I wish something had happened to you. Then I wouldn’t have to deal with your immature antics.”

Harry’s lips stay quirked up in a smirk as he follows her, his voice falling into a singsong tone. “You were worried.” He insists, chuckles still rolling out of him every few moments. “I could tell.”

“Oh, fuck off.” Y/N snaps at him in an irritated voice. “Just pay for your stupid post card and let’s go.”

“I already did. There’s a sign on the desk saying the clerk is out for lunch, so I left some money.” Harry nods to the small desk in the corner with a few dollars left tucked under the dusty service bell. “I think that’ll cover it, yeah?”

“Whatever.” Y/N can’t resist shoving Harry one last time before walking towards the shop door. “That’s enough. Let’s go. I want to make it to the motel before the storm hits.”

…

The nice thing about Grand Junction, Colorado, Y/N realizes, is that their motels have multiple single rooms available on short notice. While she didn’t realize the importance of this fact before this trip started, having an evening of solitude and her own stable space away from Harry for the first time in two days is nothing short of a blessing.

When she gets inside her private motel room, which, while still shabby, is leagues above their previous motel, Y/N locks the door before breathing a sigh of relief. Just the silence in the room is wonderful, and even though she knows Harry is right next door, having a wall between them is a luxury that she doesn’t take for granted. When she showers, she doesn’t have to worry about being quick, or toweling off as fast as she can so she can get dressed inside the bathroom without Harry seeing. There’s no need to worry about anyone hearing Y/N sing quietly to herself under the (albeit weak) stream of the shower, nor is there an uncomfortable stick of her sports bra to her back caused by water droplets that she couldn’t reach in her hurry to dry off. And after her shower, with some of the knots from her back finally worked out, Y/N is able to stretch out on the double bed in the center of the room, her phone in her hand as she reaches for the takeout menus stacked on the bedside table. She peruses the menus available before settling on Chinese takeout, and within five minutes, her order of a two entrée plate and fried rice is on its way.

Y/N sighs gently as she leans back on the pillows, wishing that she and Harry had stopped at a liquor store before coming to the motel. She knows she could probably walk to one, but now that she’s showered and comfortable, the last thing she wants to do is wander around Grand Junction until she finds a bottle of Moscato. Instead, Y/N flicks on the TV with a click of the ancient remote, and begins scrolling through the channels until she finds a rerun of Dirty Dancing that’s just starting.

An amused yet wry smile appears on Y/N’s lips. It’s this movie’s fault that she and Harry are on an impromptu road trip, really. Jo and Laure both loved it, and were insistent that they had to get married at a resort in the Catskills similar to one from the film. As her two friends cross her mind, Y/N settles into the sheets as Baby begins her narration, contemplating whether or not she should call Jo to check in. Just as the thought pops into her head, however, the phone rings.

Y/N answers within a moment, not bothering to check the caller ID. She and Jo had a strange habit of calling each other the moment the other thought of it, and when she raises her phone to her ear, she expects to hear her best friend’s familiar voice reply. “Hello?”

What voice she actually hears, however, surprises her. “Hey, Y/N. I’m glad I got through.” Brant says easily, his voice crackling slightly through the speaker. “How are you?”

“Brant!” Y/N jerks up in bed in surprise, the remote falling from its perch on her stomach onto the sheets. “I—I’m fine. How are you?”

“Oh, alright. Just busy with work, but that’s the usual.” Y/N can practically picture the neutral expression on his face, and how he’d shrug his shoulders as he speaks. “How’s the road trip? I can’t imagine driving for as long as you have to drive.”

“It’s…it’s alright, yeah.” Y/N speaks slowly as she puts her phone on speaker, balancing it on her knee while her hands begin to fidget with her rings. “Long, but not too bad.”

“Well, that’s good.” Brant clears his throat thickly, as if what he’s about to say makes him uncomfortable. “I miss you, though. And our weekly dinners.”

A feeling of guilt washes over Y/N. Truthfully, besides Harry’s inquisition on the first day of driving, Brant has barely crossed her mind. Granted, he isn’t usually at the forefront of her mind while she’s in L.A., either, but for the last few days, her thoughts have been constantly consumed by the stress of making it to the wedding and her annoyance and frustration with Harry.

“Y/N?” Brant’s voice crackles through her speaker again. “Are you there?

“I—yeah.” She says quickly, pulling herself from her thoughts. “Sorry, just—long day. I’m tired.”

“I can imagine.” Brant says sympathetically, but there’s something in his tone that almost sounds patronizing. “Who are you driving with? Have you been taking turns?”

Y/N pauses the fidgeting of her rings before snatching her phone from its balanced place on her knee. She quickly opens her messages and scrolls to her thread with Brant, searching through the text bubbles for a reminder of what she’d said to him. Had she not told him that she was traveling with Harry?

Within a moment, Y/N confirms that she hadn’t. All she had said was that she was getting a ride with someone. Why had she done that, she wonders? She’s sure she’s mentioned Harry in passing to Brant at least once. When she talked about the wedding, probably. As she thinks about it more, however…what had she told Brant about the wedding? About Jo? How much does he actually know about her personal life? Most of their dinner conversations revolve around work, or some book both of them have read. Had the topic ever come up in detail?

“I’m, um, I’m driving with one of Laure’s friends.” Y/N brings the phone closer to her mouth as her other hand works its way to her mouth. She begins to chew on a hangnail absentmindedly between her words, something she always does when her nerves begin to get to her. She can’t count the number of times Jo has grasped her wrist and pulled her hand from her mouth to chastise her about the habit. “We’re…we’re in Colorado now.”

“Oh, Colorado. That’s nice.” Brant says over the rustling of papers. “Listen, Y/N, I’ve got some work to get back to, but I’m glad we had this talk. I’ll call you again soon.”

“Uh, yeah. Sure. I’ll talk to you later.” Y/N nods, and then the line goes dead. Out of curiosity, Y/N checks the length of the call. The time 3:09 blinks back at her.

Tossing her phone back down on the covers, Y/N resumes her relaxed position in bed, despite being anything but relaxed after that phone call. She should feel guilty, she thinks, for not telling Brant about Harry. But then again, what’s there to tell? She said she was getting a ride with one of Laure’s friends, and that’s true. She hadn’t lied. And even if Brant did know that the friend is Harry, why would he care? It’s just Harry. There’s no reason for Brant to be alarmed, because there’s nothing going on. And she and Brant…Y/N glances down at the call time again. Things are different between them. There’s…they’re comfortable as they are, she thinks. They’re not dating, and they’re comfortable like that. So there’s no reason to tell him about Harry, because there’s nothing to tell. Nothing at all.

Y/N refocuses on the TV screen, where Patrick Swayze is dancing in a tight black tank top. Right. Nothing to tell.

…

When Y/N leaves her motel room the next morning with her bag over her shoulder, Harry is already waiting by his car, leaning against the dusty black body with two coffee cups in his hands. He’s dressed in another black t-shirt (Y/N wonders just how many identical copies of the same shirt Harry has) with usual jeans covering his long legs. His curls are tied out of his face with a dark green bandana, and Y/N knows that if his eyes weren’t covered with his black sunglasses, the bandana would make them even brighter than they usually are.

“Hey.” Harry calls to her, extending a ringed hand that holds a coffee cup towards her as she walks over. “I got the coffee this morning. You drink it black, right?”

Y/N nods as she takes the cup from him, careful not to brush over his fingers with her own. “Yeah. Thanks.”

“No problem.” Harry crosses around to the back of the car, opening the trunk with a turn of his key. “Here.” Harry holds out his free hand for Y/N’s bag, taking it from her and setting it down on top of the suitcases in the back. “I got it.”

Y/N regards Harry with a bemused look as she wraps both hands around her coffee cup. “Thanks?” She says again, more questioning this time as she looks at him strangely. “I can do that myself, you know.”

“I know. I’m just trying to be polite.” Harry’s voice takes on its usual bite like he’s flipping a switch. “Is that alright with you, princess?”

Within a second, the familiar irritation with Harry returns to Y/N, and it’s almost comforting to snap back at him in a testy voice. “Don’t call me that.”

Harry snickers under his breath, and although the sound makes Y/N’s annoyance grow, she detects a different tone in it than a few days before. Before she can place a finger on why it sounds different, however, Harry is climbing into the driver’s side of the car and starting the engine.

The two of them are silent as Harry finds his way back to the highway, and they stay in that silence for the first few hours of that day’s leg of the trip. As the third hour begins to pass, Y/N is content listening to the throaty and captivating voice of Stevie Nicks fill the cab of the car. By the second chorus of the song, Y/N is humming along quietly, her foot tapping to the same beat that Harry’s fingers are spelling out against the steering wheel. It’s comfortable, she thinks after a moment. The silence between them. It feels different than it did on their first day, when Y/N was questioning her choice to get into a car with Harry and commit to a 42 hour drive. The silence seems to be fueled more by comfort than tension. It’s…refreshing.

A memory from the first day ignites in the back of her mind, a spark so bright and obvious that she can’t believe it took her so long to see it. “Stevie.” Y/N says suddenly, turning to Harry as a smile spreads over her face. “You named your car Stevie, as in Stevie Nicks?”

Harry laughs, his shoulders moving up and down beneath his black t-shirt from the motion. One hand lifts from the steering wheel and points a finger gun at her. “Took you long enough. I was wondering how many days you’d have to listen to my music to get it.”

Y/N gives his hand a light shove. “I was too distracted by the fact that you named your car.” She rolls her eyes, bringing her bottle of water to her lips for a short sip. “I still think it’s weird.”

“It gives her character.” Harry defends himself as he rubs a hand over the steering wheel absentmindedly. Y/N can see the mirth swirling around in his light irises. “A bit of personality. Just because you don’t value personalities doesn’t mean anyone else doesn’t.”

“I don’t value personalities?” Turning in her seat to stare at Harry head on, Y/N raises an eyebrow in question. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just your taste in men, that’s all.” Harry says it casually, like it really can just be a “that’s all” type of sentence.

Within a heart beat, the comfortable atmosphere in the car turns to ice as Y/N straightens in her seat, her spine tense, tightening every nerve in her body along with it. “What the fuck does that mean?”

When Harry glances at her again, his eyes darken, his guard going up as he senses the shift in Y/N’s tone. “Nothing, just…motel rooms have thin walls.” Harry mumbles, having the decency to keep his eyes on the road as his ears redden slightly. “And from what I overheard, Brant doesn’t exactly seem…stimulating.”

Y/N sputters indignantly for a moment, unable to form a coherent response as anger rises in her chest. “You—” She sucks in a quick breath that hits the back of her throat harshly. “You eavesdropped on me?”

Harry licks his lips once, clearing his throat once before answering. The tapping of his fingers against the steering wheel has resumed, his nervousness apparent in his movements as well as his facial expressions. “Not on purpose. I told you, the walls were thin.”

“So put in head phones!” Y/N exclaims, gripping her water bottle so tight that her fingers begin to strain in protest against the metal exterior. She has half a mind to throw the bottle at Harry in her anger, barely able to talk herself down from the ledge of the idea.

Harry’s posture shifts in his seat as his shoulders square, and Y/N can practically see his defensive side emerge from within his chest. “It’s not like you two were having phone sex.” He rolls his eyes at the idea. “It was the most boring conversation in the world, and lasted, what, three minutes? Makes you wonder how long he lasts in other ways, doesn’t it?”

“Stop the car.” Y/N’s voice is low and void of emotion as she replies, her body turned back forward in her seat.

“Am I wrong? It’s not like you know for sure—”

Anger bubbles over in Y/N’s chest, cancelling out any rational thought she has inside her and leaving pure, unadulterated fury. “Stop the car, Harry! Now!”

Harry half jumps in his seat when Y/N yells, and he quickly jerks the car to the side of the highway without so much as a turn signal. Pulling her seatbelt off as he pulls over, Y/N is out the door before Harry can so much as put the car into neutral. While her more rational mind would tell her that she has nowhere to walk to along a highway in Colorado as the sky darkens to an angry black above them, the only thing she’s thinking of is getting away from Harry. Stupid, self-absorbed, ignorant, and rude Harry.

“Y/N—” The sound of Harry scrambling out of the car and slamming the door behind him pushes her to walk faster. “Y/N, come back—”

Y/N turns around on her heel fast and hard, heart pounding so fast that she thinks it might break through her ribs. “What is your problem?” She hisses, pointing an accusatory finger at him. “Why do you insist on being so—so nasty about him? You don’t even know him!”

Harry freezes where he is as the wind whips his hair around his face, his bandana barely keeping the messy curls in place. “I don’t—” His speech falters, and he sucks in a sharp breath before continuing. “I don’t think I’m being…nasty.”

“Well, you are!” Y/N takes a deep breath in, placing her hands over her stomach as it expands with air. It’s a trick that Jo taught her back in high school, as a way to ground herself to her body. Feeling the movement of air in and out of her lungs helps calm her, even if by just a fraction. “Brant is just—he’s someone I’m talking to. We’ve gone on dates, but we’re not dating, and even though we’re not dating, that doesn’t mean that you can insinuate things about him, or eavesdrop on our private conversations!”

Harry’s jaw tenses as he listens to Y/N speak, waiting until she’s finished her speech to respond in a harsh and clipped tone. “I already told you, I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. And I’m teasing you. It’s supposed to be a joke. Isn’t that what friends do?”

“But we’re not friends, Harry.” Y/N’s voice is flat, the fury in her tone replaced with a hollow emptiness. “We’re not friends. I don’t need you teasing me about a boy like we’re buddies, or whatever, because we’re not.”

Although Harry opens his mouth to respond, no words cross over the edges of his pink lips. His jaw tightens even more as he closes his mouth again, and Y/N can see a million things flitting through his green irises, which are getting darker by the moment. Y/N’s not certain if the darkness is from her words, or the black sky rolling above them that’s sapping the light of day from the atmosphere, and she’s not sure if she can take the answer either way. Part of her knows that maybe—just maybe—she’s blown this whole thing out of proportion, and maybe she should examine why Harry making fun of Brant bothers her like it does. It’s not like she’s unaware of his shortcomings, she thinks, but then she wonders why she’s now seeing them as shortcomings, when a week ago, she saw them as positives. Y/N never has to worry about Brant being too much for her, or forgetful, or scatterbrained—he’s organized, and secure, and stable, and that’s what she likes. It’s always been what she likes.

Harry’s delayed response tears Y/N from her thoughts. “Not friends. Got it.” He mutters, rubbing his hand over his stubbled and taut cheeks. “Just get back in the car, then. Let’s go.”

…

“Hello! My name is Gracie, I’ll be your server today.” The waitress in the tiny diner smiles at Harry and Y/N, a notepad in one hand and a half filled coffee pot in the other. “Can I get you guys anything to start?”

“Coffee.” Harry and Y/N speak at the same time, each person’s eyes flickering to the other before looking away. Y/N keeps her eyes focused on her off-white ceramic coffee cup as Gracie fills it, refusing to make eye contact with Harry again.

The last hour has been almost unbearable. After they got back in the car, Harry had turned off his playlist, and for the first time since the road trip had begun, true silence had fallen between them. Y/N had thought she would like it, but truthfully, it had been the worst thing she’d ever heard. Every few minutes, she’d hear Harry shift, or sigh, or tap a tense finger against the gear shift, and she wished that she could say something, but she didn’t. She couldn’t. She’d been grateful when he wordlessly exited the highway and parked in front of a diner, as the conversations of stopped truck drivers and the clatter of a kitchen was a good distraction from their argument.

A movement in the corner of her eye catches her attention, and Y/N glances up just enough to watch Harry slip a pat of butter into his coffee, stirring the contents of the cup with his spoon until it’s melted together. She wrinkles her nose in disgust, and almost opens her mouth to make a comment (“Really, Harry? Just add milk like a regular person, instead of drinking a cup of grease.”), but bites it back before it can fall off her tongue. They’re not exactly in the position to make quips to each other, she thinks, especially after she told him that they weren’t friends.

Which they’re not. They’ve never been friends; that fact isn’t exactly news. Not getting along has been Harry and Y/N’s signature since the day they first met. So why is there a pit in Y/N’s stomach that gets deeper every time Harry looks away from her?

The click of heels alerts Y/N of Gracie’s returned presence before her voice does. “Have you two decided what you’d like to eat?”

“I’ll have a turkey club, please, on whole wheat bread.” Harry folds up his plastic menu carefully. “And a glass of water on the side.”

Gracie nods, taking the menu from him before turning her eyes to Y/N. “And for yourself?”

“Um—” Y/N had barely glanced at the menu, too lost in her thoughts to think about it. “I’ll just have a burger, please. And a water, as well.”

