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jungkookstatts · 1 year

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University Superstar

[Summary]: Jeon Jungkook is your University’s biggest rock-star-athlete-hot guy. It literally prides itself on his attendance at the school — walking around with his “big name” (captain of the lacrosse team), tattoos, and rude, jock-like personality. You hate him. You hate that he can’t apologize for being a complete asshole. But what you don’t hate is how he visits your office every day. You also don’t hate that your feelings for him are crawling back into your system…

[Theme]: Jock!Jk, LacrossePlayer!JK x TeacherIntern!Y/N, Friends(?)ToLovers!AU, EnimeisToLovers!AU

[Rating]: 18+, explicit content, lots of hickies, mentions of blowjob, consistent flirting, JK is an extreme asshole (he actually got on my nerves for some of it lol), insensitive JK, lots of passion, squirting, kissing, pining after one another (mainly JK)

[Word Count]: 10,291

[Author’s Note]: I didn’t plan on making Y/n an education major…? But then I was thinking of JK in a bomber jacket and jock x teacher!AU and…yeah no, it had to happen.

[Masterlist] [Sequel] [Drabble (1), (2), (3)]

Jeon Jungkook.

The name makes you hurl a little in your mouth. Yesterday’s lunch makes its way to the back of your throat. But you swallow it down, telling yourself to be strong and that he will go away soon.

“So,” he banters a smile at you. That stupid yellow and blue lacrosse bomber jacket puffs out around his shoulders, the number “07” poking out in the ugliest school-sprit font you’ve ever seen on his sleeves. His elbows rest on your desk, arms delicately pushing some of your papers and trinkets out of his way. The action only fuels your anger.

“7 o’clock. You and me. Chipotle.”

“In your dreams, fuckboy,” you scoff. The audacity he has to ask you out. The audacity he has to find the school you intern at (literally on your universities campus, but still), interrupt your work, and ask you on a date for the nth time since a few weeks ago.

You think this might be the 5th time this week he’s asked you out on a date. And it’s only Wednesday.

The amount of explaining you still have to do to your coworkers, and even your kindergartner students, is exhausting. Everyone knows who he is. He’s the captain of your Universities lacrosse team, probably the most popular guy on campus…one of “the hottest” guys in the school (according to your coworker and best friend, Aecha)

You remember asking her a while back why he was always “the talk of the town”, and all she could say was: “Well, look at him. How could he not be?”

You get it. He is hot. But that doesn’t stop you from absolutely hating his guts. Not after he spilled his hot, black coffee all over your white shirt and pants a few weeks ago. Not after he stained all of your precious student’s artwork with his scorching hot Americano.

You were on your way to the school to hang them up in your classroom. Stopping at your University library’s coffee shop, you decided to start your day with a little bit of matcha before you decorated your space.

Your students had just completed a “What I Love About Me” project, and their responses literally made you cry…maybe made you ugly cry. So innocent and honest in their responses, this project was probably the most precious to your heart. You had wished you did something like this back when you were so young. Maybe then you would have a reminder on your bad days what younger you always admired before nasty comments and puberty hit your system.

So, when Jeon Jungkook completely drenched them in his black coffee, your stained (and very expensive) white work shirt and pants didn’t even matter. The sopping-wet look of your student’s artwork made you fight to gulp back tears. But you couldn’t help the water that begged to break free from behind your eyelids.

“Oohh!” he laughs, the stupid jock in him making a scene. “Jeez! I’m sorry.” you can feel the antagonizing smirk on his lips as he looks at what he’s done to you. “Here, let me get a napkin,”

Jungkook exits your line of vision and you try to make your way out of the library before he comes back. But, ever the athlete he is, Jungkook is back before you can blink with a giant wad of the coffee shop’s crappy brown napkins.

You don’t even know who is talking to you until you take the napkins from his hands, recognizing those ugly, stupid, hot hand tattoos. Who couldn’t recognize them when the whole university makes Jungkook’s tattoos each and every one of its personality traits?

The realization of your perpetrator being Jeon Jungkook only makes you more upset. Had it been anyone else, the hurt in your heart from your damaged projects might have been less painful.

You immediately start wiping off your student’s projects, placing them on the nearest table and patting them dry, trying your best not to smear the Crayola marker on some of them.

“Woah, hey,” he chuckles to himself again. “Nice line work. Didchya draw those?”

“Please, stop talking.” you spit at him. Finally, you look up at his face, hoping he gets the point.

You think he does, because the minute he catches your gaze, his face freezes. The look adorning your features was angry, but that tear in your eye from what he did to your papers made you really upset. Which, for some reason, made Jungkook's heart clench. Hoping he can’t see the tears trying to break free from your eyelids, you look back down and continue your previous actions.

“I-I, um,” he stutters, his voice much meeker than what it antagonized you with just moments ago. “Look, is there anything I can do? A free drink? New clothes? A personal invitation to Min Yoongi’s New Year’s Party? An escort around the men’s lacrosse team's locker room? …During uniform change?”

“Thanks, but the best thing you can do is leave,” you reply. Just about done drying your projects up the best you can, you gather them in your arms and face the man once again. This time, you stare at his face for more than just a few seconds. You hate that he’s handsome; it only makes it harder to stop looking at the playful smirk forming on his lips from mentioning the men’s locker rooms.

“You sure? Heard this year’s party is supposed to be a banger.” he bribes, the mole under his bottom lip showing as he smiles.

“Min Yoongi is a close friend. I am invited to his parties every year. Now, I have to go—”

“No way?!” he exclaims, the permed dark curls over his eyes bouncing as he places a large hand on your shoulder. You shrug it off, but he acts like he did nothing wrong at all. “How come I haven’t seen you before? I’d totally recognize you. You’re smokin', by the way.”

Your lips and nose cringe at his statement.

“I don’t usually go,” you explain. “Now, please move before I push you out of my way myself.”

“Hah!” he laughs. “Like you could. Hey, are you an elementary teacher or just a shitty artist?”

“I’m not answering that,” you say.

His comment hurts you. This is precious art to you. The fact that he has no regard—didn’t even say sorry meaningfully—for your papers that you are obviously upset about makes your heart sink. All you can see are the faces of your students.

“Okay, well, that offer for a free drink, or clothes, or uh—oh yeah. The men’s locker room deal,” he winks. “Is still on the table.”

“I’ll pass,” you flash a tight-lipped smile his way before brushing a shoulder past him and exiting the library.

The first tear makes its way down your cheek, and you quickly wipe it off before anyone has the chance to see it. You think Jungkook might have through the window of the shop, but you assume he is looking at his order number he placed for a new coffee on the screen above it. It would appear more fitting. He clearly has no care in the world that he did something that made someone else upset. From his own actions. But are you really surprised that he wouldn’t care?

The rest of your walk to the elementary school is filled with blasting music in your headphones and a scowl on your face. What was once sadness is now anger. You’re angry. So fucking angry. Your blood is boiling.

“How could he?” you exclaim as you barge into the teacher’s lounge.

“Woah—” Aecha observes. “Is this a new print or something?” she asks, referring to your white-brown shirt and pants. “Please don’t tell me this is a new ‘thing’? No offense, but it’s kind of ug—”

“No, it’s that stupid Jungkook-jock-fuckboy-asshole-bitch—”

You silently thank an existing god that the kids have off today.

“Jeon Jungkook?” Aecha’s jaw drops.

“Don’t even start. I hate that man. Look what he did,” you seethe, slapping your student’s projects on the table.

“Awww,” Aecha’s eyes go beady, her fingers delicately shifting through the precious artwork. “Did he ruin them?”

“Yes,” you fight the urge to swipe all the shit on the coffee bar onto the floor. “Yes, he did. And now I have to give these back to the kids, hoping that when they’re 15 years older they can actually make out what it's saying.”

“I’m sorry,” she pouts. “That’s really shitty. Did he apologize?” she asks, sorting through the damp papers. “They don’t look too distraught. I can still read them,” she assures you.

“He apologized as the third phrase he said to me. The first was an ‘Oohh!’ accompanied by a mocking laugh and then a ‘jeez!’ Didn’t even realize I didn’t care about my damn shirt until he pointed out how ‘shitty my artwork was’.”

“Wow,” she gapes. “That’s totally Jungkook, that’s for sure,” she nods in agreement, thinking upwards. “You know, now that I’m imagining the scenario, it’s kinda hot.”

