#so excited for him to have two worst days in a row after next week episode

[f1letters]

bejeweled | ln4

"and I miss you, but I miss sparkling"

summary: after a triple-header where they couldn't see each other, things got even stranger when her boyfriend seemed totally uninterested in spending time with her. so, she took matters into her own hands

warning: a little bit of angst, but fluff ending, mentions of a long-distance relationship, Lando being an uninterested boyfriend, reader feeling ignored and worthless, reader being petty, mentions of alcohol, swearing, reader trying to make Lando jealous, mentions of McLaren's bad 2022 season and Danny leaving the team (crying 😭), not proofread

pairing: lando norris x reader

word count: 2.7k

note: everything in bold are song references and in italic are thoughts, which includes memories from the past.

masterlist

Baby love, I think I've been a little too kind

Didn't notice you walkin' all over my peace of mind

In the shoes I gave you as a present

Puttin' someone first only works when you're in their top five

And by the way, I'm goin' out tonight

Absence makes the heart grow fonder.'

Y/N couldn't keep count of the number of times she had heard this phrase being said during the past two years. 

She prayed that people were right. That distance would make their relationship stronger, their time together more special, their appreciation for each other bigger.

She hoped her heart would mend every time he came back home but in all honesty, she just felt... lonely.

From: babe

only a few more days and the torture is over, can't wait to kiss you again gorgeous, miss you 🧡

Y/N read Lando's text over and over again, daydreaming about their reunion after so long apart, as the driver had three races in a row at Spa, Zandvoort and Monza.

It didn't matter how many times Lando called or texted. How many times he expressed how much he missed her. How many times he said how excited he was to see her again.

In the end, it was exhausting spending her days simply waiting for him to be there.

Best believe I'm still bejeweled

When I walk in the room

I can still make the whole place shimmer

And when I meet the band

They ask, "Do you have a man?"

I could still say, "I don't remember"

Suddenly, the jingling of keys on the other side of the door caught her attention. Y/N turned towards the entrance where she saw the image of her boyfriend appear through the darkness of the night that filled the apartment.

Quickly getting back on her feet, the girl rushed to him, hugging the boy desperate to return to her arms. His body relaxed as soon as it made contact with hers and Lando let him pull her as close to him as possible.

"Fuck," Lando whispered against his girlfriend's forehead, whose tears of relief now streamed freely down her cheeks. "I can't believe I'm finally back home."

"God, I swear it was the worst weeks ever." The girl confessed, although it was common to be apart for a long time since her work did not allow her to follow him most of the time. "I've missed you so much, Lan. So much."

Grabbing her gently by the sides of her neck, the driver looked straight into her bright, tired eyes. "Me too, baby. But now we have two weeks to ourselves."

For a moment everything fell into place. But it was only a matter of time before it all came crashing down again.

Familiarity breeds contempt

Don't put me in the basement

When I want the penthouse of your heart

Diamonds in my eyes

I polish up real, I polish up real nice

After spending the night lying next to the boy she loved, Y/N couldn't control all the excitement she felt inside her chest.

Very early in the morning, the young woman got out of bed, leaving the sleeping man behind, and headed to the kitchen where she went all out to celebrate his first morning back in Monaco.

With the utmost care and love, she cooked just about everything: scrambled eggs, bacon, toast, pancakes, you name it. And as soon as everything was ready, Y/N returned to the room and jumped on top of the British man, now awake on his phone.

"Good morning, sunshine!" The girl said, as she hugged his hips and laid her head on his stomach. "I made the best breakfast ever just for you, baby. So you better be hungry." 

Her laughter was quickly interrupted by the boy's surprising coolness towards her. "Good morning, but I think I'll pass. I still feel super tired from the flight, so I'm going to stay in bed a little longer." Lando set his phone back on the bedside table and, running a hand over the top of her head as an act of apology, continued. "I hope you don't mind, love. It's just for today."

It's just for today, he said.

The next day, still under the wave of happiness, Y/N tried her luck again and decided to approach her boyfriend again to make plans, now that he was already feeling more energetic and recharged.

Lando spent the morning jumping around the house, so when Y/N saw him walk back into the room, she dropped to her knees in her seat, turned around and leaned on the back of the couch.

"Lan, what if we went out to dinner at that Thai place we went to last month?" She asked, her head turning slightly as she remembered their meal. "I swear I'm still thinking about that Pad Thai."

Lando continued his way to the kitchen, opening the fridge to get some water. "Hmm, maybe another time. Don't feel like going out."

And with only a few words, he disappeared again into another room of the house.

On day 3, the girl was caught off guard when she saw her boyfriend with a backpack on his back and his hand on the doorknob.

"Hey, where are you going?" She questioned, curious.

"Just going to the gym with Carlos." He replied, eyes on the phone in his other hand.

"I thought you were tired." She blurted out. At that moment, the persistent girl decided to be direct and confront him. "Is there something wrong? You've been so distant lately."

She had barely seen him even though the two of them shared the same house. It was getting embarrassing how much she tried to engage in conversation with him, only to get rejected every single time.

The driver just spat out a string of words, including 'busy with business' and 'training', but nothing soothed the uneasiness she felt in the pit of her stomach.

Baby boy, I think I've been too good of a girl

Did all the extra credit, then got graded on a curve

I think it's time to teach some lessons

I made you my world, have you heard?

I can reclaim the land

And I miss you

But I miss sparklin'

It just didn't make any sense.

What happened to the 'week to ourselves? To all the 'I miss you' and 'I can't wait to see you' he said?

It got to the point where she was even starting to question every time he told her he loved her.

A week passed, and in a last attempt, Y/N walked up to her boyfriend and placed her hands on his shoulders, placing a small kiss on his cheek.

"How about we watch a movie, cuddled a bit on the couch…?" She suggested, whispering close to his ear.

Lando placed a hand over one of his girlfriend's hands, looking back to meet her gaze. "Sorry babe, but I'm going to stream with the guys now. Maybe later."

Maybe another time. Maybe later.

She had been a little too kind and she was done playing nice.

It was time to teach him some lessons.

Best believe I'm still bejeweled

When I walk in the room

I can still make the whole place shimmer

And when I meet the band

They ask, "Do you have a man?"

I could still say, "I don't remember"

Y/N entered her room and confidently walked to her closet. She knew exactly the garment she was looking for and as soon as she laid eyes on her shiny bejeweled dress, she picked it up.

Leaving the clothes she wore behind on the floor, she changed into the stunning dress and sat in front of her mirror, curling her hair and doing her makeup.

Her eyes ended up dark and smoky, perfectly adorning the determined and vengeful look on her face.

Grabbing her small Prada bag, Y/N walked to the room where Lando was already streaming, catching the driver's attention.

"Hey, I'm already live." He warned her, as he turned to see his girlfriend. Laying his eyes on his girlfriend all dressed up, a nervous shiver ran down his spine. "Where are you going looking all polished up?"

"Don't wait for me for dinner," She answered coldly, even though she knew the people in the comments were going to have a field day with this. "And by the way, I'm going out tonight."

Familiarity breeds contempt

Don't put me in the basement

When I want the penthouse of your heart

Diamonds in my eyes

I polish up real, I polish up real nice

As soon as she walked into the room, she made the whole place stop with the shimmer of her dress under the spotlight.

If Lando wasn't going to give her the love and attention she deserved, she sure as hell was going to give it to herself.

Y/N was finally done with letting her worth be determined by a man, even if he was supposed to be the love of her life.

Sapphire tears on my face

Sadness became my whole sky

But some guy said my aura's moonstone

Just 'cause he was high

Walking towards the bar, the young woman couldn't help noticing the eyes that fell on the fascinating and beautiful image that she was.

At that moment, although she missed him and the good times of their relationship, she was reminded of how much she missed sparkling.

Y/N ordered two tequila shots and drank them without missing a second. She now felt prepared to start the night, leaving her problems behind.

Dancing as she made her way to the middle of the floor, the girl began to sway her hips to the music, between the hot bodies glued together in the room.

Tonight was all about her.

And we're dancin' all night

And you can try to change my mind

But you might have to wait in line

What's a girl gonna do?

A diamond's gotta shine

Back home, Lando couldn't shake the feeling of apprehension and anxiety that gripped him.

As much as he tried to keep his good spirits and attention on his friends, his followers and the game, his mind was elsewhere: her.

His eyes roamed the chat as he interacted with some of his fans until one of them made his heart stop beating for a second.

teamlandofewtrell: have you guys seen Y/N photos clubbing? I smell trouble in paradise lol

The man cleared his throat, trying to maintain his posture. "Guys, I have to go now, but I'll see you very soon!"

Without further explanation, Lando grabbed his coat and the keys to his McLaren and headed towards her.

And as soon as he entered the club, he immediately found her.

The furious boy walked over to her, grabbed her arm and pulled her to a more sheltered corner, only to find her surprised and upset eyes.

"What the fuck were you thinking?!" He shouted over the music, unconcerned by prying ears. "First you make me look like an idiot on stream, then I find out you're alone in a club doing who knows what. Are you all right in the head, Y/N?!"

"You're worried now, are you?" The girl laughed sarcastically. "That's fucking rich."

"You have to be fucking kidding me. It has to be." Lando ran his restless hands through his hair nervously. "All because I didn't want to see a movie with you today? That's it?"

"Today, of course. The problem is from today." She continued her ironic tone. "You know what, Lando? It's about time you realized that just because I made you my world doesn't mean I can't claim the land."

Best believe I'm still bejeweled

When I walk in the room

I can still make the whole place shimmer

And when I meet the band

They ask, "Do you have a man?"

I could still say, "I don't remember"

Lando was shocked by her confrontational words, as it was a side she rarely showed.

"Stop this nonsense, Y/N." Lando snapped, gripping her arm with some force. "Let's go home now, and tomorrow we'll talk when you come to your senses."

Out of nowhere, a man approached the couple. "Hey, is everything okay here? Do you need some help, babe?" He asked her.

Y/N recognized him as the vocalist of the band that was performing when she first arrived at the scene.

"It's okay, thanks." She replied, freeing her arm from her boyfriend's hold and letting her burning eyes lay on Lando's face. "This man was about to leave."

"If you need to come with me, feel free to join, gorgeous." The singer said, looking her up and down. "Do you have a man? 'Cause if you don't, I sure could be yours for tonight."

Even though she was uninterested in the man's suggestive proposition, she couldn't pass up an opportunity to entice the driver. "I don't remember."

"She has a fucking man, now get the fuck off." Lando spoke out aggressively, having no patience left for her foolishness.

Familiarity breeds contempt

Don't put me in the basement

When I want the penthouse of your heart

Diamonds in my eyes

I polish up real, I polish up real nice

"You have the nerve to show up here playing the role of the victim when all you did this whole week was ignore me," Y/N yelled, losing her mind. "Day after day, I made a fool of myself and tried to approach you, to make plans with you, to do the things I know you like to see if you would change your shitty attitude but nothing."

"From the second you arrived, the only thing I got from you was a cold shoulder and indifference. And honestly, I'm fed up, fed up with your behaviour when all I did was wait for you, all alone and miserable, while you fulfilled your dreams."

Lando remained glued to the ground, unable to move as he tried to assimilate all the angry words she spat in his direction.

"So if you have anything else to say to try and ruin my night, you might have to wait in line because I don't have the time to do so right now."

And we're dancin' all night

And you can try to change my mind

But you might have to wait in line

What's a girl gonna do? What's a girl gonna do?

I polish up nice

Eyes to the floor in embarrassment, the driver gently grabbed her hand. "You're right, I'm so sorry, love."

"What?" She blurted out, not believing the sudden change in him.

"You're right, I've been an absolute prick to you lately," The boy looked into her eyes, his gaze filled with regret and sorrow. "Those last three weeks weren't just bad because I was away from you. It was bad news after bad news and I just ended up taking it out on you unfairly."

"Lan, you know you can talk to me about anything." She softened and stroked his hand. "What's wrong?"

"Everything, honestly." He sighed, saddened. "The car is shit most of the time, I can't seem to get out of 7th place ever, Danny is leaving the team next season and, as if it couldn't get any worse, I spent all weekend getting asked about it like I had some power over the matter."

Y/N knew her partner was feeling especially down over losing yet again another teammate he really cared about, so Lando's anguish came as no surprise.

"I'm sorry, Y/N, really." Lando apologized again. "You didn't deserve all of this."

"Baby, I'm here for you. Always. Through thick and thin." Y/N brought her lips to his, letting her hands grip his curly hair as she leaned into his kiss. "Let's have some fun, dance a little, and make up for lost time, what do you think?"

"Lead the way, gorgeous." Lando kissed her again before she led him to the centre of the floor.

Gathered in their bubble of love again, Y/N, who once shone like a jewel, now shone like a true diamond with the light of her life reflecting on her side.

Best believe I'm still bejeweled

When I walk in the room

I can still make the whole place shimmer

taglist: @dan3avocado @starxqt @roseinnej @spiidergirlsworld @ccloaned @hotpigeon22 @dr3lover @lovelytsunoda @primadonnasdream @luxebeautystyle @wallfloweriism @ilivefortheleague @gwynethhberdara @satellitelh @adavenus @audreyscodes @wifeoflucyboynton @th6ccnsp6cyy @classifiedsblog @flyingmushroomss @motylekrozi @claramllera @gabrielamaex @handsupforamiracle @pierre-gasssllyy @lorenaloveslewis

@idkiwantchocolatee @simpforsunwoo @kissatelier @xweirdxsceletton @micksmidnights @miniminescapist @inchidentwithmax @hopelesslyromantics-world @alwaysclassyeagle @indieclarke @capela-miranda @okokoksblog @pulpfixion @sins-only33 @sainzclerc @allisonxf1 @honethatty12

@amsofftrack @scuderiamh @junkiespromise @loudoperahumanoidpanda @honeyric3 @holy-macncheese-balls @ricciardosheart @pierreverstapkin @ravenqueen27 @majkaftorek @home-of-disaster @buendiabebeta @itgirlofnowhere @roses-of-eden @thewintersunset @rubychocolatechips

(taglist continues in the comments)

thank you to everyone that asked to be tagged! please let me know if you want to be added to the next stories! 💌

[bultaoreunheyyy]

It’s not a mountain, it’s a butte (1/2) 

Title: It’s not a mountain, it’s a butte (1/2)

Word Count: 5451

Summary: Jungkook loves hiking. He absolutely loves being in nature– even if nature does not love him back. And today, on a very rare occasion, all six of his best friends are joining him for a short hike that he’s been planning for months. It does not go quite as planned.

Sickie: Jungkook (snz, allergies, asthma) 

Caretakers: OT7

A/N: This got a bit long, so I split it into 3 chapters. I'll probably post the other chapters sometime next week. This first one is the main story and fulfills this request, but I couldn't resists adding on the aftermath of Jungkook's allergy/asthma attack and the aftercare and then the after after care of the next day too, lol. Also, this is completely unedited and likely full of typos and grammatical errors per usual.

Jungkook lowkey hates springtime. 

Overall, spring is actually his second favorite season because of the milder temperatures. His first favorite season by far is winter, because hot weather sucks and cold weather is where he belongs to his very core. 

Spring, however, usually means allergies. Lots and lots of allergies. Itchy, sniffly, sneezy allergies. Jungkook’s body unfortunately did not get the memo that other bodies get and so on top of allergies, he also has asthma, which of course is always the worst for him in the springtime. 

On this particular spring Saturday morning, he wakes up with puffy eyes and a stuffy nose. It’s pretty typical for this time of year, and he’s usually not so cheerful upon waking when he has to immediately sneeze before he even fully has his eyes open, but this morning he doesn’t give a shit because it’s hiking day.

Jungkook loves hiking. 

He absolutely loves being in nature– even if nature does not love him back. And today, on a very rare occasion, all six of his best friends are joining him for a short hike that he’s been planning for months. He’s very excited for hiking day.

With a mildly irritated sigh, Jungkook pulls the comforter completely over his head, sneezes six times in a row, and sniffs sharply to chase away the tickle that will be returning as soon as he lets his guard down and then remain in his sinuses for the rest of the day. 

When he resurfaces he finds two faces staring down at him. 

“Morning,” he says with a cheerful smile and a soft sniffle.

“Good morning, and bless you!” Jimin responds. 

“Good morning!” Taehyung says. “We thought we would have to wake you up.”

“Nope!” Jungkook replies. He cups a hand over his mouth and nose and sneezes once more, his whole body shaking. “I’m up. It’s hiking day!” He pauses, hand still over his lower face, anticipating another sneeze that never comes. After a minute he shakes his head and scrubs hard at his nose with a sleepy, irritated groan.

Both Jimin and Taehyung, looking more than half-asleep themselves, lean down at the same time– Jimin on his left and Taehyung on his right– to pat him on the chest sympathetically. 

“Don’t forget to take your allergy pill,” Jimin reminds him. “Did you pack your inhaler last night?” 

Jungkook glances towards his nightstand where his inhaler is. “Yep.”

Taehyung pokes him in the belly. “Well, get up, then. You made us all wake up at the asscrack of dawn so this better be worth it. Let’s go hike your mountain.” 

“It’s a butte,” Jungkook corrects him, but Taehyung is already leaving the room, yawning so widely his jaw cracks. 

“I need coffee,” Jimin says, also yawning, and he trails behind Taehyung. 

Despite his excitement, Jungkook is the last to be ready, and when he gets to the living room everyone else is lounging about.

“Let’s go!” He practically shouts, urging them all out the door. “It’s hiking day!” 

“Does the whole street have to know?” Yoongi grumbles, making a face as Jungkook pushes a set of keys into his palm. Even though he’s making a show of being grumpy, he’s the only one Jungkook trusts besides himself to drive at such an early hour. 

The seven of them take two cars to the trail, arriving before the sun rises. There’s a slight chill to the morning air, but the skies are clear and it’s already the start of a beautiful day weather wise. 

Jungkook gets out of the car and reaches his arms up high above his head, leaning to one side and then the other and moaning loudly at the stretch. He’s wearing tight black spandex shorts and a black hoodie that’s halfway to being a crop top, and Taehyung pokes at his exposed stomach with a smirk.

“We might see some deer if we’re quiet enough,” Jungkook announces, ignoring Taehyung. He pulls a camera from his backpack and hangs the strap around his neck. After he shoulders his backpack, he turns towards the trailhead. “Ahhh,” he says with a noisy exhale that he follows with a long, deep breath in through his nose. “Smell that? That’s the beautiful smell of nature.”

He sneezes immediately afterwards.

“Bless you,” Hoseok and Namjoon say in unison.

“Did you take your allergy pill?” Yoongi asks.

“I take it every morning,” Jungkook responds. “Did you take your brain pill?”

Yoongi flips him off and mimics, “I take it every morning.”

“Only because I have to remind you,” Seokjin mutters under his breath.

Taehyung yawns and plasters himself against Jimin’s back, snaking his arms around his waist and tucking his hands into Jimin’s hoodie pocket. “I can only smell Jimin’s coffee breath.”

Jimin, still half asleep, only pouts.

Jungkook sneezes, again.

“Bless you,” Hoseok and Namjoon say in unison, again.

“Doesn’t seem like you took your allergy pill,” Yoongi grumbles. “At least tell me you brought your inhaler.”  

Ignoring him, Jungkook bends down to check that his black hiking boots are laced up properly. He adjusts his backpack, stretches his calves for all of ten seconds, and straightens his posture. 

“Let’s hike this butte,” he says cheerfully, and then he takes off at a light jog, disappearing down the trail and leaving them all behind. 

When they catch up to him, Jungkook has his camera raised to his face and he’s squatting by the base of a pine tree, looking at the ground. 

“What are you taking a picture of?” Taehyung wonders. “A worm?”

“Caterpillar,” Jungkook murmurs. “See? Right there.” 

Taehyung pats him on the shoulder in a way that indicates that he does not in fact see the caterpillar. “It’s a very nice caterpillar,” he says anyway.  

The hike Jungkook has chosen isn’t too long nor too strenuous of a hike– only 7 kilometers or so of a well established trail– and they get a beautiful view of the sun rising when they start their hike in earnest, climbing up the east side of the butte. 

Although he’d started off at a fast pace, Jungkook isn’t feeling particularly competitive today, and because he has his camera he chooses to take his time watching wildlife and taking pictures of every bird and plant he sees along the way.

Namjoon leads the group instead, long legs carrying him far very quickly. Jimin has the shortest stride but he’s the second most competitive of the group behind Jungkook, and so he falls into pace right next to Namjoon. Taehyung, Yoongi and Hoseok stay in the middle of the pack, their pace a bit more average. 

Seokjin falls back and keeps Jungkook company in the rear. He watches fondly as Jungkook gushes over the beauty in nature and patiently listens when Jungkook explains the different species of birds they see on the trail. 

“Do you think we’ll see any deer?” Jungkook asks Seokjin, scanning the hillside hopefully. 

“Maybe,” Seokjin replies. “Are there usually deer on this mountain?”

“It’s not a mountain,” Jungkook whispers as a curious chipmunk peeks out at them from behind a fern. “It’s a butte.” 

Jungkook and Seokjin continue up the steepest part of the path until it evens out in elevation, stopping every so often so Jungkook can take his pictures, and they’re the last to reach the summit. There’s a small lookout with a view of the surrounding mountains and the other five are all crammed onto the one single bench there, eating snacks.

“Look,” Hoseok says around a mouthful of trail mix. He points at the ground where Jungkook and Seokjin are standing. “There’s a compass on the ground. It shows what mountains are in the distance, too.” 

Jungkook already knows this. He’s been up hiking here before. He’s about to look down at it when Seokjin covers his eyes from behind.

“Guess which way is north?” he says, chuckling in Jungkook’s ear.

“Fuck off,” he says, shrugging Seokjin off, because he’s shit at directions and has absolutely no idea which direction north is. 

Hoseok and Jimin nearly fall off the bench from laughing so hard.

Jungkook flips them off and then walks to the lookout point, cheeks flushed in sudden embarrassment. He lifts his camera to hide his face and marvels at the beautiful early morning view. He can hear Seokjin join the others on the bench– if Yoongi’s complaints of getting squished are anything to go off– and he can’t stay mad for long when he hears their chatter and joyful laughter.

He turns and snaps a picture just as Seokjin is shoving a massive handful of trail mix into his mouth.

“That’s hot,” he smirks, and this time Seokjin is flipping him off. 

They stay up at the summit for about fifteen minutes before Jungkook is itching to get moving again. He takes a long drink from his water bottle and shoves it back into his backpack. Even though it’s still a bit chilly, he peels off his hoodie and ties it around his waist, snaps one more picture of the group sitting on the bench, and then starts the descent knowing they’ll all follow quickly once they realize he’s leaving. 

Jungkook smiles when he remembers there’s a meadow just on the other side, full of beautiful wildflowers that he can’t wait to photograph. Sure enough, he doesn’t have to go very far down the trail before he spots the colorful field ahead of him. 

“Hey,” Seokjin says, catching up to him. “Wait up!”

“Fuck off,” Jungkook mumbles, but there’s no real heat behind it. 

He hears Seokjin’s pace quicken behind him and slows down a little. His eyes are starting to itch and he scrunches up his face, trying not to rub at them. His nose is starting to itch, too. 

Seokjin peers at Jungkook, taking in the irritation he can see on his face. “Oh, come on,” he says. “I was just teasing about the direction thing. Don’t be grumpy with me.”

“I’m not grumpy.” Jungkook gives in and digs his fist into his eye. 

“Okay,” Seokjin says, sounding unconvinced.  

Jungkook rubs at his nose, and then sniffles, and then nearly stumbles a step when his nose prickles sharply, bringing a few tears to his eyes.

And then he sneezes.

It’s not just any sneeze. It’s harsh, quick and forceful and so itchy sounding that Seokjin winces.

“Oh, shit,” he murmurs. “You okay?”

Jungkook doesn’t respond. He’s bent at the waist, sneezing again. The irritation makes him cough afterward, and he feels Seokjin’s hand on his upper arm, like he’s getting ready to steady him if needed. 

When he straightens, his eyes and nose are streaming and his eyes are still itchy as fuck.

“You okay?” Seokjin repeats. He’s biting his lower lip.

Jungkook rubs at his eyes with his fists. “Yep. I’m fine.”

At this point, the others have caught up to them. 

“Was that Jungkook sneezing?” Jimin asks, pulling a small packet of tissues from his pocket of his sweatpants. “Here.” 

Jungkook accepts the tissues, but he doesn’t have time to get one out before he has to sneeze again, another harsh expulsion that has him bending at the waist. 

Jimin rolls his eyes in amusement and takes the unused tissue pack back, opening the plastic and pulling several tissues out before passing them to Jungkook. They all know by the sound that it’s not just a regular sneeze– it’s very clearly the start of an allergy attack. Jungkook thinks about how often they all like to comment on his sneezing, which apparently sounds different depending on what’s making him sneeze. To him, it all just sounds like sneezing. Instead of going off the sound, he goes off the feeling, and the current feeling is an unbearably itchy allergy attack that’s going to have him sneezing his head off for the rest of the hike, probably. 

Fuck springtime. 

While Jungkook blows his nose, Yoongi digs through his backpack and locates Jungkook’s epi pen, extra inhaler, allergy medication and more tissues.

“Holy shit, Yoongi,” Jungkook laughs. He scrubs the wad of tissues in his hand under his nose back and forth several times until the undersides of his nostrils are bright pink. “I actually did my meds this morning.” 

“When are you due for more?”

“I’m fine.” Jungkook says instead of answering. He tucks the used tissues into his pocket. “I can breathe. I’m just a little itchy.” 

Hoseok watches him rubbing his eyes again with a frown. “Yeah, we can see that. Quit rubbing your face.”

Jungkook sneezes again and does not quit rubbing his face. 

Namjoon sighs and pats his shoulder. “Why did you plan your hike by all these flowers?” He asks, gesturing at the meadow. “There are so many. Damn.” 

Jungkook starts to answer, but he’s hit with another sharp prickle in his sinuses. He holds up a finger, sucks in a massive breath, and then sneezes loudly four times in a row.

“Uh, pretty sure you just scared all the deer away,” Seokjin teases, smiling a little before going back to chewing on his bottom lip.

Jimin pulls more tissues out of the pack and hands them to Jungkook. “Bless you!” 

“Jimin, you’re a lifesaver with these tissues,” Jungkook says with a sniffle. His nose is drippy now and he can feel the next sneeze approaching fast. “C’mon, let’s start heading back to the car. There might be deer closer to the trailhead.” 

“Wait! Don’t you want to take a moment and–”

Whatever Yoongi’s saying, Jungkook doesn’t catch the end of it. He’s scanning the meadow for deer and wondering how close he can get to the pretty wildflowers without throwing himself into an asthma attack on top of everything. He might already be heading for an asthma attack, with the way his chest is starting to feel, but they’re already halfway through the short hike and he has his own inhaler in his backpack in addition to the one Yoongi apparently thought to bring along. 

In the end, he decides to take pictures of the flowers as he walks and doesn’t stray from the trail even an inch. Namjoon and Seokjin take the lead once they catch up, but they don’t let themselves get too far ahead, and Jungkook notices them glancing back over their shoulders every time he sneezes. 

Jimin, his sweet angel of a friend, sticks close and keeps handing him tissues. Hoseok blesses him from behind so frequently that eventually, Jungkook stops and turns around.

“Seok,” he says, and wow he sounds like shit. He clears his throat and holds up a tissue. “You don’t have to say bless you every single time.”

Hoseok blushes. “Sorry. It’s just a habit.”

Jungkook rips the tissue in half and shoves one half up his right nostril, then the other half up his left. “There,” he says, sounding even more stuffed-up and ridiculous. “This will hold off the sneezing for a bit.”

Yoongi raises an eyebrow skeptically but doesn’t say anything. 

“That’s…kind of gross, but okay,” Jimin tells him. He stays close by with tissues at the ready anyway.

They all start walking again. The tissue stuffed up his nose does keep the sneezing at bay, but only for about ten minutes. In that time, they descend past the meadow and get back to the treeline, where Jungkook spots a woodpecker and spends a good few minutes photographing it.

“That’s a nice bird,” Taehyung says, reaching up to thread his fingers through the hair at Jungkook’s nape. “You sure you can breathe okay like that?”

Jungkook sniffs hard in response, which turns out to be a mistake since there’s still a half a tissue stuffed up each of his nostrils. The intake of air pulls the tissues further up his nose and sets off an intense tickle that makes him snort and then cough. 

It’s not his smartest moment.

He reaches up and tugs the pieces of tissue out of his nose, and he’s pretty sure Jimin gags next to him at the sight, but he doesn’t really hear him because doing so only makes the tickle so, so much worse. He finds himself suddenly trapped in between sneezing and not sneezing, his lungs forcing him to suck in air and his nose twitching in irritation but not quite completing the job. It’s torturous and it lasts for what feels like hours, but in reality is probably only twelve seconds before he hears the crinkle of plastic next to his ear.

“Try blowing your nose,” Jimin suggests, and Jungkook forces his eyes open so he can see. He takes the tissue that Jimin’s offering and cups it over his nose.

“Jungkook,” he hears Jimin say after a moment. “You gotta try blowing your nose. Or sneeze, or something.” 

He’s vaguely aware that he’s still standing there in sneezy limbo, mouth wide open and nostrils flaring, but he can’t do anything because his sinuses are on fire and his breath keeps catching with nowhere to go and the tickle is spreading to the back of his throat and he’s still not sneezing. 

He feels something swipe beneath his eyes to catch the irritated tears– Jimin’s fingers– and then a hand covers his hand around the tissue and squeezes lightly.

As soon as the air is cut off to his nostrils, Jungkook sighs in relief, the tension draining from his body, and as soon as Jimin lets go of his hand, he sneezes explosively.

“Bless you!” Hoseok chirps.

“Bless you,” Jimin says. He passes another tissue over.

“Fuck, shit,” Jungkook grunts out, coughing a few times.

Taehyung squeezes the back of his neck. 

Hoseok and Yoongi are looking at each other, communicating silently with each other in their own secret language that only they speak, but that Jungkook can understand perfectly– they’re debating whether or not to ask him if he wants to take his inhaler. Jungkook can tell by the way they’re staring into each other's eyes and frowning, and also by the way that Yoongi is cradling Jungkook’s inhaler in his palm.

“So, that sucked,” Jungkook croaks out. He coughs a few more times. “Please never let me put tissues up my nose again.” 

“Gladly,” Jimin responds with a grimace.

“Let’s go,” Jungkook says, rubbing his eyes as he starts walking down the trail again. “I don’t want Joon and Seokjin to see a deer without me.” 