Gracie nods as she writes down the order, taking Y/N’s menu and giving the pair one last smile before disappearing to the kitchen. A fresh wave of silence falls between Harry and Y/N as each of them sips their coffee, both of them doing their best not to look at the person sitting across from them.

Y/N’s best, however, is not up to her usual standard, as she can’t stop herself from stealing a few quick glances while Harry looks out the window. He hasn’t shaved in a couple days, she notices, as the stubble on his cheeks and chin is even darker than it was the day before. There’s a permanent crease between his eyebrows, his face as tense as she’s ever seen it, and a darkness over his whole expression overall. It’s like there’s a new wall up between the two of them, and Y/N’s never felt more detached from him. Which, honestly, is saying something.

She’s looking back down at her own half empty coffee when Harry finally speaks a few minutes later, his voice just as tense as his expression.

“Shit.” He says in a low voice, and then the next sound Y/N hears is that of someone ruffling through pockets.

She looks up to see Harry doing just that, his hands digging through the outer pockets of his army green jacket. “What?” She asks, her curiosity outweighing her need to continue the silent treatment. “What is it?”

“I had the vows in my—my pocket, but they’re—” Harry jams his hands inside a pocket sewn into the lining of his jacket, and Y/N watches as his face visibly relaxes. “Oh, thank God. I thought they fell out.”

Harry removes his hand from his pocket, two folded up notes clutched within his hand. Each one is labeled carefully, one with Jo written in Laure’s neat penmanship, and the other with Laure scribbled in Jo’s quick writing.

Y/N recognizes the papers immediately. It’s easy, really, considering the amount of time she spent helping Jo rewrite draft after draft of the same sentiments. “You have Jo and Laure’s vows?” She questions, her eyebrows raising in surprise. “Why?”

“The same reason you have their wedding bands.” Harry shrugs as he turns the papers over in his careful fingers, making sure not to crease them. “They forgot them.”

A small smile plays on the edge of Y/N’s lips at the memory of her forgetful friends. “Right. Of course.”

Harry’s eyes flicker to Y/N’s mouth at the sign of movement, and he tugs his bottom lip between his teeth before responding. “Want to take a look?”

“At their vows?” Y/N looks around, as if someone could be watching and monitoring them. “I—that doesn’t seem right.”

“Fine. Then don’t look at them.” Harry says easily, setting the note labeled Laure on the table between them. His nimble fingers unfold the paper labeled with Jo’s name as his green irises begin to scan across the sheet. “I’ll read them.”

It only takes a few seconds of watching Harry read over the words for Y/N to crack. “Wait.” She brings her thumb to her mouth, chewing anxiously on her cuticle as Harry quirks an eyebrow at her. “Will you read them to me?”

When she asks, Harry spends so long staring at her that Y/N thinks he’ll refuse. His jade eyes meet hers with an intensity that almost makes her flinch, but Y/N holds his stare, refusing to be the first to back down. Finally, after what seems like an eternity, Harry gives a sharp nod, looking down at the note before he starts to read from the beginning.

“‘My darling Jo’,” He begins, his voice soft and low, his accent thick. “‘It seems so strange that this day is finally here. I feel like we’ve been building up to it ever since the day we first met, and yet it’s always seemed so far away. When I was a little girl, I always’…” Harry trails off as his eyes continue to move across the words, and he clears his throat before attempting to continue to read aloud. “‘I always thought that there was something wrong with me. I thought that the things that I felt, and the way that I loved, was dirty. I thought it was wrong. I thought that—that I was going against God, and against nature, and that I was going to be punished for it. And then I met you’.”

Harry pauses to take a sip of his coffee, and Y/N does the same. There’s a shine beginning to appear in his eyes, and Y/N recognizes it as the beginning of tears because she feels the same thing brimming in her own eyes. She feels a bit guilty for reading the vows, but reasons that it’s for the best. If she were to hear them for the first time at the wedding, she doesn’t think she’d be able to keep it together.

“‘The moment I met you, I knew that the way I loved could never be wrong, or be dirty, because I was loving you’.” Harry’s accent grows thicker the more he reads, and although Y/N hasn’t seem Harry in many different emotional states, she can tell that this is a sign of how the vows are affecting him. “‘Being with you could never be wrong, and God could never get mad at me for it, because only God could create someone as perfect as you. I promise to love you when you wake me up at 3 A.M. because you’ve stolen all the blankets, and I promise to love you at 6 P.M. when you almost burn down our apartment while trying to cook for me. I promise to support you through everything, listen to your stories, and watch in wonder as you make a difference in this world. I promise to never let my anger get the best of me, and to always give you the benefit of the doubt. I promise to love every version of yourself that you grow into, just as I’ve loved all the versions you once were. I promise to love you in every way humanly possible, and even in ways that aren’t humanly possible. I promise to love, period. I’—” Harry’s voice cracks, and he glances up at Y/N as he clears his throat to continue. “‘I love you’.”

Y/N doesn’t realize just how emotional listening to Harry read Laure’s vows has made her until the first tear wells over the corner of her eye. She turns her head towards the window to wipe it away as quickly and inconspicuously as possible, but from the way Harry is looking at her when she turns back around, she knows that he caught what she was doing.

“That, um—” Now it’s Y/N’s turn to attempt to clear the emotion from her throat. “Wow.”

Harry carefully folds Laure’s vows back up, taking extra care to re-crease the paper exactly how it had been folded. “I didn’t know she…felt like that.” Harry says after a moment, his voice quiet. “Like she was…wrong.”

Y/N, unsure of what to say, just nods while reaching for Jo’s vows in front of her. Like Harry, she takes great care when unfolding the paper, smoothing it gently between her hands. “I’ll read Jo’s, then?”

Harry nods as he takes a sip of his water. “Sure.”

Y/N licks her lips once, wetting them with what little saliva she has in her mouth before beginning. “‘Laure’,” She starts, emotion already rising up to form a lump in her throat. “‘I don’t even know where to begin. I’ve tried to write down all the ways I love you a million different times, but I can never seem to find the right words. The problem is, I don’t think that there is a big enough word to describe what I feel for you. ‘Love’ is only four letters, and four letters is just not enough to contain everything I feel. ‘Adoration’ is nine letters, but even that doesn’t come close. I think the best way I can describe it is ‘permanent’.” Y/N pauses her reading to take a long gulp of water, the coolness soothing the dry and parched feeling in her mouth and throat. “‘Anyone who knows me knows that I have trouble committing. The idea of having something forever, of being in one place, normally terrifies me. But the idea of having you forever, and being in one place with you forever…that’s all I want. I want us to be permanent to each other. Even when we struggle, and we will struggle, I know that we won’t fall apart. Committing to you isn’t any trouble. It’s as easy as breathing. I’m sure of you, and I’m sure of us. I love you, permanently. I’ll love you when you’re sick and gross, and I’ll love you when you’re old with a bad hip.” A small laugh falls out of Y/N’s mouth before she continues. “I’ll love you when you haggle at flea markets for the best prices, and I’ll love you when you do something so stupid that it makes me want to tear my hair out. I love you permanently, and I want all of our family and friends to witness me saying that. I’ll never back out, or bail, or run away from you. You’re the one thing in my life that’s never felt hard. You’re my home base, and my north star, and you bring me back down to Earth whenever I need it. I love you permanently, Laure. I’ll never stop’.”

As she finishes reading, Y/N folds the paper back up, wiping her eyes on the back of her hand before grabbing the other note sitting on the table. She pushes them towards Harry, her misty eyes unable to meet his. “Here. Put these away again, somewhere safe.”

Harry takes the vows from her, slipping them back inside his inner jacket pocket for safekeeping. “It’s probably—” He clears his throat once more, and Y/N knows that the vows have caught him in his chest just as they’ve caught her. “It’s probably good that we read them now, so that we’re…prepared for the ceremony.”

“Yeah.” Y/N wraps her hands around her coffee mug, the warm ceramic surface heating her cold fingers. “You’re right. They really…love each other.”

Harry taps his fingers against the table top, a concentrative and thoughtful expression on his face. His eyebrows are knit together above his stormy green eyes, and his pink tongue swipes over his pinker lips once before he speaks. “You know, Laure is my closest friend. I don’t want her to get hurt.”

Immediately registering the tone of Harry’s voice, Y/N’s head snaps up, her own eyes becoming stormy as they meet his own. “Jo would never hurt Laure.” Y/N says defensively, the hairs on the back of her neck pricking up at even the suggestion of her friend hurting someone. “Didn’t you hear her vows? I’ve never heard her sound so sure of something in her entire life.”

Harry’s jaw flexes at the cadence of Y/N’s voice, and his is just as agitated when he responds. “I’m just saying, if anything ever happened—”

“And I’m just saying, it won’t.” The tension between them doubles as Y/N shoots Harry an icy glare. “Do you just look for the worst in people? Is that all you do?”

“You think I look for the worst in people? Really?” Harry barks out a harsh laugh, pressing one hand flat against the table as the other fixes his bandana. “Christ, if that’s what you think of me—”

“Why would I think anything else?” Y/N asks incredulously, tilting her head to the side as she regards him. “All you’ve shown me is—”

“Alright, I have the turkey club on whole wheat, and the burger here.” Gracie appears suddenly to Y/N’s right, her tray loaded with food. “Here you guys are…” She sets the plates down in front of Harry and Y/N, her gaze darting between them nervously as she reads the tension in the booth. “Is…there anything else I can get you two?”

“No.” Harry’s voice is hard. “We don’t need anything else.”

…

By the time Harry pulls the car into a motel just off the highway in Lexington, Nebraska, all Y/N wants is a moment alone. The strained atmosphere during that day’s drive had been unbearable, and between the anxiety from her confrontation with Harry and the sound of thunder beginning in the distance, Y/N just needs some space to herself to relax and calm down.

Of course, just because that’s what she needs, doesn’t mean that she’s going to get it. When Harry returns back to the car with a single key in his hand and a sour look on his face, Y/N knows for sure that the universe is against her.

This room, at least, she’s pleased to find, has two actual beds, which are pushed up against the wall perpendicular to the door with a small night table between them. However, that’s where her pleasure stops, as the click of Harry turning the lock behind her just reminds her that she’s trapped in here, with no chance to get away from Harry, the oncoming storm, or any one of her problems that have developed over the last four days. The reality of the situation hits her all at once, and it takes all of Y/N’s self control to toss her bag on the bed and walk brusquely to the bathroom, slamming the door and locking it behind her before she allows herself to show a sign of her emotions.

The rest of the evening passes in silence. She showers before changing into her sports bra and boxers, but the amount of exposed skin sends a vulnerable shiver down her spine. Y/N opts for pulling a sweatshirt over her body, and then sets herself the task of braiding her hair to distract herself. After that’s done, she busies herself with her skincare routine, taking up as much time as she can in the bathroom before she absolutely has to leave its private interior.

Harry, however, seems to want to see as little of Y/N as she wants to see of him, and pushes past her to enter the bathroom the moment that she steps out of it. His routine, it seems, is designed to take up just as much time as hers was, because by the time Harry exits the bathroom, the scent of his shampoo trailing behind him, Y/N is already tucked under the covers of her bed, although she’s far from asleep.

In the time it took for her to shower and get ready for bed, the storm had picked up, and the only thing audible in the room was the sound of rain pelting against the roof and window, the wind howling through the trees, and Y/N’s shallow, uneven breaths. She wraps the sheets tightly around herself, pulling them taut to her chin with clenched fists that tighten every time a clap of thunder echoes through the room. Although she’s turned to face the wall, away from Harry, she can hear his footsteps pause as he gets a glimpse of her shivering form beneath the blankets, and she does her best to will herself to appear asleep. Breathing in as deeply as her tight chest will allow her, Y/N attempts to even her breathing, forcing her shoulders rise and fall in a way that appears natural and normal. But all it takes is one clap of thunder for the controlled motion to go out the window.

“Y/N…” Harry’s voice is low, but despite its raspy cadence, it lacks the rough edge that it had earlier. The bed behind her squeaks, signalling that Harry’s taken a seat on the edge of it. “Are you—?”

“I-I’m fine.” Y/N says quickly, pulling the sheets tighter to her chin as another shiver rolls through her body. “Go to sleep.”

There’s another creak of Harry’s bed, and Y/N imagines him climbing under the starched linen covers, his damp curls flopping into his eyes as he lays back on the lumpy motel pillow. The image is almost enough to distract her until there’s another clap of thunder. The sound seems to shake the motel room, and Y/N can’t stop the small whimper that leaves her lips as her body jumps in response.

“When I was a little kid, my mum took my sister and I to the fair every year.”

Harry’s deep voice cuts over the rain, and Y/N shifts in her bed, turning over to face him. She keeps the covers pulled up to her chin, but readjusts herself so that she can keep her head on her pillow while looking Harry in the eye. “What?” She asks, confusion audible in her quiet tone.

Harry shifts himself as she does, continuing to move down until he’s completely horizontal, with one hand tucked under his pillow as he speaks. “My mum took my sister and I to the fair. It came to Holmes Chapel every spring, and there were always rides, and games to play, and so many things to see. It drew crowds from nearby villages every year, really big crowds, and my mum always held my hand tightly so I wouldn’t get lost.”

“I don’t understand, what—” Another clap of thunder shakes the room, making Y/N flinch halfway through her sentence.

“You’re okay.” Harry says immediately, his calm jade eyes focused on her as the reassurance slips from his mouth. He waits a moment, gauging Y/N’s body language and waiting for his examination to be positive before resuming his story. “So…my mum always told me not to wander off, but when I was six, I did. I saw some older kids playing games that I wanted to play, and Gemma was busy playing some sort of game with a ball—I can’t really remember what—and when my mum turned her back, I ran off.”

Y/N’s about to open her mouth to ask why he’s telling her the story when the answer clicks into place in her head. She thinks back to the conversation in the car the day before, how she told Harry that it helps when someone talks to her to distract her from the thunder. That’s what he’s doing, she realizes, as she forces herself to focus on his quiet and level voice. He’s trying to keep her calm, even after everything she said and did today.

“I don’t look like it now,” A small smile flits across Harry’s blushed lips. “But I was pretty scrawny back then. And all the people around me were so tall, my eyes were barely level with their hips. Everyone was rushing around, going in all directions, and I kept calling for my mum, but she couldn’t hear me. No one stopped to help me. I felt like I was…trapped. Like it was a huge forest of legs, running all around me, circling me, and I couldn’t get out. I was probably only gone for five minutes, but to a six year old, it felt like an eternity. And just something about it…I don’t know. It changed me. I still don’t like crowds because of that day.”

Y/N’s shoulders unclench the slightest bit as another gust of wind blows against the window. “That must have been scary.”

Harry’s own shoulders lift in a slight shrug as he shifts the sheet to cover him more. “It was. But I can’t change it. I just have to deal with the repercussions of it. That’s all a fear is, really. A side effect. We just have to deal with them as best we can.”

More thunder booms loudly outside, but Y/N manages to keep her flinch to a minimum, despite her hands curling into fists again under the covers. “Harry…” She whispers his name into the darkness between them, his outline barely visible save for his green eyes. “I’m—I’m sorry about today.”

Harry shakes his head, his damp hair rubbing against his pillow. “You don’t have to apologize.” He whispers back, his tone as gentle as she’s ever heard it. “I was an arse. I shouldn’t have pushed the topic.”

“I shouldn’t have been so uptight about it.” Rubbing her eyes with one fist, Y/N lets out a low sigh. “I felt so shitty all day because of our fight. I’ve never…none of our fights have ever made me feel like that.”

“Maybe it’s because…” Harry’s tentative voice trails off, his eyes flickering to the ground for a brief moment before staring back at Y/N nervously. “I don’t know. I thought we were getting along better. For a moment, at least.”

“We were.” Y/N’s teeth tug on her bottom lip, and she feels a sudden shyness overcome her at the admission. “I’m sorry I said that we…weren’t friends. I think…I don’t know. I’ve been stubborn for so long, but I can see now that you’re different than I thought you were.”

“Yeah. Me too. I was wrong, too.” Harry runs a hand through his damp curls, a soft laugh leaving his mouth. “How did we even end up like this? I barely remember what made us hate each other so much in the beginning.”

“Seriously?” Y/N raises an eyebrow, barely peaking out from beneath the sheets as another clap of thunder sounds. “You don’t remember?”

Harry mimics her expression. “Do you?”

“Yes! It was the very first night we met. We had that double date with Laure and Jo.” Shifting beneath her covers, Y/N moves herself into a better position on her side, so she can be more comfortable while still maintaining eye contact with Harry. “And you were rude, and made inappropriate jokes, and you left in the middle of the date to go chat up a sorority girl!”

“Wait a minute, no!” Harry protests the memory, half sitting up in his bed as he speaks. “That’s not what happened!”