“Aecha!”

“Okay listen,”

“No, I won’t.”

“Okay, fine,” she gives up. You dig underneath the coffee cabinet, pulling out a spare hairdryer and plugging it into the wall. Your school is filled with mostly women teachers, so finding something like this in a coffee room is not that unordinary here. The room is soon loud with the sound of the machine as your try to dry them completely. “You going to Yoongi’s party, by the way?” she asks you.

You remember Jungkook’s offer to invite you to said party. You scoff at the memory. What was once a plan to tell Yoongi that you were, in fact, going to attend...is now a “no” from you. Not when you know Jungkook will be there. He is always there, just too drunk to remember you, probably. He even danced with you a few times, grinding on your ass with a beer in his hand and his other on your waist.

You remember it all too well. That was back when you had positive thoughts about the man. But then he became the captain of the lacrosse team. And then he became obsessed with the amount of “get out of jail free” cards he suddenly obtained from his popularity, hotness, and good standing on the school board. When you heard about what he was like from Aecha, your friends, the school news, YouTube, etc., you stopped finding him fancy. You couldn’t see the same man you saw that night. Especially not with how he treated you just an hour ago. Sad, but you washed away any hint of a crush you might've had on him after then.

“No, not anymore,” you reply, loudly speaking over the blow dryer. It is loud enough to where you don’t need to yell, but you wouldn’t be able to hear her response if you both talked normally.

“What?!” she drops her shoulders in disappointment. “But Hoseok is going to be there…you told me you’d go with me if he was!”

You know Aecha has been chasing after Hoseok since she first talked with him at last year's party. She doesn’t know anyone else who is going besides Yoongi and Hoseok. Being they’re both men, she doesn’t know if she feels 100% comfortable going alone, even though you and her both know they would never dare to hurt her or make her feel unsafe. It is more of a girl code—arriving and leaving together—than it is anything else. So you understand.

You had forgotten about said agreement, and you groan in frustration. Now, you have no other choice.

“Y/n, I need to bag this man. I need to,” her voice is laced with determination. “I am like—I am tired of waiting and this is my one last chance and—”

“Okay!” you hush her. “Fine, I’ll go.

She claps her hands and does a happy dance. You wish you could find her reaction endearing, but now you’re dreading the upcoming events of this party.

----

The week is going by fine until you get unexpected amounts of bouquets and Edible Arrangements all addressed to you from…Jungkook. You send them all back, just to get an angered Jungkook storming into your office a few days later.

“You know how expensive those were?!” he half-shouts at you. He quiets his voice, noticing the quiet setting he is in. However, he doesn’t seem to care that he has intruded on your space during your work time. He closes the door to your office anyways, trapping you in it with him.

“How did you get this address…and how do you know I work here?” you interrogate, going back to typing on your computer. The things you type are a mix of keyboard slam and words you’re thinking, faking work at its finest because some abnormally hot jock-asshole needs to make it known that his gifts are not to be returned.

“Min Yoongi is a man of many talents,” he responds. Taking a seat in one of the chairs across from your desk, you watch him as he plays with your nameplate on your desk. “Ms. Y/n L/n. Cute.”

You snatch the gold engraved tag out of his hands and place it back on the desk where it was before. “Please don’t touch my thi—”

“So, you are a teacher, then, I suppose?” he interrupts you. You don’t know it, but Jungkook is really trying here. It took a lot and nothing at all for him to walk in here. Truthfully, he has no idea how to apologize to you. A simple, sincere, “sorry” would probably do it. But he even practiced it in the mirror. Literally impossible. It’s like his mouth was forbidden to say the word without gagging at himself.

Apologizing was never his strong suit. Before coming to college, he was a good boy. Sweet and kind, never once a popular kid until he hit puberty and was suddenly his high school’s prom king. That’s when he started doing things he is not that proud of. It became a habit, but the good boy in him has a hard time practicing apologizing. Mainly because... he never really had to do it before becoming a total high school popular kid and a university super-star player.

But he really fucked up this time. And, he was hoping you would just let it go like people always seem to do when he can’t admit things correctly. But after seeing that tear fall down your face after you left the shop, that clench in his heart followed as you walked away. He couldn't stop thinking about how bad he felt all week. Those really meant something to you and he knew it. He just didn’t know how to admit he was being an asshole.

“I am,” you reply. “You here for some lessons?”

“Stop,” he grins. “Teacher—student sex has always been a fantasy of mine.”

“Please,” you scoff at him. The audacity. “As if I’d fulfill that for you.”

“A man can only dream,” he shrugs.

“Yeah, well keep doing that. What do you want, Jungkook?”

“I want to know why you sent back my flowers. And my Edible Arrangement! I was fighting the urge not to just eat it when I picked it out for you.”

Truthfully, you were too. You love Edible Arrangements.

“Because I don’t want your sympathy because you realized you were an asshole,”

“Why not?”

“Because none of that matters to me. I’m not an ex-girlfriend who caught you cheating on me. I’m just a stranger you met last week. I want an apology. An honest apology from you. And that’s it.” you explain.

Jungkook puffs his cheeks out.

“You’re difficult,” he raises his eyebrows. “I like that,” he smirks at you.

“I don’t have time for your flirting, Jungkook,” you roll your eyes at him, focusing back on your screen. “Please go home.”

The next time he comes in is around 3pm the following day. The kids are out of school by then, but all your coworkers are still here. So is Jungkook, apparently. Aecha tells you he’s been talking it up with the principal since he got here.

You groan, hoping he is just here to speak with the principal and not you. It is a farfetched hope, though. You don’t know what business he has with the principal, or anyone else here besides you, for that matter.

It is around 5 when he barges into your office again. You’re packing up your things, dreams crushed when you thought you could exit work without running into the alleged lacrosse star.

“Hey, sexy,” he flirts, eyeing your flowy, loose, figure-hiding, ugly, dark-brown art dress. You roll your eyes again, knowing he’s making fun of you. It was art day, and you had to wear your paint-stained art-apron dress. It’s the only one you don’t care about other than the shirt he ruined just a week ago.

You ignore his comment, zipping your bag and slinging it over your shoulder.

“Reconsidering tutoring?” you mock. Jungkook laughs at you, trying to hide the blush on his cheeks. You’re really cute when you mock him. It kinda gets him going.

“How’s about 9:00pm next Saturday at Min Yoongi’s?” he asks, trying to get you to go to the party again. Little does he know that you’re going. But you don’t want to amuse him too much.

“Funny,” you banter, making your way to the door. But he blocks your path, his arms resting against the door frame as he stares down at you with those white teeth and bunny eyes. You want to squish his cheek between your forefinger and thumb for reasons you don’t understand. All he has done is make fun of, flirt, and annoy you since you two met. Why do you feel the heat in your cheeks when he slips a finger underneath your chin, dark eyes staring into your soul? Why does your heartbeat in your throat when you look at the glossiness of his lips so close to your own?

You back away, releasing yourself from his flirtatious actions.

“What if I begged on my knees?” he blurts out.

You snort out in laughter at that. The thought of Jungkook: the tall, big guy with tattoos and an award-winning lacrosse scholarship? On his knees in front of you? Begging you to go to some party? That’s rich.

Jungkook blushes harder at your laughs. Fuck, your laugh is so cute. He wants to make you laugh like this a lot. Maybe forever, even. You’re music to his ears.

“What’s so funny?” he chuckles with you. “Think I can’t?”

“Please,” you smile wide, a hand covering your mouth, trying not to muster up any more laughs. “That would be too much. You sure you want to pleasure me?”

Jungkook’s mouth grows dry. Um…yes?? He would, in fact, like to pleasure you. Maybe not in that way, but he’d do it if it meant you were pleased with him. Fuck! If only he could admit things properly.

“Um, no, never mind” he goes against his wish. “I don’t think I could stand the content look on your face.” He totally could??? What the hell is he saying?!?

Jungkook runs a hand through his thick, brown locks, looking at you as you die down your laughter. If only you knew he’s been after you since two New Year’s parties ago. You think he doesn’t remember, but he totally does. The way your hips swayed against his, pressing your ass into his front. He remembers how soft your skin felt underneath his tattooed hand. All he remembered is how he wanted to mark you up, kiss the skin of your lips, neck, and shoulders and claim it as his own. But he had one too many drinks that night, and he found himself passed out on Min Yoongi’s couch the next morning. Jungkook started off the New Year with his clothes on, cheeks flushed, a terrible hangover, and no sight of you anywhere.