“That would be tragic,” Taehyung agrees, following behind. 

Jungkook’s sinuses and lungs are starting to ache, and his eyes are so itchy he can’t keep himself from rubbing at them every minute or so, but he’s still in good spirits as they take a switchback and finally get the final, glorious view for the last part of their hike. 

Jungkook lifts his camera and snaps about ten pictures. He uses his viewfinder to spot Namjoon and Seokjin below, not too far ahead of them on the trail, and takes a picture of them too. 

Taehyung, Jimin, Hoseok and Yoongi stop behind him as he takes pictures and drink from their water bottles. 

“Why does going downhill hurt my knees so much?” Yoongi complains.

“It’s because you’re old,” Taehyung retorts. 

Hoseok and Jimin fall into each other with laughter, and Jungkook shushes them. “Shh, you’ll scare the deer away!” 

It doesn’t matter how loud they’re laughing, though, because in the next moment a tickle flares in Jungkook’s sinuses and he has to sneeze. The sneeze rings out through the air, and it’s followed by a second sneeze, and then a third, the itch spreading again in a way that only his allergies can do. He reaches up and scrubs hard at his nose, but it does nothing to stop the tickle nor the resulting sneezes, one right after the other without much of a chance to breathe in between. 

“Bless you,” Hoseok says after about seven or eight sneezes.

Jungkook shakes his head, swipes the back of his hand over his streaming eyes, and then cups both hands over his mouth and nose and keeps on sneezing. He sneezes so many times in a row that he grows dizzy, head spinning when he tries to open his eyes. He instinctively reaches out and grabs on to the thing nearest to him, which happens to be Jimin’s arm.

“Woah, Kook–? What’s wrong?” 

Jungkook can only dig his fingers into Jimin’s arm as another fit of sneezes takes him over. 

“Sit down for a sec,” Hoseok says in his ear, helping to guide him to the ground as he sniffles and blinks against the spots in his vision. 

Once he’s sitting on the ground, he feels Jimin take his hand, press a handful of tissues against his palm, and then help lift his arm back up to his face. 

“Blow,” he says, waiting until Jungkook gets the tissues to his nose before he reaches over and slides Jungkook’s backpack off his shoulders for him.

Jungkook sneezes into his wad of tissues. And sneezes some more. And then sneezes about ten more times for good measure, and not a single sneeze does anything to relieve the maddening tickle in the back of his nose and throat. He pauses to suck in a greedy breath of air, cough harshly, and then sneezes twice more before he can finally stop. The tissues in his hand are soaked through and are practically useless by the time he tries to blow his nose, but he does it anyway, snorting air out of his nostrils forcefully and shuddering at the awful, raw feeling he always has post sneezing fit.    

“Bless you!” Jimin and Hoseok exclaim at the same time as soon as it’s apparent that Jungkook is done sneezing for the time being. 

Seokjin and Namjoon are squatting down in front of him.

“You’re both going to get permanent wrinkles from frowning so hard,” Jungkook tells them. His voice is nearly gone. 

Seokjin heaves a deep sigh and stands up. He offers a hand out to Jungkook, helping him up off the ground. Jungkook hops up and brushes the dirt off his ass, then turns to Jimin.

“Please tell me there are more tissues.” 

Jimin holds up another unopened pack of tissues. “So many more tissues. Take all you need.” 

Jungkook grabs his backpack from the ground and opens the front pocket so he can shove all the used tissues inside, emptying out his pockets as well. He finishes off the rest of his water, shoulders his backpack, and gratefully takes the pack of tissues from Jimin.

“Need your inhaler before we keep going?” Yoongi asks. He cups a hand under Jungkook’s chin and gently tilts his head back, eyes narrowed as he inspects the puffiness around his eyes and nose.

“Your nose is so red,” Taehyung comments, poking the tip of Jungkook’s nose with a grin. 

Jungkook squirms under their gaze.

“I’m fine,” he says hoarsely.

Taehyung reaches over and pulls the collar of Jungkook’s t-shirt from his neck. 

“I’m not going to get a rash!” He nudges Taehyung’s hand away just in time to get his own hand up to his face, sneezing against the back of his wrist once. “I’m really fine,” he tries to reassure everyone, even as his breath hitches in preparation for yet another sneeze. “Honestly, I’m just really sneezy right now.” 

“You’re sneezier than I’ve ever seen you before,” Seokjin agrees. 

“I hope I didn’t scare all the deer away,” Jungkook pouts. 

Hoseok hooks his arm through Jungkook’s and gives him an optimistic smile. “If you did, we’ll just come back some other time.” 

They start walking again, this time sticking together as a group. Jungkook carries his own tissues this time, though his sneezes have gotten smaller and stuffier and he stops trying to cover them up after a while. Soon, he’ll be too stuffed up to sneeze properly and it will hurt– he can already feel his sinuses throbbing. 

He has to stop walking again not five minutes later, annoyed about having to pause every three steps to sneeze. Despite the increase in frequency of sneezes, he’s getting very little relief from sneezing so much– his whole face just feels too itchy and he knows it’s only going to keep growing worse until he can get back home and shower. After a fit of sneezes that lasts too long for him to count, making him have to stop on the trail for a good several minutes, he turns to Yoongi.

“You happen to have eye drops in that bag?” 

Yoongi does in fact have eye drops, and Jungkook takes the bottle as fast as he can because Yoongi looks like he’s a second away from putting them in Jungkook’s eyes himself. After, he unzips his own backpack and pulls out his inhaler to take a hit.

“Preventative measure,” he croaks out before Yoongi can say anything. 

Suddenly, Taehyung gasps and they all startle. 

“What?” Hoseok squeaks.

Taeyhung is pointing just over Jungkook’s shoulder. “Kook, look at that butterfly!” 

Jungkook turns and looks to where Taehyung is pointing, a grin spreading over his entire face when he sees one of the biggest monarch butterflies he’s even seen before, fluttering so close he could probably reach out and touch it. He lifts his camera, snaps a couple of pictures, and then turns to Taehyung.

“Good spot!” 

Taehyung puffs up his chest, proud of himself. 

Jungkook’s nose twitches. His smile fades, his breath hitching erratically. “Fuck,” he pants out breathlessly before sneezing harshly. When he looks up, six mouths are frowning at him. “Sorry,” he rasps, suddenly feeling upset. “I don’t…” He trails off, unsure of what to say, but Yoongi immediately grabs his hand. 

“No apologizing,” he says firmly. “Let’s get you back to the car, hm? Do you want Namjoon to give you a piggyback ride?”

“Hey!” Namjoon protests halfheartedly. “I didn’t agree to that.” 

“I would take up that offer in a second if there wasn’t the risk of me sneezing in your hair the whole way back,” Jungkook chuckles. 

“I appreciate that,” Namjoon says with a grin. 

As soon as the parking lot is in view, Jungkook launches into another seemingly endless sneezing fit.

He stifles each sneeze into his hand, trying to hold them back as best as he can so they can make it back to the cars. It’s a difficult feat– his sneezes, especially his allergy sneezes, are strong and not at all easy to contain– but it makes it so he can keep walking and sneeze at the same time. One of the downsides, however, is that as soon as he starts stifling, he also starts to wheeze slightly, and it only takes a couple of minutes for everyone else to hear it.

“No, no,” Yoongi scolds when he realizes what Jungkook is doing. “Do not hold them back like that. Shit, Kookie, what are you thinking?” Then, a little softer, he adds knowingly, “Really, just let them out, baby. We’ll help you get back to the car.” 

Jungkook raises an eyebrow at the pet name, but doesn’t say anything. 

He feels Namjoon cup the back of his neck. “We’re almost there, Koo.”

Jungkook slows his pace just a little. Now his friends are breaking out the pet names and the gentle touches, which means they are officially worried about him and they’re going to be openly babying him like they’ve been wanting to this entire time. 

Not that he cares, in this moment, because now that he’s not allowed to hold back his sneezing, he has to fully stop walking every time he sneezes. 

One step. A harsh, ticklish sneeze that sucks the energy out of him and makes his eyes water. And before he’s taking the next step, he’s already building up to the next sneeze, sucking a trembling breath in, in, in– before he explodes. And then it repeats. 

Jungkook feels a soft grip on his upper arm. Jimin is on his right and Hoseok is on his left, and at first they’re just trying to gently guide him along, but he’s sneezing so helplessly that eventually they each hook and arm through his elbows, and start nudging him a little more firmly down the trail. He trusts them to get him back to the car and not let him trip. 

“Here, love,” Jimin says, holding a tissue to his nose for him. 

Another pet name. Jungkook feels his face heat up. His nose is running profusely, though, so he doesn’t really have room to refuse the help. 

“Don’t know why I can’t stop sneezing,” he mumbles congestedly, his breath rushing out in a wheezy exhale before he promptly sneezes again. 

Jimin and Hoseok guide him to a bench near the trailhead to sit down, even though they can literally see their cars from the spot. Jungkook slumps against whoever is sitting next to him– Hoseok, he’s pretty sure, and closes his eyes tiredly. 

“Poor thing,” Taehyung murmurs. “You sound so miserable and itchy.” 

“Should we try to let him ride out the sneezing first?” He hears Seokjin say. “It seems like it’s slowing down, right?”

Namjoon voices his agreement and Jungkook hopes he’s right, because he honestly can’t tell at this point. 

Yoongi keeps a hand on his back, rubbing lightly between his shoulder blades, standing behind the bench. Jimin sits to his right and holds tissues for him, which would embarrass Jungkook on most days, but in this moment he tolerates simply because he’s so fucking itchy and he can hardly see past the irritated tears that won’t quit– not to mention the fact that his nose is a drippy faucet now. 

Hoseok sits to his left and keeps a grounding hand on his thigh, allowing Jungkook to lean on him. The others hover and give him sips of water every so often, petting his hair and squeezing his shoulders, offering encouragement after every sneeze. 

Jungkook does eventually slow down on the sneezing, enough that he can actually tell he’s slowing down, but as the sneezing dies down a growing sense of irritation and embarrassment replace it. 

He also might be the tiniest bit grumpy, because hiking day did not go as he planned at all.

Fuck springtime. 

He huffs out a wheezy breath. “Sorry I ruined the hike,” he rasps, crossing his arms and frowning. 

Yoongi holds his inhaler out. “What did I say about apologizing?” 

Jungkook snatches the tissues that Jimin is holding and pulls several out of the pack, pressing the bundle to his nose. He stifles a tired sneeze, coughs, and then closes his eyes. “Well. I’m still sorry.” 

“Come here, baby,” Hoseok says, wrapping his arm around Jungkook’s shoulder, and Jungkook lets himself be tugged against his chest. 

He feels tears welling up in his eyes and keeps them squeezed shut, not willing to let them fall. He jams the tissues under his nose, stifles two more sneezes, and then pinches his nose shut so no more can escape. 

Jungkook, not at all pouting and definitely not crying, rests his head on Hoseok’s chest and only his stuffy breathing fills the still-early morning air. For a moment, they’re all quiet, listening to Jungkook breathe. As soon as he feels like he has his tears under control, Jungkook squints one eye open, glancing between everyone to get a read on their expressions, and feeling relief when he doesn’t see any disappointment on any of their faces. He blinks a few times to clear any remaining tears, looks towards the parking lot to determine how much farther they have left to go, and then freezes.  

Suddenly, Jungkook snorts, which results in a soft sneeze, and then full-on giggles, because he absolutely cannot believe his eyes.

“What?” Namjoon asks, whipping his head around to look at Jungkook.

“Are you laughing?”

“Kookie, baby, are you okay?” 

They follow his finger when he points away from them and see a deer in the distance, standing so still it looks fake, staring directly at them.

“See? I didn’t scare all the deer away,” he croaks out.

“The fuck, Jungkook?” Seokjin yells. “Don’t joke about deer at a time like this!”

Jungkook stands and coughs hoarsely into his fist. The deer is still unmoving despite Seokjin’s loud voice, but he wants to get a picture of it before it runs away. He raises his camera, snaps a picture, and then lets his camera fall back against his chest just in time to cup both hands over his mouth and nose and sneeze mightily. 

The deer bolts. Jungkook swipes his wrist under his nose and turns to Seokjin. 

“At a time like what?” 

With that, Jungkook turns and strolls back toward the cars, leaving his friends in stunned silence behind him.

Read Chapter 2 HERE

[lou-struck]

For an Eye

Atsumu Miya x reader

~Atsumu learns that losing a volleyball match may not be the worst thing he's ever lost.

Warnings: DARK CONTENT AHEAD!!!, main character death, descriptions of gore, grief, implied haunting, hallucinations, sleep deprivation.

Minors DNI!!!

It never was supposed to happen like this, never in his worst nightmares could he imagine himself hurting you; The love of his life.

But he did

For Atsumu, it was supposed to be just another game, he was excited and ready to go out and take the court with you wearing his away jersey in the front row of the stands for good luck.

His eyes find your own as you share that special little look before the first point. The warmth from your features rains down on him with an almost holy light as his body fills with adrenaline. With the power of love to guide him, Atsumu Miya was truly a force to be reckoned with.

Sometimes even forces of nature have their off days.

He wasn’t supposed to serve the ball into the back of Sakusa’s head nor was he supposed to mishit the game point into the net.

The weight of blowing the last two points of the game had him quiet in the locker room his face adorning a serious pout. It’s not that he’s not used to losing, but The feeling of letting everyone down weighs on him immensely.

When you came up to him after the game he was avoidant and detached. Unwilling to return your acts of affection he usually craves.

You in all you wonderfulness are patient with him as always putting up with his frustration following behind him ready to talk to him once he calms down.

The walk to the train station was a quiet one as you gently try to cheer him up. But he isn’t having it.

The sound of the wind echos through the empty train platform. You try once again to raise his sprits with a gentle  But he doesn’t realize just how close to him you are.

“Tsumu, I know you’re upset. But losing isn’t the worst thing in the world.” You say stepping up to embrace him.

“ Ya wouldn’t understand, we lost cause of me.”

“It’s a team effort Tsumu, you win as a…”

“Can you stop bein so damn clingy, jus leave me alone.” He grunts holding out an arm to bat away what he believes to be your outstretched arm.

It’s not

His strong arm hits you squarely in the chest sending you stumbling back with a gasp. He looks up in shock Just as you fall off the ledge of the platform and onto the tracks below.

It happened so fast…

Your stunned when you hit the ground, your eyes scan the rails before gazing up at him with a look of betrayal in your eyes. It isnt till you see the light of the oncoming train reflecting off the walls that you realize that the train is coming a lot faster than you can move out of the way.

Even as the train makes contact with your body, you stare at him with glassy eyes filled with hurt.

He’s not even sure if he was able to scream

-

By the time law enforcement arrives at the scene, they are only able to see Atsumu Miya staring down at the tracks, his brown eyes almost black with despair. The shock of the event rendered him unable to move from his spot on the platform.

He is barely able to explain what happened through the thick fog in his brain.

Your death is ruled an accident but the guilt soon begins to eat him alive

It washes over him like a wave leaving him a broken shell of a man in love.

The next week the only sounds he made were the screams of terror that jolt him awake in his nightmares, every time he closes his eyes the image of you in your final moments' burns through his consciousness.

Why couldnt he save you?

He hasn't gone to practice, nor does he care to do so. He dosent eat, and his body seems to reject the air coming in through his lungs. He dosent understand how to live now that your gone. 

The madness that grief brings is getting to him but he can't find any room in his heart to care for himself.

Why should he? He did kill you after all.

~

Soon you were appearing in more than just his dreams.

Visions of you in his tattered bloodstained jersey appear in his vacant eyes during waking hours as your mutilated corpse tries to comfort him with a sing-songy voice.

Even in death, he sees you as too good for him.

Your sweet comforts bounce through his empty head in a maddening mantra that causes his whole body to tremble. No matter how loud he was the music and how many sleeping pills he takes he’s unable to do anything but listen.

Groggily he slips out of bed and walks out of the house barefooted. It’s miles in the cold and his feet are bleeding by the time he arrives.

He is now standing on the tracks, the same ones that you met your end on. The ringing in his ears gets louder and louder until something slightly louder breaks through the fog, a sound of a whistle.

It’s so clear, and the light of the train rounds the bend.

The fog in his head has dissipated making his mission clear. He knows what he must do.

Aided by the whispers of encouragement from the inside his head he stares death in the face ready to atone for his sins and meet you in the afterlife.

If you'll accept him.

[ssamorganhotchner]

Sad hotch thought

Being so excited to tell Aaron you’re pregnant when he gets home from his next case. Like you made sure to buy several tests to make sure. And when he got home you jumped into his arms giving him a bunch of kisses. But as he went to change out of his clothes your joy soon changed to absolute devastation as you could feel your period (or miscarriage) happening.

If I was his gf or wife this would kill me 😭😭

cw: false positive pregnancy tests, periods, talk of a miscarriage, eventual pregnancy.

angst with lots and lots of fluff. <3

oh my sweets :(( no matter how long you've been trying to have a baby that would be super heart breaking.

false positives are much less likely than false negatives (like they occur less than 1% of the time), but they can happen. if it was a false positive, and those "pregnancy symptoms" were actually period symptoms (confirmed by your doctor), that would be heart breaking but at least you would know you didn't miscarry. you were probably stressed because of the case he had, or because of your job, really just life in general can get super hectic sometimes and cause period cycles to go out of whack, which really can suck.

god forbid those tests were actual positives and you do miscarry. the day you find out, he's recently home from a case, finding you in the bathroom with your hands around your stomach. after finding out what happened, he holds you close, runs his fingers through your hair while you sit in his lap and cry into his shirt, clutching onto him as though he could slip away from you at any second. he rubs your back, kisses your temple, and tells you it's okay, that he loves you and you'll just try again. it happens, it happens to so many women and it's not your fault. sometimes something is wrong with the embryo and your body flushes it out to protect you and the baby. it's heartbreaking, knowing that you could have had a family with the man whom you love so much... it's something you've longed for ever since you were little, and now it's being ripped away from you in the worst way possible, as though you were never meant to be a mother at all.

for months you try again, nearly giving up until one morning the smell of his coffee makes you nauseous; his aftershave smells weird to you and that delicious breakfast he makes for you every morning? horrible. he thinks you caught jacks stomach bug he had a few days ago, which could be true but then you think back to when jj was pregnant with henry and all of the clues seem to add up: the coffee, his aftershave, how much you couldn't even stand the smell of the eggs he made this morning. all of it.

kissing him goodbye, you immediately run to the story once he is out of sight and buy multiple tests just to make sure. you're scared from what happened before and don't want that kind of hurt again - feeling like a failure if you miscarry a second time. you couldn't survive it... can't survive another one. you want nothing more than to create a small little family with the man you love and to have that yanked away from you not once, but twice? it would shatter your entire being.

you are cautious, but overjoyed when you find out - all three of the tests in a row with little plus signs on them, with the one loner to the side that says pregnant. it finally happened and you couldn't wait to tell your husband that he was going to be a dad again - something he has always wanted with you.

the case is an undercover operation, which means he is gone much longer than you had originally anticipated - two weeks to be exact - and when he's finally home you can't wait. getting the announcement ready, you set it on the bed for when he's out of the shower. there's a onesie that says "hi daddy" with one of your positive tests in the middle of it. they both set neatly in a little gray box with a black bow on top, ready to give to him the moment he steps into the bedroom.

he's speechless when he opens it, not believing exactly what he's seeing, and it takes him a second to process. once he does though, to say he's overjoyed is an understatement. picking you up and twirling you in a circle as he kisses you with tears in his eyes. whispers of "i can't believe this" and "i love you so much" fall off of his lips like a chant. to have another baby? with YOU? oh he is so excited. you both have waited so long and it's finally happening. not that he didn't before, but he really he cant stop the smile that hits his eyes every time he looks at you now.

in fear of losing another pregnancy, you don't tell his team until your second trimester, all of them knowing how much you and aaron wanted to be parents again. but when you do finally tell them, just like family should be, they are over the moon. <3

[avtrbee]

never

summary: nobara and itadori asks megumi about the biggest fight y/n and gojo ever had

tw: abandonment issues (?)

please feel free to leave comments of criticism! i'd love to hear from you :> enjoy the fic !!

my masterlist

It seemed like the entire Jujutsu High School seemed to freeze in cold when Y/N and Gojo-sensei walked past each other near the training grounds. They were usually attached at the hip in the school as both were teachers and...well, they were married. They looked like lovesick fools on campus, but mainly Gojo sneaking kisses at any chance he got and Y/N silently letting him. No one missed the small smile of fondness on Y/N’s face every time.

“Oi,” whispered Itadori, nudging his shoulder. “Will they be okay? Y/N-sensei’s face looks so cold.”

“Yeah,” agreed Megumi without hesitation. This wasn’t his first experience of seeing a lovers quarrel- they practically raised him after all. He and Tsumiki always had the front row seats on Gojo’s tantrums and Y/N’s stubbornness. “They’ll get over it.”

“Hah?” Nobara poked his shoulder. “You seem pretty confident, Fushiguro.”

“Well, it’s not like this was their worst fight…”

“Huh, I never knew them to fight frequently. They always looked so in love that fighting seemed out of the picture. What was their worst fight like Megumi? Were you there?” asked Itadori.

Oh, he was there. He remembered every second of the week-long fight- the longest it ever lasted. Megumi didn’t even remember what it was about- the laundry? Stress? He really didn’t care about the specifics. From that point, Megumi has seen Y/N and Gojo have little arguments with a few ending up in screaming matches. They were always mindful to scream when he and Tsumiki were out of earshot, but they caught bits and pieces nonetheless. They were always greeted with a sleeping Y/N cuddled up with Gojo on their sofa the next day, anyway.

But this...this was something else. It was serious. It got so bad that Gojo even packed up a suitcase filled with his clothes and slammed their front door, going away from who knows where.

The house felt frozen like it was winter, similar to how Jujutsu Highschool felt now. All three of them looked at the door silently, expecting, praying, that Gojo would come back with a goofy smile calling his actions a prank, making everyone sigh in relief. But a few minutes passed by, and the door still hadn't opened.

It was Tsumiki that broke the deafening silence first. “Will- will you l-leave too, Y/N-san?”

Megumi and Y/N’s heads whipped to the girl. Tsumiki, always the bigger sister, was trying to keep a straight face, quickly wiping away the tears that were falling down her cheeks. There was a smile on her face as if trying to convince everyone that it's okay- it’s okay if Y/N leaves. Just like her mom, just like his dad. Y/N walked three great strides towards his sister and shoved her a little too aggressively to her stomach.

“No.” she croaked. Y/N raised her head to look away from them, presumably to cry. She never liked crying, much more people seeing her cry.

Megumi has always looked at Tsumiki as the older sister she was, always caring for him, fussing around him with a motherlike intent. But the sight of Tsumiki’s arms tightly secured around Y/N’s waist while sobbing into her shirt was the youngest Megumi has ever seen his sister.

He gets it. He does. Megumi might be nine but he was the first to realize that his dad and Tsumiki’s mom were never coming back. He realized this quickly, too. The slam of the door, a parental figure walking past without ever looking back...he and Tsumiki have seen this sight way too many times.

There was anger in his chest, both directed at himself and at Gojo. Did he trust too quickly? It was only two years since Y/N and Gojo took them out of the cramped apartment they called home, two years since he’s been eating take out and home-cooked meals for dinner instead of leftovers of a restaurant, two years since he and Tsumiki hadn’t slept on a thin mattress on the floor. He got too complacent, and this is where it got him.

Megumi’s heart ached, and all he feels is anger- anger towards Gojo for leaving, anger towards Tsumiki for caring, and anger towards Y/N for taking them in and making him trust again. He got too carried away with all the privileges and assurances they showered them with that Megumi didn’t even think it would go away. How stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

He’ll miss this, he thinks. Megumi will miss coming home to an occasional hot meal that Y/N would cook if she arrived home early. He would miss the weekly shopping trips they would go to- Megumi barely wanted anything, content at staring at the stores and observing Tsumiki and Gojo buy clothes for everyone. Megumi would miss Disneyland- he had only been there once but Gojo saw the excitement in his and Tsumiki’s eyes that he promised he’ll take them there again. He would miss Gojo carrying him out of spite, despite being too tall and holding his hand as they walked to stores despite him acting like he hated every second of it. He’ll miss the way his heart would swell every time an old lady would call them a cute family and the way-

“Megumi.” His head snapped to Y/N whose eyes were red and sad. “You’re crying.”

Megumi lifted his palm to hold his cheek and sure enough, he managed to catch a tear from rolling down his chin. He didn’t even realize he was crying, which made him angrier. He wanted to tear this place he called home for two years apart with one of his dogs, leave and never come back-

From Y/N’s stomach, Tsumiki peaked at him and held out her hand. Y/N placed a comforting hand on her head before giving Megumi a sad smile. It was then Megumi let all of his anger flow through his tears, he was ashamed of even thinking of leaving- Y/N just said she wouldn’t leave them, and he believed her. He felt more tears roll down his cheeks and he let himself wail, scream, and shout for the entire world to hear. He ran like a child to Tsumiki’s hands and to Y/N’s comforting hug and screamed more.

He didn’t know how long they cried together but at the end of the night, they were all tucked in a corner, Tsumiki and Megumi snuggled at Y/N’s sides.

They were comfortable at that, but Y/N insisted on getting up and getting ready for bed. She ushered the both of them to the shower and brushed her teeth with them. There was silence as they did their tasks, exhausted from silently crying and Megumi from throwing a fit with his wails.

It wasn’t until Tsumiki was buttoning the last button of his pajamas when they heard their doorbell ring an absurd amount of times. It didn’t have the intention to stop until someone opened the door.

“I’ll get it,” announced Y/N, her voice croaking from disuse. Megumi remembered watching Y/N figure walk to their doorway, then finally opening the door.

Behind it was Gojo with eyes as red as theirs, holding a bouquet of flowers on one hand and two paper bags on the other. He raised his gifts to them with shaking hands.

Megumi would have laughed at his sight, Gojo had snot coming out of his nose, his eyes were filled with tears, lips trembling. But the fact that Gojo’s blindfold was off, giving an impression that Gojo was serious.

“I-“ Gojo sniffed. “I meant to come back earlier, I didn’t mean it- it’s just the higher-ups gave me a mission to Europe as soon as I closed the door-“ Gojo breathed deeply, eyes darting at the three of them. Behind him was the suitcase he packed, untouched on their doorstep.

“-I teleported, I finished it as soon as I could, and-“

-

“Fushiguro?”

Megumi flinched backward at the sudden sight of Itadori’s hand waving in front of his face. He was suddenly pulled out of his memory, blinking several times to adjust to his new reality. “Sorry, I spaced out…”

“Well?” Nobara prompted, putting her hands on her waist. “What was their biggest fight?”

The expression on her face was similar to those she wore before she threw a fit of impatience. He wasn’t really in a mood to explicitly describe the emotional toll their fight took from all of them, nor was he willing to suddenly open up about his abandonment issues and how a Gojo going out and not coming back until three hours later triggered something in him and Tsumiki. After Y/N hugged Gojo, Megumi remembered racing against Tsumiki towards the white-haired man at their door, each of them clutching one of his legs.

Megumi trusts Itadori and Nobara...he just wasn’t there yet. He’ll tell them someday he thinks, he’ll tell them everything.

Megumi looked at Y/N and Gojo-sensei again and was pleased by what he saw. A small smile graced his face as he pointed towards the couple. “It ended just like that.”

Itadori and Nobara turned their heads towards the direction of the couple. From their position, they could see Gojo clutching a bouquet of flowers while audibly sobbing his apologies while Y/N tackled him into a hug.

[likeahorribledream]

ɴᴇᴡ ɢᴜʏ

» CHAPTER ONE: THE LOFT

SUMMARY: Harlan has decided to cut Ransom off and he has given him two months to find a new place to live and a job. He finds the perfect loft online but the problem is that it comes with 3 roommates, one of which is a woman but that he doesn't find out until after he moves in.

PAIRING: Ransom x Reader

WORD COUNT: 2.9k

WARNINGS: Fluff, angst. New Girl AU.

REQUEST: Librarian!Reader, she's shy and insecure about her appearance.

18+. Minors DNI.

ᴍᴀɪɴ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

𝚂𝙴𝚁𝙸𝙴𝚂 𝙼𝙰𝚂𝚃𝙴𝚁𝙻𝙸𝚂𝚃

Ransom's worst nightmare came true a week ago. Harlan, his grandfather and provider, has decided to cut him off. At 30 years old Ransom is forced to move out of his giant house, find somewhere else to live and find a job.

Except it isn't that easy. He's never had a job, ever. He has done an internship for his grandfather's publishing company a few summers in a row but aside from that: nothing. Shockingly enough, no one wants to hire a 30 year old, good for nothing man. Plus, he doesn't have the best attitude in general. He's never had to filter what he says or doesn't say and now he's paying for it.

Harlan gives him two months to move out, at least he doesn't have to take the first place he finds and instead he can visit a few places. Harlan says he'll pay his rent until he gets his first paycheck and then Ransom will be on his own, which means that he needs to be careful with the rent to make sure he can still afford it once Harlan stops paying for it. He only has a few months to find a job and if his grandfather feels like Ransom isn't making a big enough effort to find one, he'll cut him off immediately. He won't get one more penny from him.

He ends up finding an ad online for a loft downtown. At first he almost skips it because it says that they are looking for a fourth roommate and the last thing he wants right now is three annoying roommates, right before moving along he decides to look at the pictures of the loft. It's mostly curiosity, he wants to see how four people can fit in it and his jaw drops.

The loft is huge. Every room is big enough to have plenty of personal space and the living area is the perfect size so that it doesn't feel crowded. The great news is that the rent seems very reasonable and affordable. Ransom doesn't waste any time and calls the number from the ad right away, changing his mind in an instant.

The guy he talks to says that he can come over any time during the day. By the time he hangs up the phone he's already walking to his car.

The loft is on the fourth floor and to Ransom's delight there is an elevator. It'll make it easier when he brings back girls for the night. There's nothing sexy about making someone walk up four flights of stairs.

There are only three doors on the fourth floor, making it easy to find the number he's looking for.

He knocks on the door and it almost opens instantly, two men are waiting on the other side to greet him.

"Ransom?" One of them asks, extending his hand.

He nods. "And you are?" He shakes the man's hand.

"I'm Chase, we talked on the phone. This is Theo." He points to the man standing next to him. "Our third roommate is at work but you can come in and look around."

Chase steps aside to let Ransom in and closes the door behind him.