“Yes, it is!” A small laugh falls off Y/N’s lips at his indignant reaction. “I remember it perfectly!”

“No, you remember it wrong!” Although a flush creeps up Harry’s neck, there’s an amused smile playing on his lips, a tiny hint of a dimple just barely appearing in his visible cheek. “I was making jokes to try and break the ice, which didn’t work on the Ice Queen, it seems—” Harry motions to Y/N teasingly. “And you’re the one who started talking to some bloke before I started talking to that girl!”

Another clap of thunder echoes through the room, but Y/N hardly notices as she thinks back to the night they met, and who Harry could possibly be referring to. “A bloke—? He was a classmate of mine! I had to talk to him!”

“Yeah, well, you didn’t have to enjoy it so much.” Harry grumbles, crossing his muscled arms over his sheets. “I had been so excited when Laure said she had an American girl for me, and then—”

“You were excited?” Y/N asks, her voice laced with surprise. “Really?”

The flush on Harry’s neck works its way to the apples of his cheeks. “Well, yeah.” He mumbles the words as his eyes drop from Y/N’s, slipping both hands beneath his head. “She said that you were funny, intelligent, witty, beautiful—”

“And then you met me, and realized that it was all a lie?” Y/N finishes for him, rolling her eyes in the darkness.

“No.” Harry gives a small shake of his head as his body shifts, the motel bed creaking under his weight. “No, she wasn’t wrong. You were all of those things. But I wasn’t, and it seemed like…I don’t know. Like you didn’t think I was good enough for you. I couldn’t keep your attention.”

The teasing smile slips from Y/N’s face as she registers Harry’s words. “You thought that I thought you weren’t…good enough?”

The nervousness is clear in Harry’s voice now, even over the pounding of rain against the window. “That’s what it seemed like, yeah.”

“I never—I didn’t think that.” Y/N says slowly, managing to relax her body beneath the sheets as she keeps her focus on the memory of meeting Harry. “I wasn’t exactly thrilled to be there, but that’s because Jo set the date up without telling me. I thought you were handsome, and I liked your accent, but then you started to act weird, and you started flirting with that girl, so I thought you were an ass.”

“You still think I’m an arse, princess, be honest.” The teasing tone replaces the nerves, and for once, Harry’s joke has the intended affect on Y/N. When she rolls her eyes again, it’s more playful, and the same tone is in her voice when she responds.

“I told you, don’t call me princess.” She replies, running her teeth over her lip gently. “So…I guess we both kind of fucked up that day.”

“Yeah.” Harry nods, a sheepish smile playing over his red lips. “I guess so.”

“Can we just restart?” Y/N’s voice is small when she asks the question, barely audible over the sounds of the storm raging outside. “Like, all the way from the beginning. No more grudges, no more yelling. Even if it’s just for this trip, for Jo and Laure—”

“It doesn’t have to be just for this trip.” Harry cuts in, his eyes catching Y/N’s again. “We’re going to have to be around each other for a long time. It’ll be a lot easer if we get along.”

Y/N nods in agreement, tugging down her covers to extend one arm towards Harry. She makes a fist, holding out just her pinkie finger to him with half a grin on her face. “Truce?”

The space between their beds is small, and Harry’s long arm easily makes it across the no man’s land to meet Y/N’s pinkie with his own. He loops it together with a smile that matches hers, tired and content and just at the edge of a humble new beginning. Harry’s response is almost inaudible as thunder booms loudly outside the room, but Y/N can still pick out the cadence of his accent under the noise.

“Truce.”

(pt II)

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apricotgojo · 4 years ago

Note

Could I please request Felix x reader please? Maybe where she’s friends with Adrien and meets Felix and he’s really soft with her and everyone’s really confused lol. Super fluffy please😌🙈

Hi! Sorry for the long wait i was super busy hh :(( but here it is! It’s not as fluffy as intended but i think that’s because i’m not good at writing fluff but nonetheless i hope you enjoy it. I love felix with all my heart so this was a treat to write <3

Pairing: Felix Graham de Vanily X Reader.

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol and swearing !

Tags: Fluff, Pls felix deserves the world thku very much.

Luka’s boat party at the Seine, something you’ve been looking forward for the past week.

Well, It’s not really a party.

A small get together with great people, good music and drinks.

This is the first time you’ve been invited to one of these parties and Marinette has told you many times that it’s going to be one to remember, even if it is lowkey.

Plus, you could warm up to more people other than the small circle of friends you have at college.

“Woah.” You say without even realising as you look around at the balloons and fairy lights all over the place.

As soon as you enter you see the place peppered with a few people, some people you’ve never seen in your entire life and some familiar faces from college.

Marinette and Alya were by your side, you walked to the boat with them.

“Juleka and Luka live here?” You ask.

“Yeah but Luka’s trying to find a new apartment right now.” Marinette says.

As if on cue, the blue haired boy makes his way over to you guys.

“Welcome ladies.” He says and smiles at all of you. “As usual, make yourselves comfortable, get some drinks and enjoy yourselves.”

“Hey look there’s Adrien!” You say and you were about to go greet him until you felt someone grab your hand, stopping you.

“Thanks Luka, the party looks amazing.” You compliment.

Your eyes fall onto a familiar blond and you smile.

You turn around and see Marinette, shaking her head. “That’s not Adrien, that’s Felix.”

“What the fuck is he doing here?” Alya asks, gasping.

Marinette shrugs. “I have no clue, Adrien probably invited him.”

“I swear to god if that little blond bitch tries me again I won’t hesitate to kick him in the balls this time.”

“I think Alya needs a drink.” Luka chuckles and Alya nods angrily.

“Who’s Felix?” You ask and the three turn to look at you.

You look at them confused as to what they were talking about.

You could’ve sworn that he was Adrien, he looks exactly like him except his hair was straighter and neater. He reminded you of Draco Malfoy from Harry potter.

“The spawn of satan.” Alya mutters, rolling her eyes and sipping on her drink.

Marinette sighs and steals Alya’s drink from her hand.

“Hey!”

“That’s Felix, Adriens cousin. He’s kind of the complete opposite of Adrien.” Marinette explains.

“Meaning…?” You trail off.

“Meaning he’s a douchebag.” Alya states.

“Alya come on.” Marinette groans.

“Nope, she has a point.” Luka intervenes.

“Listen girl, when we were in middle school he sent us a video of him pretending to be Adrien and telling us how much he hates us.” Alya tells you and crosses her arms over her chest. “And last summer Adrien invited him to the beach with us and he didn’t even talk to us or swim because he’s worried that his pretty porcelain skin will get burnt. Trust me, the last thing you want to do is talk to him.” Alya says and snatches her drink back from Marinette before walking off.

“What Alya is trying to say is that yeah, he’s rude and yeah, kind of a douche too but don’t worry about him too much, he doesn’t really talk to any of us.”

He honestly sounded horrible.

I mean, not talking to them is one thing but almost ruining Adriens friendship with everyone is something else.

“Yeah because he hates us.” Luka says and Marinette glares at him which causes Luka to chuckle.

“Hey guys!” finally, the actual Adrien Agreste has come to talk to you guys.

“Hey Adrien.” You say and smile at him before giving him a friendly kiss on the cheek.

Marinette does the same to him and before quirking her eyebrow up. “Kagami isn’t here?” She asks.

“No she has to study for her exam tomorrow.” Adrien says and rubs the back of his neck awkwardly.

“Uh-huh.” Marinette narrows her eyes at him suspiciously but doesn’t say anything more.

“Oh yeah, guys, Felix is here.” Adrien laughs nervously.

“Adrien.” A voice chimes in.

It belonged to the notorious Felix who was now standing behind Adrien.

“Hey Felix.” Marinette says, smiling at him.

The blond furrows his eyebrows at her and rolls his eyes. “Adrien can we-“ He stops when he looks at you.

“Hi.” You say your name and hold your hand out. “It’s nice to meet you.” You say and he walks closer to you.

You gulp and chuckle awkwardly.

Knowing this guys attitude, you were scared about what he would say about you.

He takes you hand and shakes it. “I’m Felix, it’s nice to meet you too.” He says, a small smile on his face.

Everyone around you widens their eyes at the sight before them.

You look down and notice that he was still shaking your hand, looking at you, dazed.

Maybe he had too much to drink?

He removes his hand from yours quickly and you notice his cheeks tinting red. “Nothing.” He says and walks away.

Adrien clears his throat and pats him on the shoulder, snapping him out of it.

“What did you want to tell me Felix?”

“What. The. Fuck.” Marinette gapes. “I swear, when I met him for the first time he didn’t even shake my hand let alone smile at me.”

You felt like you were on the spot and ultimately it made you feel uncomfortable.

“Maybe he’s drunk or something?” You say and shrug.

“Felix doesn’t drink.” Adrien states.

You gulp. “Well I do.” You chuckle nervously and walk away from them to get a drink for yourself.

You move past people, muttering ‘excuse me’ as you walk to the little table where the drinks were. You pour yourself a drink.

“I’m not Adrien you brat.” You hear someone say and you instantly turn around.

“Ohhhhhhh…” A girl slurs. She was laughing against Felix, who looked incredibly uncomfortable with her presence. “doesn’t matter, we can still have a good time together.”

You watch Felix look around him and sigh, he didn’t even know what to say to her.

“I don’t want to.” He states.

“Why you got a girl or something?” She asks, sipping on her drink and hopping to the beat of the music.

You didn’t even realise that your body moved on it’s own.

“Yeah he does.” You say and walk over to Felix, kissing him on the cheek. “Here’s your drink babe.” You say and wink at him.

The colour of his face matched that of a tomato right now and he slowly took the drink from you, laughing nervously. “T-thank you.” He stutters out.

“I’m sorry I didn’t know.” The girl apologises.

“Are you okay?” You ask him, slightly smiling. “I could tell you were uncomfortable.”

“You’re good.” You shrug and grab Felix’s hand, “Au revoir!” You wave before dragging Felix elsewhere.

You found a secluded area on the boat near the railings. You figured he needed some air.

“Yes, I appreciate it.” He says, looking at the sea. “Thank you.”

You stare at him.

Since you’re getting a closer look at him you realise that he actually has different features from Adrien which you don’t notice at first.

His nose was a little longer with a few freckles peppered across it.

His skin was fairer, in fact it was so fair that every time he blushes you can see it evident on his cheeks and the tip of his nose.

His eyes were more narrowed but still held the same beautiful green, maybe felixs’ was more vibrant.

“What the hell did you put in this?” He asks.

You watch his long fingers curl against the cup tighter before sipping the drink.

His face contorts after.

“Liquor.” You state, chuckling. “What you can’t take the alcohol Felix?” You tease.

He scoffs, “Of course I can. Watch me.” He says and downs the rest of what was in the cup.

He looked really cute when he’s laughing.

He starts coughing after he finishes and cusses under his breath.

“That was strong shit.” He says and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

You start laughing, clutching your stomach as you do so.

You hear him slowly join in on your laughter soon after and you slightly open your eyes to see him.

“you know…” He says, wiping some lose tears from his eyes from the laughter “I don’t have many friends so I’m not really used to laughing like this.”

“Why don’t you try making more friends?” You asked him.

“Why am I any different?” You ask. “I mean, you barely talk to Marinette or any of Adriens friends.”

He shrugged at you and leaned against the railings.

“I don’t particularly like being around a lot of people, nor do I really enjoy people in general.” He mumbles, looking down. “But that’s just how I was brought up I guess.”

He stares at the floor boards and sighs. “When I saw you, my first thought wasn’t “oh she’s just one of Adriens friends” or “she’s probably going to talk to me because has to because ‘hey I’m known as Adriens spoiled rich cousin’” my first thought was ‘wow, she’s absolutely beautiful and she’s new around here, she doesn’t know of who I am so maybe I actually have a chance with someone. Even if it’s just a friend.”

You cut him of by getting on your tip toes and giving him a small kiss on the lips.

His comment made your cheeks heat up and a small smile twitch on your lips.

“Sorry if it makes you uncomfortable, it’s probably the damn alcohol, I have no idea what shit im spurring out let alone-“

His mouth parts and his eyes were wide. “Maybe it’s the alcohol too or maybe I just wanted you to stop talking.” You whisper.

“I will kiss you again, only if you stop thinking that Adriens friends talk to you because they have to. You’re a sweet guy and you shouldn’t feel left out.” You tilt your head and place a hand on his cheek.

He was frozen. It was a cute sight but you were scared that you terrified the poor guy.

Suddenly he leans in for another kiss but you place a finger on his lips to stop him.

He stares into your eyes for a moment, as if trying to look for something other than the truth.

You could see the green properly, his eyes were glistening, like he had stars in them.

Felix cups your face with both hands and pulls you into a kiss, a deep one.

You may not know him very well but this moment with him felt right, you didn’t see him as just Adriens cousin. He was more than that.

He was Felix and right now with every movement of his lips against yours, you felt butterflies fluttering around your stomach.

“Hey guys.” You wave awkwardly to them and chuckle.

You hear someone clear their throat which makes you pull away from the kiss. You turn around and see your group of friends staring at you.

Alya had her hand clasped over her mouth.

Nino was wide eyed.

Marinette was smirking at you.

Adrien was smiling awkwardly.

“We’ve been looking for you everywhere girl! We didn’t know you were sharing spit with Felix.” Alya exclaims walking up to you. “Is he forcing you into doing something because I swear to god I will-“

“no no Alya, I’m the one who kissed him.” You say, smiling sheepishly.

“Why?” She deadpans, looking at you confused.

“Cesaire.” Felix says walking up to Alya. He clears his throat. “Are you still running that little blog of yours?”

Alya narrows her eyes at him, crossing her arms over her chest. “Yes.”

“It’s…” He stops and looks at you, as if for a moment, he’s remembering what you were talking about before. “It’s great. Even people In England are talking about it.”

Alya’s jaw drops. “Holy shit, really?”

Felix nods and you smile at him, knowing that he’s really trying.

“Nino! The ladyblog went international!” She exclaims and goes to hug her boyfriend.

You mentally thank him and he sends you a small wink before holding your hand.

Maybe you were the key to him finally being himself in front of others.

Maybe you could even become his everything.

#felix mlb #mlb #miraculous ladybug #felix graham de vanily #felix graham de vanily x reader

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duuhrayliegh · 4 years ago

Text

my hero - request

request: anon: hi could you write a sebastian x female reader fic where she suffers from anxiety and feels bad because of it but he comforts her and tells her there’s nothing wrong with her and how strong she is even though she has this disorder

pairing: sebastian stan x female!reader

warnings: self-esteem issues, anxiety, toxicity in the fandom, language?

a/n: hey nona! you weren’t super specific on what type of anxiety that you wanted to reader to have, so if this isn’t what you had in mind, lmk and i’ll write you another fic! other than that i hope you like it!

p.s.: my requests and tag lists are open!!

xoxo ray

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You and Seb met at a coffee shop in New York. It was totally cliche and seemed straight out of a storybook. You had somehow managed to spill coffee on that specimen of a man, and he was kind enough to let you pay for his dry cleaning. Your relationship didn’t grow until you ran into him again while you were at a bar with your friends. If he had any say in telling the story of how you met, he spotted you from across the smoky bar and he knew then and there that he had to get to know you. Truthfully, you liked his version, but the real one was just indescribable. It seemed, to you at least, that you were destined to be with this man. Seeing him twice in one week? Come on, that’s possible if you were in the small town you grew up in, but not New York.

You obviously had recognized him as an actor, but really you didn’t care. That’s what drew Sebastian to you in the first place. You treated him as if he was any other guy on the street, he was able to be a normal person around you. Now, two years later, you lounge on the couch of your apartment in LA that you shared with the man you love. He’s still auditioning for any role that catches his eye and you’re supporting him no matter what.

His fans for the most part adored you and your relationship with Sebastian. The fans who didn’t like you were your only issue with this whole affair, but they had nothing to do with Sebastian other than flood his socials with nasty messages about you. You weren’t perfect, that you knew all too well, and you tried to let the comments roll off your shoulders. Most of the time you were successful in your efforts, but other times they clung to your skin like an unwanted disease.

Sebastian was currently promoting his new project Endings, Beginnings. You were so unbelievably proud of Seb, he was doing something that made him happy. In this particular film, he was acting alongside Shailene Woodley, who was just amazing. Seb always came home gushing about the new inside jokes that they had come up with. One of your favorite things that Seb did with you was run lines. You liked having the inside scoop on his new works, but this one was harder for you. It had quite a few sex scenes between Seb’s character Frank and Shailene’s Daphne.

Not that it bothered you. Nope. Didn’t bother you. At all.