He had been trying to find you for a while on campus, but little did he know you were all the way on the opposite side of it in the Education sector. When you didn’t show up to Yoongi’s New Year’s Party the following year, he realized he may never see you again. Until he ruined your clothes. And your valuables. And your heart. And god-knows-what else. If only apologizing didn’t completely break his fragile ego, maybe he would be kissing you right now. Maybe he could have been spending all his time kissing you and holding you every day since the incident.

“Whatever you say, fuckboy,” you smile at him. “Now let me go — and stop coming into my office. It’s annoying.”

“Principle Green is actually so rad, though. I might come back just for him,” he comments, moving out of your way.

“I don’t care who is rad, I don’t want you interrupting my work.”

“Oh, so I’m a distraction?”

“No, you’re a nuisance,”

“Ouch,”

“Goodbye, Jungkook,” you flash him a grin, turning off the lights in your office. You look at Aecha in the teacher's lounge where you exit. She is completely baffled, eyes wide, her mouth dropped, and her bagel falling out of her hands and onto the table. Cream-cheese side down. She heard everything, and you know what she’s thinking.

Luckily, you can leave without either of them making conversation with you.

Entering your car, you let out a huge breath you didn’t know you’d been holding in. You look at yourself in your sun blocker's mirror. Cheeks red and lips cracked from all the laughing, you’re a total mess! As if your crush on Jungkook is coming back. It can’t be. He’s a total asshole now.

But a charming asshole.

Fuck! Stop it, y/n. You can’t do this to yourself.

And so, you don’t. You blast your music and drive away, pretending you don’t see a waving, smiling Jungkook from the school’s entrance in your rearview mirror.

----

Three knocks on your door and an uninvited Jungkook makes his way into your office. Again.

Jeon Jungkook.

The name makes you hurl a little in your mouth. Yesterday’s lunch makes its way to the back of your throat. But you swallow it down, telling yourself to be strong and that he will go away soon.

Last night, after Jungkook’s daily visit to your office (one that ended up with a 3-hour conversation about how Thor is the best Avenger next to Spider-Man), you realized that it’s been almost two weeks since you met him in the coffee shop. Almost two weeks and you have yet to receive a proper apology like you had asked him to give you the first time he visited you at work.

This is the 7th visit since two weeks ago, and still no apology. Despite his charm and how easily you were almost tricked into letting it all go, you remembered you were still supposed to be mad at him. And that you should still be mad at him no matter how many bunny-smiles, flirtatious comments, and talks about the Avengers and Principle Green that shoots straight to your heart. And to other places…

“So,” he banters a smile at you. That stupid yellow and blue lacrosse bomber jacket puffs out around his shoulders, the number “07” poking out in the ugliest school-spirit font you’ve ever seen on his sleeves. His elbows rest on your desk, arms delicately pushing some of your papers and trinkets out of his way. The action only fuels your anger.

“7 o’clock. You and me. Chipotle.”

You think this might be the 5th time since Sunday he’s asked you out on a date. And it’s only Wednesday.

“Woah, why the ‘tude?” he defends, putting his palms up as he slides back into his “designated” chair in your office.

“There is no ‘tude.”

“There totally is ‘tude!”

You glare at him from over your laptop screen. "See!” he points at your scowl.

“Jungkook, get out please,” you sigh. You really don’t want to deal with his antics today.

“What? Why?” he asks you. His voice is defensive like you just told him his dick is short and thin. Which, it totally is not by the way. He’d tell you about it, but it doesn’t appear like you’re up for that conversation.

“Because, Jungkook, I’m done with this.”

“With what?" he scoffs. "We’re not even a ‘this’,” he says the last part with finger air quotes.

“Exactly, so please stop visiting me. I don’t want your distractions to make me forget about the fact that you still haven’t apologized.”

“Oh, please, y/n,” he drags out a laugh, slouching on your chair. “I don’t even need to apologize. They were just some shitty drawings. I can assure you that if you go back into that classroom and call an ‘art sesh’ they’d make up a bunch of equally as shitty pieces for you.”

You can feel your fingers nearly breaking the screen of your laptop before shutting it close. You stand up in your seat, motioning your finger toward the door. “Get out.”

Jungkook knows he stepped over the line with that one. He really doesn’t know what the hell he’s saying. He knows those meant something to you! Why is he acting like he doesn’t? Why does he choose to say words that hurt you? It only hurts him, knowing that even though he wants so badly to be the person that comforts you and who tells you you’re okay; saying the opposite is only going to make it worse.

Duh!

Right now, he wants to beat himself up so badly that he’s lost the ability to speak another word.

That clenching feeling he has in his chest is back. He can see the anger in your heart, reaching out to protect the innocence of your students. It’s endearing, really. But he’s in the crossfire. And he’s on the side of your wrath he doesn’t want to be on. He’s the reason you’re protecting your students in their absence. He is the reason why you might never forgive him for this one.

“Y/n, I,” he stutters, standing up. He really thinks he’s about to apologize until something within himself blocks him from doing so again. His heart wants to say it, but his egotistical brain isn’t allowing him. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Then what did you mean it as?” you ask him. Hands running through your hair, you laugh at yourself in disbelief. “You know, I don’t even know why I’m asking you that. I don’t even know why I expect anything from you at all. All you’ve been doing since you got your damn scholarship and your damn popularity has been treating others like how you are treating me right now. Like their feelings don’t matter, like no one else exists in this world besides Jeon Jungkook. Maybe if you had a project like the one I assigned to my students, then maybe you’d have a reason to look back on what it means to be kind to others. Maybe you’d realize that people get hurt because of people like you. Me included. So please, leave my office and don’t show your face in this school ever again.”

Jungkook is at a loss for words. What can he say? You called his bluff. He taught himself how to block out others as a defense mechanism a long time ago. Its consequence: confidence as a new defense mechanism. Confidence is always good, right? So why it felt wrong when he started showing that side of him 100% more than it was before was beyond him. And, well, this is why it felt so wrong. He's lost the ability to humble himself down. And he hurt you because of it. He’s hurt a lot of people because of it. If only he knew how to balance himself properly.

Jungkook leaves your office, not batting an eye at you, feeling like a student who just got expelled. The jock in him would say it was hot, but that part of him is not there. Nothing but shame fills his body. He feels ashamed of himself. Especially as he catches light of one of the coffee-stained projects on the lounge-room walls.

[I love my _______ because it makes me feel ________] is the prompt. This one had the most outrageous spelling he thinks he’s ever seen. Backward “e”’s and random capitalization and sizing and all. But he makes out “heart’ and “wanted”.

Something in him pulls on his heartstrings again. He can see why those projects meant so much to you. Just that one simple response was enough to feel regret all the way from the follicles of his scalp to his big toe, as if he didn’t regret it already. How is he going to make it up to you? He has no idea. But he can’t lose sight of you, even when he knows he's pissed you off and hurt you. He has to find a way to make it right.

He has to apologize. Sincerely. Like he’s been practicing in the mirror and with his roommates, Taehyung and Jin, for the past two weeks. It’s easier with them. They don’t make his heart beat abnormally fast. They don’t send smiles (other than teasing, antagonizing ones that make him feel embarrassed and give up) that make him want to kiss you until you’re breathless beneath him.

But he needs to. And it needs to happen soon.

----

“So,” you smile at Aecha across your kitchen counter. She’s wearing the skimpiest hot pink dress you have ever seen. No doubt trying to be a tease for Hoseok. No one would guess she’s a preschool teacher with the way she’s dressed. “What’s the plan?”

She turns around, pinning the last bobby pin in her stiff, hair-sprayed-bobby pinned high bun.

“Okay,” she smiles. “We go in, right? Then I see Hoseok. Then we dance. Then we kiss. Then we f—”

“Okay!” you stop her, laughing. “I get it. Go in, dance, fuck. What do I do?”

“Hmmm,” she thinks. “Drink?? Get high? Maybe mock my actions on a certain captain of the lacrosse team…?”

You give her a knowing look.

“I know!” she puts her hands up. “Was just a thought.”

A great thought, at that. You’ve been wanting to jump his bones since three New Year's parties ago. But you’ve long accepted that’s no longer on your agenda. Jungkook has proven to you that he is a lost cause. You can’t expect anything from him, no matter how charming his smile is, no matter how well he dances, or how his touch makes butterflies flow through every vein in your body.