"You're Harlan Thrombey's grandkid, right?" Theo asks as he watches Ransom walk around the loft.

"Yeah." He stops himself from rolling his eyes.

"Our roommate is a bookworm and adores your grandfather's books." Theo smiles, knowing that you'll be excited about that little fact.

Ransom hums to let Theo know he heard him. "Where is the room you're renting?"

Theo and Chase exchange a glance when Ransom moves on to another subject.

They take him to the empty room across the hall from yours and open the door to what will be his room if he ends up moving in.

"I want it." He simply says, clearly used to people giving him what he wants when he wants it.

"Mh, ok." Chase laughs quietly. "We have a few things to discuss together before we sign anything." He gestures for Ransom to follow him and the three of them sit at the kitchen table.

"What do we need to talk about?" Ransom looks at the two men sitting across from him.

"A few things just to get an idea of how it would be to live with you. The three of us have been friends for a very long time and we're basically family. We love to hang out together, have movie nights and game nights. Is that ok with you?" Chase asks, looking at Ransom intently to see his reaction.

"Why wouldn't it be ok?" He frowns. It all sounds horrible but Ransom has every intention to stay in his room most of the time and go out for the rest.

The two roommates seem pleased by his answer.

"As for overnight guests, please don't bring back anyone that would potentially steal and/or destroy our things because they didn't know it was a one and done."

Theo rolls his eyes and shakes his head. "It was one time and he apologized."

Ransom smirks. "It's fine, I'm pretty direct and there's no ambiguity. Girls know what they sign up for."

"Good." Chase nods.

"Welcome home, then." Theo says after exchanging a glance with Chase.

Ransom grins and they all agree that he can move in by the end of this week.

"Our roommate will be at work on Friday when you get in but we'd be more than happy to help you." Theo offers as they walk him back to the door.

"I'll be alright, but thanks." He waves at them before stepping into the elevator.

The two men wait for the elevator doors to close before doing the same with the loft's door.

"He seems weird." Theo laughs.

Chase shrugs. "He'll fit right in with us then."

"Do you think he'll get along with her?"

"Tee, even our one night stands get along with her." Chase laughs, shaking his head and going back to the living room to finish watching the show he had started before Ransom came over.

The boys tell you all about Ransom when you get home from work and you're very excited to have a new roommate. Especially one that loves books. Plus, game nights are going to be easier now that there are four people instead of three. Theo won't be able to get away with cheating anymore.

You spend the entire week cleaning the loft and dusting the empty room so that when Ransom gets in on Friday, he won't have to do any cleaning. Whereas Ransom spends the following days packing everything. He has to choose what he takes with him and leaves behind, there's no way that he can fit everything that's in his house into his room back at the loft.

To his dismay, Ransom ends up having to ask the guys for help on moving day. He can carry boxes by himself, some of the furniture too but his mattress and bed frame are impossible for one man to carry by himself. He tried.

It takes a few hours but by 5 pm, Ransom is officially moved in.

"How does pizza and beer sound for dinner?" Theo asks, taking out his phone to text you.

"Great." Chase answers while Ransom just shrugs.

Theo sends you a quick text to tell you to get pizza and beer before coming home and then they all go back to the living room to watch TV.

Ransom makes an effort to hang out with them tonight but hopefully this won't become a habit. He needs a place to stay, not friends.

You walk into the door a little over an hour later, tired but excited to meet your new roommate.

"Do you have the pizzas?" You hear Theo yell from the living room.

"I think you mean hello, how are you, do you have the pizzas?" You roll your eyes and take off your shoes.

He gets up from the couch and walks over to you, taking the boxes from your hands. "Sorry, we're starving." He smiles shyly and almost runs to the kitchen after picking up the case of beer.

You shake your head and go to the living room where you suspect your two other roommates to be.

"Hi." You plop down on the couch next to Chase and look at Ransom.

"Ransom, princess. Princess, Ransom." Chase points between the two of you.

You smile and offer him your hand to shake. "Nice to meet you."

Ransom shakes your hand. "You too."

You let go of his hand and cuddle into Chase's side when you feel his arm wrap around your shoulders while Ransom lets his eyes roam all over your body. Gorgeous, he thinks.

"Are you Chase's girlfriend?" He asks after a few minutes of silence.

You slap Chase's chest with the back of your hand. "You dummies." You shake your head and look back at Ransom. "I'm not his girlfriend, I live here." You smile. "I'm guessing the guys forgot to mention that their other roommate was a girl, uh?"

"Oops?"

"Yeah, oops." You roll your eyes.

"Great." Ransom sighs. That's what he needs. A girl to cockblock him, bitch and moan about everything and be an absolute monster once a month.

You arch a brow at Ransom's tone but decide not to comment on it, for now.

"I'm eating!" Theo calls out from his seat at the table.

"You better not!" You jump to your feet and leave the living room. "What's the rule?" You point a finger at him, making him freeze before the slice of pizza reaches his mouth.

"The person who pays for the pizza gets the first slice." He mumbles.

"Did you pay for it?"

"No." He drops the slice on his plate and crosses his arms. "Hurry up, I'm starving."

You shake your head and sit down across from him. You reach into the opened box and grab a slice, taking a bite out of it. "Now you can eat." You cover your mouth with your hand while chewing.

No longer than 5 seconds later, half of his slice is shoved in his mouth.

"Now I get why you're so popular with the guys." You tilt your head playfully while chuckling.

"That's just one of my many, many talents." He grins.

"Princess, do you want a beer?" Chase calls out as he walks to the fridge.

"Yes, please." You smile before taking another bite.

Chase walks over to the table with Ransom following not far behind. He puts down an opened beer bottle on the table next to your plate and takes his seat next to you. Ransom does the same thing with Theo and sits next to him.

"What kind of name is princess, anyway?" Ransom asks right before taking a sip of his own beer.

There's something about him that rubs you the wrong way.

"It's not my name, it's the nickname Chase and Theo gave me when I moved in but now everyone calls me that." You shrug.

He looks at Chase, then Theo. "Why princess?"

"Because she's always reading and she's kind, always sees the good in people. Even when they're bad." Theo explains, making you smile.

"And she's beautiful, like all princesses." Chase turns to look at you.

You look down shyly and mumble a quiet "thanks" before eating again.

"It's true." Chase insists.

You shake your head. "Can we talk about something else, please? How did it go this afternoon, did you manage to get everything in your room?" You look at Ransom.

"Yes."

You wait to see if he's going to add more but he focuses on his pizza and beer.

No one talks for the remainder of the dinner, which is weird and unusual for the three of you. You're going to need to have a talk with your friends because the man that they let into your home clearly isn't a good fit.

You wait until Ransom leaves the loft to look at your two best friends. "What the hell were you thinking?"

Chase frowns. "What's wrong?"

"I didn't expect to find a roommate that would fit perfectly into our lifestyle but Ransom is the polar opposite of us."

"Give him a chance, he moved in 3 hours ago. He'll warm up to us." Chase tries to reassure you, though you have a feeling that you will be the problem.

Ransom looks everything but pleased to have a female roommate.

A loud crashing noise wakes you up in the middle of the night, startling you so much that your heart is pounding like crazy. Did someone just break into the loft? Should you go look? Probably not, that's how horror movies start.

You wait and listen for any more clues as to what's happening outside your door, you groan with annoyance once you realize what it is.

Ransom has come home, and he's not alone by the high pitched sounds you're hearing.

Once you hear his bedroom door slam shut, you jump out of your bed and leave your room for Chase's instead. He's at the complete opposite side of the loft and there's no way you can hear their moans all the way to his room.

You knock softly on Chase's door, immediately after you hear a "come in". You walk inside and close the door.

"Ransom?"

You nod, then you remember you're in the dark and he can't see you. "Yes, and he's not alone. Can I sleep in here? She's a screamer." You huff, tired and in desperate need of some sleep.

"Of course you can." Chase lifts up the covers for you to get under them.

Once you're both comfortably settled in, and that your heart has stopped pounding from fright, you fall back asleep.

You wake up first, you always do, and get up to go get dressed in your room before making breakfast for everyone.

On Saturday mornings you always make a big breakfast to start off the weekend right.

You try not to make too much noise, Ransom and his guest are probably exhausted and hungover.

One after the other, your friends emerge from their rooms and come sit at the table to start eating. You doubt Ransom will join you.

You sit down at the table and start eating, chatting with the guys about things that happened during the week.

Ransom comes out of his room wearing nothing but a shirt and some briefs, rubbing his eyes and yawning.

"Good morning, Ransom." You greet him cheerfully, like you always do with Theo and Chase.

He groans and shakes his head. "Do you know that your voice is extremely annoying in the morning?" He goes straight for the coffee, with his back turned to you he misses the way you look down at your plate suddenly not hungry.

"I'm sorry." You say quietly.

"Don't apologize." Theo turns to glare at Ransom. "That was beyond rude."

Ransom shrugs and walks off with his mug full of coffee.

Sadly, things don't get better from that moment on.

You and Ransom are too different to get along and even when you try to be less cheerful, your personalities clash.

Theo and Chase feel horrible. They know you've been working hard on opening yourself up to other people, to build up your confidence and now you've hit a 6 foot, blue eyed wall.

"Can we throw a party here Friday night?" Ransom asks the three of you during dinner on Wednesday night.

"Yes!" Chase sounds excited.

"Absolutely!" Theo grins, just as excited as his best friend.

The three men turn to look at you, waiting for your answer.

"Sure. I'll just hang out in my room." You finish the little bit of food that's left on your plate and get up to go clean up everything in the kitchen.

Ransom frowns at your answer and follows you with his eyes. "You're allowed to party with us, you know?"

"I'm good but thanks." You turn around to the sink and start doing the dishes, putting an end to the discussion.

Ransom looks at Theo and Chase, still frowning. "What's up with her?" He says loud enough that only the guys can hear.

"I'll talk to her." Chase stands up and grabs the other two's empty plates with his before joining you in the kitchen.

"You should join in on Friday, don't stay in your room." He speaks in a hush tone. "You might have some actual fun!"

"I doubt that." You laugh bitterly.

"Don't say that. You won't know unless you try."

"People don't like me. You and Theo are literally the only people who tolerate me enough to be friends with me. You know that."

"I don't know that. First of all we don't tolerate you, we love you and we're not the only ones."

"Can we just drop the subject?" You are getting slightly annoyed and agitated the more this conversation goes on.

Chase sighs but agrees. "I'll do the dishes, go relax."

He gives you a quick side hug before taking over for you. You walk out of the kitchen and go to your room without looking at the men still sitting at the table.

"Since when does she go to bed without saying goodnight?" Ransom asks Theo as he watches you until you're hidden in your room.

"You bitch about it every time she does it, so she stopped." Theo shrugs and goes to the kitchen to help Chase with the dishes.

They miss Ransom getting up and walking over to your room, knocking for you to let him in.

You open your door expecting to see one of your friends, not Ransom.

"Can I come in?"

CHAPTER TWO

Another soft Ransom series because I just can't stop! Please let me know what you think!

@n3ssm0nique | @lover-of-bucky | @beingagodsucks | @littlemissthistle | @dancer3205 | @thatblondebrownie | @rainbowkisses31 | @benbarnesbussy | @emi11ie | @floral-recs | @greeneyedblondie44 | @fangirl125reader | @aya-fay | @rogersdrysdalebarber | @broadwaybabe18 |@mrsdrysdale18

[watchmegetobsessed]

PAPER-THIN WALLS

a/n: i woke up totally in themood to write just straight up smut... and that's what i did lmao. there's not much plot in it, just a whole lot of fucking, so enjoy!

pairing: Bucky X Reader

warnings: sexual content, unprotected sex, oral, the good stuff

word count: 3.8k

masterlist

The Avengers compound was built almost perfectly with its luxurious suits, several entertainment rooms, fully equipped training areas and millions of hidden snack and drink bars all across the building. But the stress this time is on almost.

Bucky was never sure if the walls were originally built to keep less noise than in any other buildings, or if it was just his super hearing that allowed him to catch conversations and noises that weren’t meant for his ears. He would often hear gossiping agents as he walked down the hallways, or Vision and Wanda talk about recipes and TV shows in her room and there was this one time he heard Nat and Bruce have a discussion that was surely not meant to be heard by anyone but the two of them. He is still trying to get rid of the words he heard.

Having a room next to yours, he often sat on his bed, hearing you shuffling around, humming to yourself. As the latest addition to the Avengers, you felt a little out of place at the compound, like you were a stranger to the team even though they never gave you a reason to think so. This feeling of not belonging is what brought you closer to the century old super soldier on the other side of the wall, who despite being free from the claws of Hydra finally, still felt like an outsider in the superhero filled complex. Bucky always thought he was hard to make friends with, but he had to realize that it was all about who he was trying to make friends with. Because with you, it was an instant, like he had known you his whole life, you’ve definitely become one of the closest people to his heart in a very short time.

With this friendship came some undeniable feelings and tension from Bucky’s part. He couldn’t help but fall for you, how couldn’t he? He would have been surprised if it didn’t happen, after spending so much time with you. He found himself craving your presence, to be with you, talk to you and listen to you at the same time. He was a sucker for your lame jokes that he would laugh at even if they weren’t that funny. He loved your enthusiasm whenever you brought a new book and basically told him the whole plot, spoiling the story, but he never minded, because the way you rambled in excitement made up for everything.

And of course, he has been attracted to you since day one. Even when you weren’t that close, he couldn’t deny how much it affected him when he saw you spar with Steve at the gym in just some tight shorts and a sports bra, or when you linger around in the kitchen early in the morning wearing only an oversized shirt and your underwear hidden under the long fabric. It stirred his fantasies that’ve been sleeping for decades and late at night, when he was lying in his bed restless, his vibranium hand firmly curling around his erection, he thought about you. How you’d taste and feel, what it would be like to have your body pressed against his, his name falling from your lips in a whimper as he pleases you all over and over again. Sometimes he felt dirty after an elaborate fantasy, barely able to look into your eyes, but he just couldn’t help it. You had him in the palm of your hand.

What he doesn’t know is that he is not the only one with fantasies and desires. Because on the other side of the wall, you’ve often found yourself craving the mixture of warm and cold touch from flesh and metal hands, toned muscles flexing under your palms, pink lips whispering into your ears as you arch against his body… Bucky has been living in your mind rent free and you’ve been having a hard time containing your desire for the super soldier.

Having sex dreams is not at all a new thing for you. It happens every once in a while, waking from a heated scene only to find yourself alone in the comfort of your room, a thin layer of sweat coating your skin as you try to bring yourself back to reality. It was never an inconvenience, but in the past few days it’s been getting worse. You’ve had a wet dream for three days in a row, jolting awake right when you were about to climax, a wave of disappointment washing over your body as you fisted the sheets in your sweaty palms. And the worst part? All of them have been about Bucky.

It’s another sleepless night for Bucky, nothing new. He has tried to chase himself into sleep with everything already, TV, ready, music, even counting sheep, but nothing seems to be working, so he is left with lying in his bed, staring at the blank ceiling, the soft bed sheet throw across his naked upper body, only wearing a pair of boxer briefs, because it’s been hot these past week, but he is not a fan of using the air-condition. The dogtags are lying messily on his naked chest, his vibranium finger playing with the wrinkles of the sheets mindlessly.

His eyes slowly flutter closed, a promise of some rest finally nearing the corner, but right just then, he hears some muffled noise coming from the other side of the wall. His eyes snap open as he sits up, trying to make out what it is, but he catches no words, just… grunts and some shallow panting, as if someone was struggling.

What if you’re sick and something is wrong? You’ve been a little worn off the past days, maybe something was lingering in you.

Kicking the sheets off of himself, he pads his way to the door, his bare feet tapping on the hardwood floor as he walks out of his room, heading to yours, stopping at the door. Pressing his flesh hand to the door he takes a moment to listen to the voices so he can make out what’s happening, but it really feels like you’re in a struggle, but he has no idea why. Knocking lightly on the door he hopes to get an answer, but nothing of sort comes and he stays still, debating whether he should go in or just leave. Right when he is about to retreat he hears you gasping, as if you’re at a short of breath and it pushes him to check in on you.

Opening the door he pops his head inside, the darkness fully taking up the room, your king sized bed in the middle, a few strikes of moonlight sneaking through the curtains that are not entirely drawn.

“Y/N?” he calls out softly, not wanting to startle you, but no answer comes once again, however he can see your figure tossing and turning under the sheets, another gasp slipping through your lips.

He walks closer, stopping at your bedside, seeing how your eyebrows are pulled together tensely, chest heaving as you keep moving around. Bucky feels like an intruder, you’re definitely asleep, probably having a nightmare, but he is not sure if he should be in here. Should he wake you? Or just leave? Would you be mad if you found him here upon waking up? After some hesitation he decides it’s better if he leaves, but right as he turns around, taking just one step towards the door, he finally hears a word from you.

“Bucky,” you whine, his name coming out a little slurred, but still clear to him. “Bucky, please!” you continue, his eyes widening as his head snaps around, eyes returning to you. You’re still asleep, but he notices your hand moving down your chest and then disappearing under the sheets, between your legs. That’s when he realizes that it’s not a nightmare. You’re having a sex dream about him.

Clearly trying to chase your release, your lips part as you moan, the voice instantly making Bucky’s cock twitch while hardening. His hands curl into fists as he is fighting himself whether he should do something or leave, but when his name slips through your lips again, he goes feral. He would be damned if he lets you get stuck in your dream when he can please you in real life.

He finds himself striding back to your bed faster like ever, like an elegant lion, hungry for his prey as one of his knees sink into the mattress between your open legs, keeping his weight up on one arm while the other finds your waist. The shirt you always sleep in has ridden up to just below your breasts, the exposed skin watering Bucky’s mouth as he squeezes your waist gently but firmly enough to wake you from your fever dream.

Your eyes snap open and you stare up at him slack-mouthed, your brain barely able to process the sudden change between the Bucky in your dream and the one holding himself up above you in real life.

“Bucky? I—“ you breathe out, the cloud of confusion on your head making it hard to even form a sentence. He leans down, his face just inches away from yours and even though it’s quite dark, his blue eyes are basically piercing. His dogtags fall to your chest, right above your wildly racing heart and you wonder if he can hear the pounding in your ribcage.

“Shh, I’m gonna take care of you,” he whispers and without a warning, his lips crash down onto yours.

It’s so hard and passionate, filled with hunger and longing, the air gets knocked right out of your chest as you eagerly kiss him back while he slowly moves himself until he is fully between your legs, his hips coming down to meet yours and you moan when you feel his erection pressing against your already soaking wet core. Your hands find their way up into his hair, grabbing a fistful of it and he can’t stop himself from growling at your action, grinding himself against your hips, both of you desperate to take it further.

Pushing himself up into a kneeling position, he grabs your panties and tugs them down your bare legs, throwing them across the room before he rids you from your shirt as well, so now you’re lying completely naked in front of his lustful eyes. He could devour you with just his icy blue eyes, he looks glorious, towering above you with his broad, muscular shoulders and toned chest, you’ve never been more desperate for a man before.

Your desire takes action, pushing yourself up your lips meet his chest, kissing the hot skin, your tongue sloppily pressing against him as you make your way up on his body. His vibranium fingers tangle into your hair as he holds the back of your head, pulling you up to kiss you again, both of you in a kneeling position while your hand reaches into his underwear, palming his hard cock, feeling up his size before you push the fabric down and he kicks it off easily, his erection now pressed between the two of you teasing and tempting you, making you buck your hips forward just for the slightest friction.

“Were you dreaming of me, doll? Huh?” he questions, his lips nibbling on your lower lip as he takes it between his teeth and gently tugs on it.

“Yeah,” you breathe out, hands grabbing onto his hips before they move down to his bare ass, pulling him closer to you, earning a moan from him.

“And what was I doing in your dream?” He kisses down your neck, stopping at a soft spot before he starts sucking and biting on it, marking you as his, something he’s been aching to do since the moment he laid eyes on you for the first time. Your brain almost shuts down, one of his hands is on your jaw, keeping your head in place, while the other one is gripping your waist harshly, his fingers digging into your muscles. You fail to answer his question as just a whimper leaves your lips at the sensation.

“Words, sweetheart. Use your words for me, will you?”

“I, uhh—You used your f-fingers,” you croak out, a satisfied grin tugging on Bucky’s lips at your words.

He pushes you back on the bed, making you lie on your back as he gets on top of you once again, but this time he doesn’t stay like that long, after a hard kiss he climbs down until his face aligns with your core, his hands parting your legs widely, baring you to him fully.

“Tell me, where did I use my fingers?” he hums, face so close to your center that you can feel his hot breath on you. He teases you, running his hands up and down your spread thighs, his fingers just grazing your folds before moving away every time.

“Bucky, please!” you cry out, grinding your hips up, but you only reach his chin before he leans back with a pleased grin on his face.

“Just tell me and I’ll do it. Where did I use my fingers?” he repeats.

“On my pussy! You fingered me!” you groan, your cheeks heating up from the blunt comment you just made, but it’s exactly what Bucky wanted to hear.

Two of his fingers find your clit easily, starting off with slowly drawing circles on it, stimulating your nerves and it’s nothing like in your dream. You curse under your breath when his fingers move to your hole and he pushes both of them inside, his lips taking their place on your clit.

“Oh fuck!” you groan in pleasure, your hands immediately snapping to his head, fingers lacing into his chocolate locks as you shamelessly grind against his face.

Bucky is not a man of many words, but god damn, he can use his mouth like a fucking master. It feels like your whole body is on fire, you’re sweating and shaking, his fingers curl inside you every time he thrusts into you and he is stroking that one heavenly spot inside you that makes your eyes roll back into your head. His tongue is slick and sloppy against your wet pussy, but he is drinking it all up as if you were his last meal before death.

“Shit, I’m gonna cum! Bucky!” you gasp as your back arches at the sensation, your orgasm building up rapidly.

“Cum on my tongue and fingers, let me make your dream come true,” he growls against your heat, picking up the pace of his fingers which completely throws you over the edge.

You come with chanting his name over and over again as you ride your high, thighs shaking and tightening on either side of his head until you’re finally able to catch your breath.

Bucky pushes himself up, his lips glistening from your juices and you watch him wipe his mouth with his fingers, licking them afterwards like he just finished eating a chocolate cake, a satisfied grin on his ridiculously handsome face. He crawls up on you until his lips can finally reach yours again, kissing you in a slower pace, but still with a lot of passion to offer.

“Tonight wasn’t my first sex dream about you,” you slyly admit, lips brushing against his as you speak.

“Oh, yeah?”

“Mhm, so there’s more to act out.” His still hard cock twitches again and you’re fast to reach down and palm him again, wrapping a hand around him as you give his cock a few lazy stokes, but it surely has an effect on him.

You’re quick to turn him over, pushing him to lie on his back as you straddle him, steading yourself with holding onto his waist, his eyes bore into yours intently and your mouth hangs open when you grind against him, his hard cock sliding between your wet folds.

“The other day, I dreamed about riding you, your cock filled me up so good, but right when I was about to cum I woke up,” you tell him, not sure how this sudden confidence came from, but you just can’t help yourself. Bucky growls at your words as his fingers dig into your thighs.

“Then let’s make up for that, love,” he breathes out and you nod eagerly, lifting yourself up just enough to position him to your hole and then you sink down as far as you can, his dick filling you up inch by inch and your breath hitches when you finally settle, his length fully buried inside you.

“Oh, fuck!” you whine before you start moving yourself up and down his cock, grinding back and forth, the feeling of him inside you so intoxicating, you think for a moment that this might still be your dream. If it is, you hope you don’t wake up this time.

Though your training has strengthened your legs so you are able to ride him in this position longer, it still tires you out. Bucky notices when your movements slow down, his hands running up your torso, kneading your breasts before they end up on the back of your neck, pulling you down so you lie on top of him, his strong arms wrapping around you. His lips kiss the side of your head before he starts thrusting up into you, doing the work for you this time. You can’t stop yourself from moaning and whimpering as your second orgasm is starting to build up, your senses are on the edge.

“Fuck, Y/N, I’m so close,” he gasps, his thrusts becoming a little uncoordinated and you feel the same way, only moments away from your climax.

You push yourself up, pulling him with you, wanting to take back control before you both reach your relief, you get into a sitting position that allows you to grind in his lap, moving your hips back and forth as fast as you can. Bucky’s lips find yours again, kissing your sloppily before they travel down your neck and he licks at your collarbone as you hold onto his broad shoulders.

“You feel so fucking good, oh God!” he whines, his head falling backwards as you keep moving, both of you sweating, but neither of you really cares, you’re just relentlessly chasing your high again.

“I want to feel you cum. Please, Bucky!” you beg him, squeezing your walls around him, the action completely maddening the man as he holds you to his chest and flips you over with ease, his body weighing down on you as he starts fucking into you fast and hard. You could throw a fuss about how he took control again, but you don’t mind it, not at all. Because the way he pounds into you, his cock disappearing to the last inch inside you with each thrust, your whole body starts shaking as your orgasm finally reaches you.

Your squeeze your walls again around him and the moment he hears his name fall from your trembling lips he cums inside of you, filling you up entirely, marking you with his pleasure.

He rides his high with a few more sloppy thrusts until he stops, his forehead falling against yours as you both try to catch your breath. He captures your lips in a soft and slow kiss, so different from the ones you shared before. Then he finally rolls off of you and you let out a displeased grunt when you feel him slide out of you.

For a while it’s just the silence in the room mixed with your soft panting, but he is the first one to break it as his head rolls to the side, looking at you with those fucked-out eyes of his.

“How long have you been having these dreams?” he asks, turning to his side so his hand can spread out on your naked stomach, fingers drawing tiny circles on your sweaty skin.

“A while,” you admit.

“I wish I heard you earlier through the wall,” he chuckles, but your eyes widen.

“Wait, what? You heard me through the wall?”

“Yeah. Thought something was wrong so I came over to check on you.”

“God, I must have been really loud,” you laugh, covering your face with your hands, but he is quick to peel them off and leaning closer he kisses your lips gently.

“Don’t blame yourself, these walls are like paper. And besides…” A sly smirk tugs on his lips as his hand comes up to cup your jaw, his thumb running along the line of your bottom lip. “I fucking love it when you’re loud.”

“I wasn’t even screaming yet,” you tease back, your comment definitely catching him off-guard, but he likes it.

“We’ll get there next time.”

You and Bucky walk into the kitchen in the morning, completely oblivious to the rest of the world, still in the bliss of last night. Nat, Tony and Steve are sitting at the kitchen island, sipping on their morning coffee when you emerge from your room, all eyes immediately glued to the pair of you.

“Well, good morning, everyone,” you chuckle a little nervously, not sure what the stares mean.

“Morning,” Nat smirks, shaking her head before she turns back to the newspaper unfolded in front of her.

“Nice of you to make an appearance, I have some news to share with you all,” Tony announces as you pour some coffee for yourself while Bucky grabs everything he needs to make breakfast for the two of you. Nodding you signal to Tony that you’re listening. “I decided to do some remodeling on the compound.”

“Oh, what are you getting done?” you ask, wondering what could possibly need work on the building.

“Nothing major, I’m just gonna make the walls soundproof, so we don’t have to listen to you guys fucking all night long.”

You almost choke on your coffee at Tony’s blunt comment, cheeks heating up right away, you were not expecting that. Though he is looking at you and Bucky, who is now standing behind you with a hand on your waist, with a stern expression, you can see the small smile hiding in his eyes. He finds the situation rather amusing instead of annoying.

“Yeah, next time maybe keep it down a little,” Steve suggests as he stands from his seat, grabbing his mug. Walking past the two of you, he pats Bucky’s shoulder however. “But I’m glad you guys are finally getting it on,” he comments before walking out, Nat and Tony following him right after, leaving just you and Bucky in the kitchen.

You glance up at him with concern in your eyes, teeth sinking into your bottom lip, but he doesn’t seem to be ashamed at all. Instead, he leans down, pecks your lips shortly and then whispers:

“I told you. Paper-thin walls.”

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed it!

[writer-in-theory]

State of Grace (Spencer Reid x Reader)

summary: after several bad breakups in a row, reader decides to stop looking for love. reader never saw spencer coming. series summary: a series of oneshots to celebrate the release of red (taylor's version). 19 songs, 19 fics. pairing: spencer reid x reader category: fluff, some angst but happy ending warnings: mentions of past cheating, mentions of past unhealthy relationships, language word count: 6.8k a/n: Here it is, the first part of Loving Him Was Red. I've decided to post these at midnight a day early because I want to get the last one posted before the actual album is released. It's obviously not midnight this time, but I’m so excited to share this with everyone. While it’s not a true series, this is definitely the largest fic project I’ve ever done and I’m so proud of it. Not to mention it gives me an excuse to listen to Red on repeat from now until November 12th 👀

series masterlist masterlist send me a request!

“Love is a ruthless game unless you play it good and right..."

After forty-five minutes of staring at your computer screen, all you knew was that whoever said writing was easy clearly wasn’t a writer. If it were easy, then the final novel in your series would have been published two years ago instead of sitting half-written in your drafts folder.

Sometimes you wished your first book never became popular. While it had been your childhood dream to become published, now you actually had to finish out the series. The first book had originally been written six years ago, back when the world hadn’t screwed you over yet—no, before love ever screwed you over. That was the problem, wasn’t it? The same scene refused to be written, the pivotal moment that your readers had been waiting for after two novels. The first two novels followed the budding friendship between the two main characters, and the third was meant to bring them together romantically. After six years of nothing but bitter heartbreak, your fingers refused to type out a happy ending for the main couple.

It started with your first partner as an adult. You’d given everything you had to them thinking they’d be your first love but turns out they were under the impression it was just a fling. Tossed away like a used napkin, you thought maybe you should’ve gotten the hint right then that you weren’t meant for love.

Instead, you’d moved on to someone else who did seem to want a relationship with you. They just also wanted a relationship with another person behind your back. That had been the worst; a complete betrayal from someone you were sure you could trust. That same trust wouldn’t come easily next time, you told yourself.

Until it did, and you were making the same mistakes yet again with a new person. He’d seemed nice enough; always doting on you and making sure you had everything you needed to be happy. For the first few weeks, you assumed you’d finally found the one. Prince Charming had found you and he was whisking you away to your well-deserved happy ending. Then his behavior turned sour. It started small at first; little moments of jealousy when you talked about your friends or wouldn’t update him on where you were during the day. It turned dark so slowly that you hadn’t even noticed until it was too late. It took months to recover from him.