...mmm, okay maybe it bugged you a little. It wasn’t that you didn’t trust Sebastian, it was… well you couldn’t really describe what it was. Whatever the case may be, it was putting you deeper and deeper into a funk, one that you were having a hard time coming out of. And Seb’s fans who weren’t in your corner, weren’t really helping you any.

A few nights ago, Seb surprised you with a casual night out in LA. He texted you before he got home and told you that he was going to be taking you out. Did he give you a dress code for the evening? No, he did not (wonderful, thanks so much Seb). You decided to dress in a half business casual, half rail me when we get home outfit. You ended up wearing an adorable bustier top that was embroidered with pretty blue and pink flowers, a pair of destroyed jeans covered your legs. You finished it off with a pair of nude heels, when you looked in the mirror, you thought you looked hot as fuck. It was around seven when Seb picked you up, mouth hanging open, in awe of your outfit.

“Oh my god. You look so beautiful, Y/N.” He opened the passenger door of his car after he hugged you, giving you a small peck on the lips. Sebastian drove you to a restaurant a block off of Thai Town called Home Restaurant.

“Babe, this place is so cute!” You squeezed Sebastian’s upper arm, jumping up and down beside him. “How’d you find this place?” Sebastian shook his head, smiling at you.

“I asked Shai, actually.” He rubbed his hand on the back of his neck, and your heart sank a little. Why did it do that? “She said that the paps hardly ever come around here.” He leaned down pressing a kiss to your temple. “I thought that draga mea deserved a quiet night out on the town.” His voice rasped as he spoke in his native tongue, making a shiver race down your spine.

“Well, tell her I said thank you.” You offered him a small smile. He wrapped his arm around your waist, drawing circles on the exposed skin above your jeans. He spoke with the hostess as your mind drifted away. You were pulled out of your thoughts when he guided you to your table. Sebastian sat across from you, staring deeply into your eyes. You brought your hand up to rest your chin on it, staring back at him. “How’s everything been going?” You were genuinely interested in the answer and it made your heart warm watching his face light up.

“It’s been going really well. Everyone we worked with was real nice, it made all the scenes more comfortable.” Seb’s eyebrows rose at the mention of the scenes and you knew which ones he was referring to.

“Oh, right.” You tried not to let your emotions show.

“Yeah, we’re about to start teasing some of them to promote the show.” Seb sighed at the thought of having to use social media, you shook your head at him.

“I’ll help you with it, you dork.” You laughed to hide your discomfort. “Which scene did they approve for the posts?” Sebastian began to speak when he was interrupted by your waitress. After the two of you ordered your food, the waitress returned with your drinks. Sebastian took a large gulp of his before answering your previous question.

“They want me to post the trailer and then the scene between Frank and Daphne at the bar.” You tried to think back to the script, remembering the context. Frank and Daphne were meeting after Daphne had gone out on a date with Jack. Daphne was claiming that she didn’t want to be a wedge in their friendship, then proceeded to make out with Frank. If you were recalling correctly, Frank and Daphne’s first sex scene followed soon after.

“Okay, we can do that. Do you have any behind the scene pictures you wanna post too?” Seb got out his phone, scrolling through his camera roll to see. He had several different photos of him with Jamie and then him with Shailene. He showed you his phone on a picture of Shailene leaned against him on a couch, her arm over his waist. A red filter colored the photo, you had to hand it to him, it was a good one to use. “We can post it whenever we get home, love.” Sebastian locked his phone and shoved it in his pocket, to focus solely on you.

“How has your day been, draga mea?” You bit your lip as you thought about what you’ve been doing. You’ve been working towards your Master’s, so your days have been filled with preparing for your dissertation. On top of that, you’ve become a bit of an influencer on different social media platforms. Really, you believe your popularity came from your relationship with Sebastian. You’ve been giving his fans the content that they’ve always wanted. Not only that, but you’re active with them.

“My day was good today. I had to edit a few papers from my other classmates but other than that I didn’t do much. I did make a few TikTok videos, but really today was a bit of a lounge day for me.” Seb smiled at you, proud of how hard you’ve been working.

“I should be getting a few days off soon, so we can relax together in the apartment, if you aren’t too busy with your classes.” He stretched his arm across the table, palm up waiting for your hand. Seb pulled your hand up to his mouth, placing a sloppy kiss onto the back of it. His eyes settled on you lovingly. To Sebastian, you were the greatest thing that had ever happened to him.

The two of you managed to finish your meal in peace. No fans came up to Sebastian asking for photos, no paparazzi swarms when you left, just a quiet meal for a normal couple in love. After you got home and you were snuggled in your pajamas alongside Sebastian in your comfortable bed, he handed you his phone to read over his post for his Instagram. The paragraph was sappy, about his time working with Drake, the director, and working with the rest of the cast. Seb always was a softy, never was able to hide it, especially in promo posts.

“It looks good to me. Are you going to post it now? Or wait until tomorrow morning?” Seb debated, he probably should wait and do it tomorrow, but he was most likely going to forget to do it. He clicked post, putting his phone on charge and snuggling into you.

“Thank you for always being there for me, Y/N.” He kissed your jawline, nuzzling his face into your neck. “It really means a lot to me, baby. I love you so much.” He wrapped both hands around your waist, pulling you to his front. You smiled wide, momentarily forgetting all of your troubles.

“I love you too, Seb.” You turned your head slightly, pressing a kiss against the corner of his mouth. “Now let’s get some sleep, love.” Little did you know that a single post could ruin all of the progress that you thought you had made.

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

You woke the next morning, alone in bed. You could hear pots clanging in the kitchen of your home, bringing a smile to your face. Before you left the safety of your bed, you checked your socials out of habit. You opened Instagram first, seeing an absurd amount of notifications this early in the morning. Your smile dropped as soon as you opened the first post. Comments on Sebastian’s post about Endings, Beginnings and his chemistry with Shailene weren’t entirely out of the ordinary. They were to be expected, they were playing parts in a love triangle. People were ‘shipping’ Shailene with Seb and Jamie, so that wasn’t too crazy.

What hurt you were the comments saying, “living for shailene and sebastian! she’s a much better match for him than y/n.”

“never thought that y/n girl was going to last, glad he’s going w shailene”

“shailene and seb supremacy”

“yes! i’ve always supported seb in everything he’s done, but i rlly questioned him when he got w that y/n girl. what was he thinking?!”

Tears gathered in your eyes as you continued scrolling. You never thought you and Sebastian never fit. You knew that people had issues with your relationship, but you never let it get in your head this bad. You checked your explore page, pictures of you and Sebastian from last night were riddling the page.

Your heart dropped.

There were pictures of the two of you from last night with parts of your body circled. The exposed skin above your waistband, the excess skin on your neck and arms. You don’t know where they got these pictures, but your stomach was steadily sinking with each picture you saw. The door of your room opened, revealing a smiley Sebastian with a plate full of eggs in one hand and a cup of orange juice in the other.

“Good morning, baby.” You quickly shoved your phone away from you, wiping your tears away from your eyes to meet his. His brows furrowed immediately. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?” You snuffled quietly, before answering.

“Uh, nothing. I’m just so proud of you.” You smiled at him, not wanting to bring down his already happy mood with your problems. Was that entirely healthy? Probably not, but you were doing it anyway, consequences be damned.

“Oh, well you don’t have to cry for me, Y/N. Even if you’re proud.” He walked up to your side of the bed, placing the cup and plate on your nightstand. He brought his hand up to your cheeks, wiping away your tear streaks. “You know that I only like to see tears whenever it’s me causing you so much pleasure you beg me to stop.” He winked at you, smirking at your rising blush. To say that didn’t lift your spirits for about half a second would be a lie. Sebastian brought the plate to your lap, waiting for you to start eating. At this particular moment, after seeing all those horrible pictures of your body, your appetite had gone out the window, but he was so smiley.

“After you eat, I want ya to shower.” Sebastian’s hand came up to your jaw, cupping it as you used it to chew the eggs. “We’ve got a long day of lounging and enjoying each other's company ahead of us.” Sebastian stood from the bed, throwing a wink at you as he left the room dramatically. You stopped eating soon after he left, the food tasting like ash on your tongue. At some point, you got into the bathroom, staring at the reflection in the mirror.

Your phone was in your hand again. The pictures flooding your Twitter feed. Shaky breaths left your mouth as you watched your reflection tilt its head. Tears began gathering in your eyes as it felt like you weren’t in your own skin anymore. You had worked so hard to be comfortable in your own body.

It’s amazing how just one picture can ruin everything.

You leaned forward on the countertop, hands holding up your weight. You shifted towards the mirror, examining every miniscule detail that your eyes could see. Your lids came down quickly, tears dragging down your cheeks. You squeezed your eyes closed, shaking your head back and forth.

“You are not going to let this get to you.” You took a few deep breaths as you turned on the shower. Not wanting to be around the mirror anymore, you kept your bath short, talking to yourself the whole time. By the time you left the bathroom, it was steamed completely, you couldn’t see your reflection even if you wanted to.

“He loves you.” You had a mantra and you continued to repeat it as you walked into your shared closet. “He loves all of you.” You pulled one of his old t-shirts off a hanger. “Sebastian loves you.” A pair of your underwear and his loose boxers covered your lower half. “Sebastian loves all of you.” You shoved your feet into a pair of fuzzy pink socks, leaving the closet still muttering to yourself. You tucked your phone into your waistband after checking your socials again. You know you shouldn’t have, but there was some part of you that just wouldn’t let you not.

The same shit covered your For You page on TikTok. Videos from the trailer of Seb and Shailene and then videos of you and Seb, comparing the two relationships. “They do fit well together.” You thought to yourself. A part of you wondering why Seb was with you in the first place.

“Did you say something, love?” Sebastian looked at you from the couch. A blanket was strewn over his lower half, his upper body inviting, waiting for you to join him. His smile dropped when he took in your glassy eyes instead of your usual happy expression.

“Oh baby, what’s wrong?” He started towards you, eyes running over your body for any outward injuries. An understanding look crossed his face when he saw your phone clutched in your hand. “Y/N, talk to me, baby.” Sebastian’s hands rested on your shoulders, lightly caressing your biceps. You recoiled from his touch, feeling uncomfortable in your own body.

“Just some stuff that some fans posted.” Seb’s thumb traced just under your eye, wiping away the tears. He held his right hand out for your phone, to understand what you were talking about. His brows furrowed deeply as he scrolled, not fully processing how destructive his fans could be. Sebastian always believed that they were the best fucking people in the world. He knew that they could be mean, but this was something else.

“They don’t know what they’re talking about, Y/N.” Sebastian’s voice was firm. It was almost strong enough to cut through the fog invading your brain, but not quite. You had officially zoned out. Dead to the world. Lost in your own thoughts. No matter how destructive those thoughts may be.

Sebastian noticed that you were already too deep, having experienced this with you many times before. He was aware that you were self-conscious, insecure, however you want to describe it. Your anxiety always got worse when you were stressed. Prepping for your dissertation was definitely a stressful time. Add on top of that, Sebastian was constantly pulling you from your work for various reasons. Had he contributed to this? Scratch that thought, he didn’t have time for that. He needed to bring you back down to Earth, back to him.

“Y/N.” His hands hovered over your hips. “I’m going to touch you for a second.” He directed you to the couch, settling on the coffee table in front of you. His fingers lightly traced circles onto your knees, as he assessed how he should approach this.

“Y/N. Baby?” Sebastian hesitated before bringing his fingers up to your chin, not wanting you to react badly. “I’m right here, Y/N, it’s Sebastian.” His left hand hadn’t left your knee, continuing to trace small patterns into your skin, giving you something to ground yourself with. He watched you blink and swallow harshly, inhaling sharply before opening your mouth.

“Why are you with me?” Your chin trembled with unvoiced sobs. “You deserve the world, Seb. I’m not even--” Your sentence was cut off by a loud whimper causing tears to start streak down. Sebastian wasn’t sure if this was a situation where you wanted him to be involved, so he waited for a sign.

“I’m not even worth a glance from you.” Your hand came up to wipe at your runny nose. “They’re so right. You need to be with someone like Shailene.” A bitter sob racked your body, making your body fold in half. Sebastian caught you before you hurt yourself.

“Y/N. I love you.” He always heard you say that to yourself when you thought he wasn’t listening. He knew that you suffered from anxiety, so he was always watching. Always paying attention to your little cues. The little things that he could use to help you as much as he could. “I love all of you.” He held one of your hands, running his thumb over the back of it.

“I don’t care what they say, baby.” He lifted your face to his, steel blue eyes locking with your cloudy pair. “I picked you.” He pecked your right cheek. “I want you.” A peck to your left. “I want only you.” One to your forehead. “It’s always been you, Y/N.” Another on your chin. “I love all of you, Y/N.” Sebastian landed a final short kiss to your lips, lingering for only a second.

“I want you to understand something, Y/N.” His gaze never left you. “I’m not going anywhere.” His brows raised as he hardened his voice. “I’m especially not going anywhere at the behest of my fans. I love them to death, but they don’t get to decide who I love.” Sebastian shifted to sit next to you on the couch. “Is it okay if I put my arms around you?” All he got was a brief nod in return, which was expected.

“I’m yours, Y/N. As much as you’re mine.” His arms descended around you, wrapping you in a loving embrace. You turned to face him fully, bringing your own arms around his waist, shoving your head into his neck.

“I’m sorry you have to deal with all my shit, Seb.” Sebastian almost missed your comment because you spoke into his shoulder and through loud snuffles. He backed away to look you in the face.

“I signed up for this, Y/N. I’m here for whatever we go through.” He tucked a stray hair behind your ear. “We go through ‘your shit’ together, Y/N. This is a partnership, a two-way street.” He looked at the weak smile on your face, heart warming slightly at the sight. His face turned serious, casting a glance at your phone on the coffee table.

“How long have you been sitting on this?” He knew how quickly your mind could twist things, so he wasn’t sure what to expect. You bit your lip, not meeting his eyes anymore.

“Just since this morning.” He held you away from his body, watching your expression.

“Is this why you were crying earlier?” You gave him a meek nod in response. “Baby, I thought we talked about this. We have to talk to each other when we think we’re going to go into a funk.” The two of you had talked about it before, but you didn’t think this was going to be a funk.

“I should’ve been able to just shake this off because I know you love me and you won’t leave me because of something that some people on the Internet say.” The words left your mouth before you could process everything, your mind quick to defend itself.

“It’s okay, Y/N. You don’t always have to be able to shake something off. We just have to keep each other in the loop.” Sebastian looked over your tear-stained face, pressing a kiss to your forehead again. “Let’s ditch the phones today. Just spend the day in each other’s arms, how’s that sound?” You smiled softly, nodding at the man in front of you. He got up quickly hiding both of your phones in the kitchen somewhere.

This definitely wasn’t a solution to dealing with your anxiety, Sebastian knew that. It also wasn’t dealing with the toxic people on the Internet, but you didn’t need that right now. You needed to be immersed in an environment that accepted what you were going through without judgement, Sebastian could provide that. Seb hummed happily when you snuggled into his side under the covers on your couch while he searched for a movie. He kissed the top of your head and he felt you smile against his stomach.

“I’m proud of you, draga mea.” You turned to face him, a confused expression lacing your features.

“For what, Seb?” He stroked your face with a single finger, mapping out your features.

“I’m proud of how you handle yourself. I’m amazed at how strong you are, even when you think you’re not.” He leaned closer to you, whispering his next words. “You’re my hero.” One corner of your mouth twitched upwards, not wanting to accept it. You rolled your eyes playfully, settling back onto his stomach before speaking.

“I love you, Sebastian.”

“And I love you, Y/N.”

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thebookreader12345 · 4 years ago

Text

Bullpen Chatter

Pairing: Hailey Upton x Kim Burgess x Best Friend! reader (plus Jay Halstead x reader)

Summary: Y/N and Jay have been seeing each other in secret for months, and after noticing Y/N's change in behavior, Hailey and Kim want to find out who the mystery guy is

Requested: Yes, by anonymous

Warnings: slight swearing

Word Count: 1,698 Words

"Hey. Where are you going?" Jay asked me sleepily as he noticed me getting ready.

"I've got to get home and shower and stuff," I reply and continue throwing my clothes on.

"I have a shower, and you have clothes here," Jay pointed out.

"I know, but my landlord is on my ass for never being there. Something about me wasting the space," I murmur.

"So then move in with me," Jay spoke. I froze in place for a few seconds, my mind running a mile a minute. I then turned around to face my boyfriend, who was still laying in bed.

"Really?" I question.

Jay nodded, a small smile lighting up his face. "I mean, if you want to. We've been dating for almost 8 months now, and I don't see my feelings for you changing any time soon."