You have to put him in the back of your mind and move on. Maybe tonight you can find someone to do that with.

“You know that guy from Bread Club?” you ask her, fingers pinching the skin between your eyebrows in thought.

“Which one? That club was full of male nerd—oh! The hot one? Park Jimin?” she recalls.

“Yes!” you exclaim. “Him! Do you know if he is coming?”

“Oooooo,” she coos at you. “Does y/n see a potential crush on bread-boy Jimin?”

“Not a crush. Although, he is really handsome.” you blush. “I just never gave him a proper chance.”

“You’re right. I did suspect an underlying mutual attraction. My guess would be that he is going. I’m pretty sure he’s with that whole group. If I’m not mistaken, I want to say he’s Taehyung’s brother. Tae rooms with Jungkook and Jin.”

“Ah,” you nod, understanding the explanation. Although, all you hear is Jungkook. You hate that even his name in a conversation not even about him puts a sad feeling in your heart. You really do pity him. You also really want to forgive him. But after what he said back in your office, you don’t think you have the means to. His words hurt. They always do. But, he doesn’t know how to apologize. At least not to you. You remember how Aecha was surprised when you explained the situation and told her that he still hasn’t apologized since the incident. It made you wonder if you were the only person he refuses to apologize to.

“Okay, I’m ready. We both look hot. Let’s go,” Aecha says, matter-of-fact. She slaps her pocket mirror closed and shoves it into her purse.

----

You arrive at the sickest party Min Yoongi has ever hosted. Jungkook was right, this year’s party is a banger. Endless drinks, endless space for dancing, endless games, and endless men…boy you have many options tonight.

Aecha claps your shoulder in excitement, telling you that she sees her prey. You understand, letting her make her progress towards bagging Hoseok.

You continue smiling until your eyes land on Jungkook’s. He’s at the beer pong table, a beer in one hand and a pong in the other, ready to throw his next shot. Although, his progress towards throwing it stops when he sees you.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t want to keep looking at him. Dressed in all black with silver accents accompanying his wrists, ears, eyebrows, and lips. One could say he completely complemented your own outfit.

The fact only makes your heart hurt more. Why? You don’t know. You dropped him. He’s done. Wasn’t even a crush for longer than a day three years ago. Why you’re so hung up on him, you don’t know. The realization has you tearing your eyes away from his man-bun that looks too perfect framing his face, and onto the drinks in the room next to you.

You grab a shot or two. Or three. Or four. But who’s counting? It’s New Year’s Eve, you’re single, have nothing to lose, and have strange feelings toward a man you want to forget. Tonight is the night to get so wasted that you end up achieving that goal.

You think you will be successful when a familiar voice calls your name. Turning around, your eyes meet with Park Jimin’s. The bread-boy. Just the man you wanted to see tonight.

“Jimin!” you hug him. “No way! How long has it been since we baked banana nut bread together?!”

Jimin laughs out loud, hugging you back. “About a year, I’d say,” he smiles. His smile is really cute, reaching from cheek to cheek with that insanely addicting voice of liquid he uses to coat his words. “You’re looking really good tonight, Y/n.” Maybe he will be your saving grace tonight, after all.

“Thanks,” you smile. “You’re not looking too bad yourself.”

“Glad to know you’re pleased.”

“I am,” you smirk. “Somewhat.”

“Oh?” he raises an eyebrow.

“Come,” you change the subject. For some reason, flirting with Jimin feels wrong. Even though you want parts of him, even though you want to be able to flirt with him, something about it just doesn’t feel right. Maybe it’s the intense eyes you feel at the back of your head when you dance on Jimin in the middle of the dance floor. Maybe it’s when you kiss Jimin that you feel as if you’re imagining it’s Jungkook who you’re pressing your lips to.

It’s all wrong. Everything is wrong.

But Jimin touches you like it is right, and you feel somewhat assured until an extra hand is pulling you away from him. Suddenly, you’re drunken vision sees Jimin standing on the dance floor moving farther and farther away from you as this mystery person takes you away from him. Stumbling to keep up with this person’s pace, you turn around and attempt to pry off the strong arm that wraps around your wrist.

“Wha-What do you—who are you?” you ask this person. It isn’t until you realize that the person’s arm is tattooed. It isn’t until you realize that these tattoos are familiar and that they belong to Jeon Jungkook. “Jungkook, let go!”

To which he does, but only when he’s pulled you out of the house and into the alleyway between another house and Yoongi’s. Jungkook pins you against the wall, his forearms pressing against the brick next to your ears.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he demands, voice low and eyes foreboding. Those eyes you’ve never seen before. They’re dark and angry; far, far away from his playful innocent-looking ones. They scare you a little. But you’ve always been good at facing your fears.

“I’m having fun,” you respond, not a smidge of the jitters you're feeling consuming your voice. “What are you doing?”

“Making sure you don’t make any mistakes,” he responds.

“Hah!” you laugh, the alcohol causing you to tilt your head back harshly. You forget there’s brick there, and you’re thankful Jungkook’s reflexes are fast enough to slide his hand beneath your head before it smacked against the brick. “You’re so funny, Kook. You know, that’s actually a good idea. Because the last time I danced on someone like that was with you. And I really regret that.”

Jungkook’s heart pangs in his chest, showing how your words affected him so by closing in on you. His face towers over yours, even though he’s been trying to keep his height as level with you as he can by bending his body at his hips to match your own height. But the closer he gets, the taller he becomes, and the more you have to look up in order to look into his eyes.

You can smell the cologne on his body along with the faint smell of booze on his breath. You hate how his scent makes you fawn over him. All you want to do is kiss him silly. But you’re still mad at him. You're still arguing with him right now.

“You don’t,” he scowls, more so at himself for letting it get this far. The sight of Jimin holding you like that when it was supposed to be him made his blood boil. Fury grew in his veins as he realized he needed to make this right. Right now. Before it’s too late and you’re truly moving on.

“And what if I do, Jungkook?” you lower your voice, words feeling heavy on your mouth. “What if I regret letting my feelings continuously be hurt by you?”

“And what if I told you that I regret it,” he holds your chin in his fingers. “Saying those things to you. I do, y/n. I regret it, and I don’t know why I kept saying those things. And I-I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. It was never my intention to hurt you.”

You pause at his apology. Are you hearing this right? Did Jeon Jungkook just apologize to you? Twice??

“W-Well,” you stutter. Tears start to brim your eyes again for reasons you don’t understand. Maybe because you’re a crybaby. Maybe because this was your reason for not chasing after the man you liked so much. Maybe because his apology gives you the ‘go’ for smashing your lips onto his, feeling his honey lips collide with yours.

They’re just as soft as you imagined they would be. And god, is he a good kisser. His lips alone make a pool in your panties. Your hands slide around his neck, fingertips intertwining in his tied-up locks.

Jungkook’s body nearly stutters when you kiss him. Out of all things, this was the last he expected. Maybe a well-deserved slap or a kick on the shin, but never the feeling of your embrace.

Nevertheless, he doesn’t complain one bit. He’s been dying to feel you. Your lips on his was an imagery he thought he would never have the chance to live out. But, here you are, holding his body close and kissing him like he is the last person you will ever have the chance to kiss in your life.

Desperation crawls into his veins, lifting you up around his waist, and pressing you against the wall.

He’s been craving this for far too long. Craving you for too long. Jungkook can’t stop touching you, your body is just as soft as he remembered. His curiosity begs him to explore more and more of you. But he’s done enough without your permission. So he waits, continuing to kiss you until you take control.

“I’ve been dying to have you like this,” you say between trailing kisses down to his neck. Jungkook moans as you find his sweet spot, and you think it was the prettiest thing you have ever heard in your lifetime. Sucking on the spot, he raises his chest, trying to control his pleasure but nonetheless fails when you bite down on him.

“Y-Y/n,” he calls out your name, just loud enough for you to hear. His breath tickles your name on the shell of your ear, and you think you might have gushed arousal out of your cunt. “Not here,” he pants, trapping your chin between his fingers again. He motions your jaw up to his, tempting himself with light scrapes of his lips touching yours. “I don’t want anyone else to see you.”

“Then where?” you whisper back at him. It is so hard not to smash your lips onto his again, but you want this to continue. And if Jungkook wants you where no one but himself can see you, then you’re bound to be wherever that is.