After all of those failures, it was easy to throw out the idea of a happy ending. Maybe love was a game you were destined to lose, and maybe such endings were only meant for fiction and that was okay. You could handle that; if only you could actually fucking write the fictional happy ending.

Instead, you stood from the office chair—twisting to elicit the satisfying popping sounds from your back—and walked downstairs to staff the bookstore. The store was one of your favorite places to be. It was run by an older woman whose family had owned it for generations. She’d needed to find someone to help her run the store as it grew hard for her to stand for long periods of time. When you worked up the courage to leave your possessive ex, you’d been desperate for a place to stay. Susan offered you the apartment above the store if you would work for a lower wage. Considering how expensive rent could be in D.C., there was no way that deal could be passed up. Two years later, you’d come to view the tiny bookstore as another branch of home.

“Good morning, Susan,” you greeted as you bounded down the stairs, rubbing the exhaustion and frustration from your eyes so you could focus on the store. Staying up late most nights to write wasn’t suitable for your physical health but the guilt of not trying to write would’ve been worse.

“Morning, Y/N. How’s the writing coming?” she asked from her seat behind the counter. The amused smile on her face let you know that she absolutely knew how the writing was coming, she just wanted to hear you say it.

“Same as yesterday. What’s my first job?”

“We got a new shipment of books today. Could you be a dear and shelve them?”

“I’m on it,” you agreed, sliding the heavy boxes out from behind the counter so you could easily access the books. Shelving was a more physically exhausting—but thankfully mind-numbing—task. It was easy to slip out of focus, daydreaming about ways you could get past the writer’s block. That made it even easier to miss when he asked you a question.

You only noticed the customer was there when you took a step back to make sure the shelf looked neat enough, nearly jumping out of your skin when the taller man’s form appeared in the corner of your vision. “Oh! I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you. What can I help you with?” you asked, immediately switching into your customer service voice.

Considering how popular chain bookstores were becoming now, it wasn’t too often there were actually many visitors to the shop. He was a new visitor, that much you knew for sure. A face like that would be easy to remember. He dressed a little like a college professor might, but the gun at his belt signaled to you that he was very much not a professor. Whoever he was, you were envious of the way his hair could look so good when there was clearly no attempt to control the curls.

Oddly enough, the man also looked nervous in a way you wouldn’t have expected from someone who looked like him. Someone with as pretty features as he had deserved to have all the confidence in the world. “I didn’t mean to scare you, I’m sorry,” he apologized, “I was asking if you’d read that before.” His hand pointed loosely at the book held in your hands.

Well, now that was a fun question. “Moondust by Y/N L/N,” you read the front cover aloud, swiping your hand lightly over it to brush away the nonexistent dust. “I have. A few times, actually, probably more than I should’ve.” It wasn’t a lie. When the book was first published, you absolutely had to re-read it when a hard copy was sent to you. When it reached every important milestone, you’d pulled out your edition and immersed yourself in the story once again.

The man’s eyebrows lifted a little and it just wasn’t fair that someone could look that adorable so early in the morning. “You liked it then?”

A part of you knew the easiest course of action would be to put yourself out of your misery and admit to being the author. Still, no one had asked you directly about the book before and something was telling you not to admit it. This man surely wouldn’t want to talk to you so openly about the book if he knew you were the person who created it. You’d always been careful about who you told about your writing; it took weeks for anyone close in your life to actually know you’d published your first book. So, you decided the best course of action was to dig a deeper hole for yourself. It wasn’t lying, per se, and technically withholding information that wasn’t asked for wasn’t a crime. “I think it’s a good read. I might be biased though, I see a lot of myself in the main protagonist.” Maybe that’s because the main protagonist was heavily influenced by you.

“I’ll try it then,” he concluded, plucking one of the books off of your newly-stocked shelf.

The way people held books said a lot about them. This man held it between both of his hands, fingers lightly gripping it as though the book were a prized possession that needed to be treated with care. He was book smart, pun unintended, and likely spent more time in school reading books than making friends. This was someone you saw as a kindred spirit; a lover of books, devouring the pages to soak up all of the emotions and knowledge from the inked words. “I needed a new book to read on the jet.”

“Oh, you’re traveling? Somewhere warm, I hope,” you replied as you walked with him up to the front counter. Susan was more than capable of checking him out, but you wanted to keep talking to this book lover who had chosen to love your words.

“It’s for work. I don’t know where we’re going yet,” he admitted.

“Huh, well a little spontaneity is good for the soul. So, what kind of agent are you?”

If you thought his previous look was adorable, then you didn’t know how to describe the look of surprise and—dare you say it, wonder—that spread over his face. “How did you...?”

“We live in D.C. and you travel for work but you don’t know where you’re going until you actually get there. It’s also an ungodly hour in the morning that no one is willingly awake for unless your job requires it. Sounds like a government agent to me,” you explained, shrugging your shoulders. “Also the gun at your belt is kind of a dead giveaway. Not that I was looking at your belt! I just, um...you talk now.” Smooth. Suddenly, attempting to write those final few chapters seemed way more desirable than being here. Your face felt like it was on fire, you could only imagine how red it had gotten.

The man laughed, and you’d gladly suffer through that embarrassment again if you got to see that smile. Luckily, he decided to spare you by not commenting on your last statement. “I’m an agent in the Behavioral Analysis Unit for the FBI,” the man explained, “we create psychological profiles for serial killers.”

“Well, Mister FBI Agent, can I see the badge?” Honestly, it was just the best way you could think of asking for his name without sounding strange. It worked though because soon he was fishing it out of his bag and handing it to you. Dr. Spencer Reid, huh? “So should I call you Agent Reid or Doctor Reid? Ooh, how about Doctor Agent Spencer Reid? Gotta get both titles in there, they’re both impressive.”

“You can call me Spencer,” he answered if a little sheepishly. Hopefully, you weren’t scaring him too bad, you wanted to hear what this guy thought of your book (and that was definitely the only reason you wanted to see him again). “What do I call you?”

“Y/N/N,” you introduced, wondering briefly if he’d make the connection between your nickname and the full name printed on the cover of the book in his hands. “Okay, you’re all set. Definitely come back and let me know what you think of it.”

“I will,” Spencer promised, tucking the book away into his bag, “Thank you, Y/N/N.”

“Anytime.”

Almost a week later, you told yourself that Spencer never planned on actually coming back to the bookshop. That was okay; after all, what did one cute guy’s opinion really matter to you? You let yourself forget about Spencer Reid, throwing all of yourself into your books. During the day you would work at the bookshop or spend time with friends, and you spent most nights sitting up at your desk with a candle burning away, hoping new words would show up on your screen. They never did, or even worse the words would be typed up but angrily erased when they didn’t come out perfectly right.

Regardless, you couldn’t help the smile that washed over your face when his figure finally stepped into the shop the following Thursday morning.

“Hey, long time no see, Doctor Agent Reid,” you greeted, tossing him a teasing wink and setting down the stack of books you were shelving. “Didn’t think it would take you that long to finish.”

“I finished it on the walk to the office,” Spencer admitted, and you told yourself to file that one away for later because how could a person actually read that fast?

“So, what’d you think?”

“It’s one of the best novels I’ve read in a while,” he told you, and good reviews would never cease to make your heart flutter. You only felt a little guilty that Spencer didn’t know he was talking to the author, but told yourself it was okay because he was complimenting the novel. “The symbolism of the apple tree was so well done, and I didn’t expect the ending. I had to read the sequel too.”

“Yeah?” You fought the wide grin threatening to pull at your lips, trying to keep it schooled into something much more reasonable for a fan of a book. “The second just as good as the first?”

“It was better. I loved the dynamic between the families in Moondust, but it was brilliant to have Starlight focus on building the friendship between Riley and Kendall. It’s such an optimistic and realistic view of love and relationships that I never expected. I admire Riley for the positive way she views the world despite everything that happened to her family.” If only you could hear Spencer talk like this forever. He gestured excitedly with his hands, his entire face lighting up as he spoke about the book. You wondered if he was always this passionate when it came to reading or if it was exclusive to your novels.

Still, you couldn’t help the next words that left your mouth. “I’m not sure it’s a realistic view of love, but it’s definitely optimistic. I think the term I’d use is blind optimism.”

“That’s what makes it so realistic. Kendall went his entire life focused on working to help support his parents. He was so focused on survival that he never once considered the ability to love anyone as wholly as he did Riley,” Spencer continued, “there was no reason for Riley to think he would love her, but she still continued to believe in him.”

“She was desperate for love, she was so willing to be with literally anyone as long as they took her away from her family home. It’s no surprise she started falling for her friend, and she’s damn lucky that he’d fallen for her too. That stuff doesn’t happen in real life. It’s beautiful to read, but foolish girls who are desperate to be loved don’t get the guy. At least not the kind of guy that they actually want.”

“You said you related to the main protagonist,” Spencer point out and damn him for remembering a random conversation with a stranger.

“Are you saying I’m foolish?” you returned, crossing your arms over your chest even though there was no real anger in your words.

“No, but you’re saying that,” Spencer countered, and maybe he was right but there was no way you’d admit it.

“Touche. So tell me, Dr. Reid, how does an FBI agent keep such a positive outlook on life? You must see some awful things.”

“I also see beautiful things. Parents reuniting with their missing children, couples finding their way back to each other after horrific trauma. They’re all able to love again, arguably even stronger than before.” It was a beautiful way to look at the world and you couldn’t help but admire Spencer for continuing to have that view. He seemed a little nervous then, fingers fidgeting as he asked, “Do you want to get coffee with me sometime?”

Where did that come from? “What?”

“I can’t be late for work, but I want to prove you wrong about Riley. She’s not desperate, she believes in the goodness of the world and that’s not foolish,” Spencer explained quickly, “I have so many more thoughts about the series and I could talk about it for hours.”

“I’d love to get coffee with you then, Spencer,” you agreed, proud that you were the one causing that bashful smile on his face. He handed you a little business card with the seal of the FBI on it and, oh, why did it affect you so much that you had his phone number? “I’ll call you?”

“Please. I want to hear more about what you think of the series, especially since there’s going to be a third installment. I have my own predictions on what’s going to happen, I want to know how you think Kendall and Riley will end up.”

“Oh, you and me both,” you murmured, but luckily Spencer must not have heard you. So you spoke a little louder, “Absolutely. I can’t wait to read about how they finally come to terms with their feelings for each other, especially considering how different their lives are.”

“I have a feeling we’ll be waiting for a while. It’s been two years and three months since the last book was published, I wonder when the author plans on publishing the last one.”

“She’s working on it, okay?” you shot back, face flushing as you had to remind yourself that you didn’t actually want Spencer to know it was you. Not now that you were in so deep. How could you possibly explain that to him now? “I mean, we’ve been waiting for so long now, it’ll feel even better when we finally get to see how it all ends. She’s probably doing it on purpose or something.”

“You’re probably right, Y/N/N,” Spencer laughed, “I’ll see you soon.”

“Be safe at work,” you returned the goodbye, only letting out a groan and letting your head fall against the front counter when he left the building.

“Now that was just sad, dear.” Oh, of course, Susan had heard everything. You turned your head to see the old woman coming out of the backroom, sitting down in her rocking chair behind the counter. “Why haven’t you told the poor man?”

“I don’t know.” That was the truth of it, right? “He asked me a week ago if I’d read Moondust and I didn’t want to brag and say ‘oh yeah, I’ll do you one better I wrote it’, you know? But now it’s way too late to fix it.”

“It’s never too late to fix it, Y/N,” the older woman told you. Her voice was a little shaky but soothing, her words bolstered by decades of experience that you didn’t have yet. She was right, of course, but that didn’t mean you were happy about it.

“He’s just so nice,” you continued to try to make excuses, slipping away from the counter so you could sit on some old boxes, facing Susan and completely invested in the conversation. “I want to keep talking to him. He’s not like anyone I’ve ever met before.”

“Oh, you like him, don’t you?”

“What? No, where’d you get that idea?” It was completely ridiculous. You’d just met Spencer a week ago, there was absolutely no way that you liked him. He was a nice guy who happened to like your books. He had an interesting viewpoint and you wanted to hear more about it, that was all. “No, I’m getting coffee with him to talk about the book. That’s it.”

“Okay, Y/N. All I ask is that you don’t miss out on something good because you refused to open the door for it.”

Coffee with Spencer was a wonderful thing. It became a part of your weekly routine, as much as it could be at least, considering he was often out of D.C. for work. Whenever he was home, though, he’d make it a point to call you and set up a time to grab a coffee and talk. It was never texting with him; Spencer said that he preferred calling because it felt more personal to hear the other person’s voice. You had to agree with him, mostly because you liked hearing him talk.

At first, your coffee dates were strictly book talk. You two would debate the intricate details of the novels, anything from the differing sibling relationships in both families to if Kendall was really the type of person to drive a blue car. Eventually, the conversation drifted to your own lives. You got to hear all about the family-like dynamic of Spencer’s team at work. You heard about how Hotch and Rossi were like father figures to him, how JJ and Derek were his best friends but if he ever needed cheering up he’d always go to Penelope because she was like pure sunlight. You told him all about your own friends and about how you came to work at the bookstore.

After a few weeks, you opened up about your own relationship failures. “...which is why I’m taking a break from all relationships,” you finished, chest heaving as you tried to reign in the nervous breaths. Not many people knew everything about your love life, but Spencer did now. He didn’t try to apologize like so many people typically did. It was just further proof that he had his own struggles; he understood that useless apologies didn’t help.

“You’ll find your Kendall, Y/N/N, I promise,” was all Spencer told you, and you really wanted to believe him.

One day Spencer opened up to you, too. He told you about his mother, and his father, even a mentor named Gideon who had left right after Spencer went through something traumatic. He told you all about how people had a tendency to leave once he started caring about them, how he had a constant fear of finding another goodbye letter waiting for him. You didn’t apologize either, instead telling him that you promised never to say goodbye through a letter.

You didn’t know when it happened, but suddenly your coffee dates with Spencer became your favorite time of the week. You’d look forward to it all week and miss it when he was away on a case. It was a friendship you never expected but you were so glad that it happened.

It was a friendship that was good for your writing, too. Suddenly, you were sitting at your desk every night with the motivation to finish Riley and Kendall’s story. Your hands flew across the keyboard for hours and this time you didn’t want to erase most of it. You told yourself it was because of Spencer’s faith in people, but when the story was finally over it was clear that wasn’t the entire truth.

It wasn’t the whole truth because suddenly Kendall twitched his nose when he was thinking about something and drank coffee with way too much sugar. Riley had always been optimistic about the world, but now she believed that two people with broken hearts could put each other back together to create a beautiful mosaic out of their broken pieces. When Kendall finally admitted he’d fallen for Riley, you told yourself you absolutely did not imagine Spencer’s lips speaking those words instead.

Because there was absolutely no way you could love Spencer Reid. Every time you allowed you allowed yourself to take the risk, you ended up burned worse than before. Every person you’d ever loved had once started like Spencer; sweet, funny, and seemingly perfect for you.

That wasn’t necessarily true though, was it? No one was quite like Spencer. He was funny in a completely unexpected way; he just said jokes so nonchalantly. They were brilliant jokes that took you a minute to get, but once you understood you practically howled with laughter. Spencer wasn’t sickly sweet like honeysuckle but rather it was understated. He didn’t try to prove how sweet he was to you, he was genuinely himself all the time and you began to wonder how you hadn’t noticed the difference between him and your exes before. Your exes made cases for why they deserved you, tried to overcompensate to mask their cruelties, and Spencer didn’t need to say a single word to make you want him. All you knew was that you wanted to take the risk with him because Spencer wasn’t playing a game against you, he was playing with you.

So when the announcement of your third book finally came, you planned to tell him everything. You sat up all night writing in the inside cover of a copy, spilling out everything you didn’t have the courage to say out loud. It wasn’t fair that Spencer—who treated every book like it was something to be treasured—was constantly afraid of inked words meant just for him. It wasn’t right that everyone he ever cared about chose the very thing he loved most as their way to say goodbye. When you decided to tell him, you wanted to make him love written words again. You wanted him to have a letter meant just for him that wouldn’t break his heart.

When it was time for you to get coffee with Spencer again, you shoved the book in your bag and took off, body buzzing with an energy you hadn’t had in six years. Of course, things never quite went the way you wanted them to, did they?

“Did you hear the news?” Spencer asked excitedly when he saw you, not even waiting for you to answer before continuing. “L/N finally finished Sunlight. Authors typically wait at least six months between the announcement and release date, but L/N is releasing it next week anyway. Did you know she lives in D.C. too? She’s doing a book signing, we have to go together. ”

“I don’t know, Spence. I think I’m busy that day.”

“I didn’t tell you what day it was,” Spencer called you out. You should’ve known better than to try to outsmart the FBI profiler. “What’s actually wrong?”

“What if she’s not what you’re expecting her to be like?” The question clearly caught Spencer off guard. His eyes narrowed as he considered it, hand gripping a little tighter around the coffee cup it was ensnaring.

“It’ll be okay. I’ll always have the stories, and I got to meet you because of them.” It wasn’t often Spencer was vulnerable with people, you’d been able to deduce that much in the first few conversations you’d had. So when his features softened and he looked at you like you were something to cherish, you knew to pay attention to the moment. “I don’t have many people I care about outside of my team. I’ll always be thankful to Y/N L/N for writing the books that led me to you.”

The book in your bag felt like a leaden weight trying to drag you under the earth. How could you possibly tell him you’d been lying to him for several weeks, months even, when he’d just opened up like that to you? So, you left the book forgotten in your bag and said, “Okay, let’s go to the book signing. I work mornings, but I’ll meet you there.”

And when the time finally came you stood in the backroom of the bookstore that wasn’t yours, more nervous over Spencer than your book. You’d made a mistake. All too soon, you knew what it felt like to wield the knife instead of being the back it was buried in. Spencer deserved better than finding out like this, but how could you tell him before when he’d been so excited to share today with you?

“It’s gonna be great. People’ve been waiting for this book for years, they’re gonna love it,” your editor promised as you nervously paced the small room. It wasn’t the book you were anxious for though. If it meant Spencer would understand why you didn’t tell him, then you’d let this book tank. You just didn’t want to lose a friend, not this friend. He’d made art out of your broken heart and this time you were the one sabotaging it, scribbling in black paint over the restoration he’d made.

Your phone rang three minutes before it was time. You didn’t even need to look at who was calling to know whose voice you would hear when you answered. “Hello?”

“Y/N, where are you? You’re going to miss it.” You could hear the small crowd talking in the background of his side of the call the same way you could faintly hear it from the backroom you were hiding out in.

“Oh, um, I’m running a little late,” you lied, because if he had to find out today then you wanted to tell him when you could see his face. “Go on without me, I’ll catch up. I’ll be there, I promise.”

Those three minutes passed too quickly. Before you knew it, your editor was out there giving their speech and introducing you. Then, you were stepping out onto the main floor of the bookstore to see a small crowd gathered in front of the table your team had set up. Right in front with a terrifyingly blank expression was Spencer. You’d watched as his usually expressive face switched from shock, to hurt, to anger, and finally, to that cold stare you never wanted to see him wear again.

“Hi everyone, thank you so much for being here,” you greeted, trying to smile through the ache blossoming in your chest. “I’ll keep this short so you can all get back to your day, I just wanted to let you all know how much I appreciate your support. This series never would’ve gotten finished without all of you. I am so incredibly excited for you to read the ending to Riley and Kendall’s story.”

The actual signing went quickly. You got to meet fans of your book and it filled you with so much joy to see them excited about what you’d written. Pictures were taken, hugs were given until eventually, the only person who was left was Spencer.

“Was this fun for you?” he asked, and you were sure it was impossible for his voice to sound so cold. You’d taken someone with so much positivity and belief in people and had crushed his heart.

“Spencer, please,” you tried, standing up from the table and walking around front to stand in front of him. “I wanted to tell you, I really did.”

“No you didn’t, otherwise you would have.” He wasn’t even looking at you. That was the worst part of it; seeing the hurt wash over his expression and knowing you made him feel like this. Knowing that he was so disgusted, so hurt, that he couldn’t even look at you.

“Please, I didn’t mean to hurt you. We just started talking about the book and I didn’t know how to tell you after. I’m sorry.”

“I’m so stupid,” he spat, tearing his fingers through his hair and messing it up more than it normally was. He was a genius and he always knew it before. You hated yourself for making him feel otherwise. “I opened up to you, I told you things I haven’t even told my team, and you were playing your little game the whole time.”

“Spencer, please, I wasn’t playing a game, you have to believe me!” The tears were obscuring your vision now. “I tried to tell you so many times but I just couldn’t. I thought-” A shuddering breath interrupted your words, making you take a moment to collect yourself. “I thought if you knew who I was then you wouldn’t have a reason to talk to me anymore. I didn’t want to ruin what we had.”

“You already did, Y/N.” The tone he used was enough to signal what you already knew: this was it, the end of everything you were hoping would last. There was only one thing left that you had, one more thing you couldn’t leave unsaid between you two.

You pulled out the book you’d written in a week ago, holding it out for him to take. “Please, just...I wanted to give this to you last week. I hope it explains everything.”

“You’re unbelievable,” Spencer snapped, but still he grabbed the book and didn’t snuff out what little hope you had left. Just like that though, he was walking away and you weren’t sure if this was the last time you would ever see Spencer Reid.

Dear Spencer,

To Spencer Reid

Dr. Reid,

Spencer,

Surprise! That wasn’t funny, I’m sorry.

I don’t really know where to start, so I guess it only makes sense to go back to that first day at the bookstore. That day, I started to give up on Sunlight. I’d been up all night trying to write and I couldn’t imagine why anyone would want to read about these characters that I’d lost faith in. Then you showed up and asked what I thought about Moondust, and I...I didn’t want you to see me as the washed-up cynical author I was feeling like that day.

Then you came back and loved the book like I once had. Your face literally lit up while you were talking about Riley and Kendall. I wasn’t looking for an ego boost, I was trying to figure out how you still had so much belief in love, in people, in the universe. You were a marvel and I had to figure you out, but I couldn’t do that as Y/N L/N. I didn’t want you to think of me any differently, I just wanted to be the girl from the bookstore.

I never saw you coming, Spencer.

You came around and it was like all of the armor I’d built around myself just fell away. Suddenly I wanted to believe in the world again and you’re to blame for that. At first, I was mad. I had finally found a way to protect myself from a world that only aimed at the most vulnerable parts of me, but you changed that. You changed me and I’ll never forgive you for it. You reminded me of why I originally wrote Moonlight, of why I recognized so much of myself in Riley. You’re the only reason this story got finished, and I finally understand why.

You once told me I would find my Kendall, but I think he was there with me all along. He was going on coffee dates and making me want to try again with love. You’re my Kendall, and that scares the hell out of me. I want to try again with you, though, if you’ll have me.

- Y/N

It wasn’t easy to move on from Spencer Reid. You gave it your best effort but after two weeks all you had to show for it was your old life. The life you had once been content with, but now all you saw was where he could have fit into it. There wasn’t even a novel to distract yourself with because you’d finished your series. All you had was work and the few friends who hadn’t noticed how down you were. Was there any chance of recovery from this?

There had to be. You’d faced heartbreak before, so often you considered yourself somewhat of an expert in it. This was just another losing game, but you could come back. You knew how to pick yourself up off the ground, shake off what dirt you could, and walk away with minimal scarring. Happy endings truly were just meant for fiction, but that was okay. You knew that before and you could relearn it now.

One day, everything would feel okay again. You wouldn’t wonder what Spencer was doing, or if he’d read your note, or even if he would ever want to see you again. For now, you did—you wondered about it constantly—but this wasn’t permanent.

So you worked all day and went back up to your apartment at night. You got back into a routine that didn’t include Spencer.

Until two weeks and three days had passed. It was only fitting that you were working at the bookstore when you saw him again. Spencer was dressed nicely as always; that familiar purple scarf wrapped loosely around his neck and hand gripping the strap of his bag tightly. You didn’t say anything, how could you? It felt more like a mirage than real life; like you would blink and Spencer would be gone.

“You’re unbelievable.” Spencer echoed the last words he said to you, but this time there was no bite to them, no malice. The words were softly spoken, hanging in the air between you.

“You came back.”

“I couldn’t stay away.” Spencer glanced around, seemingly pleased with the lack of people around, before adding, “Can we talk?”

“Please,” you answered in kind, wrapping your arms around yourself like that might protect you from whatever he had to say. Even though he was here, that didn’t mean you’d get the ending you wanted. You hated the tension clinging to you now, the awkwardness hanging in the air between you and Spencer where it had never been before.

“I read the note.” Spencer paused, just looking at you and you wondered what he was searching for. He must have found it, whatever it was, because he kept going. “I wish you would’ve told me.”

Your shoulders slumped of their own accord. Of course, it was silly to expect anything else. Your entire friendship had been based on a lie from the beginning, what else could you expect but for him to still be upset? “I know I should’ve. If I could go back, I would’ve told you right from the start that I wrote those books. I’m so sorry, Spencer.”

“Not that,” Spencer clarified, and it only took moments for your confusion to morph into heated cheeks and shaking hands.

“Oh.” Your voice was small, barely sounding through the aisleway. “I didn’t really know for sure until I was editing Sunlight.”

“It’s a beautiful story,” Spencer spoke, seemingly switching the conversation away from your confession, “two people who were previously broken finding a home in each other. I loved the hopeful ending, them finding home in each other again after everything they put each other through.”

Where was he going with this? Your breaths were coming faster now, your heart racing in time with the thoughts flying through your head. “I’m glad you liked it.”

“Being with you is like coming home.” The words stole your breath away, leaving you gasping for air. He was closer to you now, your back pressed to the bookshelf behind you. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see his hand fidgeting with the strap of his bag, betraying his nervousness.

“Spencer,” you tried, but what could you possibly say to that? You’d dreamed of someone sweeping you off your feet like this, but now you were here and were paralyzed by all of the emotions swelling in you. Never once did you imagine you would get his forgiveness.

“I never saw you coming either, Y/N,” he continued. “These past two weeks were impossible without you there to talk to. You were always more than the girl from the bookstore to me.”

You were a writer, words were your expertise. No matter the situation, you always had the right words to say. Spencer took them though, through all of your words out the window and leaving you absolutely breathless and hopelessly in love with him.

“Can I kiss you?” You didn’t even know you’d said those words until Spencer was surging forward, hand steadying your face as his lips pressed to yours. It was sweet in a way you weren’t expecting. Your exes had all kissed you like they were trying to take; you were used to bruised lips and stinging skin from where they’d gripped you. Spencer’s touch was soft, reminding you of the way he’d held your book. He held you like you were meant to be treasured, and you held him the same way because you knew he was used to being taken from too. You didn’t want to take, you wanted him to know how much you cared about him through gentle hands in his hair and a soft press of your lips to his.

“Do you want to get some coffee with me?” Spencer asked when you pulled away.

You laughed, nodding and hugging him once before returning some space back to him. It was such a simple request after all you’d been through, but you couldn’t imagine anything else coming from him. “I’ll go wherever you want to, Spencer. I’m not losing you again.”

“I don’t plan on letting you go,” he answered and he had to know those words sent your stomach fluttering.

It wasn’t perfect. You knew eventually you’d have to come to terms with the scars your exes left on you, along with whatever scars Spencer still carried with him, but that would come with time. For now, it was just you and Spencer making art from your imperfect pieces. You couldn’t help but think that this was peace. Walking down the sidewalk with Spencer’s hand occasionally brushing yours, you knew love with Spencer wasn’t a game to lose; it was a state of grace.

SERIES TAGLIST

@samuel-de-champagne-problems @alexlovescriminalminds @reidsbookclub @givemeth @fightingdragonswithreid @eurydice-but-gay @girloncorneliastreet @silverhetdanes @just-a-human-witha-pen

[myherowritings]

PART 5. THE INHERENT EROTICISM OF BUTTONING SOMEONE’S CLOTHES

SUMMARY. Todoroki Shouto was a wealthy, young CEO who inherited his father’s enterprise. You were a barista at a local cafe who wouldn’t mind some extra cash. One day, Shouto came in during an early morning shift and tipped you such a large sum of money, you were certain it had to have been an accident. To your surprise and complete pleasure: It was not.

PAIRING. ceo!todoroki shouto x barista!reader

WORD COUNT. 3.0k

GENRE. ceo/barista au, fluff, eventual smut

WARNINGS. sexual tension !! and umm sexual frustration ;p, not explicit but prob rated 16+, just read the title of this chapter BAHAHA

A/N. sorry this is coming a little later than planned ! :( but i hope the dressing room scene can make up for it u.u tysm for reading and for all the feedback! enjoy :3 xx sof

SERIES MASTERLIST

© myherowritings — all rights reserved. reposting, modifying, copying, or translating of any kind is not allowed. do not read my writing as asmr. do not plagiarize.

What were you supposed to wear to a shopping date? you asked yourself. Not that today was a date or anything. Though maybe you sort of wished it were… 

The Naruhata Charity Gala was in a little over a week and Shouto would be coming over to pick you up in less than one hour and you still sat in your room with nothing but a towel on feeling more and more hopeless. 

It was a strange dilemma. He met you in your work apron wearing an unflattering work shirt and work pants. And when you met up over the weekend previously, you never paid too much mind on what you would wear. In fact, you were positive he wouldn’t even care how you looked. So why was it such a big deal to you now? 

Probably because of your recent admission of your growing feelings towards him, you thought crossly. 

In your defense, it wasn’t like it was your fault! Right? Seeing someone everyday… Wanting to see someone everyday… Texting regularly about the most random things, having the most banal objects you saw throughout the day remind you of something Shouto did or said… With all those occurrences it would’ve been practically impossible to not start crushing on him! 

Time passed as you stared at your ceiling blankly. If you kept this up, he was bound to show up in your house and find you half-naked. (Now that you mentioned it, that didn’t sound like the worst idea. But it wasn’t something you’d randomly spring upon someone.)

“Get up, Y/N!” you scolded yourself, rolling off your bed and heading towards your closet. 

In the end, you ended up settling for another variation of your usual go-to outfit and called it a day. It happened to be perfect timing since, by the time you finished getting ready, you got a new message on your phone. 

Shouto: Parked in front of your place

Shouto: Sorry I’m a little early. You can take your time getting ready :)

Y/N: it’s okay i’m ready now!! 

After hitting send, you put your shoes on, gathering your belongings you wanted to bring with you, and headed out the door. Excited to hang out with Shouto again, you walked with a skip in your step down the path until you reached his car. 