I grinned widely and climbed back onto the bed so that I was laying on top of Jay, and leaned down to press a kiss to his lips. "I would love to move in with you. But you do know that because we're moving in together, we're gonna have to tell the unit that we're dating, right?"

"Give me a few days to prepare, and then we can tell them," Jay said.

"Okay. Now, I really do have to go if I'm going to make it to work on time. See you later," I tell him and peck his lips one last time before taking off. At my apartment, I took a quick shower and threw on some new clothes, barely making it out of the door in time to get to the district. After parking my car, I walked into the station and up the stairs, putting my hair into a ponytail as I did. When I got to the bullpen, I was surprised to see only Hailey and Kim sitting at their desks. "Morning, guys," I greet the two women. "Where are the guys?"

"I think I heard Adam say something about a donut run," Kim mentioned.

"Gotcha," I chirp and make my way over to my desk. Kim and Hailey both glanced at each other, confusion settling onto their faces. "What?"

"The past few months, you've been acting different. A good different, but different," Hailey noted.

"Yeah. You're always so cheerful in the mornings when the rest of us are miserable. So spill it. Who's the guy?" Kim quizzed.

I choked on the water I was drinking and coughed a few times to clear my throat, glancing up at my two co-workers. "What do you mean?"

"A girl only acts like you do when there's an amazing guy in her life," Kim answered. "So tell us who it is?"

"I never said...how'd you...shut up," I stammer, a slight blush rising to my cheeks.

"So there is a guy," Hailey stated. "When do we get to find out who it is?"

"Uh, give me a few days to get back to you on that," I confess and turn my attention back to the paperwork spread across my desk. At that moment, Adam, Jay, and Kevin walked up the stairs, their arms all filled with goodies and drinks.

"Hey guys. What's going on up here?" Kevin asked as he set down a box of donuts.

"We were just trying to get Y/N to tell us who see's seeing," Kim responded. My eyes darted to Jay, and I could tell that he was trying not to smile as he passed out coffees.

"Hold up," Adam interjected. "Y/N's got a boyfriend? Why am I just hearing about this now? Who is it?"

I groaned and set down my pen. "We're not talking about this right now. And I know you've all got paperwork to finish up, so you better get it done before Voight gets here in 10 minutes." The conversation stopped after that, but I knew the issue would eventually come back up, and at one point I'd have to talk about it. It just wouldn't be today

Time-skip Two Days

I was sitting in the interrogation room with files spread out all over the table, my hands occasionally moving the files around so that I could get a better view of certain ones. Lets just say that I was behind on paperwork, and I needed to get everything done before the end of shift. And being in here gave me more space than my desk did. I was just a little over a quarter of the way done when Kim and Hailey entered the room, taking up the two seats across from me.

"Uh, can I help you guys?" I question and sign another piece of paper, sticking it into a file to signify that it was completed.

"We'll be asking the questions here," Hailey cut in and folded her hands in front of her.

"Yeah. This is an official interrogation," Kim added.

I huffed. "Guys, if you couldn't tell, I've got a lot on my plate right now. And just because we're in the interrogation room does not make this an official interrogation. I could walk out of here right now if I wanted to."

"Who's the mystery man? Just tell us," Hailey pleaded.

"Hailey, Kim, I love you both. You're like sisters to me. But this," I exclaim and gesture to what was going on, "is insane."

"Y/N," Kim groaned and reached over to grab onto my arm. "Just tell us who the guy is! We want to know who's making you happy!"

I sighed and set down my pen. "So if I give you both some answers, you'll stop bugging me?"

"Yes," Hailey and Kim answered at the same time.

"Okay then. I won't tell you his name, but I will let you both ask some questions. But be aware that I'm only going to answer vaguely," I warn.

"Yes!" Kim cheered. "Okay. How long have the two of you been together?"

"8 months," I reply. "We're actually thinking about moving in together."

Hailey smiled. "That's amazing. Where does this mystery man work?"

"He's also a first responder," I respond.

"Wait a minute. Do we know him?" Kim quizzed.

"Maybe," I say and stand up, gathering my files as I did. "That's all for questions. Talk to you guys later!" And with that, I sped out of the interrogation room to get away from my two best friends. That night, back at Jay's apartment, the two of us were sitting in the living room eating pizza, a movie playing on the TV.

"Hey. You ever get that paperwork done today?" Jay asked and took a bite of pizza.

I shook my head. "Kim and Hailey wouldn't stop bugging me about the mystery man I was seeing."

Jay chuckled softly. "Well, I'm ready to tell everyone whenever you are."

"Right. Whenever I'm ready," I murmur.

Three Nights Later...

Our case was finally over, and all I wanted was a night off. So, everyone decided to go to Molly's to celebrate and let loose for a bit. Hailey, Kim, and I were sitting at the bar, drinks in front of all of us. I was sipping my beer lightly, waiting for Jay to arrive. I had told Kim and Hailey that my mystery man would be at Molly's tonight, so both of them were on the edge of their seats.

"Would you both settle down? He'll be here shortly," I tell him and take another sip of beer.

"We're just excited," Kim spoke. "You've been dating this guy for 8 months and haven't said a word, so he must be one hell of a guy."

"Oh, believe me, he is," I declare. Just then, the door to Molly's opened, and Jay stepped into the bar, immediately making eye contact with me.

"Jay! Over here!" Hailey called out and waved him over to the three of us. Jay made his way through the crowd to get to us, and as soon as he was close enough, I hopped off of my bar stool, grabbed him by the shirt, and brought his lips down to mine. I could feel Jay smile against my lips as he kissed back, his hands automatically gravitating to my waist. The kiss only lasted for a few seconds, but as soon as we pulled apart, I saw the shock etched onto my friends' faces. "Hold on a minute. My partner, the guy I've been working with for like 2 years now, is the mysterious man you've been dating for 8 months?"

"Surprise," I chirp and lean back against Jay's chest.

"I don't even know what to say," Kim confessed. "How did we not know the two of you were together?"

"We're just great at hiding it," Jay answered and gave my hand a small squeeze. "I'm gonna find the guys, okay? It's only fair that they know now too."

"Okay. We'll be over there in a few minutes," I say. Jay nodded and pecked my lips quickly before heading off to find Kevin and Adam amongst the crowd.

"So? What do you guys think?" I ask.

Hailey smiled. "You guys seem happy together, so I'm happy for you. Even if you did hide this from us for months.

"Yeah," Kim agreed. "We're just glad that you're happy."

"You guys are the best," I exclaim and finish the rest of my beer. "All right, next drinks are on me. It's the least I can do for making you two wait this long to find out who my boyfriend is. But, Hailey, I think the real question here is, 'What's going on between Kim and Adam?'"

Kim's face flushed a deep shade of red, and she gulped down the last of her beer. "Herrmann, we need some more drinks over here!"

"Oh, you're not getting away that easy. Y/N and I will hound you until you tell us everything," Hailey claimed. "But you're lucky that we just found out about Y/N and Jay, because right now, that's all I want to hear about. So Y/N, tell us everything."

I let out a mix between a sigh and a groan. "Okay. I guess we'll start out with our first kiss."

________________________

Tag List:

@prettypyschoinpink @securityfriendly-jay @scarletsoldierrr @lorenakaspersen @virtualreader @carnationworld @caitsymichelle13 @dreamingmanip @campingmonkey @winterberryfox @nevertoofarfromivar @anotherfan07 @giagma @mrspeacem1nusone @i-like-sparkly-things

#one chicago #one chicago x reader #one chicago imagine #one chicago imagines #chicago pd #chicago pd x reader #chicago pd imagine #chicago pd imagines #jay halstead #jay halstead x reader #jay halstead imagine #jay halstead imagines #hailey upton #kim burgess #x reader #imagine #imagines

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jiminrings · 4 years ago

Note

i just reread ll (after seeing that yoongi pic on twt..... loml) AND UGH IM SO MAD AT THAT FIGHT WHY DID HE SAY THAT AND OH MY GOD WHERE IS OC SLEEPING OMG DID SHE STAY THE NIGHT AT TAEHYUNGS (not like that ..... nasties 😑) WHATS GOING ON. WHAT IS JUNGKOOK GONNA DO WHEN YOONGI OR SEOKJIN FIND HIM WHAT IF YOONGI KILLS HIM OR SMTH

cold senior!y/n x stem major!koo masterlist :D

you leave jungkook alone in your dorm after a fight — but at the same time, he gets left alone with yoongi and jin, who still aren't sure what to think of him especially now

aka part two of the ll couple's first fight

"i think i'm gonna crash."

seokjin yawns and says out loud without the knowledge that he's speaking out loud, his hands fumbling for the dorm keys amongst the numerous keychains he has a knack for collecting

"you drank one cup of coffee, jin," yoongi snorts because as far as he recalls two hours ago, jin even made him drink his remaining coffee because he couldn't take any more

yeah well sCREW jin for trying to stay awake the whole day alright!!!! he made a roadtrip out of scouring each individual part he wanted to add to his fancy PC setup he's been saving a pretty penny for

he doesn't say it at all but yoongi carries immense happiness in tagging along with errands even if it serves him no purpose <3 sometimes he just likes being a keychain to his best friends and he's happy!!

"yeah, hot coffee — the worst," jin elaborates his dislike for hot coffee even if both you and yoongi heard it a hundred times before

he's noisily trying to find the right key and he's surprised you haven't woken up and just oPENED the door for them, but he's cluelessly and thoroughly entertaining yoongi aka the guy who hAS his own key yet refuses to use just so that he could see his friend suffering some more

at this point, your neighbors probably think you’re getting robbed but thankfully jin finally manages to put in the right key, a satisfactory sigh leaving him when it finally clicks and turns the right way

the dorm is dark and noT dim like what they’re used to, probably something to be blamed to the hellfire of rain that’s going on outside

jin’s carelessly removing his shoes by his own feet, only stopping when yoongi harshly pinches him on the side before he does it to himselF on the inside of his arm

“ow! what was-“

he soothes the sore spot on his side because yoongi can reallyyyyyy put his two fingers close without pinching and therefore make it hurt even more, eyes all around the place before it stops on a familiar figure

a familiar figure, sure. welcome? not exactly.

"huh. you're still here? are you staying the night?"

seokjin asks out loud to jungkook who’s standing by himself beside the couch with his hands bunched, worried eyes fixed on them

"where's y/n?"

yoongi asks and it’s made evident how the both of them have different intentions to acquire for, but they all boil down to you nonetheless

jungkook’s throat dries because it hasn’t even been an hour that he’s left alone in yoor dorm, not expecting it either that your two friends would come home this quick

"that's the thing,” he mumbles and yoongi picks it up first, slithering around jin to confirm if he’s really hearing jungkook

what does he mEAN that’s the thing???

"y/n left."

jungkook’s with the two of them now but oddly enough, he doesn’t feel cornered even if the two of them are positioned as if they’re trapping him

he feels more alone than he is cornered, fresh tears stinging at the back of his eyes that he doesn’t want to show yoongi nor jin

"what did you just say?" yoongi asks more in confusion than in disbelief, narrowing his eyes at your boyfriend

"why would she leave at this hour and at this weather? not to mention, leave you alone with us."

jin raises a valid point to put into everyone’s head how bizarre the situation is and not to spook jungkook out, but it sounds like the latter to him which is why he snorts at the startled look

"calm down, kid. we're not gonna rough you up if that's what you're thinking," he reminds him because they’re not tHAT unhinged when it comes to you, walking to the refrigerator to down the nearest water bottle, ".... not unless??"

he still carries a playful edge to him because as much as he’s worried about you, atleast one of the three of them in this room should be far from having a breakdown to level the others

yoongi’s not done with his questioning streak because he presses further, sitting at the couch in your exact seat that makes jungkook gulp

god it’s now just hitting him that you left

"why did she leave?"

"w-we fought."

there’s slight hesitance in his tone because he’s not exactly surE if he should be telling that he fought with you to your friends, but he sets aside the possible consequences because after all, it’s you that they’re conversing about

yoongi nods to himself, having a hunch that the both of you must’ve fought and when he looks up at him, he only belatedly realizes that your boyfriend’s now blonde

"what did you do?"

he goes straight for it, startling jungkook

he’s not necessarily offended that yoongi asked him what he did because if you ask him, this is really aLL his fault

"i-i'll get to that but uh shouldn't we look for y/n first?"

...

..... okay that was understandable

yoongi knows where he’s coming from, nodding to acknowledge him

"not the first time this happened," he admits quietly and that leaves jungkook speechless, watching him intently which is why it made sense that yoongi’s not out of his mind panicking just like he is, "y/n left the dorm when she and seokjin fought."

yoongi says it even quieter and jungkook gets why, because as low as his mumble went, seokjin still managed to hear it

it must’ve been a sore spot that jin doesn’t want to tell him all about, atleast right now, because he looks down to his feet as if he’s been burnt

"it was a serious fight, but it was long ago,” he mumbles under his breath and the reminder of their fight which he’s tried to bury in the back of his head throws him off his feet slightly, “she doesn't really leave when it's just a petty fight or something."

yoongi somberly smiles at jin as some sort of apology for bringing it up, not wanting to put salt on the wounds as he just redirects his attention to jungkook

"i'm asking you for the last time, jungkook — what did you do?"

there’s no direct pressure behind his words but the three of them know that it would drastically help if he just said so

there’s no moral compass that he tries to steer because he himself wants to tell yoongi and jin, even if it means having to put the little respect and love they have for him on the line

jungkook doesn’t sugarcoat and retells all the way from what happened with the hoseok situation until he finishes with what happened merely an hour ago, almost scared to look up at the both of them

jin humorlessly chuckles and shakes his head to himself, still perched against the kitchen counter

"low fucking blow, kid."

surprisingly, yoongi became the lenient one

jungkook’s head aches because the two of them switched attitudes in a matter of minutes!!!! jin is the one that sounds like he hates being in the same room as him and yoongi is the one that tolerates hin generally

he could oNLY assume that the retelling of the events must’ve hit jin one way or another, somehow connected to what the two of you fought about long ago

yoongi takes the liberty to speak after jin’s remark, nudging jungkook by the knee to sit beside him

"y/n's hurt, of course, because as much as she had flings and casual fucks and whatnot," he trails around but doesn’t look to jungkook who’s wide-eyed thy he’s even letting him sit beside him, “you're her first boyfriend."

...

....

...... what

“i am?”

jungkook asks in confusion and the regret creeps up to him not a second later, the ringing in his ears blocking out the rain and even jin’s announcement that he’ll call you

he nods and kook knows that he’s not only saying this to pull at his tail, simply because he’s aware that yoongi doesn’t joke around with him

with jin entering his room to call you, that leaves him alone with yoongi and it barely registers in his head that this is the first time it’s only the two of them after that time when he threatened to give him a knuckle sandwich and the sort

"was starting to entertain and like the idea of you in y/n's life — our lives, y'know?"

yoongi initiates conversation and kook gets startled even more, tripping over his words because he can’t grasp at the situation fully

"i'm sorry, yoongi. i-i really am."

"hate to say this but," he clicks the roof of his mouth with his tongue, fiddling with his bracelets, "i know you are."

???

jungkook’s confusion at your friend’s words is what distracts him from his remorse, not believing his ears

yoongi believes him??? he knOws that he actually feels sorry for having done what he did??

"y/n doesn't like being accused, i think no one really does," he starts off carefully, “it's not my story to tell but it's for you to understand that y/n, y'know...."

jungkook swallows the lump on his throat for whatever yoongi’s gonna say next, a furrow in his brow as he chooses his words

“she doesn't come from a past wherein assurance is at face value,” he clears his throat, "that's all i can tell you."

jungkook nods and he tries to contain his thoughts because he doesn’t want to assume. he’s only gonna take what you give and he’ll willingly wait for that time you tell him all about his past

he does have a clue about your family because he asked that one time if he’d be meeting your parents because you’re a senior and you’re graduating soon, but you only shaked your head no and said “yoongs and jin are enough” for your ceremony

yoongi feels sorry, but he’s not sure for who :(

all he knows is that his heart aches, even if it’s for the boy in front of him that he swore he’d hate, but is now unconsciously worming his way into his heart

he’s no stranger to what jungkook feels because he felt the same type of territoriality and the insecurity that came along with it — the one he used to have over you, in that platonic soulmate sense he didn’t realize at the time

"it's not my place to tell you either, but sooner or later, insecurity will consume you, jungkook."

the guy in question nods eagerly because yoongi manages to address the struggle he has in his mind, acknowledging the issue at-hand fully

"y/n can't baby you forever,” yoongi sighs, “but you can't be ditched whenever she feels like it either."

did...

did yoongi just take his side.....

jungkook kNOWS in the back of his head that yoongi’s neutral, but it all just registers in his head that for the first time, yoongi’s on his side, even in a sense

"talk it out. just sleep in her room for the meantime. fix it in the morning,” he starts to gather himself to stand, pausing to look at jungkook in the eye, "i'd hate to see my soulmate hurting."

the thing is, jungkook knows that yoongi’s your soulmate :-)

you told him that once and as much as you explained that it was only platonic, jungkook quickly understood it, much to your surprise

he knows he doesn’t know the entirety of you, but he knows that when he looks at yoongi, he’s looking at you too :)

yoongi gives him the ghost of a smile, making jungkook blink twice

"sooner or later, the two of us need to talk."

jungkook’s contented with that, smiling back at him

"good night, yoongi."