“My place,” he brushes his nose against your cheek before returning your trail of kisses on his neck back to yours. “No one’s home. I brought a car.” He sucks your neck, leaving bruises all over. He's determined to find not just one sweet spot of yours, but to find them all.

“Wh-Why not the car?” you ask between moans. Jungkook is so good at this. He’s suede and smooth with his touches, hot and passionate with his kisses. He knows how to make you puddy in his hands.

Jungkook chuckles in your ear. “Not with the things I want to do to you,” he bites down on your neck, eliciting a sweet panted moan from your throat. “That won’t work.”

“Then let’s go,” you hold his neck firmly in your palms, stopping him from his parade of kisses. “I don’t want to waste more time.”

“Someone’s eager,” Jungkook smirks, kissing you once before setting you down and taking his keys out of his pocket.

“You have no idea.”

----

The ride over to Jungkook’s is spent palming him in the driver’s seat and Jungkook struggling to focus on the road. He’s not as consumed with alcohol as you might be, even though the effects of it on you stopped midway through making out with Jungkook back at Yoongi’s.

You know you’re doomed when the car abruptly stops. His fist pushes the stick into park, and he rips open the car door, walking around the front of it to come over to you.

You’re still tipsy, however. So, when you’re met with Jungkook’s erection right in your face you can’t help but laugh a little.

“What’s so funny?” he asks you, a little pissed off at your laughter. It’s hot.

Trailing a finger on the zipper to his black jeans, you outline the length of his cock slowly, admiring its size right in front of you. You dream of it fucking you, as if the man in front of you wasn’t on a mission to check that off your list right now.

“You’re so big,” you sigh like a teenage girl. “I want you inside of me, Jungkook,” you smirk, looking up at him from the passenger seat. Jungkook swears his heart leaps out of his chest. He thinks his voice might crack if he says another word, so he clears his throat, dick twitching simultaneously, before he responds.

“Then, c’mon,” he takes your hand, pulling you up and out of the car. “We’re here.” Jungkook smiles at you sweetly. He almost thinks that he should just wait until the morning to fuck you because of your tipsy-drunk moment until you’re kissing and palming him again. Jungkook moans into your mouth, stumbling with you toward his townhome’s entrance. Key fob in hand, Jungkook presses it underneath the door nob, hearing a sound of approval from the security system not long after.

“Teasing me in the car,” he growls against your ear, pushing you against the nearest wall once the door to his home shuts. “You think you weren’t going to get punished for that?”

All you can do is moan. Jungkook’s hands waste no time ripping off every piece of clothing you have on, dying to see you in all your glory.

“Holy fuck,” he pants. It’s almost as if he’s cumming his pants right now at the sight of you. “You’re gorgeous, Y/n,”

You can’t help but blush a little, his glare on you makes you think that he’s not actually saying these things about your body. Not this man. Not the ripped, 6-packed athlete with incredible strength and muscles that could pop you with one headlock around the neck. Maybe it's the booze.

“Take your clothes off, fuckboy,” you demand.

Jungkook shimmies off his black blazer, eyes still on your tits. He wants to suck them and leave marks all over the softness of them. He wants you to be completely covered in him tomorrow morning.

“Don’t call me that,” he walks closer to you, trapping your naked body between his half-clothed one. “I’m not a fuckboy.” he replies, taking off his mock-turtle neck tanktop. You thought it was tight enough on him before, but the sight of his muscles underneath the shirt makes you realize that the shirt did not do him enough justice. Never in a million years did you think Jungkook was this ripped. He basically has boobs. He could probably fit into your bra…

“Then what are you?” you ghost against his lips.

He would like to say “yours”, but he remembers that you’re still tipsy. Would you agree to that? Do you still hate him? He'd like to think 'no' considering how you two are both eager to have each other right now, but he's got a lot of things to ask and make up to you before any titles are made. So he holds off.

“We can decide that in the morning,” he settles on, flashing you a small smile before delving into your lips. His chest is firm against yours, his back so wide, you struggle to wrap your arms around it as he leads you to what you assume is his bedroom.

His room is just as you expected it would be. Covered in trophies and pictures, as neat and organized as you expected. But what really catches you off guard is how comfortable his bed is. The smell of him engulfs you as he gently places you on his bed. You think about how this night would be if you decided to fuck in the car. How you wouldn't be able to see this view on top of you so clearly if you did. You’re thankful Jungkook insisted on his bedroom. Now, you can see his handsome face clearly in the lighting of his room as he pulls his pants down to his ankles, leaving himself in a pair of white Calvins. They do nothing to hide the length and girth of his cock, and you shutter knowing that he’s going to completely rip you open.

“Don’t worry, I’ll prep you,” he whispers in your ear, sensing your worry. Jungkook’s lips find your neck again, gently kissing his previously left bruises before leaving more of them on the areas of your clavicle and chest.

“What if I don’t want to be prepped?” you whimper, back arching into his chest when his mouth engulfs your nipple, sucking on it hard. “W-What if I want you ri-right now?”

Jungkook laughs deeply as he twirls your nipple around with his tongue. He releases you with a quick “pop”, which makes your head fall back in pleasure. You can feel Jungkook’s body moving up to come face-to-face with yours. “Patience,” he gives you a quick kiss. “I refuse to hurt you any more than I have already.”

“Jungkook,” you coo, holding his jaw in your palm. He looks ashamed of himself. You’ve never seen this side of him, and it feels good knowing that he does harbor those kinds of feelings. Especially since he is comfortable with you seeing him display them. “I forgive you, Kook.”

“You shouldn’t,” he buries his face in your neck again, kissing you lightly as his hand trails down to your wet cunt. His fingers find your clit. You moan when he starts circling slow infinities on the sensitive bud.

“But I do, Jungkook,” you pant, hand coming up to drag your fingers through his hair. You pull out his bun, watching as his hair falls over the crown of his head and onto your skin. It smells like coconut, and you can’t help but bury your nose in it as he continues to gather your juices on his fingertips.

“I was bad to you,” he grumbles against your neck. This time, his fingers circle your entrance. Legs wrapping around his hips, you invite his fingers inside, to which he obliges. Just his index finger feels you first. Jungkook ruts against the mattress at the feeling, imagining the walls that squeeze his finger tight around his cock. Yeah, you definitely need prepping.

“But, you apologized,” you whisper to him, massaging his scalp. Your hips twitch when he adds another finger. You can’t imagine the size of him in you like this. Two of his massive fingers are enough to make you feel close to cumming around them. He’s going to be the death of you.

Pumping in and out of you, Jungkook moves his head to face yours, his nose kissing your own.

“I’m sorry,” he says once again. “I’m sorry for spilling coffee on you, and being an asshole, and making fun of your student’s art, and showing up at your work, and pissing you off, and making you hate me so much you—”

“J-Jungkook,” you stop him. It’s hard to concentrate on a response when his pace quickens with every mention of something he did wrong, as if he was getting angrier the more he realized how much he did to hurt you.

“All I wanted to do was the opposite of what I did,” he kisses your cheek. “B-But it’s hard for me to face negativity without being cocky and stupid about it. I thought that by making it worse, I could make it better.”

“What a strange tactic,” you chuckle against his cheek. Your heart thumps when he flashes you a smile, telling you with his eyes that he’d never do something like that to you ever again. “I’m proud of you.” You smile.

“S-Stop,” Jungkook adds his thumb to your clit as his fingers continue to fuck you slowly. The addition causes you to arch your back into him. Jungkook takes the opportunity to wrap his arm underneath your spine, holding you secure against his body. “You’re going to make me want to claim you if you say that kind of shit to me.”

“What if I want you to claim me?” you challenge.

Jungkook nearly growls into your neck, fighting the urge to just flip you over and ravage you. “Stop doing that to me, y/n,”

He feels your fingers start to tug at the rim of his boxers, and Jungkook can’t be any more excited to feel you around him. He presses one more finger into you before allowing you to shove his boxers halfway down his thighs.

Jungkook moans at the feeling of your soft fingers around his cock, head falling into the crevice of your neck again. His dick is red and angry and begging to fuck you hard and deep. You swirl the precum that leaks from him and circle it around his cockhead, eliciting a strained moan into the skin by your ear from the man above you. His hips jerk at the sudden movement, preparing themselves to fuck you hard and fast.