“Hi!” You waved through his half-opened, tinted window. To no one’s surprise, his car was a sleek black color with dark, tinted windows, and gold details along the sides. If it didn’t look so oddly sexy you would’ve laughed at how cutely dorky he was for matching his car with his credit card. “This is one hot car.”

He turned his head to the side when you entered the passenger’s seat. “Should I turn the AC higher?” 

“Huh— Oh!” You stifled a giggle when you processed the pun he made. “You’re funny, Shouto.” 

He only looked a little confused. “Thank you.” 

The interior of his car was no less—for lack of better term—sexy than the outside. Leather seats, a large screen for the radio and carplay, and the dashboard and side doors lit up a nice blue color. 

“Pretty!” you complimented, poking at the colorful light.

“Want to pick a color?” 

Your eyes widened. “It can change colors?!” 

Shouto nodded.

“Can it be pink?” you asked intently. 

“Light pink or hot pink?”

“Light.”

He swiftly obliged and with a hit of a touchscreen button, the interior lighting changed from blue to pastel pink. 

“Green!”

It turned green.

“Orange!”

Cue the orange. 

“Purple?” 

Purple. 

Once you were thoroughly satisfied with Shouto showing you the whole color selection (you were almost embarrassed to admit it kept you entertained for a good ten minutes), you settled on a bright turquoise that reminded you of the color of his left eye. 

“Ooh, this color! My favorite,” you said simply, giving him a wide smile. 

A faint blush dusted his cheeks as he developed a sudden interest in adjusting his rearview mirror. “Hm.”

Shouto drove the rest of the way in a comfortable silence, occasionally asking how your week was outside of work and what type of outfit you wanted to wear so he could have a better idea on where to take you. 

“Did you eat?” he suddenly asked when he hit the next stoplight, one hand holding the wheel and the other resting comfortably on the gear shift. 

His hands looked nice and slender and soft to the touch. Pretty hands, you thought but shook yourself out of it because you could go down a rabbit hole of examining his hands and going into detail about them. 

You remembered the single, measly granola bar you had due to your rush getting ready. “I didn’t really eat yet, no. Did you?”

He shook his head and pulled into a food plaza with lots of stores to choose from. The two of you agreed on a noodle restaurant that apparently had some of the best cold soba (once you learned it was his favorite food, you wanted to be able to have some with him and today was the perfect opportunity to do just that) and promptly headed to the location. 

In the shop, a waiter sat the two of you down at a dimly lit booth with the perfect amount of ambience that if someone were to casually look over, they might even mistake this outing as a date. 

You grinned at the thought. 

“Excited for the soba?” asked Shouto, examining the smile on your face thoughtfully. 

That’s not why you were smiling, but it was close enough. “Mhm. And the udon. You can never go wrong with noodles!” 

Yes, you got both udon and soba. But in your defense, where else would the fun in life be if not in sugary sweets and carbs? 

As the two of you waited for your main dishes, you ate some fish cakes and edamame while talking about the ways in which capitalism could be dismantled. Rather sexy of him, if you did say so yourself. 

Before you knew it, you were done with your meal and headed back into his car to go fancy-people shopping. On the remainder of the ride, you asked yourself what color you should pick that would match well with both you and Shouto. After all, nothing said a cute couple who totally liked each other going on a totally real date to a gala like color-coordinated outfits, right?

He parked in front of a street of buildings with a dark glass reaching from ceiling to floor with security guards at the door. Just standing near it made you feel fancy. 

“This is a place my sister told me she liked,” he said, leading you to the store front with his hand on the small of your back to guide you. “I hope you’ll find something to your liking.”

You tried your best not to pay too much attention to the warmth you felt both on your back and your stomach from the fuzzy feelings that spread. 

“Hello, welcome!” the both of you were greeted as you walked through the doors. The interior of the store was lined with designer dresses, some long, some short, and all incredibly stunning. There were only a few other patrons in the store, but all of them looked so elegant as they tried on their dresses. “It’s so lovely to see you again Mr. Todoroki.”

Shouto nodded subtly. “Hello. This is Y/N, my date to the gala who’ll need your assistance today.”

“Hi!” you chimed in at his cue. “Nice to meet you.” 

The worker smiled and made her way over to you. “And you as well. I’m Masuda and I’ll do my best to make sure you leave the store satisfied with your purchase! Did you have a particular style or perhaps color in mind?”

“Umm,” you said sheepishly, looking around the wide variety of clothings and unsure where to start. “I’m not too sure. It’s my first time going to one of these things so maybe something comfortable, but also still...fancy?” You scratched the back of your neck. “Does that even exist?”

“Of course— Just have to find something that feels comfortable to you.” She told you to hold on one moment as she disappear into the rows of fabric. 

As Masuda collected some starter dresses for you to try on, a customer walked by with bags of clothes in her hands, her gaze lingering on Shouto, though neither of you paid her much mind. 

“In this setting, you look almost fit to be a sugar daddy,” you said jokingly, looking around in awe at the sophisticated yet lavish dresses. “You take all your sugar babies here?”

“Only the ones I really like,” he teased back. His voice was deadpan but there was the telltale hints of a smirk on his face to let you know he was only messing with you.

The door chimed to signal that a customer left and by then Masuda had returned with bundles of fabric draped on her arm. She led you away in a hurry and you hesitantly looked back at Shouto who followed in a safe distance. Seeing your moment of panic, he gave you an encouraging smile that somehow was enough to ease a significant fraction of your nerves. This may be new and confusing territory, but at least he was here to help you through it. 

Masuda set a dressing room up for you—it was one of those rooms in the middle of the store with curtains that reached the ceiling and mirrors all around—and placed a bunch of outfits she thought would suit your taste. It reminded you of when a bride would go wedding dress shopping with their family. When you had enough outfits for the first round, she told Shouto to sit down on a leather seat in front of your dressing room while he waited for you to try the different dresses on. 

In a way, it felt oddly intimate: Shouto sitting just a few feet in front of you as you undressed, only separated by the veil of a curtain. Would he offer to help button the back of your dress up, fingers brushing against your bare skin? The thought made you feel almost hot inside as you changed out of your street clothes and into the first dress. 

Unfortunately for you, this dress had no such difficult buttons to reach. 

“How’s it look?” you asked shyly as you emerged from the dressing room. 

The dress was pretty and didn’t feel uncomfortable to walk in, but there wasn’t any sort of attachment you felt towards it. In other words, it was simply...meh. 

Shouto looked up from his phone to take in the sight of you. He smiled. “You look amazing as always.” 

“You think so?” You spun around and curtseyed jokingly and he chuckled. “I don’t think it’s bad, but I’m not sure if it’s the right one.” 

“We’ll be here until you find the right one you want, then. Take your time, Y/N.” 

His voice was normally on the deeper side, but it sounded even more sensual and gravelly at this very moment. You felt goosebumps on your arms and it wasn’t just because of the sleeveless dress you currently had on. 

“T-Thanks, Shouto,” you murmured, turning around and walking back into the changing room to hide the look on your face. You didn’t even know what kind of look you had on your face, but you knew it was one that might give too much away. 

It wasn’t fair that he had to be so sweet and caring and thoughtful and handsome and rich… Most guys you met barely fit into one of those criteria, let alone all five. (Sure, the last two weren’t necessary in your opinion, but you couldn’t deny they were a nice bonus.) It was too bad you had no clue how he felt about you. 

There were moments where he felt flirty and teasing, like maybe he viewed you in a more-than-friends way. But other times he was so polite and proper and you couldn’t help but wonder if he was just being nice because that’s simply the sort of person he was to everyone. 

While you were trying to sort through all your thoughts, you completely forgot to change into a new dress the whole time you were in here. 

You saw a shadow at the floor of the curtain before a voice said, “Y/N? Are you okay in there?” 

Jumping at the sound, you scurried to put the next dress on, a blue one with almost translucent fabric and a delicate neckline. Judging from the proximity of Shouto’s voice and the shadow of his shoes, he was right next to you as you changed. 

“I’m okay!” you managed, hoping you didn’t sound as wobbly as you felt. You held the dress closed at the back, fumbling with the fastens. “I just, ah, needed help buttoning this one up.” 

A light ruffle on the curtain then a pause. “Should I...come in and help?” 

Your eyes widened, not expecting him to actually offer to button it up like you fantasized earlier. You fully thought he might called the worker to aide you just so he wouldn’t risk making you uncomfortable. (Not that he would’ve. At all.) 

“I apologize,” he said somewhat tensely after you didn’t respond. “That was indecent of me—”

“No, no!” you said profusely, poking your head out of the curtain while holding the fabric at the front of your dress to your chest. You tilted your chin to meet his gaze with a determined one of your own. “I’d love your help, Shouto.” 

With a dusting of pink coloring his cheeks, he nodded and entered your dressing room. “This dress is a nice color on you.” His voice was loud against the silence. 

Shouto ran his hand down the length of your spine and then up to unfold the column of buttons on your dress that curved inwards at your movement, his knuckles grazing against your skin like lightning striking water. You jolted at the sudden feeling but he didn’t remove his touch when he felt it.

“Sorry.” His voice was low, almost like a whisper. “Was just getting the buttons out.”

“N-No worries!”

His fingers began working on the bottom-most button at your lower back as he applied a steady pressure on the base of your spine to control the motion. Shouto slowly began his way up, fingertips cold to the touch. But you knew that wasn’t the only reason you felt yourself shiver. As he fastened the dainty buttons with immense concentration (much more concentration than was actually needed to fasten buttons, you were sure), you felt the heat of his breath tickling the back of your neck. You almost couldn’t keep yourself from arching your back in a mixture of anticipation and delight at his constant touch. 

When he finished the last button, Shouto let one hand rest on your hip, grasping the fabric between his fingertips to examine its silken texture. Your breath caught in your throat as you stepped back and bumped into his chest, but he was already there to steady you. 

With his arm on your waist and your back leaning against his chest, you made eye contact through the mirror in front of you. You weren’t sure if the pounding you felt was from your heart or his or a combination of both. 

There was something almost erotic about holding each others’ gaze in the mirror after Shouto just helped you dress, the two of you still not letting the other go despite the task being complete. 

“The dress… You look gorgeous,” he said, not taking his eyes off you for one moment. 

You nodded slowly. It did look amazing on you. And it was breathable and soft. (Plus, Shouto liked it, which made you happier than you’d care to admit.) “The only downside would be I need help getting into it.”

“We could get ready together so it’s no issue.” 

“I’d...also need help getting out of it.” 

You held your breath as his eyes darkened, his grip on your waist tightening ever so slightly in a way that made you curve your back before you remembered you were flush against Shouto and he could feel even the most subtle of movements coming from your body. But by the time you stopped yourself, it was too late. He already felt it and you wanted more.

His voice was hoarse. “I could help you with that too.”

Instead of beginning to unbutton the dress like part of you thought he would, he surprised you by spinning you around to face him, your shoulder blades pressed against the cool glass of the mirror and your palms lingering on the muscles of his warm chest. The contrast of the cold glass and Shouto’s body heat left a shiver down your spine.

“And how do you plan to help take off my dress when you can’t even see the buttons?” you said challengingly, a smirk on your face despite knowing full well your body was showcasing just how affected you were by this situation. By Shouto.

He tilted his head to the side in response to your daring tone, hands swiftly finding their way to your back and unbuttoning the top five buttons. It wasn’t enough to completely expose your breasts, but it was enough to loosen the fabric at the neckline in a way that made you gasp. 

“Seems doable to me,” he commented. 

You tugged him down slightly by the collar of his shirt. “I don’t quite believe you. Maybe you should prove it.” 

A guttural noise sounded from the back of his throat as he cupped your jaw and leaned in closer. You inched forward, eager to meet his lips. But before they could touch, a knock came from the wall next to the curtain, causing the two of you to freeze in your spots, bodies pressed against each other in an intimate flush.

“Hello, Y/N?” said Masuda cheerfully, blissfully ignorant about what was about to happen in a public dressing room in the middle of the store. “How are the dresses coming along? Did you like any?”

“Ah, actually…” you trailed off, exchanging frustrated but amused glances with Shouto. “I think we’ll take this one.”

a/n: so...mirror sex/sex in a dressing room as a bonus chapter? u.u why yes of course. i’m one step ahead; did u even have to ask? LMAO and hm i wonder if y/n’s fEeLiNGs~ are reciprocated skfkfkdg ALSO THEY WERE SO CLOSE TO KISSING BUT DIDN’T I CRY hopefully the wait will be worth it ;3

what to expect in the next part:

GALA TIMEEEE

yes y/n finally gets the fancy candy they so desired

we get to see shouto’s sexy penthouse

shouto says eat the rich >:c

[cutethingstolove]

Back to Class

Photos and Inspiration From @little-stephanies-diary​ and @babiechristy​, Part 15

After the most amazing night’s sleep either of them had ever had, Stephanie and Courtney woke up early Monday morning dreading having to go to school. As Stephanie laid there, her arms wrapped around Courtney, Steph lowered her hand down and felt the front of Courtney’s diaper to find it surprisingly full! Courtney pretended to still be sleeping as she felt this, partly because she didn’t want to acknowledge that she was wet again and partly because she liked how Steph’s hand felt against her body. Stephanie, still thinking her friend was asleep, pulled her hand back up before shaking Courtney slightly to wake her up.

“Morning Court,” Steph said quietly, “We need to get up for school.”

“Can’t we just stay in bed,” Courtney said in a groggy voice, “Last night was so much fun, and I really don’t want to get up.”

“No,” Steph scolded, “We have to get up for school. We can’t skip; it’s only the second week of the semester!”

“Fine,” Courtney said reluctantly, “I’ll get up.”

Rolling out of the bed, Courtney stood up and could feel the weight of her soaked diaper pulling down between her legs. Normally, she would have only been wearing a Goodnite, but this bigger diaper was nice to have on as she would have probably leaked through a pullup if that was all she wore last night. She stood next to the bed for a minute waiting for Stephanie who was sneakily checking her own diaper to make sure it was dry. Once Stephanie was sure she had actually stayed dry, she crawled out of bed and suggested they go down for breakfast before changing into their school uniforms.

Courtney pulled her light blue sweatpants on over her diaper, but Stephanie didn’t bother putting on any bottoms before they headed downstairs to eat. As the girls arrived in the dining room, they found Steph’s dad already at the table having already made pancakes again for breakfast. The girls took their seats, and began taking food for themselves. It wasn’t long, however, before Steph’s dad spoke up asking the girls how their night had been.

“We had a great time!,” Stephanie piped up, “Courtney even agreed to wear one of the big diapers instead of her Goodnite!”

“Yeah,” Courtney replied quickly, “Steph even helped me put it on. I’m kid of glad I had it on cause I had another accident last night and it was a big one. I don’t think my Goodnite would have handled it.”

“Oh?,” said with a bit of surprise, “You helped her like I help you huh Steph?”

“Daddy!,” Steph nearly yelled, “Courtney didn’t know you help me!”

“I’m sorry princess,” her dad apologized, “I thought you had told her everything.”

“She didn’t tell me that,” Courtney said with a giggle, “That explains why she was so good at it!”

A little humiliated, Steph sheepishly said, “At least I stayed dry last night…”

“Well I’m proud of you honey,” her Steph’s dad said lifting her spirits, “But Courtney, an accident two nights in a row? Maybe you need potty training like Steph.”

“Very funny sir,” Courtney rebuked, “I might have had an accident last night, but I’ve never had one during the day.”

“Steph hadn’t either,” dad said, “Until last Tuesday at lunch.”

“You told me you had your accident on Monday,” Courtney squealed at Steph, “And you told me it happened during math class!”

Staring at her plate, Stephanie meekly said, “I didn’t want you to know about Tuesday’s issue. I guess I wanted you to think that today was my last day having to wear a Goodnite to school.”

Not wanting to stay at the table with all of her secrets exposed, Stephanie said she was full and sulked off to her room. When she saw Vincent on her bed, she grabbed him and hugged him tightly while pouting a little. This was probably the most humiliated she had felt since the nurse had told her that her best option was to wear a diaper after she wet her panties in class a week earlier. Figuring that it was too late now, however, she pulled out her computer and  hopped onto her bed to check some of her favorite websites while waiting for Courtney to finish eating.

Meanwhile, back in the dining room, Steph’s dad asked Courtney a bit more seriously if she thought a week of potty training might be needed. Courtney asked what it would entail, and Steph’s dad laid out the week of wearing pullups during the day and bigger diapers at night. Courtney thought about it for a couple minutes while eating her pancakes before responding that it wasn’t the worst idea in the world. She did really like how the bigger diaper felt while she was sleeping, and she was already used to wearing a Goodnite every night anyway so it wouldn’t be too hard to wear one during the day. She agreed that Steph’s dad could call her parents and tell them about it, and where to buy the bigger diapers. She had just finished eating and stood up from the table walking through the kitchen when she turned around, pulled down the front of her sweats, and raised a finger to her lip to signal that she didn’t want her secret to be known.

Courtney made her way back upstairs to Steph’s room and filled her friend in on how she was going to be doing ‘potty training’ too. Stephanie was taken aback at hearing this, but realized it might not be so bad knowing that her friend was going to be going through the same thing she was. She thought it would be especially nice to have someone at school to talk about this with. Stephanie explained what she had been doing to keep her pullups hidden, how the nurse had extra diapers in case she had an accident during school, and even told her how cute the bunny diapers that the nurse had were. Courtney actually really enjoyed hearing all about the process, and was a little excited for it to begin!

Stephanie stood up from the bed and headed to the bathroom to change out of her big diaper and into a Goodnite for the day. When she was done with this somewhat normal routine, she went back to her room in just her t-shirt and pullup. As she entered the room, Courtney asked why Stephanie never seemed too concerned with wearing bottoms in case her dad might see her. Steph explained that she didn’t really worry about it since they lived alone and her dad wasn’t a creep. She even said that her dad probably would mind if Courtney walked around in just a diaper.

Feeling a little emboldened, Courtney took the opportunity and took off her sweatpants and socks before throwing them in her duffle bag. Still a bit scared, but wanting to seem confident, she strutted across the hallway to the bathroom to change in just her diaper and a gray sweatshirt that she had tossed on because she was cold. When she was in the bathroom, she saw herself in the mirror in her soaked diaper, and a little curious to se how much it could hold, she let her bladder loose. It was actually holding quite a lot, until Courtney started to feel something wet running down her leg. Realizing that these could hold quite a lot of pee, they weren’t leak-proof. She sank to the floor a little embarrassed at the mess she had made in her friend’s house.

Knowing she was running late for school, she quickly pulled of her wet diaper and tossed it I the trash. She grabbed a couple of the Goodnites that were stashed under the sink, pulling one on herself and using the other to clean up the puddle on the floor. Once she was satisfied that she had captured every drop, she tossed the wet Goodnite in the trash on top of her soaked diaper from the night before. She strutted across the hallway again to find Stephanie  buttoning up her shirt, her stockings, garter and Goodnite on display. Courtney grabbed a spare uniform from the closet and raced to change as realized how far behind she was.

After the girls were both dressed, they headed downstairs to walk to their bus stop. Steph’s dad stopped them and asked them to show that they were both wearing their Goodnites. Compliantly, both girls raised their skirts showing off their pullups both giggling a little. After an approving nod, the girls left the house and start walking to the bus stop. As they walked, their hands frequently brushing, they talked bout how fun their weekend had been and that they should have sleepovers more often. The bus pulled up right as they arrived, and the girls found a seat near the front and sat down next to each other giggling non-stop.

 To Be Continued…

[jesslockwood]

SOUR | T. Holland

Word Count: 1.7k

Pairing(s): Tom Holland x Actress!Reader

Warnings: angsty af, swearing

Summary: y/n and tom broke up, and when tom comes around with his new girl 2 weeks later, y/n is sour. 

A/n: I was hesitant to post this due to everything going on with tom lmao but yk, fuck it lol. anyways lmk if you want a part two cause I this was pretty short and I have ideas! also I didn’t edit this much lol so sorry for the mistakes!

His brown guilty eyes were enough to know that he moved on, in two weeks to be exact, after you broke it off. He was spotted recently with a girl he said he was just friends with, what a damn lie. 

You try to not let the tears out as you see them making their way on the red carpet of the movie premiere. He looked you straight in the fucking eyes, yet couldn’t even give you a heads up he was bringing a date tonight. You worked together for six months yet he didn’t have the decency.  

He betrayed you. He didn’t cheat but he betrayed you. 

You had even mentioned her by name before, yet he said you were paranoid and had nothing to worry about. What bullshit. 

She was just a new trophy for him, one that he’d put on the shelf later, or smash like it like you were broken. 

 It started out so sweet and innocent. You had met working together and had started dating under the radar, and you fell in love with him so quickly, even at his worst, but it didn’t matter. He moved on with you still in the picture and that’s what hurt the most. But he would never see or care about how much you hurt. He wasn’t sorry. 

Isn’t it funny how someone you thought could love you the way you loved them, was a damn traitor? 

He played all these twisted games with your mind, thinking that he felt the same way about you, or at least cared. 

God, you wanted to scream, she was sleeping in the bed you lied in and made with him. But she couldn’t care less, she got the prize, a shitty one at that. 

You didn’t get it, he couldn’t have fallen in love with someone that quickly, not after what you had. 

All you had done for Tom, it didn’t apparently matter to him, cause he’s dating her. He gave you his fucking word, that you were the one who meant something to him, you guessed he just used you.

She was gorgeous too, and she made you feel so small, unimportant and the paparazzi all turned to them, and barely any was paying any mind to you, the star of the movie. It sounded selfish but you put the blood sweat and tears into this movie, and all she had to do was walk with the man you put blood sweat and tears into, and she had all the attention.

He just had to bring her and was showing her off like a new trophy. God, you hated him. You hated him for hurting you like this. And yet, if he asked for you back, you would probably jump at the chance. 

He seemed so genuine and true when you had first met him. Brown doe-eyed, attentive and listening to every word you said like it was the most important thing in the world, then things got ugly. He would play all these twisted games with you, making you feel like nothing one moment, and then his everything the next. 

He even gave you his fucking word and a promise ring that he would always love you, But Isn’t it funny? He’ll never feel sorry for breaking you. 

Suddenly one of your friends, well tom’s brother, wraps his arm around your waist, whispering to you, asking if your okay, before the paps get a few snaps in of the moment. Harry starts leading you away from the commotion before you cried. No one had asked you that until today. Which kind of shell shocked you, because you weren’t and he was the first person who seemed to care.

Harry at the moment couldn’t care less about the out-of-character way his brother was acting, especially towards you. Yes, he loved his brother but hated how he was acting. He couldn’t see how he could treat someone as lovely as you like that. 

Tom didn’t even notice the way you were destroyed. He let you go, Harry couldn’t understand why because tom seemed so happy with you, until nearing the end of the relationship. 

“Thank you, Harry.” you sniffle, once reaching the inside of the building. 

“You shouldn’t be thanking me. I should be apologizing for my brother.”

You smile weakly at him. He wipes the tears from your eyes, before suggesting,

“After they have you up on stage for the thank you’s and stuff, we should just ditch this and go back to my hotel and get room service and raid my candy stash, if you’re up for it.”

“I’ll think about it,” you say with a more genuine yet sad smile.

“Let’s get in there, shall we?” he puts his arm out for you and you link yours in his. 

What you didn’t realize is that tom saw harry wiping your tears while doing an interview, and saw you link your arms together when he got inside. To say he was fuming doesn’t even cover how enraged he was. 

Once getting in, you realized you and tom would be sitting next to one another, something you truly wished you could get out of. 

“You’d better wish me luck.” You point to the seats. 

Harry got the bright idea to just take his brother’s spot. He wouldn’t care anyway, he had his new girl Zabrina. 

You and Harry had a small conversation about what both of you had been up to after he was Tom’s assistant for filming. You saw him almost every day when you and tom would hang out, harry being the third wheel. You had spent a decent chunk of time with him and definitely preferred the company over being alone, or with your ex.

“I can’t believe you dropped your SD card down the drain! Photos are your life, so you should have paid attention!” you laugh with him.

“Harry, You’re in my seat.” Tom interrupts, with a scowl on his face. 

“Can’t you just move down one? Y/n and I are talking here.”

“Tommy I can’t see from that seat!” Zabrina pouts like a child. 

“If she can’t see why do I have to sit there? I actually worked behind the scenes on this movie!” 

“Harry, don’t make me-”

“You know what! Harry and I were leaving after we thank everyone. So you two lovebirds can have the whole row!” you say venom seething from your mouth. 

“There you go, Tommy. Have a nice night you two!” Harry follows up, really sick of the attitude his brother was having.

Tom’s face turned red under the makeup he had on. He was enraged. His brother was betraying him. 

“Have a nice time, fucking around” he said, seeing red. he saw your face soften, from anger to confusion, to sadness. You didn’t think he thought so low of you.

“What the fuck tom! We aren’t-”

“It’s not worth it Harry, he’s not worth it,” you say sadly. Standing up, Turning to go towards the stage. 

That hit tom with a pang in his chest. He was just trying to get over you, to move forward. But maybe that was the problem. He just left you in the dust (peter parker is that you?) to navigate the way you felt over losing one of the best things you ever had. God, you wished you didn’t fall in love with him before he betrayed you. You wished he just would have thought it through before he ruined you. 

Your director motioned over to you and Tom to go up on the stage. 

“I’ll meet you outside, Y/n/n.” 

That was tom’s nickname for you. He came up with it and he was the only one who could call you that. You were his and he was yours. But yet he knew that long-distance was so fucking hard. He couldn’t put you or himself, so he found someone who was fine with the distance. Zabrina barely paid attention to him unless he wanted attention for herself, but he didn’t realize how he broke much more of you than the surface showed. 

“She’s really pretty, I hope she makes you happy,” you mention bitterly, hoping in a terrible way,  he’d never be as happy as he was with you. 

Before Tom, you scream out no one would make him happy as you did. Your director cut tom off.

After your director said thanks to everyone and the film started you grab your bag from your assistant, before heading to the exit, tom hurriedly tried to follow you, being caught by Zabrina, asking Tom to take a selfie with her, so she could commemorate her ‘prize’ when truly, Tom was using her as a rebound. 

“Zabrina, I need to talk to harry!” he whispers yells.

“Why? He literally is taking to your wretched ex?” she says with venom in her voice. 

Tom jogs around her, trying to get to you and Harry, While Zabrina dramatically calls after him.

He was too late, though, he saw you from the doors, you were already getting in your getaway car, with Harry. He ruined everything.

Harry and you were sitting in the limousine that was rented for you, before harry states, “He’ll be the one who crying, I promise you.”

“I always knew this is how He’d leave me. He found someone more exciting, and better than me. I was used a discarded like nothing.” you laugh through the tears.

“You’ll find someone who finds you exciting Y/n, and you’ll be their whole world.” he comforts you.

“Good for him I guess, but it’s like we never happened. Like what the fuck is that?” you ask.

“He’s acting like a damn sociopath.” harry shrugs.

You laugh at that one. 

“So what do you want to watch Y/n?”

“Would you hate me if I said legally blonde?”

“Not if we can watch fight club after.” 

“You have a deal, Sir!”

Tom however was stuck, watching you and him on screen. Reminiscing of how he fucked up. 

It was getting close to an intimate scene, probably his favorite one he’s ever done. All he could think about was someone else getting to touch you, and be with you, he wanted that but at the same time, he couldn’t deal with all the shit of being with you. The relationship was too good, so much that Tom thought sometimes he didn’t deserve someone like you. It was probably crazy of him for thinking like that, but he couldn’t bring you down with him, not when he was so fucked up. He wished he could be the one but he couldn’t so he just hoped you were okay.  

Tags:

@spideyspeaches

@greenorangevioletgrass

@queenofthepouges

@minejungwoo

@keithseabrook27

@lolooo22

@webmeupspiderdaddy

@harryhollandsgirlfriend

[young-dumb-and-vaccinated]

The Sommelier (Hannibal x Female!Reader) pt. 1

Ding dong fannibals I’m back on my bullshit :) 

I discovered that I cannot for the life of me be concise so this one might come in a couple parts. I don't anticipate it's gonna go as long as Cult Girl but we'll see. Y/n is an introverted waitress at a fancy restaurant with a crush on a mysterious regular. An encounter with a dangerous criminal pulls her into his world.

Trigger warnings: graphic descriptions of violence; implied drug use; religiously-motivated violence.

In some ways, waitressing was the perfect job for an introvert. Customers didn’t see you as a person, they saw you as an NPC. As long as that was the case, you weren’t expected to engage with them beyond the script: you take their order, bring them the food and they, hopefully, leave a tip. To ensure that, you perfected the art of fake happiness. You were there to make money, not friends. 

Well, there was an exception to every rule. Yours was the sommelier. 

The sommelier was a regular at the restaurant, but never ordered a meal. He mostly just sat at the bar, drank expensive wine, and watched the people come and go for hours at a time. Among the waitstaff, he was a bit of a local cryptid. Waitresses whispered about the handsome gentleman with an unidentifiable accent and deep pockets. About how lucky you had to be to score a bartending shift on one of the nights he showed up. It got to the point where bartending shifts were swapped like currency, because every woman on staff wanted the chance to meet the sommelier. 

One of the more religious line chefs liked to remind you all that the devil would come as everything you could ever desire. He was fully convinced that the sommelier was Satan incarnate, and he wasn’t completely off the mark. Standing at six feet tall with features sharp enough to cut diamonds, the sommelier wouldn’t look out of place in a vampire thriller. He always dressed in dark suits. Your coworkers hypothesized this was so the bloodstains wouldn’t show. Despite the chef’s well-intended (if not condescending) warnings, even the threat of eternal damnation couldn’t scare you off. 

As much as you liked to believe you were above stupid workplace gossip, you knew you weren’t. You were never the most socially adept person, but this gave you something to connect over. It’s how you discovered that you and the other waitresses were all in the same boat; broke, lonely and in desperate need of some excitement. And if that came in the form of a wine-loving vampire taking a liking to your restaurant, there were certainly worse ways to go. 

Unfortunately, not even the chance at encountering the sommelier could make you look forward to working Easter Sunday. Your manager had you working from noon to midnight that day. As employers went, he wasn’t much of a tyrant. He offered you time and a half and even let you switch from waiting tables to bartending halfway through the shift. He, too, knew how coveted the bartending shifts were. And you weren’t in any position to refuse, either. You quite enjoyed having a roof over your head and food in your stomach. 

That didn’t make up for the fact that most of the other twenty-something employees had left for the holiday, and you were one of the few stragglers left available. Easter was the most dreaded workday of the year, because the infamous after-church crowd quadrupled in size and lasted all day. They came in double-digit parties, had no concept of birth control and tipped in prayer. Too many times had you reached for what looked like a generous cash tip, only to find that it was a church pamphlet disguised as a fifty.