"good night, jungkook."

( ♡ )

ok.,.,.

“don’t come home, it’s pouring. or go back to your dorm, whatever. i don’t care.”

okay you dO in fact care!!!

it’s been more or less two hours since you left the dorm and you know this because jungkook’s been texting you without fail, only stopping twenty minutes ago that makes you look at the time

it’s 11 o’clock :O

either he’s asleep like he usually would be at this time, or he walked home

in fact, you don’t even know if jungkook is still at your dorm

your phone rings all of a sudden that it makes you flinch, scrambling to see who it was and you don’t know if it’s disappointment or relief coating you when you saw that it was jin

"and where is my favorite girl at this time of the night?"

you could only chuckle as you share a glance with the person whose dorm you crashed in, sending an eager greeting with his mouth full

"i'm at taehyung's. we're eating brownies right now."

when you knocked on tae’s door just two hours ago, the only thing he greeted you with was with a towel!!

he didn’t ask why you’re practically soaked in front of his doorstep because for whatever it is, it must probably be in good reason

truth be told, you didn’t even knOw where you were supposed to go but then tae popped into your head as the only sane person you know that would let you in at this time of the night without prior notice

it was a simple “jungkook and i fought.” to which he only nodded to, turned on the tv for you, and started baking brownies

"mhmm. what kind?"

you chew on the chocolate fudge, slightly chuckling at what jin’s insinuating

"the kind that doesn't leave you disoriented."

he hums at that and you could picture him swiveling on his gaming chair he bought just a week ago, his phone tucked to his ear closely

"the same kind that makes you able enough to come home tonight?"

"yeah,” you breathlessly agree, fiddling with the matching bracelet you have with jungkook, “same kind."

you could only assume now that they've seen jungkook and he's still saying there, all alone but with them

your heart warms at the thought that indirectly, jin’s making you come home to reunite you with jungkook, knowing that there’s an impending conversation sooner or later

"want me to pick you up? you'll get a cold."

"i'll borrow tae's umbrella. i'll come home when we finish the brownies."

the both of you know that it’s code for you just wanting a little more time before you come back, and also because you really wanna dO finish the brownies that tae warmly made for yoy

"mkay," jin smiled at your response, "i'll lock the door but just send me a text and i'll open it for you."

"won't you be sleeping?"

"i'll stay up. i'm not sleepy."

jin replies just as quick, a complete 180 to what he said when he initially came home that he wanted to crash because of the hot coffee he drank

you wordlessly thank him and he acknowledges it, happy to atleast know that you heeded his concern for you to come home tonight

"get home safe. love you."

it’s not only minutes later than you thank taehyung immensely and promise to take him to the aquarium as your thanks, finding yourself in your dorm that seokjin ushers you into with a peck on your head

you rush to your room and you’re greeted with the airconditioning turned on, seeing a lump beneath your comforter that you automatically know it’s jungkook sleeping

you're still damp from the rain but you change quickly to the first set of clothes you can grab from your drawers, not wasting a second longer

you sneak into your own bed, the same one that’s carrying jungkook

his sleep hasn’t even been the deepest and the moment he feels a shuffle beside him, he’s woken up immediately

“i’m here.”

jungkook realizes it’s you with the way your voice is soft and the way you hold his arm when you climb into the covers, wordlessly embracing him from behind

"i'm sorry. it's all my fault,” he says sincerely as he turns his body so he could face you, caging you in with his arm

"i'm sorry i stormed out on you."

he feels you nuzzle to the crook of his neck and it calms him down, the familiar scent of you enough to make his eyes close without fear

it only hits you now that this is the first time the two of you cuddle, much less share a bed

"love you."

it’s barely audible but it leaves you nonetheless, not expecting a reply in return but you get one anyways from a sleepy yet overwhelmingly-content jungkook

"i love you the most."

as always, lmk what you think!! i love answering asks :D what do you want to see from the lunchbox lovers next? send them here <3

#stem koo #stem koo misc.#jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook imagine #jungkook oneshot #jungkook oneshots #jungkook drabble #jungkook au #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x reader #jungkook scenario #jungkook writing #bts jungkook imagine #jungkook angst #jungkook angst imagine #jungkook fluff

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alrightberries · 4 years ago

Text

dante’s inferno

request: wassup homie could you maybe write a college au fic where levi and reader are rommies, then one day reader brings home an adopted cat without levi's prior knowledge? You could decide what happens next lol. Tysm 🥺

❈ pairing: levi ackerman x reader

❈ genre: fluff, semi-crack ❈ word count: 4k

❈ summary: college au. in which you bring a stray cat to your dorm and your neat freak roommate won’t let you keep it.

alternatively: a compilation of college shenanigans where you and levi are best friends who are bad with feelings (ft. an unamused cat named dante)

❈ trigger warnings: profanity. mentions of alcohol and smoking. implied smut.

a/n: this was supposed to be loosely based on the nine circles of hell according to inferno by dante alighieri— hence the title— but i did my research wrong so now it’s loosely based on the seven terraces of purgatory according to divine comedy. i’m keeping the title tho.

Inspired by this art by @ryuichirou on tumblr.

Permission to repost art was granted by the artist. Do not repost/edit the art without explicit permission from the artist.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

i. first terrace: pride

“We’re not keeping it.”

“But why?”

“We’re not keeping it.”

“But why.”

Levi’s tongue clicks in annoyance. His eyes glance next you where the offending creature lay on your bed; tail curling, paws kneading at his your favorite fleece blanket. Quite frankly he’s a little offended when the little shit has the audacity to glare at him back.

He’ll never admit it, but his ego’s a bit bruised because the cat’s glare was slightly better than his.

“I said no,” he firmly replies, looking back to you. “It’s bad enough I have to share a room with an anarchist who has no respect for boundaries—“

“One time, I forgot to use a coaster that one time!”

“—and now you expect me to share a room with a dirty fur ball who does nothing but eat, shit, and sleep?”

“He’s a cat, Levi.” You murmur, scooping the cat into your arms. “And he has a name,” you give a nervous smile when you see your rommate grit his teeth. He feels a headache coming.

“You named it?”

“Dante is not an ‘it’.”

Levi makes a move to step closer but immediately stops when the ‘Dante’ hisses at him.

“Aw, he likes you.” You coo.

“Clearly,” he replies unenthusiastically. “Listen,” he sighs. “I respect your cat’s pronouns but that doesn’t mean he’s allowed to stay. Or do I need to remind you of the mac and cheese incident?”

Okay, maybe he was on to something. If you got caught with a pet in the dorms you’d breach your third and final warning, and you’d be forced to dorm off-campus. The fact that you were still here after the mac and cheese incident was solely because Levi pulled some strings (aka asked Erwin, golden boy of the campus who owed him a favor, to pull some strings).

But you couldn’t just let Dante go. There was something about him that felt so familiar; something about his black fur, thin silver eyes, unamused snarl, and overall grumpy demeanor. Especially endearing was the way he’d grumble and pretend to be annoyed whenever you tried to cuddle him but would complain if you stopped.

You just couldn’t figure out who or what he reminded you of.

Maybe you would’ve figured it out too if you weren’t so distracted with watching Levi and Dante stare at each other. Your eyes dart back and forth between the grouchy cat sitting on your bed and your grouchy roommate sitting on his desk. Both were slightly crouched over with their heads tilted up in a show of dominance; they were engaged in what seemed to be a glaring contest, gunmetal irises unamused and mouths taut in a snarl as they protected their territory.

You sigh. You really, for the life of you, couldn’t figure out why Dante felt so familiar.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

ii. second terrace: envy

Levi is not jealous. He’s not.

At least that’s what he tells himself as he sulks alone on his bed. His arms are crossed and his lips are in a pout, eyebrows knitted in distaste, occasionally glancing to your side of the room where you sat up on your bed. He’s sure whatever movie you chose to watch together is interesting and all, but right now all he could pay attention to was that stupid cat. Sitting on your stupid lap. Getting its fur stroked by your stupid hand. Getting all the love and affection his stupid self should be receiving.

It was him you should be cuddling, not Dante. Saturday nights were reserved for him and you, not you and a cat while he happened to be in the room. He’s been trying to make a move on you since high school and he can’t fucking believe he’s losing your attention to a cat. Sure, he’s always been too chicken to make a move and had to suffer seeing you get together with assholes— as per your type during your emo high school days— but this was a new low. He can’t wrap his head around the concept that he’s losing his longterm crush to a motherfucking cat.

When you coo at how adorable the fleabag was for what felt like the 50th time that night, Levi decides he’s had enough of the cuddle-hogging piece of shit.

Wordlessly, he crosses to your side of the room and lifts the cat from its perch, ignoring your protests as he sets it down on the floor and tells it to ‘scram, you little fuck.’ He uses a hand to dust your lap free of any microscopic cat particles Dante probably left behind before lying down his head down once he was satisfied. He grabs your hand to put it on his hair.

“Stroke.” He orders, eyes closing.

“What? No! You pushed off Dante.”

“He was in my spot.”

“You couldn’t have given up your lap pillow for one night?”

“One night?” He scoffs and turns to look at you. “You’ve been abandoning me for two weeks. That disgusting, tic-infested, rabies-carrying slob has no business sitting on your lap.”

“He’s not disgusting, you gave him a shower before you agreed to let me keep him. And I took him the vet to make sure he had all his shots. He’s clean, Levi.”

“Tch, good. Now throw him out and let him find someone else to freeload from.”

“Okay, what’s going on?” You guffaw. “You’ve been grumpier than usual. And why’re you being such an ass to Dante? He’s just a cat.”

“Don’t think he’s special in some way. I’m an ass to everyone.”

“Then why does it feel like you’re always extra mean to him?”

He doesn’t reply. His lips are downturned into a frown when he looks away with a click of his tongue, and you realize with a sigh you won’t be getting an answer from your cryptic roommate soon. Your fingers start mindlessly stroking his undercut when you get lost in your thoughts— a habit you developed through years of Levi using your lap as a pillow. He always complained the first few times you did it but you knew it calmed both him and you, and that it put both your minds at ease. Moreso Levi right now, apparently.

You’re keenly aware of how he seems to curl up into you the more you keep going. You watch as his shoulders slump down when you stroke the side of his face, and his eyebrows relax slightly. From your angle, you could even see the way his eyes close in content. Maybe even a tiny smile if you were being delusional.

Your lip twitches upward.

“Oh my god, Levi, are you jealous of a cat?”

“Shut up and play with my hair.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

iii. third terrace: wrath

“You owe me a new cravat.”

You blink up at your roommate. “What?”

“You owe me a new cravat.” He repeats. He pulls from his pocket a white piece of fabric— barely recognizable— torn into shreds, releases it mid-air. It gently lands on your open palm.

“Wait, did Dante do this?” You ask, eyeing the slik in your hands.

“Unless you went feral in the middle of the fucking night and decided to cut up my clothes, yes.”

“Oh my god, Levi, I’m so sorry. I swear Dante will never—“

“You actually owe me three cravats,” he interjects. “The first two I overlooked since they weren’t that expensive but I draw the line here.” His lips are downturned into a frown, eyes poorly concealing his clear distaste. “This one’s my favorite and it was made from silk.”

You eye the fabric in your hands once more before nodding in understanding, setting down the once beautiful cravat before taking out your wallet. It was only fair that you paid him back; he was being more than generous with letting your cat stay and keeping it a secret, and now you wonder how many bad things Dante’s done that Levi’s overlooked or simply never brought up with you.

“Sure, I’m really sorry. How much do I owe you?”

Levi doesn’t say anything. Instead he pulls out his phone and types something on what you could only assume was google, most likely looking for the same brand of the cravat your cat had just torn into shreds. You weren’t entirely sure how much those could cost, but surely you could afford—

“What the fuck!” You screech, eyeing the page with very, very hefty price tags listed. Holy fucking hell where did he even get the money to buy something so expensive. Gulping, you nervously look up at your unimpressed roommate. You already knew he was taking it easy on you; his aura was the only thing intimidating, at least he wasn’t giving you the murder eyes. And even though he was a man of his word, you were thankful he hasn’t reported Dante.

Still, it didn’t change the fact that Levi looked pissed beyond belief.

“Uhm... can I pay you with a check that’ll definitely bounce?”

“You will pay me in cash.”

“Fuck, fine!”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

iv. fourth terrace: sloth

Levi silently works on his desk. His laptop’s open in fromt of him, numerous notes from classes and books from the library surrounding him. The gentle sounds of clicking and clacking echoe throughout the room as fingers typed at the keyboard, eyes concentrated and lips pulled taught as he focuses on his task. He’s on a roll. He’s almost done with this part of his research, nothing could snap him out of this, he just needs to—

“Levi, when do you think Dante will come back to me?”

He stops typing and grits his teeth.

This is how it’s been the entire night. Ten minutes of peace before you ask him some stupid questions that could’ve been answered with common sense.

“Fuck if I care.”

“Do you think it was something I did?”

He resumes typing. “Yes.”

“Do you think he’ll come back?”

“No.”

“Even after all we’ve been through?”

“Still no.”

“I miss him,” you sigh. “I miss him so much.”

“Then you shouldn’t have left the door open.”

It’s been a week since Dante escaped the dorm and Levi doesn’t understand why you’re still so depressed about it. I mean, you only lost a cat that you loved and treasured and treated like family. Surely a week of moping around in your pajamas and eating nothing but chips and soda was catharsis enough.

He hears you shift in your burrito blanket, presumably to turn away from him so you can sulk into the wall next to your bed. Good. Now he can get back to working on—

“Levi do you think Dante-“

“Enough.” He grits, slamming his laptop shut.

“Where’re you going?” You ask, eyeing the way he hurriedly stuffs papers and books into his bag along with his laptop.

“Out.” He replies, grabbing his keys and his coat. “I can’t stand this shit anymore.”

Your head is burried in your blankets when he slams the door shut and all you could do was slump down because great. You lost Dante, and now you’ve royally pissed off Levi.

Great. Just fucking great.

Unlike your cat, however, your roommate comes back hours later, just before curfew. He doesn’t bother with a hello— he never does— and neither do you, opting to stay hidden underneath the sheets. Though suddenly, there’s a dip in the mattress followed by a pur next to your head.

Could it be?

“Dante?” You murmur, lifting your head from underneath your cocoon of fabric. Small black paws and silver eyes meet your gaze. “Dante!” Immediately sitting up, you pulled him to your lap, scratching his little head and cooing about how much you missed him as he purred and curled into to you.

Levi would never say it, but he missed seeing you smile at the little fleabag.

You turn to look at your roommate. “How’d you find him?”

“Asked around the campus. He wandered into another dorm building and probably thought it was ours.”

“Well yeah but... I thought you hated him?”

“I do.” He replies instantly.

“Then why’d you find him?”

“I hate him, not you.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

v. fifth terrace: avarice

“I fucking hate both of you,” Levi grumbles, staring at the dorm.

Towers of boxes lined his supposed to be clean dorm room. He had a hard time prying the door open since it was blocked, and he wasn’t even sure how the boxes weren’t blocking out the light from how high they were piled. Dante’s sat on a stack of box directly next to the door, purring and flicking his tail around. Levi squints his eyes and glares at the little shit.

“You especially.”

“Mrow?”

Levi’s day had been, with no irony or sarcasm at all, amazing. He got a good grade on his research paper; the guy in front of him at the cafe accidentally ordered an extra serving of (coincidentally, Levi’s favorite) tea and gave it to him for free; and he got full marks for the presentation he’s been worrying about for weeks. His class even got dismissed early so he had an extra hour for lunch. He knew you didn’t have classes, so in honor of his great day he thought he’d do something nice and take you out for lunch. His treat, of course.

But any trace of his good mood vanished when he went back to the dorms and got greeted to a room that looked like it came from an episode of Hoarders.

This is what he gets for trying to be nice.

“Levi! Is that you?” You called out.

“What the fuck happened?”

You laugh sheepishly— at least Levi thinks you do. He couldn’t see you beyond the hundred boxes that took up your shared room. He hears some rustling and the sound of things being moved around before finally your head pops out from behind a wall of brown, smiling at him apologetically before walking towards him (and tripping a few times).