“I think I’m ready, Kook,” you whisper into his hair.

Jungkook detaches himself from your neck, standing up to quickly knock off his boxers onto the floor. He takes your calves in his hands, spreading you before his fingertips spread your pussy open slowly. Jungkook takes a long look at you. You're basically drooling from your cunt, the slick creating shiny lines off his fingers as he moves them up and off your pussy. Glistening and pulsing for him to fill you up, he knows you’re going to be a tight fit. The fact only excites him further.

He pulls himself onto the bed, pushing your thighs up with his body. Pumping his cock a few times, he lines you up with his dick, pressing his cockhead against your slick.

“You sure you want this?” he leans down to your face. Your thighs are trapped against your torso, Jungkook folding you up for him nice and good. You appreciate that he doesn’t do a thing without your consent, that he doesn’t dare to do anything unless you’re comfortable. A complete 180 from the emotionally constipated Jungkook you’ve been experiencing for the past two weeks.

You nod to him, looking into his eyes. But this doesn’t satisfy him.

“I need a verbal answer, y/n,” he kisses your cheek, dick rubbing up and down your warm entrance.

“Yes, Jungkook. I want you,” you lean into his cheek.

The feeling of his girth stretching you open is enough for you to dig your nails into the smooth skin of his back. Never in a million years did you think you’d be stretched this good.

He doesn’t go in all the way, letting you adjust to his girth before slipping his length all the way into you.

You swear his tip kisses your cervix. When he pulls out and slams back into you, you can confirm that he did, in fact, kiss it. Jungkook moans against you, gripping your hands in his own and pinning them above your head. His hips are strong, slamming into you with everything he has left in him. You’re a goddess below him, legs around his shoulders, fingers digging into the upper side of his palm, tears streaming down your cheeks as you feel all he is giving you.

“F-Faster,” you beg. Jungkook is happy to obey.

He takes your hips and flips you over, his hands pressing against the upper of your back, pushing your chest down into his sheets. Once satisfied, Jungkook firmly grabs your hips and pistons into you faster, just like you wanted. You’re a moaning mess beneath him, fingers gripping the sheets, legs twitching in resistance as he fucks into you like a madman. His nose is crunched, lip bleeding between his teeth as he tries to hold back his orgasm. Usually, he never feels ready to release this early. But, you’re the girl he’s always wanted. And now you’re in his bed, begging him to fuck you without prepping you and go faster and claim you, and—god, it's all too perfect. You’re too perfect.

Your moans are like honey in his ears, the sweetest music he’s ever heard. He slaps your ass hard—once, twice, so many times. You scream to it all, each one pushing you over the edge.

“This is mine, you hear?” he growls from behind you, gripping your ass in his hand before slapping it again. “You hear me?” he asks again, gripping your hips tighter and forcibly slapping them against his own hips. The impact makes you gush around him, your high following his forcefulness in squirts of your release. You don’t see it, but Jungkook’s eyes roll to the back of his head at the sight. No way did you just squirt all over his cock. Can this night get any better?

Maybe it can, because he feels his own release closely following. But he edges himself, pulling out of you to look at the mess you made instead of chasing his high.

You’re so embarrassed, digging your face into your hands as you hear him press his hand into his sopping wet duvet cover.

“I-I’m so sorry,” you whimper. You refuse to meet his eyes, even when he flips you over and sits next to your face.

“C’mere,” he pats his lap.

“Jungkook,” you whine, absolutely mortified. Is he mad? You can’t tell. He hasn’t mentioned anything about your release.

“Baby, come here,” he speaks to you with honey laced in his voice. Your heart thumps at the fact that he called you “baby”. Were your dreams coming true?

You gather yourself and weakly climb onto his lap, immediately digging your face into his shoulder.

“Was that bad? You didn’t cum,” you ask him, voice trembling into his neck. God, this is so mortifying. “I won’t do it again, I pro—”

“Like fucking hell you won’t,” he holds your waist firmly again. “That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen y/n,” he bites your ear. “It’s taking everything in me not to be gentle with you right now.”

Your eyes meet his hungered ones. You were wrong, and you know it not only from him saying so but also from his pulsating cock below. It is twitching and leaking with so much precum, you almost think that it is his cum itself if it weren’t for the clearness of it. And then you realize that he’s edging himself.

“I-I want this to last longer, but I don’t want to hurt you cause I—” his head falls back in a strained moan when you press a finger to his tip, playing with the precum leaking down himself. “Cause I know I will if you don’t take control of me right now…so, ride me,” he demands.

You kiss his neck, feeling lighter that you made him feel strong enough to nearly lose his control just from your orgasm. With power in your hands, you lift your hips just enough to hover your pussy over his twitching cock, sliding down slowly.

Jungkook’s hands come to your hips again, completely out of breath. “H-Holy shit, y/n,” he gasps when he stares down at his dick disappearing and reappearing as you bounce on his cock. “God, you’re going to murder me, aren’t you?”

You laugh at his comment. Although, he’s far from laughing, focusing all his energy on controlling his orgasm. Face falling into your neck, he’s mumbling things you don’t understand as you massage his sweaty scalp again. He moans at your touch, feeling overly sensitive and extremely, beyond-belief, horny. He wants to cum so bad, but he also wants this to last.

“You can cum, Kook,” you whisper into his scalp. You don’t know if you have it in you to cum again. Squirting is so powerful, and it usually takes everything out of you. But you might, considering you have the strength to ride him to no tomorrow. “It’s okay.”

“N-No,” he breathes against your neck, panting. “Can’t. Want it to last.”

“Don’t worry,” you laugh against his cheek. “I don’t plan on making you a one-night, Jungkook.”

“A-Ah,” his hips twitch into you. “I-um, ffuccck, y/n!” he sways your hips back and forth on his cock rapidly. “Y-You sure? It’s going to be a lot.”

“Mhm,” you smile down at him.

“Fuck, o-okay,” he breathes out shakily. Jungkook then bucks his hips fast into yours from underneath you, unrelenting and ruthless. You feel his hot ropes fill you up just seconds later. For what feels like a full minute of him pumping his cum into you, his face resting against your breasts in fucked-out glory.

You two rest there, letting his cum pool at the connection of your bodies while you rest against each other. What finally breaks you out of your own daze is the sound of fireworks just outside Jungkook's bedroom window.

You can see the array of colors lighting up the sky, his digital clock on his nightstand reading 12:00am.

“Hey,” you whisper into his hair, kissing his sweaty scalp. “Happy New Year.”

Jungkook detaches his cheek from your chest, bringing his face up to graze his nose against yours. Smiling into your lips he whispers,

“I’m gonna make it right, y/n. This will be our year.”

---

[Bonus]

[Aecha]: Hope you got home okay.

[Aecha]: Ended up a little stuck between Hoseok’s thighs.

[Y/n]: Funny story.

[Y/n]: I never made it home last night.

[Aecha]: WHAT?!

[Aecha]: Are you okay??

[Y/n]: More than okay.

y/n sent an image

[Aecha]: No

[Aecha]: Fucking

[Aecha]: Way

[Aecha]: I—AKJDAKSJHFJKASFKLDJSAFKLJSFA!!! Y/N!!!!

[Y/n]: So like.

[Y/n]: I’m no longer a single lady?

[Aecha]: AHHHHHHHHH Y/N!!!!!

[Aecha]: JESUS DID HE LEAVE ANY INCH OF YOUR SKIN Y/S/C?!?

[Y/n]: We had a lot of…catching up to do lol.

[Aecha]: I’d say.

[Aecha]: I’m the maid of honor. Understand me?

[Y/n]: Lol. You got it.

[End. Do not copy. Original work of @jungkookstatts , 2023]

4K notes · View notes

pasukiyo · 1 year

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Hey, ignore if u arent still doing requests but I've had this storyline in my head for ages and I think ur a perfect writer for tom. Basically, the reader is a muggleborn but she attends Hogwarts and it's like half term where they are all home for a break. Shes either avery or lestranges adopted sibling and it's kinda been kept a secret from tom because.. well yknow shes a muggleborn lol(he knows about her now because her adoptive brother had to explain before bringing Tom over) anyways so hes at every or lestranges house for some reason (you make it up) and shes in her room, her adoptive brother needs something so he asks tom to get it from her desk in her room and they preferably have 🌶 time. Sorry if it sounds stupid but I've been thinking about this for ages!!😭

𝐰𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 | tom riddle

tom riddle x f!reader 8,104 words warnings: smut. sort of angst. also lots of prejudice against muggle-borns. read part two here. notes: reader is hufflepuff and muggle-born in this one. summary: every year, the lestranges will hold a christmas party for only the oldest of pure-blood wizarding families. every year you are locked in your room while the party rages downstairs, but everything will change when tom riddle is invited to this year’s party. everything…

The Lestrange name definitely held some irony, considering how strange the family truly was. The Mother sent an owl at lunch, the rolled parchment dropping onto the plate in front of Tiernan Lestrange. On either side of him sat Clarence Avery and Liam Mulciber, who gazed down at the rolled parchment sealed with the Lestrange family crest with sparkling irises.