You clocked in at noon exactly, after waiting for the second hand to pass the twelve just to be sure. 

“[F/N]!” Your coworker, Charissa, grabbed your attention before you could walk away. “I heard you’re at the bar this evening. Congratulations.” 

“He’s not going to show up, Charissa.” You rolled your eyes. You decided to go into this shift expecting the absolute worst, that way you wouldn’t be setting yourself up for disappointment. “It’s Easter.” 

“You don’t know that.” Charissa nudged you in the side. 

You grinned. “Why would a vampire come to dinner on the one day everyone is gonna be wearing a cross?” 

“Oh, shit, I didn’t think of that.” Charissa gasped. “Well, good luck anyway.”

The first wave of customers filing through the door and filling the restaurant with noise pushed all optimism out of your head. Sighing, you approached a person that Charissa had already seated. 

“Hi, my name is [F/N], I’ll be your server today.” You greeted the first customer in your block. “Can I get you something to drink today?” 

The man couldn’t have been a day over twenty-five, if that. He was still lively in a way that meant he hadn’t experienced the drain that was a minimum wage job. He was wearing a shirt that said ‘on fire for Christ’ under a flannel with no buttons. One look and you knew he wasn’t going to tip. 

The man flashed a row of eerily white teeth. “I thought you said you would bring the wine?” 

You momentarily thought you’d already taken his drink order and shook your head. “I’m sorry, did I--”

“Ah, I see your confusion.” The man shrugged and forced a laugh. “You’re waitressing this week, you and I are going on a date next week. My mistake.” 

Great. You thought. It hasn't even been five minutes and I'm already being gaslit.

Any interaction that forced you to go off-script was bad, but this was a particularly irritating diversion. “Would you like to see a wine list?”

“I’m Chase.” He said. “It’s nice to meet you, [F/N].” 

“Have you decided on a drink?” You repeated, trying not to grit your teeth too obviously. 

"I'll have a glass of your finest coke, please." He faked an English accent, poorly.

"We only carry Pepsi products." You said, dreading how this joker would react to such a minor inconvenience.

He threw his head back and made a face like he had just taken a bullet to the chest. "No, it's gotta be coke! It's coke or nothing!"

"Did you want something else, then?" You tried to hurry him along. "The bartender makes a very nice mimosa-"

He smacked the table as if he had some urgent question. "McDonald's or Chick-Fil-A? There is a right answer, so choose wisely."

"...uh," You mumbled, just praying that he would order a drink already. There wasn't even a Chick-fil-A in the area. "I like McDonald's."

Again, he acted like he was shot in the chest. "Oh, you're down zero to two!"

"If you need a few minutes to select a drink," You said. "I can come back-"

He grabbed your arm and forced a laugh. "I'm just kidding around with you, [F/N]. Pepsi is fine."

You scribbled the order down on your notepad, mostly just to pry your wrist from his grip. You wanted to go into the bathroom and scrub yourself down, but perhaps it was just easier to chop the whole arm off. That way you could get worker's compensation, too.

The tables were filling up and you had spent far too long coaxing a drink order out of this youth pastor creep. You had actual families to wait on. The shift was off to a horrible start.

You made him wait for as long as you could get away with. You took drink orders from three full booths before returning to the youth pastor. Because you knew he was raring to corner you again.

You planted the pop in front of him, the glass already wet with condensation. "Have you decided on a meal?"

"I was just looking over this menu and something caught my eye." He began, looking at the holiday menu your manager had printed off. "This rack of lamb, it's a special, right?"

"Right." You nodded. "It's a pretty large meal, though, so I'd recommend sharing it-"

"No, y'see.." he cut you off. "Jesus was the lamb of god. He died on the cross for your sins. And, look!"

He pointed to the menu. "It says it's a 'praying hands' lamb!"

"Oh!" You forced yet another smile. "I can see the confusion. That just refers to how the rack is arranged."

"I think it's a sign from god." He said.

You demonstrated the shape of the dish with your fingers. "See, the rib bones are long and the racks are Frenched, so the dish takes the shape of a pair of, well, praying hands."

"I'll take it." He nodded furiously.

He took a sharp breath in through his nose and you started to seriously wonder if his definition of "coke or nothing" had a double meaning. It formulated in your head as a joke, but it became more and more of a serious inquiry by the minute.

You leaned in just slightly to get a closer look at his face. Some details you hadn't noticed before were beginning to come into focus. His eyes were vacant and glassy. A small but noticeable stream of blood trickled from his nostril.

"Sir?" You said in a clear, projected voice. "Is there someone I could call for you?"

He turned his head. "Jesus died for your sins."

You looked around the room for any sign of your manager, a supervisor or anyone with a shred of authority. "This man needs help!"

In your haste to call attention to the situation, you didn't see him pick up his steak knife.

"You want to know what Jesus felt when you pierced him?" He muttered, just loud enough for your ears alone.

You felt the serrated knife puncture your skin before you had time to process his words. The pain shot through your body, making you freeze in place.

A chorus of screams filled the restaurant. Blood was pouring from the open wound in a quantity you didn't think possible. Underneath, the knife went straight through your hand and into the table.

The man gripped the handle and gave it a twist, a look of horrifying pleasure on his face. At this point, several people had stepped in to restrain him. He was tall and athletic and could easily overpower many of the other customers, which he did. He found another steak knife and began to cut throats while chanting an incomprehensible prayer.

An older woman claiming to be a doctor rushed to your side. She made a makeshift tourniquet from a napkin and a butter knife. Everything after that was a blur. You struggled to stay conscious as the woman tried to guide the knife from the table while keeping it embedded in your hand.

Soon enough, police and ambulances arrived on the scene. The woman placed you in the care of one of the many EMTs, then rushed away to assist the others.

"I'm just doing what Jesus says!" The youth pastor shouted, before gouging his knife into another man's throat. "Spreading his love!"

The officers notably didn't open fire and made an attempt to de-escalate. Maybe that was how the youth pastor was able to escape. 

[live-the-fangirl-life]

Love is in the Lines

Nesta Archeron x Cassian - Tattoo Convention Oneshot

Nesta loses Cassian at a tattoo convention.

Written for Nessian month. @illyrianet

Prompt 1: Tattoo Artist

Prompt 2: We came to the…together, and now you’re lost.

Masterlist | Read on Ao3

Warnings: Language

2319 words

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“Cassian, I swear to the mother, when I find you…” Nesta grumbled to herself for the fourth, no it was the fifth, time in the last twenty minutes.

She pushed through the herds of people crowding the aisle, trying her best to scour every booth for her missing boyfriend.

One moment, he had been standing behind her waiting as she scrutinized a certain design, the next, she turned back around, and he had disappeared.

Deciding she wasn’t going to find him in this row, she turned the corner and began walking down the next aisle starting her search over again.

If she was lucky, she would spot his massive frame sticking out above the clusters of people, but so far luck wasn’t on her side because she’d been walking around the convention hall for almost half an hour now searching for him. Nesta passed each booth looking at the artists and the customers, but they were all strangers.

Getting to the end, she took one last scan over the heavily tattooed convention-goers—most having several visible piercings in their ears, noses, and sporadic other places on the face that she thought would be excruciating to pierce—and wondered what the hell she was doing.

Sighing heavily, Nesta turned and started walking down the next aisle.

Two years ago, if someone had told Nesta she would be wandering around a tattoo convention, she would’ve laughed in their face at the absurdity of it.

A year ago, she’d have rolled her eyes and said that even her ink-covered boyfriend who made her realized she didn’t hate all tattoos, wouldn’t have been able to convince her to spend a day surrounded by the buzzing machines and colorfully covered patrons.

Last week, she considered it.

Being with Cassian had made her learn a lot about herself; one of those things being the fact that she found all of his ink incredibly attractive.

There was something about the way the ink stood out on his tanned skin that made it look like it was supposed to be there. She couldn’t even imagine her boyfriend without his tattoos. The one time she tried, she made a mental image of his arms without the swirling geometric designs and his back without the large bat-like wings, not to mention all the other little designs he had strewn across his body suddenly gone—and she was surprised to find herself dismayed at the lack on ink.

One night, when Nesta was idly tracing some of the lines across his chest, she confessed to Cassian that she wanted to get a small tattoo of her own.

At first, he had been shocked. As much as she loved his designs, he knew she still looked at most people’s tattoos with distaste. In her words, “most of the tattoos I see look like someone stumbled into a shop at four in the morning, drunk out of their mind, and picked out the first thing they saw. And the artist just went with it.”

But Nesta listened whenever he talked about his own designs; about how they all meant something to him. How every design held a memory. Every time he looked at them—whether he was intentionally studying them or when he caught a glimpse of one out of the corner of his eye—he would think about why he got it. Each tattoo made him remember a story, or a person, or some sort of inspiration.

They were reminders, self-expressions, and memories.

Even the one he got when he and his brothers were wasted and thought getting matching tattoos—done by each other, of course—was an amazing idea. He always pointed out that particular tattoo whenever Nesta explained her disdain for the “impulsive permanent decisions” saying that even though the design isn’t great, every time he looks at it he laughs and thinks of the great time he has when he’s with his brothers.

So when Nesta told him she wanted to get a tattoo, Cassian was more than surprised. But as soon as his shock wore off, he got the broadest smile on his face and immediately started asking her questions. What did she want? How long had she wanted one? Color or Black and White? Where on her body? Question after question, and Nesta was glad that Cassian had been thrilled.

Smirking, she remembered what he had told her when she asked him if he thought she would look good with a tattoo.

“Good?” She’d never seen him look more ravenous, already picturing what she would look like with ink covering her body. He cupped her face and looked into her eyes. “Nes, sweetheart, you are already so gorgeous, but, fuck,” he groaned, “you would look so fucking stunning that I don’t know how I’d ever be able to keep my hands off you.”

Then he made sure to show her just how much he liked the idea of tattoos covering her body, using his tongue to trace potential designs across every inch of her skin.

The next day, Cassian showed Nesta the poster for the tattoo convention happening soon which brought dozens of artists together to showcase their work and allow for people to get tattoos done, and admire the different aesthetics and designs.

When Nesta agreed to go with him, she made it very clear she was just looking for inspiration. It was practical, she reasoned, to go to see all kinds of designs in one place so she could get a sense of what exactly she wanted.

She figured he would be attached to her side, wanting to show her everything and point out his favorites.

The last thing she expected was to lose Cassian in the crowd.

Nesta finished eyeing another row of booths, still no sign of her missing, infuriating, boyfriend.

“C’mon Nesta, he said” she muttered as she walked. “It’ll be fun, he said. You’ll get inspired and I’ll be right there with you, he said.”

Nesta just about turned the corner when a booming laugh caught her attention. Zeroing in on the sound she caught sight of Cassian—well, his hair really. The long, dark, wavy strands were pulled up into a bun on top of his head, making his strong jawline covered in artfully groomed stubble stand out.

Nesta sometimes found it hard to stay mad at Cassian because no matter what she was upset about, he always found a way to make her smile. Even unintentionally. Like right now, part of her wanted to strangle him for vanishing on her and making her scour the convention hall for him, but hearing the sound of his laugh softened her and she allowed herself to smile at him before quickly schooling her features and making her way over to where he was sitting.

Sitting.

He was sitting in a reclining chair while the booth’s tattoo artist leaned over him to draw a new piece of artwork on his skin.

Nesta was going to kill him. Seething, she marched towards him.

He brought her here, he disappeared, and then he went off to get a new tattoo—without her.

Cassian’s eyes lit up as he spotted her. “Nes! Check it out, look who’s here.”

For the first time, Nesta looked at who exactly was inking her boyfriend.

“Az?” She blinked, momentarily losing her frustration. “I didn’t know you would be here.”

Azriel dipped his needle into the ink again and let out a low chuckle. Once he deemed enough ink was added, he gave Nesta a rueful smile. “I assumed this one,” he nodded at Cass who was still grinning at her “would show up today, but I thought I could get a couple of hours of actual clients before he took over my booth. I didn’t expect to see you here, though” Azriel concentrated on tracing another line but raised an eyebrow in her general direction.

“Yeah, well, this one,” she imitated Azriel’s tone and nodded at Cassian, “wanted to show me what one of these conventions was like, but apparently he decided it was better to run off and get another tattoo.”

Setting her bag down, Nesta sunk into the chair beside Cassian and crossed her arms.

“I’ve been wandering around for more than thirty minutes looking for you, asshole”

Az snorted, but didn’t comment, just kept drawing something that Nesta couldn’t quite see.

“Aw babe, don’t be mad,” Cassian leaned over as best he could and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek before she could turn away. Not that she didn’t want a kiss from him, but she was still upset at his antics. “You were so absorbed looking at that lady’s designs I didn’t want to interrupt you.”

Nesta’s anger melted a little at that. They had been walking around for a while when Nesta spotted a particular design she liked. She dragged Cassian over to a booth hosted by a woman whose arms were covered in colorful images and had her hair pulled back in a bright bandanna. She had a handful of binders on the table filled with designs and photos of healed artwork.

It was the minimalistic stack of books that had caught Nesta’s eye from across the aisle. She followed the single line as it swirled around creating the image. She must have been more lost in thought than she realized if Cassian deemed it best not to interrupt her.

“And,” He gave her a wide grin, “I hoped I could find Az and convince him to tattoo me for free.”

Rolling her eyes at Cass’ satisfied look and Az’s long-suffering one, she watched as people passed by the booth. Some looked through the design books, others paused to watch for a moment as Az worked. Turning back to face Cassian, she saw he was already looking at her.

“Fine. I’m still annoyed, though.” She leaned in closer, “What are you getting?”

Now Cassian’s face turned a little nervous. He still looked excited and happy and keen in the way he always looked when he watched her, but now he started to look a little worried, too.

“Before you freak out or get angry, let me explain.”

Nesta’s mind immediately went to worst-case scenarios. What could he be getting that he thought she would be angry? What would Azriel agree to ink that she should be upset about? Was it—

“Great way to start.” Azriel muttered from Cassian’s other side.

“Shut up.” He rolled his eyes and turned back to Nesta just as she stood up and walked around to peer over Azriel’s shoulder.

Az was putting the finishing touches on but she could see exactly what the image was.

It was delicate ‘N’ on the inner edge of his wrist.

Nesta didn’t say anything—couldn’t say anything—she just stared at the design now permanently etched into her boyfriend’s skin.

Cassian cleared his throat and Azriel backed away to put his needles down and give them a moment of privacy. As much privacy as they could have in the small booth.

“It’s an N,” Obviously. “For you.” Obviously.

Nesta couldn’t drag her gaze away from the letter. All her anger and frustration faded away. She forgot how irritated she was with him, how upset she had been when she turned around and he was gone. She forgot the instant jolt of panic she felt when she thought she had lost him.

Nesta took in each line and curve of the tattoo and felt such an overwhelming feeling of love for this crazy, impulsive, wonderful man.

“You…” She finally looked up to see him watching her face carefully.

“What do you think?” He waited for her to say something, but after a moment of silence, he started rambling. “Is it too much? Do you like it? You don’t like it. It’s too much. If you don’t like it I can change it. I mean, I can see if Az can change it. I could get it covered up—”

“No!”

Nesta grabbed his worried face in her hands and kissed him fiercely. She tried to pour everything she was feeling into that kiss, and make him know that she did like it, she loved it. She loved him.

“No, don’t cover it up.” She pressed her forehead to his before pulling back and intertwining their fingers, using her grip to lift his arm to get a better view.

“So, you do like it?” A slow smile appeared on his face.

Nodding softly, she told him, “I do.” Nesta swallowed, another rush of emotion hitting her. “You really wanted to get something for me inked onto you? These things last forever you know.” She tried to make a joke, but she was still feeling overwhelmed.

She almost couldn’t believe that he wanted a piece of her, something to remind him of her constantly and forever. It was insane; totally impulsive and unbelievable, but the sweetest most loving gesture anyone had ever done for her.

Cassian used his fingers to tilt her chin up so he could look her in the eye. “Of course I wanted to. Every time I’ll see it, I’ll think of you.”

She kissed him again.

Breaking apart, Nesta slowly moved her finger around the letter, careful not to brush it and hurt him.

“Why here?”

He forced her to meet his stare as he said, “I wanted it over my pulse point because my heart beats for you.”

He kissed her this time and put everything he had into it. She brought one hand around behind his head, the other rested on his chest, and kissed him back with just as much passion.

“That’s so corny” she murmured against his lips

They broke apart, each breathing a bit heavily.

Cassian gave her a cheeky grin and winked.

“You love it. And didn’t you know, sweetheart,” he gave her one more peck on the lips, “we’re gonna last forever, too.”

*****

I know I’ve posted a lot of oneshots recently, but don’t worry, I’m absolutely still working on my longer fics. I’m just taking advantage of the inspiration as it hits me

Taglist:

@acourtofsnakes @allthebooksunderthemoon @astra-ad-mare @becarefuloflove @bisexual-genderfluid-loki @booklover41802 @charlizeed @cookiemonsterwholovesbooks @danibutterr @doubt-less @emily-gsh @enormousbooklover @foughtconquered @fromthelibraryofemilyj @hakunamatatazz @i-have-but-one-brain-cell @in-love-with-caramel-macchiato @jorjy-jo @lemonade-coolattas @mariamuses @mayhemories @midsizewitch @miserablesmusings @morganofthewildfire @nehemikkele @rowaelinismyotp @rowansfirebringer @sayosdreams @sheharahu @sleeping-and-books @stardelia @story-scribbler @superspiritfestival @surielandiareendgame @swankii-art-teacher @tomtenadia @westofmoon @whimsicallyreading

[kpopfanfictrash]

Raise the Barre (Ch. 6)

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Pairing: Jimin / Reader

Rating: 18+ (Eventual Smut)

Genre: Enemies to Lovers / Dance Academy!AU

Warnings: Underage drinking, sexual harassment (not from any of the main characters) 

Word Count: 7,295

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

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

Dr. Gonzalez’s assessment of your ankle turned out to be correct; by the end of the week, you were feeling much better. You had to give some of the credit to Jimin, who’d been like a hawk in his watchfulness all week. The second you landed a difficult jump, Jimin would pop up beside you like the worst kind of clickbait, scolding you for not marking your movements.

At first, it drove you crazy – it was like having your parents out on the dance floor. Each time you pliéd, Jimin would clench his jaw hard enough to crack walnuts. It got to the point though, where you began to find it amusing, pretending to do something full-out just to mess with him.

Jimin didn’t find this as amusing as you did.

The Monday following your injury, you returned to Dr. Gonzalez’s office for a check-up. After examining your ankle and a few routine tests, she nodded in satisfaction and declared you fit to dance. A massive weight lifted from your chest, you practically bounded upstairs and into ballet.

Mr. Vlad’s ballet class wasn’t the type of place people usually bounded to, so you drew several stares when you entered the room. Dropping your bag beside Noelle, you stood at the barre and began to shed your warm-ups.

“It feels so good to be back,” you groaned, lifting your leg.

Noelle grinned, mirroring your movement. “It’s good to have you back,” she agreed. “I felt like a worried mom all week, constantly watching out for your ankle. Now, I can finally be selfish again.”

You laughed. “Well, thank god for that.”

“Miss Y/L/N!” Smiling, Mr. Vlad came to a stop alongside you. “Good as new, I take it?” he said, glancing down.

“Yep,” you said, rolling your ankle in a circle to show. “Dr. Gonzalez cleared me to dance earlier this morning.”

“Good, good.” He nodded. “I’m glad to hear it. It’s always a shame to see talented dancers injured. Make sure you don’t jump back in too quickly, though. Take it easy.”

“Will do,” you said, somewhat dazed as he turned to walk away.

Noelle leaned forward. “Dude,” she whispered, staring at his back. “Mr. Vlad just called you a talented dancer. Mr. Vlad. Vlad Copson.”

“I know,” you whispered, trying to stifle a laugh. “Wow.”

It was a wow moment indeed, since before now you hadn’t been sure whether Mr. Vlad even liked you. He’d given you and Jimin a compliment a few weeks prior, but everything else you received from him was criticism. Despite knowing this to be his reputation as a teacher, you honestly had no idea where you stood with him at all.

Hearing him call you talented was enough for you to hope it would be a good day. Barre passed by quickly and, true to your word, you tried not to overdo things. Despite your initial positivity, it soon became apparent you’d fallen behind. By the time you finished barre and walked to the center, your earlier enthusiasm had somewhat waned.

Although you’d improved since the start of the year, taking a week off had put a damper on your progress. Even just seven days of marking was enough for you to feel lost while moving through the combinations. Luckily, Jimin was there to help you remember the steps.

‘Luckily, Jimin’ was never a phrase you thought you’d say and yet, here you were. Aligned by the same goal, Jimin had proven himself to be a useful partner. Nearly a month into your truce, things were going well between you. Steps came easier once you were certain he wouldn’t drop you on purpose.

Obviously, you still had work to do between you, but it was easier without constantly wondering what Jimin was thinking. Trust was tricky enough without years of rancor between you, but somehow you and Jimin were making this work.

Miss Britt had explained during your first week that pairings at Russet were random on purpose. It was one of the most valuable lessons your first year could teach you, she’d said – learning to trust someone you didn’t choose for yourself.

Oftentimes, your company or choreographer would pick your partner. Even if you didn’t like them as a person, you needed to learn to trust them as a dancer, which was something you had no experience in before. By this point though, you found you no longer harbored dislike for Jimin as a person or as a dancer.

Jimin helped you during the week, walking you through tricky steps you’d missed the week prior. He even stayed late one night to practice a lift without you even needing to ask. By the time Friday rolled around, you felt almost completely caught up in your classes.

Miss Britt’s class was quickly becoming a favorite. She was more modern than some of the other teachers, choreographing to contemporary music instead of the traditional classical. This alone was enough to make you ecstatic, but she also encouraged improvisation.

You supposed this was why Miss Britt had suggested you practice the fundamentals. It was impossible to learn the fun, partner lifts if you couldn’t even complete a pirouette.

Today’s combination was one of the hard ones – Miss Britt tended to do that on Fridays, adding more complicated moves as a way to end the week. This turned out to be both blessing and curse, since it was fun to branch out, but it came at a cost.

“And – from the top!” Miss Britt called from the front. “Sissonne, sissonne! Cabriole, and chassé – tour jeté! Plié! And rise – hold! Plié, battement and grand fouetté!”

Seokjin stood at her side, demonstrating the moves with grace and poise. Every now and again, Miss Britt would join in to show particularly tricky footwork.

By the time you executed the combination full out, you and Jimin were sweating, fingers slipping while you grabbed at each other’s hands. Grand fouettés – sometimes called Italian fouettés – were difficult enough without adding pointe shoes and a partner. In grand fouettés, the woman did a grand battement effacé (facing forward), swept her leg through first position while turning, only to end up facing the same way with her leg in attitude derriére (behind her, and bent). All of this, of course, occurred within two counts of eight.

Jimin helped you balance, although he needed to move fast to avoid getting kicked in the head by your leg. The combination moved across the floor, starting in one corner of the room and ending up in another. By the time you’d practiced the moves a few times, both of you were dripping sweat on the floor.

“Shit.” Gasping for air, Jimin lowered both hands to his knees. “Miss Britt isn’t taking things easy on us, huh?”

Silently, you shook your head no, as you fought to catch your breath.

“Alright!” Miss Britt clapped her hands together. “Line up in the corner and we’ll go two couples at a time. Sabrina, Paulo, Alex and Jasmine – you’re first.”

Sabrina and Paulo were practicing close by, dutifully finishing the steps of the combination. While you watched, you saw Sabrina wobble and Paulo’s hand slip from hers. Sabrina managed to keep her balance, but her timing was thrown, and she missed the last fouetté.

“Sabrina!” Miss Britt called out sharply. “Be sure to stay on the beat!”

Stricken, Sabrina’s head turned as she finished. Landing in fifth, she managed a nod before she turned to cross the room. Paulo followed suit, swallowing at the look of annoyance she shot him.

Once they were in the corner and ready to go, Miss Britt motioned the accompanist to play as she crossed her arms.

As the music began, the first group moved forward. This time, Sabrina got her timing right for the fouetté turns, but still didn’t seem happy. Finishing the combination, Sabrina struck her ending pose – only to exhale, expression dropping as soon as she stalked from the floor.

Miss Britt didn’t seem to notice, her attention already moved on to watch the next group. Nudging Jimin with your elbow, you indicated you both should move up in line. Noelle and Eamon were in the second group across the floor, so you two would be next, along with Irene and Brian.

Waiting to start, Jimin exhaled and rolled his neck. Glancing sideways, you were surprised to find you also felt nervous. This was a difficult combination, so you couldn’t expect to do things perfectly, but the fact that Sabrina had failed didn’t bode well for you at all.

“Next group!” Miss Britt called.

Breathing deeply, you placed your hand in Jimin’s and fell into tombé. Your first steps were in unison, feet skimming the floor while you traveled forward. Jimin’s hands gripped your waist, lifting you easily to set you back on the ground. Each step flowed to the next, barely allowing time to think as your limbs found each other.

Even the complicated footwork section was in tandem, Jimin’s plié matching yours when he lifted you overhead. The ending segment – a series of partnered jetés, culminating in a grand jeté – happened easily, making you feel as though you were floating on air. When you landed and struck your ending pose, your heart hammered against your ribcage.

“Very good, Y/N and Jimin!” Miss Britt smiled before she moved on.

Schooling your expression to stay calm, you felt almost giddy as you ran from center. Jimin was close behind, barely able to contain his excitement.

“Did you hear that?” you gasped, spinning to face him.

“A very good from Miss Britt.” Jimin wriggled both brows. “Might as well move us to the top of the class now.”

“Don’t get cocky,” you warned, though you laughed when he high-fived you.

Walking off to the side, you joined the rest of your classmates who were waiting in line. As you waited to reverse the combination on the left, you practiced the steps in your mind.

Miss Britt continued to yell corrections and when your turn finally came, you took a deep breath to relax. Emptying your mind, you forced yourself to focus only on the movement. For the first time since your arrival at Russet, the steps felt almost natural.

Partnering had been difficult for you to learn after so many years of solo competition. Unlearning your independence as a dancer was hard, but you finally felt as though you were making progress. When you and Jimin finished on the left side, you realized with some amazement Miss Britt hadn’t yelled out any suggestions.

As soon as everyone had gone, Miss Britt motioned for the pianist to stop and walked to the center.

“Good job, everyone,” she called. “Just a few notes today. Irene, be sure and keep your weight centered in attitude. Don’t rely on your partner to keep you steady. Louis, make sure you really push Ari across the floor. Her momentum should come from you, not just her legs. And Sabrina,” Miss Britt said as she turned.

Sabrina straightened, clearly expecting a big heaping of praise. Miss Britt always had something nice to say for her star pupil. It wasn’t bitterness which made you say this – Sabrina was just that good at ballet. As much as you disliked her as a person, you couldn’t deny Sabrina’s prowess as a dancer.

Miss Britt frowned. “Don’t step so far forward next time. Paulo had to rush to catch up, which is why your timing was off. And Y/N,” she said, moving on.

Sabrina froze, staring wide-eyed at Miss Britt’s back. The shock in her expression was clear and if Miss Britt hadn’t moved on to you, you would’ve relished for longer in Sabrina’s confusion.

“Excellent work.” Miss Britt smiled. “That was a beautiful combination. Have you been practicing with Jimin as I suggested, Y/N?”

Instantly, heat rose to your face.

“I, uh,” you stammered, searching for words. “I’ve been working with Sana Minatozaki, actually. She graduated last year from Russet?”

“Ah, Sana!” Miss Britt’s face lit up. “Did Seokjin introduce you?”

Seokjin nodded, giving you a thumbs up as soon as Miss Britt turned.

“Well, it was wonderful,” Miss Britt continued. “Much improved, both of you – keep it up. Jasmine,” she said, moving on. “You’re lowering your chin right before you turn.”

In the corner of your eyes, you saw Jimin glance in your direction, but chose instead to stare at the clock. Pretending as though the time needed your undivided attention, you managed to avoid him for the rest of class.

Across the floor leaps were always the last combination of class – they were considered the ‘fun’ part of ballet, so of course teachers chose to save them for the end. As you turned and jetéd across the floor, your stomach churned imagining what to say to Jimin.

Maybe you could pretend Miss Britt had been confused. You could say she mistook you for another student, or that you’d never considered asking Jimin for help – even as you thought this, you released a small sigh. You should just tell him the truth and get it over with. If Jimin had proven one thing to you over the past couple of weeks, it was that he wasn’t the person you’d always made him out to be.

Still, it would be humiliating for Jimin to know how close you’d been to being kicked out. Miss Britt had told you to seek help barely a week into classes and now, Jimin would know that.

A part of you hated this since that same part of you thought often about that one practice session. The night Jimin had stopped and said he loved watching you dance.

You still weren’t sure what to make of that night, but you couldn’t deny it was something you often returned to.

As soon as Miss Britt ended class, you made a beeline for your things and plopped down on the floor. Undoing your pointe shoes as fast as you could, you tossed these in your bag and pulled on some sweats. Throwing your bag over your shoulder, you garbled an excuse to Noelle about needing to go and frankly ran towards the hall.

Glancing over your shoulder, you checked to make sure the coast was clear – only to crash into Jimin as soon as you left the room.

“Whoa!” Jimin caught you by the arms. “Careful, Y/N. You’ll sprain your other ankle.”

“I didn’t sprain my ankle,” you huffed.

Arching a brow, Jimin continued to hold your arms. His dance bag was slung over a shoulder, sweatpants pulled on over his ballet clothes. Dimly, you realized he hadn’t had to take off any pointe shoes. Stupid male dancers and their stupid male benefits.

Behind Jimin, you saw Noelle exit the classroom. Tossing a beseeching glance in her direction, Noelle saw you and paused – only to wink and continue walking away. Aghast, you stared in shock at her back. 

Traitor, you decided. She’d pay for that later.

“Can we talk over there?” Jimin nodded down the hall.

“I – sure,” you said, unable to think of an excuse. Why couldn’t you think of an excuse?

Releasing your arms, Jimin turned to leave and you followed. Once you were far enough away from class to not be overheard, he turned around. Coming to a stop, you fiddled with the strap of your bag pulled across your chest.

Oddly enough, Jimin seemed as nervous as you were. “What… was that?” he asked, glancing towards the ballet room.

“What was what?”

Jimin gave you a look. “That comment from Miss Britt. Were you going to ask me for help, or something?”