“Remember when I said I’d order some toys for Dante as a surprise?”

Levi’s eye twitches. “Don’t tell me—”

“I accidentally ordered 10,000 instead of 10. Online shopping struggles, am I right?” You nervously chuckle at his pissed off face. Levi was not in the mood.

Your smile widens as you make twinkly gestures with your hands. “So uh... surprise?”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

vi. sixth terrace: gluttony

The clinic is still when you first entered.

The harsh smell of alcohol and sterile metal makes your nose grimace, and the coldness of the thermostat brings goosebumps to your arms. Behind the wall, somewhete in the waiting room, cats are hissing, dogs are barking, and you could even hear the sound of birds angrily chirping and rattling their cages.

Dante cowers in fear on the silver table, and your heart aches. His ears are down and his fur’s standing on its ends, but you couldn’t comfort him. Not right now, at least. The veterinarian still needed to do a few more checks.

You gulp, “how’s... how’s Dante looking, doc?”

“Not good,” she murmurs. Her eyebrows are furrowed, and she takes a deep sigh as she eyes the information on the chart. “It’ll take months before he can walk properly again, possibly more if we don’t do anything about it soon.”

“Don’t tell me... is he—-”

“I’m sorry, my dear,” she sighs. “But your cat is heavily obese.”

The corners of your lips twitch down into a frown, and your palm is warm when you start to stroke Dante’s fur. He calms down a bit from your touch, less on edge but still guarded as he warily eyes the doctor’s gloved hands.

“But I don’t understand,” you reply. “I’ve been following the recommended diet you put him on, and I haven’t been feeding him anything other than the cat food and vitamins you recommended. How’s he still obese?”

“Well, we could look into other solutions, but for now I think we ought to look at whether or not Dante has an underlying health problem.”

Levi tunes out the chatter between you and the vet, bored eyes staring into nothing. He’s leaning against a wall and he’s watching the cat carrier. Your bag’s slung over his shoulders and your coat’s in his arms, and he was sure you didn’t even need him to be here for “moral support.”

He mentally scoffs. You probably just needed a chauffeur to drive you for free, and honestly, Levi would rather feel like a chauffeur than a coat rack.

His eyes make contact with Dante’s, and all the fear in the cat’s eyes is suddenly gone, replaced with a steely glare and bared teeth. A warning, one no one else notices but him.

Levi gives him a solitary nod, understanding what Dante wanted to say.

Don’t tell Y/N I’ve been sneaking to the neighbors.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

vii. seventh terrace: desire

There’s something about the buzz of alcohol and nicotine that makes Levi confident—- the liquid courage in his veins and the smoke in his lungs clouding his judgement. Perhaps that’s where he finally gets the balls to cross the room, drunken eyes on your equally intoxicated ones, before he pulls you in for a kiss.

The kiss starts slow, with lips just interlocking and lightly testing the waters. But then he feels your tongue make its way inside his mouth and your fingers weave into his hair to tug him closer, and Levi loses the last threads of inhibition he has. His tongue massages yours and one of his arm wraps around your waist, the other comes down to grope and knead your ass. He feels you walk backwards and your hand pulls at his tie, dragging him with you. Suddenly he’s trapping you against a wall, lifting one of your legs up to wrap around his hips so he could grind his crotch into yours.

Levi doesn’t expect his first kiss with you to be like this; messy and full of tongue and spit, full of fingers clawing at clothes and small grunts escaping your lips. He was hoping it’d be more romantic, with warm cheeks and fingers softly intertwining, shy kisses exchanged through little smiles.

But he’s not about to complain—- he’s wanted to be with you for years, and god he loved having you like this. Loved having you all hot and desperate, trapped between his firm chest and the wall. His cock is hard in his pants, and he just about growls when he feels you start to undo his belt, the fly of his pants coming down as you got on your knees and stared up at him with innocent eyes as you pull out his aching boner. There’s a cheeky grin your face when you pump at his length, and your tongue peaks out of your mouth before—

“Levi, are you okay?”

His eyes snap open, and he’s greeted to the sight of your worried face directly above his.

“Fuck!” he yells, and his forehead slams into yours when he flinches away. “Sorry, sorry” he quickly ammends when you yelp in pain.

He’s covered in sweat, he notices. Chest heaving, heart beating a little too loud for his liking, and he silently pulls the blankets over his cum stained boxers when you sit beside him.

God, he was really hoping you wouldn’t notice the fact that he came in his pants like a high schooler. And it was before dream you even got to suck him off. How much more pathetic could he be.

“Are you okay?” He asks, and you nod.

“Yeah, m’fine, it’s just...” your eyes are distracted, staring off into space. Fingers trace his thighs, and you sigh. “You were having a nightmare,”

Levi blinks. “What?”

“You were having a nightmare,” you repeat. “Kept tossing and turning and groaning in your sleep. And you kept making these... funny faces,”

“...right,” he nods. Sure, a nightmare. A nightmare he never wanted to wake up from.

It takes about ten minutes to reassure you that yes, he was fine, don’t mind the way his cheeks are flushed, he was just... shaken up from his nightmare, is all. Then you’re back to bed, sleeping the night away, and twenty minutes later he’s on his way back to bed too; this time with a fresh pair of boxers and a content look on his face, all thanks to him finishing off his fantasies in the communal bathroom during his shower.

The door makes a quiet click when he shuts it behind him, and he freezes when he catches sight of Dante sat up on your bed, tail flicking behind him as he gives Levi a knowing look.

Levi squints his eyes, and he threateningly whispers, “you tell no one.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

epilogue

The half empty room brings a frown to your face, and all you could do was pout as you sealed up the last of the boxes.

“Why do you have to leave again?” you ask, and Levi turns around as he finishes folding the last of his clothes. He shrugs. “Cats aren’t allowed in the dorms.”

You owed him your entire college career, that much was sure. The RA’s found out about Dante, and Levi had taken the fall to spare you. He wasn’t required to move out since it was only his first strike, but he insisted on doing so so that Dante wouldn’t be alone, saying he already found an apartment nearby and he’ll never hear the end of it from you if he didn’t take Dante with him.

Bullshit. Levi had a soft spot for Dante, you knew that much. He wasn’t doing it for you, he was doing it for himself. Though normally you’d be overjoyed to know that Levi really did secretly like the cat he pretended to hate so much, this time, you were just pissed. You couldn’t believe a fucking cat was stealing away the guy you’ve been in love with since high school. Sure, you were too much of a coward to ask him out, but he was basically your boyfriend already—- the entire campus knew you inadvertently had dibs on each other.

“Yeah but... do you have to leave me alone?”

“I asked you to come with me, and you said no.” He points out. “I still don’t see why when we’ve been roommates since we were freshmen.”

“It’s different off-campus!”

“How?”

“Because it’s like... it’s like we’re moving in together, y’know?” you reply. “And it seemed wrong to move in with you when we’re not even dating.”

“Let’s do it, then.”

“What do you mean?”

He sighs, handing you a spare key to what you could only assume was his new apartment. You glance between him and the key in your hands, and he rolls his eyes when he realizes that you still don’t get it.

“I know we’re doing this backwards since couples don’t typically move in before the first date,” he says before gesturing to Dante. “But we already have a son, and I know you’re his favorite parent. We can share custody until you can move in with me.”

You blink. “What?” Your brain stopped working when Levi referred to you as a couple, and you’re pretty sure your heart stopped beating too. At this point, anything he said went in one ear and out the other. He flicks your forehead.

“Hey— ow! What was that for?”

“You weren’t listening.”

“And you’re being a prick!” you grumble. “It hurts, y’know.”

He scoffs. “What do you want me to do? Kiss it better?” he scoffs.

Your mouth moves faster than your brain, “I’d rather you kiss me.”

Wait. What?

Before you could go back on your words, Levi shrugs. Warm palms gently grab your cheeks, pulling your face closer to his. Your eyes widen and you momentarily freeze, brain definitely not working anymore. He hesitates when you don’t make a move, but then you’re shyly leaning forward, and that was all the confirmation Levi needs.

“If you insist,” he whispers, and suddenly your words die on your tongue when his lips interlock with yours.

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jjungkookislife · 4 years ago

Text

Secret ||PJM || Pt. 5: I’ll Be Good (M)

pairing: sugar daddy!jimin x sugar baby!reader

genre: smut, angst, some fluff

wc: 5.1k

warnings: [not in order] cursing, mentions about mental health (depression and anxiety), loneliness, daddy!kink, pet names (baby, baby girl, babe, good girl, doll, love), alcohol use/mentions, spit kink, choking, nudes, oral sex, nipple play, marking (hickeys, bruising, biting), hair pulling, thigh riding mentions, unprotected sex, mention of birth control, jealousy, possessiveness, creampie

date: March 31, 2021

The last thing Jimin wanted to be was stuck in a meeting with men who still didn’t trust him with the company, despite his great efforts. He made sure to keep his demeanor hard— frigid— refusing to allow them to see him as weak. It took a toll on him, a large heavy weight on his mental health, but he wasn’t going to dwell on that now because he had you to help him carry the burden.

You.

You were wonderful in his eyes. Smart, beautiful, funny, but that mouth of yours often got you in trouble. You liked to push his buttons, liked to rile him up to see how far he’d go. You were a brat at heart, but a princess at any other time when it suited you. He lov—he liked that about you.

Ever since he had first met you, he’d been drawn to you. He wasn’t sure if it was your smile, your laugh, or the way your eyes caught his at the bar of some party he couldn’t even remember the occasion of. You smiled at him, excusing yourself from the man that had been chatting you up. Jimin paid him no mind as you strutted toward him, head held high and your drink clasped in your perfectly manicured hand.

You were stunning. A true vision in your red dress that hugged your body just right. Your makeup was spectacular and as he eyed you shamelessly, you giggled. He knew he was gone then, more so when you smiled brightly at him, hand held out for him to bring to his lips to kiss as you told him your name.

Jimin repeated it, as sweet as a lullaby. Your hand remained in his after introducing himself, not wanting to let you fall through his fingers. He was the envy of every man in attendance that night, but a quick romp in the sheets wasn’t what he was looking for, and frankly, neither were you.

After the night of the party, Jimin contacted you. He hadn’t been able to stop thinking of you, fantasizing about all the naughty things he’d like to do to you... if you’d let him. You were eager, a pawn in his hand, ready to bend at his whim… for compensation.

You were a sugar baby. And definitely not a new one. You knew your way around, knew your worth, and knew when someone just wasn’t going to pay up. But Jimin would. Of course he would. Companionship, sex, and a pretty face with a personality that drew him in, keeping him on his toes… what else could he want?

Now, although Jimin didn’t date or had the time to, honestly. He got laid pretty often, if he so desired. He’d had his share of flings, some lasting longer than others, but they all took off when he wouldn’t commit. He had no desire to, not when he had first taken over the company and not in the present either.

Jimin liked his life easy. Liked to spend time with his friends, do his hobbies (tennis, skydiving, swimming, and fucking) whenever he damned well pleased.

Loneliness did creep in. Lonely nights of tossing and turning in an empty penthouse with nobody to share it with. Those dark thoughts consuming him, calling him back to bed when there was work to be done.

He was tired of it. Tired of feeling lost and alone, carving a hole in him that his friends just couldn’t fill, despite their best efforts.

Easily, Jimin agreed to your terms. He’d spoil you rotten, absolutely rotten in exchange for your companionship and sex. He didn’t need a girlfriend, just someone who could act the part without the commitment; the jealousy. Someone to fill the hole in his chest.

Your affection and friendship came with a price tag and some other suitors, suitors Jimin paid you to disperse off. You had put a fight to keep them, but money talked and those other daddies walked.

Jimin had smirked, sitting beside you as you cut off all your other sugar daddies. Some confused, some enraged, and some asking if you were okay.

When he was your only daddy left, you’d smiled smugly. You’d crossed one leg over the other, ignoring the way your dress rode up your thighs, a peek of your panties drawing Jimin’s eyes as you said, “I expect the same from you. No other babies, no other women, just me.”

“You can’t be serious?” Jimin had gasped, his pouty lips in a frown.

“How bad do you want me?” You’d asked, crossing your arms under your chest to draw his attention to your breasts. Jimin had gulped, eyes wide as he licked his lips. You were a temptress, a seductress who knew how to play the game, and Jimin was at your mercy. He was your pawn and with your hand reaching for his belt, he knew he was doomed.

And doomed he was from the very start. He fell into the role very easily, thrived in it and still did. You were wonderful. A ray of sunshine in his otherwise gloomy days. He wasn’t sure how he lived before you; he was sure he didn’t. You were everything he could have ever wanted in a person and so much more, and when his friends loved you as well, he was set.

His baby.

You were his baby and he would take care of you in any way possible, not just financially. He had bought you cars, diamonds, vacations, clothes, iPads, cell phones. You named it; he bought it. All you had to do was send a link, a screenshot, or simply point to it before it was in your hands. The more he got to know you, the more he found caring about you, wanting nothing but your happiness. He didn’t understand what he was feeling, and he didn’t think he was ready to understand it, if he was honest. So, he suppressed his feelings and did what he did best; spoil you with materialistic items. If only he knew you wanted him, and not his gifts.

Jimin looked down at his shoes, concealing the smile that tugged on his lips at the thought of you. He carded a hand through his hair, forcing himself to pay attention as the dull voices wore on and on. Time couldn’t go fast enough as he daydreamed about you waiting in his bed when he eventually got home tonight.

It was the weekend. Maybe he could have you stay the night without you rushing out the door tomorrow morning. He liked when you stayed over, liked having you in his arms all night and being buried between your thighs in the morning.

Why were you consuming his thoughts like this? What kind of spell did you have him under? Recently he’d begun feeling… different around you.

Jimin hadn’t been jealous since you cut off your other sugar daddies. He wanted you for himself and only himself. Mostly because it would be safer (no condoms and you were on the pill), but also, he didn’t want to share you with anyone else. You felt the same way, although you’d never admit it to his face. You’d rather choke.

Lately, these feelings—whatever they were—had made his head spin. He didn’t want to feel more. The thought alone sent him into a panic. But… he also didn’t want to end things. Could he be lying to himself? Sure. Most definitely, as his friends constantly reminded him.

Feelings were dangerous. Feelings—especially one-sided—could cause the beautiful relationship you both had to crumble into smithereens. And then what would he have? Nothing. Not a damn thing if you weren’t in his life. He’d be lonely again. Miserable. A shell of a man like he was before he met you.

Jimin would not go back to that. Not ever. He refused! And so with that, he buried his feelings deep in his chest, under lock and key. And nobody, not even you, was going to let them out.

“Mr. Park? Are there any issues you’d like to address or perhaps some questions?” One of the board members asked. Jimin looked at his assistant, “did you get all that?”

At the nod of her head, Jimin responded, “No, we’re all done here. I’ll see you next week. Dismissed.”

Jimin rose from his seat at the head of the table, passing by everyone to go out the door before they even had a chance to blink. His assistant was hot on his heels, with barely an inch of distance between them.

“Marissa?” Jimin stopped, his assistant halting in her tracks just before an impact could occur.

“Yes, Mr. Park?”

“Is anything on my agenda time sensitive? I’m suddenly feeling ill and would like to go home.”

Marissa looks at her tablet, scrolling through the rest of the afternoon. The sun would set within the hour, and Jimin’s most pressing meetings and appointments had been conducted earlier in the day.

“You have a call scheduled with your father. He says it concerns your brother.” Marissa informs him. Jimin rolls his eyes. He knew that phone call could drag on, and frankly, he didn’t care to know what his younger brother was up to.

“Reschedule for next week. I’m sure he can wait,” Jimin waves his hand, popping into his office to grab his belongings before announcing his departure. Marissa calls the driver, alerting him of Mr. Park’s departure, and Jimin smirks as the doors of his private elevator shut.

It felt good to be the boss.

Jimin sat back in his limo, growing more inpatient as the minutes ticked by. You’d already sent him some racy photos, each growing more and more risqué until you were down to just your panties, back arched and fingers dangerously close to slipping into your panties.

‘I’m waiting, daddy.’

Jimin cursed, biting his lip as his building finally came into view. He wanted to devour you in kisses, consume every bit of you until you were writhing beneath him, hands pinned above your head as your pretty eyes locked with his.

“We’ve arrived, sir.” The driver stares down at his boss, who is just staring down at his phone, finally noticing his door has been opened and his driver is waiting for him to get out. Jimin immediately locks his phone, stuffing it into the pocket of his jacket before getting out.