“Is it for the party, Lestrange?” Avery asked as Lestrange took another bite of his sandwich, dusting his hands off before finally taking a hold of the parchment, untying the ribbon keeping it closed. “More than likely,” he replied as the parchment unraveled, his mother’s handwriting gazing back up at him in inky black cursive letters.

‘To my dearest son,

Tell your friends they’re more than welcome to join us on Christmas Eve for the party. Invite that Head Boy you were writing to me about too. I am most interested to meet him, since you speak so highly of him. Remind the Girl that she is to not speak of the party, I simply cannot have any more of her kind in the house. I will see you at King’s Cross Station, my darling.

With all my love, your mother.’

Of course, the Girl referred to the Hufflepuff sitting all the way across the Great Hall at her own House’s table, her head down as she ate, so as to not catch the attention of her brother or any of his friends. She didn’t choose this family— and if it were her choice, she’d be far away from them— and neither did they.

It was the fault of whomever it was who dropped her onto the Lestranges’ doorstep in the wee hours of the morning when she was only an infant. The Mother had given birth to her son only a few months before, and found the crying baby on her doorstep to be quite a burden.

She asked herself why the Mother and the Father even bothered keeping her, for even before they learned of her blood status, they hated her. Perhaps it was to uphold their reputation— taking in a child who wasn’t theirs? It was the perfect foundation for the story of a kind-hearted pure-blood family— how could the Lestranges let that opportunity go?

Of course, behind closed doors, she was treated less than a family member, some would argue far less than a house elf. She may as well have been a house elf if you ask her. She was treated like how they believed anyone of her kind should be treated— a mudblood deserved to be treated like the rubbish they are, they’d say.

Up until she got her Hogwarts letter, she believed them. She believed she deserved to be treated this way, that she deserved to be put through the torture that came with living with the Lestranges. She believed she had filthy blood, demon blood.

But all of that changed the second she first stepped foot into Hogwarts. Of course, the Lestranges were at first very against letting her attend Hogwarts— mudbloods shouldn’t be taught magic, they’d say— but even they could only take so many letters flying through the fireplace or popping up in the stew before they gave in. Of course, she wasn’t allowed to tell anyone of her blood status— “you are not to tell anyone of your filthy blood status,” the Father had told her with an accusatory finger in her face. “As far as anyone is concerned, you are pure-blood. So I expect you to act like it.”

Her school robes and supplies were not as grand as Tiernan’s, and she wasn’t allowed an owl or a cat or a toad. But she told herself that she would make do with what she had, and she felt at least a little bit grateful that the Lestranges didn’t give her tattered secondhand, even third-hand clothes, even if she knew it was all for the act.

When the Lestranges found out she had been sorted into Hufflepuff however, oh, it gave them all the more reason to ridicule and torture her back at home. “Of course the mudblood is in the weakest House,” the Mother would mutter beneath her breath as she and her husband read the letter their son had written. “We were fools to think that old ratty hat would sort her into Slytherin.”

Tiernan and his friends— they made certain that her life at Hogwarts was just as bad as her life at home. Of course, Tiernan was the only one who knew the truth about her blood, Avery, Mulciber, and the others just tagged along because they found it funny. They loved calling her names, making her trip in the hallways, pulling pranks such as jinxing her school books so that they may not open no matter how hard she tried.

And still, she didn’t dare stand her ground, for she knew all too well that the Mother and the Father would catch wind of it, and make certain that she’d be on the first train back to King’s Cross Station. So instead, she dealt with Tiernan and his friends, just like she learned to deal with everything else.

But Tom… Tom Riddle was different.

Tiernan Lestrange and his friends worshiped the ground Tom Riddle walked on, and it was no secret. She remembered when she first saw Tom, all the way back in the Sorting Ceremony in her first year at Hogwarts. She remembered hearing his name ‘Riddle, Tom’ being called and she remembered watching as he approached the platform, settling himself down onto the stool.

She remembered the way their eyes met and she swore her knees turned into jelly when she gazed into those dark ravines he had for irises. And she remembered when the Sorting Hat exclaimed “Slytherin!” hardly before it had even touched a hair on his head.

And she remembered how disappointed she felt when she was called up to be sorted, the Sorting Hat put her into Hufflepuff. She wanted to be a Slytherin— she wanted to be wherever Tom Riddle was.

In all her time at Hogwarts, she’d never even spoken a word to Tom Riddle. They’d pass each other in the halls, but thanks to her brother, she’d never been given the chance to even tell him hello. And Tiernan made it clear that she never would.

So life went on, and she got older. She hoped that over time, she’d forget about Tom. But it was hard when he was made prefect, and when he was given the Special Award for Services to the School, and when he was made Head Boy at the beginning of their seventh and final year.

She remembered her fifth year during all the attacks on muggle-borns vividly as if it were only yesterday. She remembered how frightened she was when she realized it was muggle-borns whatever it was was attacking. She remembered the panic she felt when Hogwarts was on the brink of being closed— she couldn’t have that! She belonged at Hogwarts, not out there with the Lestranges where she was treated like vermin.

At least here, she could pretend to be someone she was not.

Of course Tiernan was no help, always taunting her and teasing her that she’d be next. She remembered when she heard that it was Rubeus Hagrid who had freed the muggle-born killing beast, how although she felt that it could not be Hagrid, she felt a sense of relief when he was expelled, when all the attacks had stopped.

And of course it was Tom Riddle who caught him. And of course it just made her admire him more and more.

But she would keep her distance. She’d admire him from afar. She couldn’t begin to imagine the torment Tiernan would put her through if he found out she liked Tom Riddle.

“Yes! Looks like we’re invited, Mulciber,” Avery exclaimed, pumping his fist. Tiernan rolled his eyes at his friends, “you’re invited every year,” he replied, just as Tom entered the Great Hall, and they fell into silence as he approached.

She could see Tom over the tops of the heads of the Hufflepuffs in front of her, and she slowly sat up to get a better look. That was when Tom blinked up and she swore their eyes met, just for a moment, before he settled down into his seat, disappearing behind the heads of the other Hogwarts students. She felt herself flush as she hunched over her plate again, a small smile creeping onto her face.

“My Lord,” Tiernan Lestrange nodded as Tom settled himself between him and Liam Mulciber. Tom nodded in acknowledgement as he placed a few pieces of chicken onto his plate, and Tiernan’s gaze flickered from him to the rolled parchment in his lap. “My mother sent an owl,” he said, and Tom hummed in reply, nodding. Still, he said nothing.

Tiernan shifted in his seat and cleared his throat, and Tom, with his eyes slightly narrower than before, peered up at him, waiting for him to say whatever it was he wanted to say. Tiernan turned pink beneath Tom’s stare, and he presented the letter to him, Tom’s dark eyes flicking down to the inky black words on the scroll.

“My family, we… we hold a Christmas party every year,” he said, and when Tom glanced back up at him, he flushed again. “And you would’ve been invited! But it’s only for the oldest pure-blood families, and, well…” Tiernan trailed off when he saw the shadow looming over Tom’s already dark gaze, and Mulciber and Avery shifted in their seats uncomfortably.

Tiernan cleared his throat again, “but I’ve been speaking very highly of you to my mother. She wants you to come,” he said, his lips curving into a smile. Tom pressed his tongue against the inside of his cheek as he stared back up at Lestrange, handing back the parchment. “Yes, I know. I can read, Tiernan,” Tom said sternly, and Tiernan clawed at his knees to prevent himself from trembling.

“Yes… well…” Lestrange said shakily as he rolled back up the parchment, slipping it inside one of his pockets. “…I’d really love it if you come. We’ll all be there— me, Avery, Mulciber, Rosier, Dolohov, Nott— and our families too, so you can meet them all!”