Wincing, you glanced away. Hearing Jimin speak brought back all the resentment you felt when Miss Britt first pulled you aside. You thought you’d grown since then – and maybe you had – but remembering that day still made your stomach sink. If there was one thing you hated, it was admitting you weren’t perfect.

“I – well, no,” you said, looking up.

Jimin’s expression remained unsure and after a moment, you sighed.

“Alright, yeah,” you said. “Kind off. Miss Britt… suggested I ask you for help at the start of the year.”

“Oh.” Jimin’s face was unreadable.

Someone laughed far off down the hall and another door banged open, a different ballet class letting out. Jimin glanced away, hesitating a moment before his gaze returned to yours.

“Want to get going?” Jimin offered. “The next class is starting, so Danley is going to get crowded.”

“Sure,” you said, following as Jimin turned around.

You were silent the entire trip down the hall and even outside, as you began to walk down the sidewalk. Jimin was correct; Danley Hall was crowded at this time of day. After Miss Britt’s classes on Fridays, you didn’t have any set schedule unless you chose to take an afternoon master class.

Jimin walked next to you on the sidewalk, brow furrowed and seemingly lost in thought. About a block away from Danley, he glanced in your direction.

“Why didn’t you ask me for help?” Jimin said.

Rolling your eyes, you hitched your bag higher. “Oh, come on,” you sighed, shooting him a look. “It wasn’t like we were on the best of terms. You wouldn’t have said yes.”

“Maybe I would’ve.”

“Be serious.”

“Maybe I would’ve!” he insisted, cracking a smile. “Look – you’re not the only one who needs extra practice. What did Miss Britt say you needed to work on?”

Falling silent, you stared straight ahead and considered what to reveal. The air around you was crisp, the sky blue overhead and the leaves orange against it – in other words, it was a perfect fall day. You hated to ruin something so wonderful with talk of improvement.

At long last, you sighed.

“Technique,” you admitted. “You know that my background isn’t as a ballerina. Miss Britt thought it would be a good idea for me to take lessons from someone strong in ballet.”

“Hm.” Jimin considered. “I guess that makes sense.”

“Hey!”

He looked your way in surprise. “What? You’re the one who said it was something you needed to work on!”

“I know,” you grumbled. “It just sucks hearing you say it.”

“What’s wrong with hearing me say it?”

“You know,” you said, gesturing vaguely. “You’re you. Park Jimin. Hearing you say it just reminds me of all the ways we’re different. All the ways you’re… better than I am.”

Jimin didn’t react in the way you expected. You thought maybe he’d deny it, or maybe even gloat, but instead he just frowned.

“Different doesn’t mean worse,” Jimin said slowly. “It just means… different. You need help with ballet technique? Well, I need help with performance.”

“You – what?” you said, caught off guard.

Jimin gave you a rueful smile. “I kind of wish you’d said something sooner. I got feedback last month that I needed to work on emoting. Apparently, my technique is good, but I forget what to do with my face in difficult combinations.”

“Really?” you blinked, somewhat amazed. “I’ve always thought you were good at that.”

“Well, I’ve always thought you had great technique.”

“Was that... an actual compliment, Park?”

“Don’t act so surprised.” Jimin snorted. “Most people think I’m a really nice guy.”

“Yeah, well. Most people haven’t had you tell them to break a leg and mean it.”

“I didn’t mean it.” Jimin’s lip twitched. “Most of the time, anyways.”

“Aha!” you said, leveling a finger in his direction. “So, you admit it. You meant it some of the time.”

Jimin shrugged. “What can I say? I wanted to win. Sometimes it felt like… I don’t know, sometimes it felt like you were the only thing pushing me.” He paused, then continued, “There were some days things were so bad, I just wanted to quit. I wanted to give up, but then I’d think about you. I’d think about our bet, our next competition and… I’d keep going,” he said, finishing quietly.

You remained silent for a moment, allowing this to sink in.

Deep down, you understood what Jimin meant. Dance was difficult; that much was obvious from your first semester at Russet. It was hard to find the drive to keep going. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t sometimes felt the same way. There had been weekends in high school you just wanted to be a normal student and hang out at the mall – but then you’d remember Jimin’s maddening smirk when he won and force yourself to work harder.

“I guess fear is a great motivator,” you said softly.

Jimin hesitated, then nodded. “Don’t get me wrong. It’s not like you were the only reason I danced. It’s just… on some days, you were that push.”

Again, you knew what he meant. The mental, physical and emotional exhaustion of dance could eat at a person until there was nothing left. An iron-clad will only got you so far – on some days, you just needed something more, something external. That push.

“I get it,” you said, glancing his way. “I felt that way sometimes about you, too.”

Jimin straightened. “Really?”

“Yeah.” After a moment, you shook your head. “But seriously – would you be interested?”

“Interested in what?”

“In helping me practice,” you said before you could talk yourself out of it.

The words hung in the air between you, Jimin blinking while he considered your proposition. 

Immediately, you wondered if you’d made a mistake. Sabrina’s easy dismissal came to mind, but you tried not to jump to any negative conclusions. For all the difficulties you’d had in your past, Jimin hadn’t done anything detrimental to you in nearly a month. 

At some point, you needed to learn to move on.

“Does that mean you’ll help me, too?” Jimin glanced hopefully sideways. “I wasn’t kidding about the feedback I got. I’ve been trying to find someone to teach me for weeks.”

“Deal,” you said, offering him a smile.

Jimin nodded, digging around in his pocket for his cell phone. “What’s your number?” he said, glancing up. “I can check the practice room schedule and let you know what’s available.”

Rattling off your information, you waited for Jimin to send you a text. When he did, you pulled out your phone and saved his information.

“Cool.” Jimin shoved his phone back in his pocket. “I guess I’ll see you around, then. What’re you doing tonight?”

Normally on Fridays, you’d take one of the available master classes, but part of your new deal with Finn had been to see each other at least once a week. Tonight, you were heading to a club with Finn and his friends despite having ballet tomorrow. This had been a compromise on your end, which was something you realized you hadn’t done much of.

“I’m going out,” you said with a shrug. “What about you?”

“Before Mr. Vlad’s ballet class?” Jimin raised a brow. “Brave of you, Y/N. I’m probably just going to read, go to bed early. Real wild stuff.”

Adjusting your bag, you laughed and turned away. “Brave or stupid?” you called as you climbed the steps. “Don’t knock yourself, though. Your night sounds pretty great to me. Self-care and all that.”

“Yeah, sure.” Jimin laughed. “Have fun at your thing. See you tomorrow, Y/N!”

When you reached the top of the stairs, you turned and saw him wave goodbye. Returning the gesture, you pulled your key from your pocket and let yourself in. As soon as the door swung shut, leaving you in darkness, you realized Jimin was saved in your phone.

After a moment of pause, you continued your walk down the hall. If you’d told yourself one year ago that this would happen, you would’ve assumed it to be a prank or a joke. 

It only went to show how easily people changed.

Except for people in clubs, it seemed.

Seated in a back booth of Excelsior nightclub, you drummed a hand on your knee and gazed around the warehouse. A strobe-lit dance floor lay directly before you, a DJ booth situated on a table several feet above the dancers.

Sweaty, half-naked bodies writhed to the beat of deafening music. Watching this from afar, you couldn’t help but wince. It wasn’t that you hated dancing – obviously, not. It was just this form of dancing which always confused you. There was no intimacy to it, no emotion, and no connection to gain from grinding your ass on someone’s crotch.

Most men didn’t bother learning to dance, anyways. Most were content just to sway side to side, watching their woman do all the work. Finn was amongst this crowd, but you couldn’t really blame him for that – the man truly had no rhythm. This led to you oftentimes being bored on the dance floor; there was only so much you could grind with a stationary being.

Even the people who went to these clubs were annoying. Eager, college freshman waiting to try out their new fake IDs. Tipsy sorority girls at the bar, sipping on cranberry vodkas and scanning the room for a partner. Around the edges of the dance floor lurked creepy men, attempting to grab on before their faces were seen.

You hated all of it, but you especially hated it sober. Had you been drunk, maybe you would’ve found the noise and crowd to be tolerable. As it was though, you were completely sober and found everything around you to be incessantly annoying.

Finn and his friends had pre-gamed before your arrival at his dorm. By the time you reached them, Finn was already three beers deep, red-faced and tipsy when he threw open the door.

“Y/N!” he had cheered, pulling you in for a hug.

You’d already forgotten several of his friends’ names by now, although this wasn’t entirely due to your faulty memory. Half kept calling one another by nicknames, making it difficult for you to keep up with their discourse.

Compared to the other girls in the party, you found yourself to be severely underdressed. They all were wearing tight body-con dresses and stilettoed heels. You, on the other hand, had thrown a cardigan over your tank top before you left in case it was cold.

The look on the other girls’ faces when you entered continued to burn uncomfortably in your mind. They’d looked at each other over the rims of their drinks, clearly unimpressed. Their meaning had been clear enough. This was Finn’s girlfriend?

Usually, you didn’t care what other people thought. As Jimin had pointed out, you weren’t the type who acted insecure. In that moment though, surrounded by Finn’s inner circle and feeling entirely out of place, you’d had a brief lapse of inadequacy.

Not being able to drink had solidified this wedge between you. Friendships were often forged in the throes of drunken adversity – your sobriety placed you firmly on the outside.

To his credit, Finn did his best to include you. He’d stayed by your side the entire evening, pulling you into games and introducing you to everyone in the room as his girlfriend. It was physically impossible for him to be everywhere at once though, so there were some unavoidable moments when you were left alone.

The pregame had started nearly four hours previous – sometime around midnight, you’d traveled downtown to the club and now the time was close to 1:00 AM. You kept glancing at your watch, wondering with increasing anxiety when you would leave. The group showed no signs of slowing down and your ballet class started at 8:00 AM the next morning.

You probably should’ve discussed this with Finn earlier, but he’d just been so happy to know you were coming. You hadn’t wanted to throw a wrench in this excitement by demanding he make a schedule.

Toying with the rim of your water, you glanced over at Finn and realized he didn’t seem bored. Ben was seated on his other side, a guy named Rico across the table and two of the blondes were sandwiched on either side.

The rest of Finn’s group were already on the dance floor, having found suitable partners soon after arrival. Two of his friends were currently sucking face by the DJ booth, and you’d seen another two earlier try and sneak towards the bathrooms.

Rico snorted, which prompted laughter from the rest of them. You didn’t see what had been so funny about Ben’s joke – it had seemed kind of demeaning towards women – but the two blondes at the table didn’t seem to mind. You tried not to think less of them for that, lips tightening as you looked away.

Given how stifling the club was, you’d removed your cardigan soon after arrival and tied it around your waist. The air felt sticky on your skin, heavy with the musk of so many people. Finn had smiled when you did this, slipping an arm around your waist to pull you closer. It’d been a sweet gesture at the time, but now the warehouse was boiling and you felt dangerously close to overheating.

As the music switched to a new song, one of the girls across the table gasped and jumped to her feet.

“This is my song,” she said, clapping both hands. “Come on, guys – let’s dance!”

Grabbing her friend and Rico, she pulled them onto the dance floor. Ben downed his drink and joined them, so Finn moved to stand.

“You in?” he said with a grin.

Hesitant, you glanced around. “Can we sit for a while?” you yelled, fighting to be heard over the music. “I’m kind of tired after today.”

“You sure?” Finn called back, also fighting to be heard. He frowned. “Come on, Y/N. Just one dance!”

The rest of the group proceeded to enter the dance floor, hands up while they sandwiched themselves between other people. The sight looked frankly nauseating, but you caught the look of open desire on Finn’s expression.

Knowing he wanted to join them, you pushed aside a sigh and stood. “Okay,” you said, slipping your hand into his. “One dance.”

Finn instantly brightened, tugging you along towards his friends. Shoving your way through the crowd, you tried your best not to breathe through your nose. Slightly claustrophobic at the best of times, clubs had the ability to become your worst nightmare. Especially when everyone was drunk except for you; it made you feel even less in control.

Turning around, Finn lifted your arms and placed them on his shoulders. “See?” he said, sliding closer. “This is fun, right?”

Tilting your head upwards, you nodded and concentrated solely on him. Usually, you found Finn’s touch soothing, but tonight his grip felt too hot and people kept bumping into you from behind. All you could think about was how badly you wanted to leave. It had been such a long day of dance and you needed to wake up early tomorrow.

Pressing yourself closer, you tried to lose yourself in Finn’s normally clean scent. Tonight though, he smelled like sweat and alcohol, and so you released a sigh. 

Hearing this, you felt Finn’s arms tense around you. Lowering his lips, he brushed them to your ear. “You’re not having fun, are you?”

Stricken, you looked up. “No – no! I am.”

Finn gave you a look.

“Alright, fine,” you admitted. “I’m just… tired, Finn. I didn’t know we’d be out so late.”

Rather than apologize or offer an explanation, Finn tensed a bit more. You knew from his face he was drunk; you’d known this objectively, given all the beer he consumed. When Finn drank though, he tended to resort to stubbornness. Seeing his expression harden, your heart slowly sank.

“You didn’t think we’d be out late at a club?” he asked you, brows raised.

“I thought we’d pregame, head to the club and then leave,” you said, somewhat defensive. “How long can you dance with the same, sweaty bodies?”

Finn’s jaw clenched and he looked away. “Don’t you mean – how long can you dance with me?”

Eyes widening, you pulled away. 

“What? No! Finn, what are you even saying?”

Although his hands remained on your waist, his grip wasn’t gentle. Finn’s expression stayed tight, looking over your shoulder in order to avoid your gaze.

“You love to dance,” he said slowly. “So, what you’re saying is you don’t want to dance with me.”

“Finn.” You stared at him in amazement. “That’s not what I’m saying. I’m just tired – that’s all! I had dance early today, I have dance early tomorrow. Can’t we go and grab food somewhere? Just the two of us?”

Finn exhaled and it seemed as though he might acquiesce – but then he exhaled and returned to you.

His gaze seemed clouded, and you wondered in alarm how much Finn had drank. You didn’t know how much he’d had to pregame and found yourself wondering if he might throw up. Finn had a very thin line between tipsy and puking.

“Why don’t you like my friends?” he demanded, hurt in his gaze.

Taken aback, you could only stare. “I – what?”

“See?” Finn looked away. “You didn’t even deny it.”

“No, I – you just took me by surprise,” you said, reeling a little. “Your friends are fine, Finn. They’re just not my friends. I don’t know them very well.”

“Well… alright,” he said, slightly chastised.

Unsure where this was coming from, you stood there a moment and let everything sink in. Finn wasn’t a yeller – he still wasn’t really yelling – but something was clearly bothering him. Maybe it was the dance club around you, but you had a feeling it wasn’t just that.

“What’s this really about?” you said, having to yell in order to be heard over the music.

Finn shrugged. “Nothing.”

“Finn.”

“Nothing!”

“Why don’t we go somewhere so we can talk,” you said, stepping back. “My head’s starting to hurt, anyways. We can go –”

“No,” Finn said abruptly, cutting you off. “I don’t want to leave.”

Your eyes widened in amazement. “No?”

Finn met your gaze. “You said this was our night, Y/N,” he said, stepping closer. “I haven’t seen you all week and you promised we’d go out together tonight. This is what being out looks like, Y/N!” he said, sweeping an arm. “Look around!”

“I – okay,” you said, baffled. “But I have class in the morning.”

“You always have class the next morning.”

“Because I do!”

Dropping both arms, Finn took a step backwards. His expression hardened a little, but beneath all that exterior you saw an undercurrent of hurt.

Lifting a hand, you rubbed at your temples. You hadn’t been lying when you said you felt a headache coming on. This was the same argument you’d had weeks ago, but you thought that had been settled. A few weeks prior, you wouldn’t have come out to the club at all but now here you were, nearing 1:00 AM.

“Nothing’s changed, has it?” Finn asked, his voice louder than normal. “You still don’t want to be here, do you?”

“Want to be here?” you blurted. “I mean, no – not really, Finn! I wanted to spend time with you and instead, here we are. Clubs kind of suck!”

“Well, sorry the things I want to do aren’t fun enough for you.”

“Do you seriously want to be here?” you asked in disbelief. “You want to be sweat on by strangers while drinking a watered-down rum and coke at 1:00 in the morning?”

“Yeah, kind of!” Finn huffed. “Sorry if my interests aren’t high-brow enough for you, or whatever.”

“That’s not what I meant,” you groaned.

“Well, that’s what you said.” Shaking his head, Finn glanced away. “Fine. You know what? If you want to leave so badly, then go.”

“Well, I don’t want us to leave if –”

“Not us,” he corrected, returning his gaze to yours. “You. You can go if you want Y/N, but I’m staying.”

Before you could respond, Finn spun on his heel and shoved into the crowd.

You stared after him in shock, jaw dropping as he disappeared between people. Before you could run after, someone stumbled into you hard from behind. Cold soda and ice poured down your back, making you yelp as you jumped.

Nearly slipping on liquid, you spun around – only to realize your perpetrator was wasted. The girl giggled, then hiccupped, not realizing her drink was empty as she raised it.

“Sorry,” she slurred, blind to your distress.

Rolling your eyes, you stalked past her. Yelling at someone that drunk would offer no sense of retribution.

Scanning the crowd, you searched for Finn’s clothing but saw nothing. He’d been wearing a dark t-shirt and jeans, so he unfortunately blended easily into the crowd. After tapping several strangers on the shoulder and in turn, getting hit on by several strangers – probably due to your soaked, see-through tank top – you gave up and walked towards the edge of the dance floor.

Vision starting to blur, you yanked out your cell phone and swiped up. Your fingers hovered over the call button a few times before you gave up and shoved your phone in your bag. The logical thing to do would’ve been to find Finn, or to find one of Finn’s friends and convince them to leave but for some reason, you just couldn’t.

The idea of seeing Finn right now made you furious. He’d been a jerk and you knew if you saw him, you’d only end up saying things you’d regret. Instead, you clutched your bag tighter and spun towards the front.

As you passed by the coat check, you slowed enough to notice the line outside. People stretched down the block – if you left the club now, there’d be no getting back in. Turning around, you once again searched the crowd.

The booth you’d sat in wasn’t far away, but it remained empty, all of Finn’s friends still out on the dance floor. Had you seen Finn at that point – had you seen anyone familiar – you might have decided to stay, but as it was, you saw no one. Finn hadn’t run after you, he hadn’t called and he hadn’t sent a text. Clearly, he didn’t care what happened to you tonight.

Buoyed by this knowledge, you gritted your teeth and walked out the door.

As soon as you stepped outside, the air dropped ten degrees. Shivering a little, you pulled out your phone and checked the Uber app. The moment you saw the surcharge, you winced. The cost for a cab back to Russet was three times the normal price. If you had to pay that, you’d be screwed.

Exiting Uber, you opened the train schedule and again checked the time. When you saw 1:15 AM, you groaned. All trains in this neighborhood stopped running at 1:00 AM. This was why you’d planned on splitting an Uber home with all of Finn’s friends.

“Hey, you! Princess!”

Head jerking upwards, you found an unfamiliar guy leering at you from line. Glancing over your shoulder, you realized he was talking to you.

“Yeah, you!” he said, hanging over the ropes. “Want to come in the club with us, princess?”

Immediately, you wrinkled your nose. “Why would I want to go back in the club?” you responded. “Didn’t you just see me leave?”

His smile dropped. “Damn, I was just asking. No need to be rude!”

Rolling your eyes, you stuck your middle finger up in the air as you walked away.

“Whatever, bitch!”

Fighting back a shiver, you continued to walk until you were halfway down the block. It was quieter there, but that wasn’t always a good thing. Glancing around, you saw several alleys and tried to place yourself strategically away from the shadows. You hated going to parts of town you didn’t know, especially at night and especially alone.

Suddenly, your rash decision to leave the club struck you as foolish. Opening your phone, you pulled up Finn’s number and pressed call. Screw your dumb pride – you’d forget all about the fight if he’d come stand outside. Finn may have been drunk, but he wasn’t an asshole. You knew if Finn knew your situation, he’d immediately leave the club.

His phone went straight to voicemail.

Blood turning cold, you stared straight ahead for a moment. Hand shaking, you pulled your phone away and stared at the screen. Finn’s outgoing message continued to jabber, but to you the audio seemed almost blurred.

Trying his number again, you once more reached voicemail. At this point, you began to see red. No matter how annoyed he’d been at you, Finn had absolutely no reason to turn off his cell phone. And yet, it was the only explanation.

Spinning around on your heel, you marched back up the block and to the front of the line. Tapping the bouncer on the shoulder, you waited until he turned around.

“Yeah, hi,” you said, not bothering with a preamble. “I need to get in.”

The man gave you a strange look. “Huh?”

“To the club,” you said, jerking your chin. “I need to get back inside.”

“Uh, sure. You and the rest of the line.”

“No, you don’t understand,” you said, crossing both arms over your chest. You were just now remembering the spilled drink from earlier. “I was in there earlier. Look,” you said, showing the stamp on your wrist. “You must’ve seen me exit a few minutes ago. Just let me back in!”

“No can do, sweetheart.” He shook his head. “Rules are rules. When you left, we let someone else in. The club’s already at capacity.”

Stomach sinking, you stared at him for a moment, but he refused to budge. Glancing over his shoulder, you could see the dance floor in the distance, strobe lights flashing and bass thumping. Before you could try anything else, the leering guy from the line reached the front.

Seeing you, he did a double take. “Princess!” he said, slurring a bit. “Did you change your mind? You want to come party? I’ll forgive you if you give me somethin’ in return…”

Teeth gritted, you immediately turned and walked away. The guy continued to call after you, so you sped up your pace to put distance between you. Fighting another chill, you forced yourself to keep walking and not turn around.

In one hand, your thumb hovered over the emergency button on your phone. If the guy broke from the line, you weren’t above calling the cops. Finally, both his shouts and the sound of the club faded away.

Paused on the sidewalk, you realized you were in the same place as before. Knowing this was a bad situation, you reluctantly opened the Uber app once again. Screw the cost – better to be in debt than abducted from an alley.

As soon as you opened the app, you saw the surcharge remained at 3x and the wait time had risen to fifty minutes.

“Oh, hell no,” you groaned, closing the app.

Staring at the street, you went through your mental checklist of options again.

The train was a no, as was Uber – you could walk and find a cab, but this was an unfamiliar part of the city and you didn’t like those odds. You had none of Finn’s friends’ numbers and Noelle was likely asleep. She didn’t have a car to come get you, anyways.

Still, she could probably figure out a way to find you if you asked. Sighing, you thumbed through your contacts until you found the right number. It took you a long moment before you forced yourself to press call.

Lifting the phone to your ear, you hugged yourself with one arm while you waited. When the person on the other end answered, you squeezed your eyes shut.

“Hey,” you sighed. “It’s me. Can you… come pick me up?”

Author’s Note: Thank you for reading 😊 New chapters of Raise the Barre will be posted weekly; dates are listed on the series Master List. Requests for updates will be deleted.

RAISE THE BARRE MASTERLIST

© kpopfanfictrash, 2020. Do not copy or repost without permission.

[milkybonya]

i'm not the same boy you knew back then

Warnings: food mentions and some angst, party mentions

Pairing: Yedam x (gn)reader

Summary: where Yedam broke your heart in high school because he didn't know how to act but now he's desperately in love with you and wishes you still felt the same :")

word count: 5.8k

inspired by Walls by All Time Low (it has explicit language! be careful~~i've put a link for it at the veryyy end of this fic)

[a/n]: I GOT SO CARRIED AWAY FOR THE FLASHBACK PART OF THIS OML I'M SORRY FOR THE CHAOS AND MESS BUT I HOPE YOU ENJOY

Hey there it's good to see you again, It never felt right calling this "just friends". I'm happy, if you're happy, with yourself.

"Isn't that Yedam?" your friend, sat beside you, asks. They point to somewhere behind your head, and naturally, you turn around to follow their finger with your eyes.

As the doors to the lecture hall swing shut, a familiar boy begins to walk quickly down the steps. While grinning, he decides on a spot near the back, far away from your almost front-row seat. You let out the breath you didn't realize you were holding and face the front.

"Since when did he go to our university?" your friend asks, also facing the front now.

"I have no clue," you admit.

You'd purposely accepted an offer at a faraway university to avoid having to see Yedam ever again after high school. High school had become one of the worst times of your life thanks to him.

-

Yedam's pov

As soon as I enter the hall, I find [y/n] with my eyes immediately. They look at me with a mix of shock, disgust and hatred, but seeing them fills me with so much joy that I can't help but smile.

Deciding not to bother them, I pick a spot near the back and sit down. I wonder to myself if switching to [y/n]'s school was the right choice...

-

[y/n]'s pov

It was obvious you were too much for me. Oblivious, I was young

Back in high school, you had the fattest crush on one of the school's most popular kids, and you hated yourself for it. It wasn't like you could control your feelings... but your heart was set on him. His smile made you feel so warm and you felt happy despite him not having the slightest clue who you were. You always watched him from afar, peering at him as he walked into the classroom while waving at all of his friends before taking a seat at the back.

By some chance, you got paired with him for an assignment. You thought he would be disappointed, since he had never spoken to you, but contrary to his somewhat intimidating aura as a result of him being a popular kid, he smiled warmly at you as you introduced yourself.

"I know you're [y/n]," he said quietly, looking down at the assignment instructions in front of him.

"How do you know?" you asked him.

He looked up and leaned in closer to you to whisper into your ear, only after being sure that no one was watching.

"It may not seem like it, but I do know my classmates."

When he moved back, he flashed you a grin before returning to the assignment instructions again. Your heartbeat was flooding your ears.

After meeting up several times to do the research and plan out the presentation together, you and Yedam somehow grew closer. You had always thought he was some sort of chic, cool guy, but he turned out to be super soft and sweet. The two of you laughed at each other's dumb jokes and procrastinated late into the night sometimes, only beginning your work when the café was about to close.

On one of those days, Yedam asked if you wanted to go to his place to finish the assignment.

"It's due in two weeks and we still have so much to do... plus we're so busy that we can only meet once a week," he explained, pouting slightly.

You agreed, feeling somewhat nervous and excited at the prospect of going to your crush's house for the first time.

His parents were home but asleep as it was late for them, so the two of you quietly went to his room.

In-between muffled giggles and late-night snacks, the two of you managed to get a lot of work done before you felt as though you'd hit your limit. After yawning and stretching, you told Yedam that it was time you went home.

"Do you live far from here?" he asked you.

You, in fact, did live quite far from his house, but you felt bad telling him this, so you lied and told him you lived close by.

He pouted and looked down.

"I was going to ask if you wanted to just sleep here... but I guess it makes sense for you to go home," he said, helping you pack up your things.

Yedam... wanted you to stay the night? How could you miss such an opportunity! Your crush! Wanted you to stay the night!!

Yedam noticed that you'd stopped moving, holding your pencil case in your hand as you thought about what to say.

"Is everything okay?" he asked you.

"Yeah... I actually... live kind of far," you mumbled, not wanting him to get mad at you for lying.

"You do? Then why did you say you live close by?" he asked, also taking his hands away from your backpack.

"I didn't want you to walk me home or anything," you explained. Yedam smiled at you, shaking his head.

"Don't worry about it now... do you have any clothes to change into?"

"Just my gym clothes... but they're dirty," you told him, shyly.

"Do you want to take something of mine to wear?" he asked you, already standing up to look through his closet without waiting for your answer.

You were going to say no, again, not wanting to bother him, but he had already pulled out some of his comfier clothes for you to wear.

After changing into them and walking back into his room, you avoided Yedam's eyes as he quietly lost his mind over how cute you looked.

"Um, so..." Yedam started, scratching the back of his neck.

"Would you be okay with sleeping in my bed? I'll go sleep in the livingroom-"

"No, no! I'll go sleep there-"

"No, I can't let a guest sleep on the couch!"

Both of you sighed, not being able to win against one another.

"Listen, it's either you sleep in my room and I go to the livingroom, or we both sleep in my bed," he said, pointing to his bed behind you.

You froze, trying to consider your options as your heartbeat grew louder.

"Well... I guess we're both sleeping here then," you said, in a tone that tried to sound confident but was a little shaky.

You plopped yourself face first into the bed to hide from your embarrassment, feeling the bed shift a few seconds later as Yedam joined you.

"Scooch over towards the wall. I'll sleep on this side so you won't fall off the bed at night," he said, pointing to the side of his bed that faced the rest of his room. You smiled at Yedam's kind gesture as you moved over.

He had turned off the light and it was dark now, and both of you lay side-by-side on your backs, staring up at the ceiling.

"Are you... asleep?" he asked you quietly a while later. You shook your head at first, but then realized he couldn't see you. So you said a quiet "no".

You felt Yedam shift as he turned to face you. You carefully turned your head towards him too, wondering what he was up to. It was hard to see in the dark, but he was just admiring your face. You looked away, feeling embarrassed, until you felt him shuffling closer to you.

It was a little nerve-wracking watching his figure tower over you in the dark. Blinking up at him, you parted your lips to ask him what he was doing, but he spoke first.

"Am I allowed to... kiss you?" he asked, quietly looking down at you.

Yedam... wants to ???? Your crush wanted-

You found yourself nodding before your thoughts could entirely be processed, and watched as Yedam lowered himself onto you with a small smile. His heart soared as he watched your reaction -- your eyes were squeezed shut so tightly out of nervousness.

Before his soft lips met yours, he found your hand under the blankets and held it in an attempt to ease you of your nervousness. He didn't know that it only made your stomach feel the effects even more intensely.

Your lips touched for only a moment, but it felt like a whole eternity. When he pulled away, he moved off of you quickly and shuffled over to his side of the bed again.

"I'm sorry.. I'm so sorry," he mumbled, looking away from you. You were confused.

"What's wrong?" you asked him.

"I... I was supposed to tell you I like you first but then now you're right beside me--wait not that I like you... wait I mean I do, but I didn't want to tell you like this--"

Hearing his unsure confession was all the confidence you needed to pull him closer, accidentally tightening his hoodie strings as you pulled him in to carefully press your lips against his again. He completely melted into your hands, then, wrapping an arm around your back and holding you close.

That was probably one of the last good memories you have of him.

After that, Yedam turned into a different person the next morning, avoiding your eyes and missing any trace of a smile on his face as he pushed a plate of breakfast towards you.

"Let's not walk to school together, okay? I'll be leaving first," he told you, leaving you alone in his own house.

You had no clue what was going on and no appetite to eat. After waiting a few minutes, you walked to school after him. You had no idea how to even get to school from his house, so after getting lost and arriving late, you finally managed to make it.