“Thank you,” he says as he walks past him and into his building, greeting the doorman as he gets into the elevator. He swears it’s dragging today, but it could be his eagerness to get to you, knowing you’re waiting for him in his bed in nothing but a pair of flimsy panties is torturous.

Jimin rushes inside his penthouse, “Baby, I’m home.”

“I’m in here,” you call back as Jimin heads down the hallway, a smirk on his lips as he opens his bedroom door.

He bites his lip. You’re a vision. A true vision as you lie on his bed, a teasing smile on your lips.

“I missed you,” you say softly as Jimin walks further into his bedroom. His hand begins to loosen his tie as he kicks his shoes off, ignoring how they clatter on his bedroom floor.

“I’m sorry I kept you waiting, princess,” he apologizes as he climbs onto the bed and you get on your knees, crawling over to him.

“Really? Are you going to show me how sorry you are? I’ve been waiting such a long time, daddy. I almost had to take care of myself,” you pout, your hand tightening his tie, eyes hard. Jimin licks his lips, his hand wrapping around yours before he’s caressing your face.

“Is that so?” he asks, moving his hand to undo his tie. He holds the black silk in his hands, twining it as he looks at you, his eyes drawn to your bare breasts.

“Very. It’s not nice to keep me waiting,” you whisper as you inch closer, lips pressing a featherlight kiss to his neck. Jimin swallows thickly. You quickly work your way through the buttons of his shirt, untucking it from his black slacks. You push his jacket off his shoulders, letting it crumple on the floor.

Jimin raises a brow. You ignore it. Your lips are planting kisses on every inch of his neck, pushing his shirt down his arms. You feel his bicep, looking up at him with a grin before he’s pulling you to him. You gasp, your chest pressed against his as he threads his fingers in your hair to pull you into a deep passionate kiss that has you moaning into his lips.

“Jimin,” a sigh of his name has him grunting, eyes wild as he kisses you once again, pushing you onto your back. You giggle, loving how he sloppily kisses your face and neck.

“Jimin! Jimin!” you exclaim, giggles filling his bedroom as you look up at him. Jimin feels his heart skip a beat, cheeks tinted pink as he grins widely at you, “am I forgiven, princess?”

“If I say yes, will you stop slobbering on my face?” Jimin smirks, his hand wrapping around your throat, squeezing the sides. You gasp, moaning and melting under him.

“Open,” you do as instructed, sticking your tongue out for him. So obedient. Such a good girl for him.

Jimin releases your throat, a mischievous gleam in his dark eyes as he squeezes your cheeks. He spits on your tongue, releasing you, “swallow.”

You do.

“Fuck,” Jimin curses, carding a hand through his hair. You stick your tongue out again for him, watching as he undoes his belt, tossing it to the floor carelessly. He straddles your hips, leaning in to kiss you, his tongue twining with yours. He grinds down on you, swallowing the dulcet moans that escape you as your hands weave in his hair, tugging at the locks. Your hips meet his, feeling his erection with every roll of your hips. Your panties are soaked, utterly ruined as you beg him to touch you… to fuck you.

Jimin smirks, pressing a kiss to your kiss-swollen lips to silence you. His lips trail downward to your jaw, down to your neck where he nips and suckles at the sensitive skin as his hands cup your breast, thumbs circling your pert nipples before it’s his tongue swirling around them. Teeth gently nipping your nipple, your back arched into him as he palms himself over his slacks.

“Tell me,” Jimin starts as he rises, one hand palming his dick, the other kneading your breast. “What did you do while I was gone, doll?”

“N-nothing,” you answer honestly. Your body is heated, sweat beading at your hairline, thighs pressed together as your panties stick to you obscenely.

Jimin looks into your eyes, his hand moving over your chest. He can tell when you’re lying, having figured it out right from the start. Simple little tells: lack of eye contact, biting your lip and a racing heart.

Grinning, Jimin brushes his lips against yours, “good baby.” You preen at the praise, smiling bashfully before his hand is unbuttoning his pants, tugging the zipper down as he climbs off of you to pull his pants down the rest of the way. He takes a second to remove his socks, knowing you don’t like them on during sex.

Jimin shoots you a knowing smile as you sit up on your elbow, hungrily admiring his body. He was sin incarnate. Perfectly sculpted from his strong shoulders and neck down to his thighs that you just loved to ride until you were nothing but a creamy mess. The thought makes you clench, licking your lips as you crawl toward him, getting off the bed. Jimin eyes you curiously, slightly amused when you drop to your knees in front of him.

You look up at him, resting your weight on your heels as you lean back. Jimin can’t resist you, running his thumb over your lips.

“So pretty,” he whispers, hand cupping your cheek. You lean into his touch, feeling soft and secure. Warmth overwhelms you as you maintain eye contact, swallowing thickly. “So, so pretty.”

“Jimin,” you whine, your hand resting on his. You look at his cock, licking your lips. It’s straining against his boxers, pre-cum staining the material; it makes your mouth water. “Please?”

Jimin knows he’s putty in your hands, that look alone is enough for him to buy you the world, hell maybe the universe. How can he ever say no to you, his princess?

“Sure, baby.” That’s all you need to hear as your tongue laps at his boxers. Jimin is surprised but his fingers thread in your hair regardless, tugging gently as a warning not to tease. He’s been hard since this afternoon and the last thing he wants to be is teased. He aches to feel the warmth of your mouth wrapped around him, your nose pressed to his pelvis.

You tease the head of his cock through his boxers, earning a tug of your hair before you’re pulled back. Jimin’s heated gaze sends a tingle down your spine, “baby.”

A simple warning, one that has you pulsating as you lick your lips, hand reaching for the waistband of his boxers, tugging them down his muscular thighs before they pool at his feet and he kicks them away.

A curse escapes him when your lips wrap around him, your tongue swirling around the head as your hand strokes him. Jimin groans at the feeling. He could never grow tired of you.

Jimin caresses your face when you pause to look up at him, “so pretty.” You grow flustered, ignoring the way your cheek heat as you begin bobbing up and down instead, making him moan and groan instead of complimenting you. Your plan works, Jimin overcome by the pleasure your sweet lips provide as you suck harder, sloppier, gagging on his big thick cock, hoping your throat won’t get bruised once again. You didn’t want to go through that embarrassment at the dentist again.

“That’s it, baby. Fuck,” Jimin grunts, your name spilling from his lips as he tugs on your hair, guiding you and setting the pace. “You’re so pretty when you’re choking on my dick. So good for me.”

You deep throat him, loving the sinful sounds that tumble from his pretty lips. His head lolls back, eyes fluttering shut as utter bliss crosses his ethereal features. Moans of your name, curses, grunts, and praises escape his lips as he praises you to the high heavens as his cock sits heavy on your cock, lips sucking the soul out of him.

A whine falls from your lips when you’re tugged off his cock by your hair, your adorable confused gaze meeting his cocky one.

“Up,” he commands as you rise to your feet. He kisses you, his tongue meeting yours as you grip his biceps to hold your balance as he kisses you passionately. Arousal pools deep in your abdomen, body fueled with lust.

“Daddy, please.” Jimin chuckles, kissing his way to the column of your throat, nipping at the skin. A moan of his name rolls off your tongue as he wraps your legs around his waist to take you to his bed.

Jimin sets you down with care, having you lie back as he climbs over you. His lips brush against yours, a featherlight kiss that has butterflies fluttering in your tummy. His hand cups your face, saying nothing as he admires your body. You were aroused, panting and aching for him. Nobody else. Just Jimin.

The soft look you give him is what sends him over the edge, kissing you roughly as he holds you tight. Maybe… just maybe, you could love him. Love him the way he’d deny loving you. You were everything for him, but was he to you? He didn’t want to think about it right now, not when you were wet, ready, and his cock was throbbing, leaking pre-cum.

“Jimin…” your hand cups his cheek, his dark eyes flitting to yours.

God, he loved you.

“Please,” you whisper as your hand moves down to his neck and then his chest. Jimin swallows thickly, nodding as he takes your hand in his, fingers laced together as he pins it by your head, earning a gasp from your pretty lips.

With one last squeeze of your hand and fleeting kiss to your lips, he moves down your body. He wants to mark you as his, leave love-bites on your skin for the world to see but he resists if he wants to keep his plans for tomorrow.

Jimin’s fingers toy with the waistband of your panties, tugging them down to suck a tiny mark on your hip. You roll your eyes, but you love the slight possessiveness.

“I’m yours,” you assure him regardless. It works. Jimin presses a kiss on the mark, gently tugging your panties down your thighs, you lift your hips to aid him. He tosses them over his shoulder to be forgotten.

His hands immediately grab your thighs, spreading them.

“Fuck, so wet for me. All for me,” Jimin licks his lips, looking up at you. You resist the urge to cover your face as he kisses his way up your thigh until he’s pressing a gentle kiss to your clit. A sigh escapes you, making him smirk before he’s diving right in. Your hands seek purchase in his sheets, fisting them as he works wonders on your cunt.

“J-Jimin,” you stutter, hand embedded in his thick locks, hips rising from the bed to chase after his tongue. His hand pushes you back onto the mattress while he continues to feast on you, one leg thrown over his shoulder as his fingers slip right in, curling and scissoring inside you. His tongue flicks your clit, swirling in circles before his lips are suckling it.

You arch, crying out for him over and over again. Sweat beads between your brows, a sheen of sweat appearing on your body as you writhe beneath Jimin, wanting to crush his head between your thighs.

Jimin looks up at you, watching as pleasure overwhelms you, his fiery tongue the source of all your curses and pleas. Your hands cup your breasts, rolling your hard nipples between your fingertips as you cry out, “Jimin… Daddy… I can’t!”

Your body is overwhelmed with pleasure. Your skin is hot, flushed as you feel the knot in your stomach tighten before you cry out, “I’m coming! Fuck!”

Jimin doesn’t stop his ministrations, continuing as you fall over the edge. His name rolls off your tongue in a mantra, eyes squeezed shut and the sheets fisted in your hand once again as you arch your back. Jimin waits until you’ve fallen slack before he slips his fingers out of you, placing them in his mouth, tongue swirling around them as he sucks them clean.

“Feel good, princess?” Jimin asks, a smirk on his lips.

“Mmm,” you murmur, your eyes still closed as you try to regulate your breathing.

Jimin chuckles, “you good, love?”

“More than okay,” you answer, sitting up to crawl over to him until you’re straddling his lap. Jimin’s hands immediately grip your hips, your lips pressing against his. Your arms wrap around his neck, keeping him from going anywhere.

Jimin buries his face into your neck, kissing and nipping at the sensitive skin as you line him up at your entrance, sinking on to him when he least expects it.

“Baby, fuck,” he grunts, his forehead falling onto your shoulder as you hold him close while he finally bottoms out. You bite your lip, groaning at the stretch that has your eyes fluttering shut, nails digging into his perfect muscular back.

Hesitantly, Jimin looks at you. Three words sit heavy on his tongue as you stroke his face, biting your lip as you roll your hips. Your eyes flutter shut, your hand falling to his shoulder, moans of his name filling the space between your bodies.

“Y/n,” your name is a delicate whisper, his hold on you tightening, swallowing the heavy words instead. He kisses you, losing himself in you instead. Lust is easy, lust he can deal with. That’s all this is, he lies to himself once again as you ride him.

You hold Jimin close, fingers threaded in his hair, tugging it to make him meet your gaze, “you always fuck me so good, baby. So, so good.”

“This tight cunt is all I can think about at work. You’re such a fucking distraction but coming home to you waiting on my bed wet and horny is so worth it,” Jimin kisses you, tongue pushing past your lips before he’s rolling you over so he’s on top.

“Jimin,” you moan, his thrusts hitting all the right spots.

“On your knees, baby.” You do as you’re told, getting on your knees and arching perfectly for him. Jimin smacks your ass, mesmerized by the way it jiggles. He smacks it harder, your cry of his name making his cock throb in his hand as he strokes it before lining himself up at your entrance, grunting when the thick head of his cock is welcomed into your cunt.

“Fuck,” you curse, face in the pillow, turning your head to the side. Jimin grabs your arms, putting them behind your back, wrists crossed together as he holds them with one hand while he fucks into you. His head is thrown back, saccharine moans escaping him as you fuck back into him, moaning when his fingers rub at your clit.

“That’s it, baby girl. Fuck, you feel so good..” Jimin bites his bottom lip, a poor effort to try to muffle the moan that threatens to escape his pretty lips. His eyes roll back, overwhelmed by the warmth and wetness of your cunt. Your sweet moans fuel him, consume him as he pistons in and out of you to coax more of those dulcet moans from your lips. His hand moves to raise you, wrapping around your throat. Your eyes flutter shut, melting into his touch as he squeezes.

“Jimin,” you rasp, overcome with pleasure as he continues to rub at your clit. You shutter, your hand wrapping around his wrist, nails digging into his skin. Jimin grunts, kissing your cheek as he grinds his hips into you, slamming them when you cry out that you’re close.

“Come for me, princess. Please,” his angelic voice has you pulsating, doing as he’s asked as you grip his wrist and come. Jimin moans, lips planting kisses on your shoulder before he’s biting down and coming with you.

“Jimin… Jimin!”

“Oh, fuck. That’s it, love. Come for daddy,” Jimin moans, eyes shut and lips parted as he moans your name repeatedly, filling you with cum until you’re unable to hold yourself up. Jimin chuckles, lying you on your back on his bed before he lies beside you.

“Fuck,” you giggle, pushing your hair out of your eyes as Jimin takes the chance to kiss your sweat beaded forehead. You grimace, “gross, I’m sweaty.”

“I don’t care, princess.” Jimin covers your face in kisses, making you laugh until you’re pressing your palms on his chest to push him away.

“Jimin!” You squeal, kissing his cheek before cuddling up to his side. He kisses your temple, holding you for a few minutes before he’s pulling away from you to get you some water and lead you to the bathroom to help you get cleaned up.

You end up taking a quick shower, exchanging kisses and lingering touches before you’re wrapped up in a towel in his bedroom. You’ve brought your own clothes to sleep in, but you take one of Jimin’s baggy shirts instead, climbing into his bed while he puts on a pair of boxers.

“Go to sleep, baby. We’ve got plans tomorrow,” he tells you as you snuggle into your side of the bed, pulling the comforter up to your chest.

“Goodnight, Jimin.”

“Goodnight, princess.” Jimin whispers, caressing your cheek before you close your eyes. He watches you until he’s sure you’re asleep, hoping you can’t hear how loud his heart beats.

The morning sunlight streams in through the cracks between the curtains, the light stirring Jimin awake. He sits up, rubbing at his eyes with his hands until all he can see is black dots before his eyesight settles once again.

Beside him, you’re still sleeping, clutching the pillow to your chest. He sits up, admiring the serene look on your face as you snooze away beside him, so comfortable, stress free.

Jimin’s heart thunders in his chest when you stir, rolling over and seeking out his hand with yours. He easily gives it to you, squeezing softly when you settle soundly.

As the world outside begins to wake, he can’t help but want to stay in this bubble the two of you have created in his home. Nobody to bother you, nobody hounding you to do this or that. Nobody to disturb your utopia.

Jimin caresses your face, his delicate touch makes you moan softly as his fingers push your hair out of your eyes. He stares at you freely, admiring your features. You were beautiful. The most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, and it still baffled him how you’d agreed to this arrangement. He knew he couldn’t give you more, and on days like today, he desperately wished he could. But what would that get him? Get you? A broken heart and the loss of his best friend? He couldn’t risk it. Wouldn’t risk it. Money was easy. Money came and went, but you stayed regardless if money appeared in your account at the end of the day. That scared him. Why would you stay?

“If we’re having a staring contest, you gotta wake me up first, Minie.” Your voice startles him, his hand hastily pulling away from your face as you sit up. He hopes you can’t see the pinkness in his cheeks or the embarrassed smile on his lips.

“Way to ruin the moment,” he laughs, shaking his head, and your heart skips a beat when he gives you his radiant smile.

“I didn’t know there was a moment to ruin, baby. I’ll close my eyes and you can keep staring at me,” you giggle, rolling over and shutting your eyes. Jimin settles behind you, draping his arm over your waist before you wiggle into him.

“I hate you,” he jokes, kissing your temple.

“Mhm, your cock is way too hard for you to lie about that,” you smirk, wiggling further into him.

“Shh,” he chuckles deeply, kissing your cheek, moving your hair out of the way to kiss your neck.

“Show me how much you hate me, Min,” you goad him, turning to face him. Your eyes lock on his and Jimin can’t help but fall for you even more. He wonders if it’s obvious to you like everyone else? He wouldn’t dare admit it out loud, not to himself and certainly not to you. You were destined to fail, and who was he to stand in the way of destiny?

“Lie back, princess. Let me get a taste of you.”

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