When you tried to approach him in class, he would turn his back on you and ignore you. It made you feel so small that you stopped even trying.

It was really hard for you to show up to school after that, because of how terrible you felt, but you still tried your best. Your friends knew something was wrong and they did their best to help you, but it didn't stop you from thinking about Yedam and why he was acting so strangely.

Until he texted you one day in the middle of class, asking you to meet him in an empty classroom.

You told yourself you shouldn't pay him any attention, especially after he ghosted you like that, but you still followed after him, curious to see what excuse he would give you.

In the classroom, you couldn't see anyone, so you thought Yedam hadn't arrived yet until you heard him call out your name from behind a file cabinet. By the windows.

"Come here, [y/n]," he said, motioning for you to approach him. He was smiling at you again, just like he did on those days when you'd study with him in the café. You told yourself to just turn around and leave, but your feet guided you to him.

You frowned up at him.

"What the heck have you been doing?" you asked him, tears already threatening to leave your eyes.

"[y/n], I-I'm sorry... you know how it is for me, with my popular reputation. Some kids saw us at the café and posted pictures of us, saying that I was going around dating a loser-"

He was holding onto your hands while wearing a pitiful expression, but you coldly pushed him away after hearing him out.

"So you've been acting weird because I'm tainting your reputation? Yedam, we never even dated! You gave me some... half-assed confession and... kissed me in the middle of the night and then ghosted me," you told him, sternly.

"I know, I'm sorry... It's so pathetic but I really do like you... I'm just really bad at this, I know, but I'm telling you now I like you-"

"In an empty classroom. Behind a file cabinet."

"Please, [y/n]. Date me for real... I promise I won't let you down."

You and your kind, innocent heart believed his promise. You believed him because his eyes were sparkling and he was holding onto you so tightly.

Yedam told you that you had to date him in secret, and that was just one of many red flags. He explained that if his friends found out, he would be teased and you would be hurt by their words, too. Nonetheless, you agreed. At school, you never spoke to him. All you got were stolen glances, Yedam winking at you every time you turned around in your seat. Somehow, that was enough to make your heart flutter.

You could only see each other in each other's homes, since even the risk of being caught out on a date was too much for Yedam to handle. The two of you would intertwine hands while watching a movie. You'd rest your head on Yedam's shoulder, or sometimes he would rest his head in your lap and you would gently stroke his hair, watching as his eyes squeezed shut tightly while he indulged in the feeling of your love.

Sometimes the two of you would listen to music together, quietly sharing earphones while staring out the window.

Sometimes you would just talk for hours into the night.

Yedam's smile would never leave his face when he was with you.

Except for when he was at school.

And you could handle it. At least you thought you could, until the final straw.

For Yedam's birthday, a few of his friends had gathered in his home, celebrating. You were also invited, of course, after you begged Yedam to let you come. He had told his friends that he invited you as a gesture of thanks for working on the assignment with him... it broke your heart to hear this lie, but you shrugged it off, again.

Everyone was feeling excited as they all started a game of spin-the-bottle. You felt incredibly out of place and already angry, even more so upon seeing a girl getting all handsy with Yedam, stroking his thigh with her hand and playing with his hair. She was constantly glued to him, but you shrugged it off, again.

After the bottle's mouth faced Yedam, the girl beside him dared him to kiss someone. How childish, you thought to yourself. You watched as Yedam locked eyes with you and started to stand up, making his way towards you with a small smile, but the girl beside him stopped him.

"Where are you going, damie? Isn't it me who you should kiss?"

Yedam looked back at her and then at you.

"I-"

"C'mon, it's your birthday!" she said, dragging him back down.

That literally is not an excuse and makes no sense, you scoffed to yourself, rolling your eyes.

The next few moments were a blur, but Yedam ended up kissing her and you felt like a piece of paper being torn in two. We can't even look at each other in public, you thought to yourself. You fought back tears and got up to leave. No one seemed to mind or care about where you were going, since none of these people were your friends anyway. Even Yedam was preoccupied, his lips on the mouth of this other girl.

You couldn't just shrug things off anymore. This was it. Now, it was your turn to ghost Yedam.

You hadn't told him, but your family were planning to move to another city soon. You told them to plan the move for earlier so you could leave that dreaded place and leave Yedam. Ignoring all his calls and texts, you transferred out the next week, and that was that.

-

I'm gonna break down these walls, I built around myself. I wanna fall so in love, with you, and no one else, Could ever mean half as much, to me as you do now. Together we'll move on, just don't turn around, Let the walls break down.

You can't focus in lecture as everything that happened with Yedam flashes before your eyes. Just as you're starting to live a normal life without him, he has to show up and allow of the trauma to resurface.

As soon as your class ends, you quickly pack your bags. Your friend does the same, understanding exactly what is going on. But it seems like Yedam and his feet move a little faster.

Just as you're about to leave your row, you look up to find Yedam standing at the end of it, a small smile on his face.

You sigh and turn around, telling your friend to do the same so you can leave through the other side. But Yedam just follows behind you quietly. He doesn't say a word and just follows you as you and your friend as you leave the lecture hall to go to your next class.

Suddenly, you stop. Your friend and Yedam stop, too.

You turn around, your fist clenched into a tight ball.

"Yedam, can you please stop following me? Do you not have classes of your own or things to do? Please leave me alone," you told him, turning your back on him again and walking forward.

Your friend didn't follow you, though, but looked back and forth between you and Yedam. So lost in your thoughts, you walk to class on your own, not noticing that your friend isn't following you.

-

Yedam's pov

After they say those words and leave, I feel my heart breaking in two. Of course I know how much I've hurt [y/n], but their words make me realize that I'll never be able to completely understand. I almost start crying right there and then...

"Yedam, right?" their friend asks me. I look at them and nod, confused.

"Listen, [y/n] hates your guts. They're not going to talk to you and hear you out, so I'll do it instead. I know [y/n] might regret it if they don't hear you out, even if they don't want to."

I smile at [y/n]'s friend. That sounds exactly like [y/n]...

"You've probably heard a lot of awful things about me, and it's all true. But... [y/n] probably didn't tell you about those nights we spent in each other's rooms... the times that we did get to spend with each other alone.... sorry, what I'm trying to say is that I've always loved [y/n]. Not even 'like', but I've always loved them. And I don't think I'll be able to stop... I know I was such a terrible boyfriend back then. I don't think I can say I even was much of a boyfriend... but I've changed. I can promise that I've changed. I know it must be so arrogant of me to ask if they'll give me another chance but..."

I trail off, my brain shutting down as I struggle to find anymore words to express myself. [y/n]'s friend nods after I trail off.

"I see... well, I've heard about your promises. I heard they couldn't be trusted but if you've changed, then maybe that has changed, too. [y/n] has a really kind heart, but I won't let them date a jerk ever again. So unless we both know for sure that you're different now, we are not letting you date them."

With that, [y/n]'s friend walks away and leaves me there.

-

[y/n]'s pov

In class, you feel completely empty, unsure of how to feel. You only notice that your friend had not been beside you this entire time when they take a seat in the spot beside you, apologizing that they're late.

"Where were you?" you ask them, looking up as they sit down.

"I was talking to Yedam," your friend tells you, never one to lie.

Your face fills with disgust at the mention of his name.

"Why would you do that?" you whisper loudly, causing some heads in the lecture hall to turn your way. You mumble an apology before returning to your friend.

"I wanted to hear him out," they say, casually opening up their notes.

"What did he say?"

"So you are interested, huh?" they ask you, teasing.

"No, I'm not!"

"I know, calm down! He just said something along the lines of how he's always loved you and does now, too, and that he's changed--"

"That is the most garbage thing I've ever heard," you say, interrupting your friend with a scoff. They smile, shaking their head at you.

-

When you return to your dorm after all your classes, you find a small gift bag hanging on the door knob to your room. Curious, you pick it up and notice it has your name written on the side.

You could recognize that handwriting from a mile away.

As if it's the side of a hot pan, you drop it, watching its contents spill to the ground. A pack of your favourite snack falls out, along with a neatly handwritten note, a CD player and earphones.

I guess it wouldn't hurt to look, you tell yourself.

Picking everything up and walking into your room, you sit on your bed and read the note over.

[y/n]!! ah, it doesn't make sense for me to be cute or excited in this note, does it? >.< please forgive me.... i'm a little nervous... here is that snack that you've always loved... do you still love it now, too? and here is something that i wrote for you~it's on the CD. just press play and i'll let the song do the talking... i wrote this after you disappeared.

- yedam

This song better be god tier if he's coming to leave it at my door, you think to yourself.

As the song fills your ears, it seems to fill your empty heart too. You can tell it's full of Yedam's sincere feelings and thoughts... or he's just doing a good job of acting while singing. You can't seem to tell, but you still tear up a little.

You hear the door to your room swing open, as your friend, who also happens to be your roommate, barges in.

"What are you up to?" they ask, placing some things on their desk. They turn around immediately when they hear you sniffling.

"ARE YOU CRYING?" they shout, sitting beside you and wrapping their arms around you.

"This... song... Yedam..." you croak, just handing them the earphones.

When they listen to it, they also go quiet.

"It sounds really sincere..." your friend tells you, quietly.

"I'm not the only one who feels that way?" you ask your friend, looking at them.

"You know him better than I do, so you're probably right," they tell you, standing up.

"Why did this boy have to show up and make a mess of my life again," you groan, hiding your face in your hands.

"Well, I have just the solution! I know you're probably going to think about him and not get any work done anyway, so should we just go to a party?!" your friend tells you, jumping up and down.

"A party?" you wrinkle your nose in disgust.

"It'll help you stop thinking about him! Please, we never went to any parties last year!! Let's go, just this once!" they beg.

After thinking it over, you agree. What's the worst that could happen?

-

Wearing one of your favourite fits and feeling good, you walk alongside your friend, who already has a groove in their step as the two of you make your way to the house where the party is set to be held. It isn't that hard to find, since you're just following the bright lights and loud music in the distance. It's a wonder the people in that house aren't being arrested for causing such a ruckus...

Finally there, you step inside and try not to bump into any weird people. The music is so loud its deafening, and you shrivel up at the sound of it. Your friend wraps their arm around you, pulling you in close and guiding you to the snack/drink area so you can take what you need and go to a quieter place.

Your friend did beg you to come today, so they won't force you to dance or do any things you don't want to do...

Now equipped with everything you need, you make your way to the basement, where it's a lot quieter despite being so busy.

"How's this for a change?" your friend asks you, grooving along to the distant sound of the music from upstairs.

"It seems like you want to dance," you tell your friend.

They shake their head.

"I'll stay with you toniiiiiight!" they cheer, hugging you tightly. You laugh.

"It's fine, just go up! The crowd doesn't seem too scary or weird down here," you tell them as you watch two people play mario kart in front of a TV.

After asking you 1000 times if it's really okay, they leave you there with a drink in your hand. You continue watching the two people playing mario kart, secretly rooting for the boy in orange because his fit looks really nice, even if you're only looking from the back.

He ends up losing and you let out a "noooo!" loud enough for the two to hear. When they turn around, you discover that the boy in orange had been Yedam all along!

I take back rooting for him... he deserved to lose!

Widening your eyes at the sight of him, you quickly turn away and try to navigate your way towards another room. To your surprise, as soon as you walk in, Yedam is in there, holding the door open at the other end and panting.

"[y/n]," he calls out softly, smiling slightly. You can tell he's testing the waters and wondering how to react.

You try to walk out of the room, but the door behind you has been shut by some drunken idiot! He's pressed up against the frame and no matter how much you push, the door just won't open.

"[y/n], if you want to leave, it's okay. I don't want to bother you," Yedam tells you, stepping aside from the other door and motioning for you to walk through.

You sigh.

"No, it's fine. I guess we're here for a reason now, or something," you mumble, sliding down the wall until you're in a comfortable sitting position.

Yedam smiles, closing the door behind him.

"Still caught up in all that destiny stuff?" he asks you, joining you in sitting on the ground but also keeping his distance.

You scoff in response. How does this kid remember everything about me?

"So... what are you doing in my house?' he asks you.

"Your.... house?"

"Yeah, this is my house. You didn't know?" he asks you, looking bewildered.

You think about your friend. They must have brought you here while knowing it was Yedam's house...

"Um... nevermind that. How... have you been?" Yedam asks you, wringing his hands.

"Me? I've been doing great until now. How about you?" you spit out your words sarcastically, but Yedam doesn't seem to mind.

"I've been... well... I'm not sure. It would be cheesy for me to say I've been feeling lost without you, but that's kind of how it is," he tells you, chuckling nervously.

"Yeah, super cheesy. It also doesn't make sense, Yedam," you tell him, avoiding his eyes.

"I know it doesn't, but to me it does. I know our relationship was a mess, but those times that we spent together were... something else. Probably some of the best times of my life, honestly," he tells you.

"And why... are you telling me this?" you ask him, curious to see how he'll respond.

"Because I know I'm in the wrong and there's no excuse for my past childishness, but... I've missed you. And I still do. I know I was really caught up in my reputation back then and I didn't open myself up to you properly, but I want to do that now."

He runs his fingers through his hair, and something inside you turns. You didn't realize just how much you loved it when Yedam did that until now... he looks so pretty--

No. What are you thinking?!

"I haven't missed you though, Yedam," you say.

He smiles sadly.

"I know. And there's no reason for you to. But I'm just... asking for a second chance in case you think there's anything left."

You gulp and look up at the ceiling. You hadn't even considered the possibility of dating Yedam again, but talking with him now is different. He's less cautious and seems to be a lot more comfortable with you.

Someone knocks on the door behind Yedam and Yedam tells them to come in.

"Oh, am I interrupting?" the boy asks, slowly backing away.

"It's fine, I'm just talking to [y/n]," Yedam says with a smile, gesturing towards you. You greet the boy and his eyes light up.

"[y/n]?! The one you always tell me about? Gosh... it's so nice to meet you!" the boy says, shaking your hand and sitting down in front of you.

"You put up with a lot of Yedam's antics, I've heard," he says, laughing. Yedam laughs along, but you're still in shock.

Yedam had never told anyone about you... but now this random boy knows everything?

"It was more than antics. I was... really bad to [y/n]. I'm surprised they haven't left yet," Yedam admits, leaning back.

"I transferred to your old high school after you transferred out, and this boy was always sad. He didn't talk to anyone but me, only because the teacher asked him to show me around. He told me everything about you and eventually told the rest of his friends, too. You were his biggest and only heartbreak... I swear everyone at our school knows about you," the boy explains.

"What did you tell them?" you ask Yedam.

"He told us how he had been dating you in secret because he was afraid to ruin his popularity, but that he regrets it a lot. A lot of his friends left him after finding out you dated Yedam," the boy explains. Yedam nods along.

You're in shock. The boy who was so secretive and insecure exposed himself as a heartbreaker?

"Anyways, I'm sorry to be interrupting. I'll leave now!" the boy says, standing up and closing the door behind him.

"You... told everyone?" you ask Yedam. He nods.

"I feel like it was the only thing I could do for you. You deserved to be known as the one who held my heart," he says, holding his chest and laughing at his own cheesy words.

You find yourself laughing along and loosening up.

A moment of silence stretches between the two of you, and Yedam breaks it by standing up.

"Do you wanna play mario kart with me? You seemed to be having fun watching," Yedam asks you quietly.

You nod, also standing up.

The two of you play for about an hour, screaming and yelling at the TV just like you used to in your bedroom when you'd play games together.

"I won!" you declare in glee, turning to Yedam to do your signature high five with him. His hands meet yours, and you only realize what you're doing only after its already happened. You awkwardly move your hands away, facing the screen again.

"I'm sorry..." you mumble.

"No, I'm sorry! It's really okay, [y/n]... if you feel uncomfortable around me, you don't have to--"

"Your song touched me a lot, Yedam. And now I feel like... I want to try again. Just like this game," you say, pointing to the screen that has try again written in the corner.

"Are you sure?" he asks you, slowly.

You nod, deciding you've made up your mind. You've seen a lot of green flags already -- enough to decide that it's okay to move forward.

Yedam smiles and looks down at his lap. Then his head lifts up quickly, his eyes lighting up.

"I can take you to that café you always wanted to go! They have one in this city... and there's a museum next to it too! Do you want to go there? I.."

As he continues talking, you realize that all of the things he's saying he wants to do were things that you never did with Yedam, even after one year of dating him. It was always stay-at-home dates and ignore-each-other-when-we're-at-school. Somehow, you feel excited, wondering what things will be like.

"[y/n]! I've been looking everywhere for--oh, Yedam? Hi!" your friend greets you both.

"Did you have fun dancing?" you ask them. They nod, pointing to Yedam with their eyes.

You get up and whisper into your friend's ear.

"We have a lot to talk about, but I think..."

Your friend doesn't even wait for you to finish before they say, "well, I have to leave early now. Yedam, can you walk [y/n] home? Great, thanks!"

With that, they disappear and you shake your head at your friend's strange behaviour.

Yedam is all smiley while still sitting on the ground.

"Do I get to walk you home now?" he asks you, standing up.

"I wonder what would've happened if you walked me home that day, too..." you mumble, thinking about the day you slept over at Yedam's in the same bed as him.

"What, do you want to sleep over today, too?" he asks you.

You shake your head.

"I don't want things to turn out like that again."

"You mean, you don't want me to kiss you like I did then?" Yedam teases you, sending you a wink.

"You--shut up!" you yell, chasing after him with a pillow.

This boy literally broke my heart, you think to yourself. He is testing his limits...

After you both calm down, Yedam walks you home. It's a little quiet at first, until Yedam speaks.

"Can... I hold your hand?" he asks you.

"This soon?" you say, still grabbing his hand anyway. He looks down at your hand in his and smiles.

"Yeah... you don't know how long I've been wanting to do this for," he admits, swinging your arm up and down as you walk.

You shake your head at him.

"Let's run!" Yedam declares, racing forward with your hand in his. You trail behind him, the sound of laughter escaping your lips and ringing in Yedam's ears. It leaves a bright blush on his face as he thinks to himself about how much he's missed your laughter.

The two of you slow down, panting.

"I'm so tired," Yedam wheezes, laughing at how weird he sounds.

"Do you want me to kiss it better?" you tease him. He raises his eyebrows at the comment. Maybe it's the adrenaline from all the running or the feeling of the night air, but a courage surges through you as you snake your hand around the back of his head and pull him towards you, pressing his warm lips to yours.

You pull away shortly after, feeling breathless again. A blush dusts Yedam's cheeks as he stares at you with wide eyes.

Your own stomach is full of butterflies, but you ignore it and walk forward.

"Are you not coming?" you yell to the boy behind you. He laughs and chases after you.

[a/n]: i just want to say that i do not condone getting back together with a toxic ex so soon... i was just really excited while writing and sped up the plot >.< but don't ever get back with someone who has hurt you unless you are 100% sure! please take care of yourself!!

[weasleyswizardpleases]

Funny Girl (Fred x reader, George x reader)

Summary: Being serious has never been your thing, but when you find yourself at the center of a conflict that tears Fred and George apart in the midst of the second wizarding war, it’s hard to find something to laugh about.

Warnings/Notes: Language, kissing, violence mentions, love triangle?, angst, arguing. Vaguely conceptually inspired by the musical of the same name. Written for @acosmis-t​ ‘s 2.2k writing challenge! 

You’re sitting with George outside of Lee Jordan’s flat, waiting for Fred to finish recording Potterwatch so you can all three grab dinner. You listen absentmindedly on a small radio George produces from his coat pocket, fiddling with your wand. 

“Rapier,” you laugh, “I know it’s called ‘pirate’ radio but it is a bit swashbuckling, don’t you think?” you say, poking fun at the moniker Fred’s chosen for the program.

���I suppose Lee thinks so too, this makes it the third program in a row where he’s called Freddie ‘Rodent’ instead. I’d laugh if we didn’t have the same last name!”

“Well, it suits you both. You’re devious as a couple of weasels and fuzzy, too,” you say, prodding at George’s springy ginger hair playfully. He grins and brushes you off, but your touch seems to stir something in him.

“What is it, did I hit your factory reset button or something?” George smiles halfheartedly, but his brooding becomes more apparent as he tries to cover it up. “C’mon, what’re you pouting about Georgie?”

“Y/n, I have to tell you something,” he says. Your heart sinks at the words. It sounds oddly serious.

“Oh, this can’t be good news,” you mutter, looking at him expectantly. He takes a deep breath.

“Well, I suppose it’s up to you whether it’s good or bad. But hey, look, you have to promise not to tell Fred if it winds up being bad.”

“Deal.”

“Y/N,” he says, turning down the radio, “I like you,”

“Well gee, I like you too. We’ve been friends for about nine years and you’re just now figuring out that you like my company? Some people, I swear.”

“No, I like you. I mean, I, uh, I have feelings for you! But it’s complicated.” Your jaw drops and your hand flies to your mouth.

“Oh! What? You mean-”

As you’re searching for the right words, the door swings open and Fred spills out into the hallway, tugging his long winter coat over his slim shoulders. You try to cover your blush, glancing between them. Fred and George. George and Fred. Your two best friends since first year, your greatest confidants, and now, the two people you trust most amidst the terror of the war. You know instinctively that to be with George would be to close a door to Fred, not just in terms of romance but also friendship. 

“Later,” you hiss excitedly in George’s ear. Fred eyes the two of you suspiciously, but before he can say anything, you’re mocking him boisterously. 

“Good show, Rodent!” you say, clapping him roughly on the back. George composes himself nervously and follows as you and Fred turn to leave. “How about a hunk of cheese? I’ll take you out for something real nice, maybe a wheel of gruyere,” you add. Fred chuckles and throws his arm around you. You’ve always had a more physical friendship with Fred, whether it’s snuggling on the couch or shoving each other about over who gets the better seat on the train. You hope that he can’t feel how tense George’s proposition has made you, and you wriggle out of his arms and jog ahead playfully. 

Because of the affectionate nature of your relationship, you’ve always suspected that Fred may have feelings for you, but never George. You’re blindsided by his confession, and you know it’ll only come between you. Your train of thought is interrupted when the boys ask if you want to come back to theirs for dinner instead of going out. You agree absentmindedly, and Fred steps away to call for takeaway. You willfully ignore George’s pointed glances and look around airily. 

“Y/N,” George says quietly, but forcefully. You sigh.

“Is there something wrong, George?” you say at a normal volume.

“Hush, would you? Well, have I made you uncomfortable or something? You’re being odd, Fred will wonder what’s the matter.”

“You haven’t told Fred?” you sing loudly, hoping to pull the other twin into the conversation. George smacks his forehead and groans, but Fred isn’t paying any attention.

“Y/N, can’t you be serious for one second?”

“Bloody hell, can’t you let me alone for one second?” you snap, surprised at the bite in your voice. George cowers and frowns, but Fred returns before the conversation can continue.

The next few weeks are relatively normal, and you begin to think that your strategy of avoiding any acknowledgement whatever of George’s advances is working. You avoid spending any time alone with George. Most people wouldn’t think it, but you know the twins keep secrets from each other sometimes, like any siblings do, and he obviously hasn’t told Fred about his feelings.

While you’re evading intimate moments with George, you take time to think: do you have feelings for him? The answer is, of course, yes. You’ve always thought he was more classically handsome than his brother, even though a lot of your classmates still couldn’t tell one from the other after years living with them. George’s face is slightly longer and more defined, and the severity of his features can be quite striking, in the right lighting. He’s also always struck you as more outwardly sensitive and caring, in that he notices your feelings more readily. If you’re having a bad day, George is the one to lend a listening ear. He’s seen you at your worst and apparently likes you quite a lot in spite of it.

Fred, on the other hand, is more like you in every way: he’s the louder one of the twins, more boisterous, a bit rougher looking. Like you, it takes a lot to ruffle his feathers, but once something gets to him, he’s quick to anger. Your tempers have rarely led you to fight, but when it’s happened George has always been there to smooth things out between the two of you. You’d even say that you’re slightly closer to Fred, although your relationship with him is more intuitive than your friendship with George- with George, you explain yourself, but with Fred, there’s no need. 

You’re pondering the situation on the boys’ sofa when Fred bursts through the door, looking quite cheeky. His shifty eyes belie some sort of mischief.

“Alright! Out with it, or I’m leaving before you get me with the bucket over the door trick again! I haven’t got any dry clothes,” you pout.

“Who’s to say there’s anything to tell?”

“I’ll believe that when you wipe the smirk off your face,” you counter. 

“What smirk?” he says, blushing. You raise your wand defensively. 

“Hey! I pinky promise, I’m not planning on pranking you,” he says. You wiggle your wand, raising an eyebrow.

“What are you planning, then? Tell me or I’m tying your shoelaces together with this thing.” 

“Fine, but would you put the wand down? It’s not a prank, I promise.” he moves to sit on the couch and you cower, giggling, sure that he’s at least going to go in for a tickle. 

“I’m not gonna tickle you!” he exclaims, but wiggles his fingers in your direction. The mere idea of it makes you shake desperately with laughter. 

“Stop! Ah! Liar!! Oh! Fred!!!” He lowers his hand. You eye him suspiciously. He sighs. You nod at his hands, as if telling him to put them away. He sighs again and sits on them. You regain your composure cautiously, but as soon as you look away he’s tickling your relentlessly, his hands at your ribcage. You howl with laughter, kicking and rolling away from him, but it’s no use. He pins you under his body on the couch and shoves one hand in your armpit. You’re nearly crying with laughter now.

“Mercy! Uncle! Ah!” you cry, and he pauses. His hips are situated between your thighs, which you’ve been trying to use to push him away, and his face is close to yours. 

“You want me to stop?” he asks teasingly, ghosting a hand over your ribcage, causing you to burst with laughter again. 

“Please! Fred!” He looks around, as if to an imaginary audience.

“What can I say, I know how to make a girl beg,” he says smugly. You swat him, bringing on another round of tickles, this time one hand at the nape of your neck and the other on your waist. You feel a bulge in Fred’s pants that makes you feel warm inside. The excitement of your scuffle has made you feel a bit happy go lucky. In another pause, you look up at Fred invitingly, even tilting your body into his just slightly. It’s not something you think about- you just do it.

He takes your invitation and suddenly his lips are on yours and it’s not a joke anymore, it’s just a really great kiss, rough and wet and full. His hips press into yours and you can feel his cock hardening. You keep going for a long time, too long, before you pull away. 

“Fred,” you say, panting with shock and excitement.

“Y/n,” he says, the same emotions playing across his face.

“We can’t.”

“Why not?” he says, running a hand over your thigh.

“George…”

“No love, I’m Fred, good guess though!” he kisses your neck softly and you push him away.

“Freddie! I’m serious, I don’t want to.” He looks at you, confused and resigned, and pulls away. You stand up and straighten your clothes.

“Well, I’ll be off then. Say, be a doll and don’t mention this to anyone?” You say in a droll transatlantic accent. You groan internally. Why are you being so weird right now? You slip into your shoes and shut the door behind you, your heart pounding.

You’ve never been much on dating. 18, still a virgin, only kissed one boy, your date to the Yule Ball. Most men view you as a friend, nothing more. You’re a bit funny looking, and you’ve never gotten anything on looks alone; it’s your personality that wins you friends. That’s how you became friends with Fred and George- you were a class clown, just like them, and the three of you have always been well liked for it. Fred and George, though, were tall and handsome, and unlike you, had a lot of luck where romance was concerned. Their girlfriends were always jealous of you, but you thought nothing of it, since you were practically one of the boys. You see now that they were right. How odd.

You’re so wrapped up in your thoughts that you don’t hear George coming up the stairwell as you’re descending, and nearly bump into him on the landing. 

“Oopsie!” you squeal. Oof, you think. I sound like a babbling idiot. “Oopsie poopsie!” you add, thinking that if you make it clear that it’s a little joke it’ll be less of a weird thing to say. George completely ignores your muttering and advances toward you, backing you into the corner.

“Y/n,” he says softly.

“George.”

“You’re blushing.”

“You’re standing on my foot.” He jumps back and looks down. He is not standing on your foot. “Gotcha!” you say, flicking him on the nose.

“You smell like cologne,” he says, inhaling.

“So do you.” He laughs softly and you scoot backwards, hoping to resist a second romantic encounter. He looks very handsome in the dim lighting of the stairwell, his eyes glimmering. You’re so close now that you’re nearly touching. You draw a deep breath, and before you can speak his lips are on yours. He’s softer and slower than Fred, but his kiss is deep and erotic. His hands move to the small of your back and caress you gently. The hairs on the back of your neck stand up as his lips move from your lips to your chin to your neck to your breast. You sigh with delight, but you hear the door at the top of the stairs open and push him away. You look up to see Fred, his face dark and crestfallen. You could crack the tension in the air with a spoon. You wrack your brain for a way to diffuse the tension, landing on jazz hands and a wry smile.

The boys frown, ignoring you, seemingly beginning to realize the situation. They look at each other in silence for a moment. “Tough crowd,” you mutter. 

“Oh, I see,” Fred says stormily. “Fine, you’re all his then.”

“What?” George asks, confused.

“You see the way I look at her. You had to know how I feel.”

“How could I know if you didn’t tell me? Why wouldn’t you tell me?”

“I thought if I told you, you might tell her! With your little late night conversations and all,” Fred says accusingly.

“How can you be jealous of me talking to our friend when you’re practically feeling her up at every opportunity?”

“It was never like that!” you protest.

“Not until today,” Fred counters. “Or did you forget about that when you ran into my brother?”

“Wait a second, did you two…?” George glances between the two of you suspiciously. 

“No!” you and Fred say in unison.

“We just kissed,” Fred says sheepishly. “Don’t worry though, I only beat you to her by a few seconds! You know what, come on up to the flat, we can take turns if that’s how it’s going to be!” He’s drunk with anger, his jaw clenched tightly.

“Oh my god! I just realized something!” you exclaim loudly, silencing both of them. You pause and drink in the quiet. “You two blokes look just alike!” you say in a thick cockney accent. George shrugs at you tiredly as if to say what the fuck. Fred spits as he turns to retreat to the flat.

“Go home, Y/n,” he says, shutting the door loudly. George just sighs as he stalks back downstairs, and you hear the bell ring as he exits through the front door of the shop. You slump to the ground, embarrassed and somehow feeling guilty in spite of the fact that you aren’t sure what you could have done to fix things between the three of you.

“I wonder if they’re related,” you mumble innocently, looking around at your audience of none. Why is it, you wonder, that you’re always funniest when nobody is around to hear it?