Tom took a bite out of one of the chicken wings on his plate, placing it back down before wringing a napkin between his hands, gesturing towards Lestrange’s robes with his head. “Who is your mother referring to when she speaks of ‘the Girl?’” He asked, and heat crept back into Tiernan’s cheeks until they glowed scarlet. “Oh, you know… my sister…” he muttered, and Tom’s brow furrowed. “Why wouldn’t she refer to her daughter by name?” Tom questioned, turning his body to fully face Tiernan, his interest piqued. “What does she mean by she ‘cannot have any more of her kind in the house?’”

The other boys leaned in to hear what Tiernan would say next, and he knew now that there was no way to get out of this. He’d have to tell the truth not only to his friends, but to his Lord.

“Forgive me, my Lord, for asking this of you,” Tiernan hung his head and muttered lowly towards Tom. “But I must ask that you promise you won’t tell another soul about this. This goes for all of you, too,” he said towards Tom and the rest of their group. Lestrange gazed into each of their eyes and held contact for a moment with each, to make it known that he was serious.

Tom shrugged, “I promise.”

Tiernan inhaled a shaky breath, before finally saying, “she… as you know, is not my sister,” he began. “And she’s not pure-blood, either. She’s a mudblood.”

Mulciber, Avery, and the others all leaned closer and broke into a sea of murmurs, “that sure explains a lot. But a mudblood? In the Lestrange family?” Tom remained silent as he stared at Lestrange, beckoning for him to continue. “Her filthy muggle parents left her on our doorstep after she was born. My mother and father took her in purely out of the goodness of their hearts,” Tiernan sat up and stuck out his chest proudly. “And they kept her, even when they learned where she came from. So you see now why she never comes to the party. Mother always tells guests she’s never home for the party anyways.”

The boys all laughed and ridiculed her while Tom, again, remained silent, staring absentmindedly down at his plate. He wasn’t sure what to think, how to feel. All this time he’d spent watching her, only catching glimpses of her from afar when he felt a gaze on him, watching as she turned away whenever she saw him with Tiernan and the others.

All this time he secretly lusted after her, the outcast of her family, the black sheep of the family. All this time he felt some sort of connection to her, all this time he felt he could relate to her because he, too, felt like an outcast. The outcast of the orphanage he grew up in, the outcast of the Gaunt family, the outcast of his muggle father’s family.

Tom Riddle never belonged anywhere, but he belonged here, at Hogwarts. And he knew she felt the same.

But would things change now that he knew she was muggle-born? Should he feel disgusted with himself now for ever thinking of pursuing her, for ever thinking of taking her in whichever way he pleased? Was it wrong of him to still lust for her, to still think of having his way with her?

Tom was clever but this, this he wasn’t sure of.

“So where has she been hiding during the parties?” Liam Mulciber asked, and Tiernan Lestrange snickered. “Mother and father force her up into her room. Says they’ll punish her accordingly if they hear even the smallest of noises coming from her room,” he replied, the boys erupting into another fit of snickers. Tom was still silent as he stared at his plate— he suddenly didn’t feel like eating.

The next day, she and a group of other Hogwarts students waiting to go home for the holidays gathered at Hogsmeade station, waiting for the arrival of the train. She snuck glances over to where Tiernan and his friends stood together, Tom in the middle of them all. She flushed and turned away when his head began to turn, and she moved to hide herself behind a few of her fellow Hufflepuffs, safe away from Tom Riddle’s view.

The train’s whistle echoed as the train emerged, slowing down to a stop before them. She dared gaze back over to where Tiernan stood with his friends as she waited for the doors to open, and when she did, Tom was no longer looking her way. She let herself stare for a little moment longer before she felt someone tap her shoulder, and blinked at the Hufflepuff girl in front of her with brown skin and shoulder length black hair she recognized as Clara Wingrave.

“Are you coming?” Clara asked, a furrow in her brow. She blinked and nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat back down. “Yes, sorry Clara,” she mumbled as she followed the Hufflepuff girl onto the train, sliding into the seat opposite the one Clara chose. She sighed as she settled herself into the seat just as footsteps thundered through the train, and she hardly had any time to register what was happening before their compartment door slid open, revealing none other than Tiernan Lestrange, Clarence Avery, and Liam Mulciber, Tom and the other three boys nowhere in sight.

Clara narrowed her eyes at their intruders, “hey, go find your own—“

“Shut it,” Mulciber hissed towards her. “No one allowed you to speak.”

Clara’s glare hardened as Tiernan leaned down to block his adopted sister’s view, his lips curving into a cheshire grin. Her hands balled into fists, and she suddenly felt the strongest urge to slam them right into that crooked smile of his.

“Mother sent the owl this afternoon,” Tiernan muttered, and he needn’t elaborate, for she was already used to the rules she was forced to follow every year during the annual Lestrange Christmas party. “Oh yeah? And let me guess… I’m not to speak of the party, I’m not to attend the party, I’m to stay up in my room and if I make even the smallest of noises, I’ll be punished accordingly? Is that all?” She asked quietly, so that the girl across from her could not hear.

Tiernan scowled and grabbed for her throat, much to Clara’s shock as she shrieked, giving her a firm shake. She pressed her lips closed and gazed into Tiernan’s dark umber eyes as they gleamed with mischief. “You dare give me attitude?” He tsked. “You just wait. I’ll tell mother and father about this and—“

“—Tiernan? Won’t you leave her alone for Merlin’s sake, the train is about to leave.”

She along with Clara, Tiernan, and his friends snapped their heads to the open compartment door where the Head Boy now stood, a furrow in his brow. He narrowed his eyes every so slightly, and he looked irritated. She flushed when she saw him and turned away as Tiernan released her, dusting off his clothes. She glimpsed up at him as he turned to leave, not without making sure to flash a dirty look her way over his shoulder before he slid the compartment door closed behind him.

“What the hell was that about?” Clara gasped and shook her head in disbelief. “I know it is common for siblings to fight, but that was just absurd.”

She shook her head as she shifted in her seat, gazing out the window as the train began to move, and Hogsmeade station grew further and further away until it disappeared altogether.

“He’s not my brother.”

The train ride back to King’s Cross Station seemed to go by quicker than usual, much to her dismay. She wished she could stay on the train forever rather than have to go back to living with the Lestranges, and wished that she had an invisibility cloak so that she could hide and be on her way back to Hogwarts within the hour.

But, since she didn’t, she sighed as she collected her bag with her few belongings and exited her compartment, stepping out of the train and onto Platform 9¾, where her eyes immediately fell upon the Mother and the Father where they stood, eyes narrowed when they fell upon their muggle-born adopted daughter. She huffed as she made her way over to them, standing beside the Mother with a considerable amount of distance between them.

“Where is my son?” The Mother asked through gritted teeth, and she shrugged her shoulders. “He and his friends should be getting off soon,” she replied, not daring to turn to look at the Mother. Sure enough, almost as soon as she finished saying it, there stepped out Tiernan and his friends, Tom Riddle close behind. The other boys left to greet their own parents, but Tiernan and Tom made their way over to where she stood beside the Lestranges, and she flushed.

Why was Tom coming over here?

“Tiernan,” the Mother smiled, drawing her son into her chest for a hug. “And you must be… Tom, is that right? Hogwarts’ Head Boy?”

She glanced over to where Tom stood, a charming smile plastered his face and she could feel heat creep back up her neck. She turned away from him before he could catch her staring.

“It is nice to meet you, Mr and Mrs Lestrange,” Tom greeted them, shaking Mr Lestrange’s hand and giving the top of Mrs Lestrange’s a polite kiss. “Oh!” Mrs Lestrange giggled. “I like this one. The manners!”

Tom flashed his best smile but snuck a glimpse over to where the Lestranges adopted daughter stood, her arms crossed over herself as she looked anywhere but at him. He eyed her up and down just as Mrs Lestrange clutched either of his forearms, and he was forced to tear his attention away from the girl behind her.

“Tiernan here tells me you’re from the orphanage?” Mrs Lestrange asked and Tiernan felt like shriveling away beside Tom. Tom only nodded in reply to which Mrs Lestrange tutted, “how about this? You’re welcome to come and stay with us for the holidays. We’d be delighted to have you.”

She froze at this and her lips fell agape with the intent to protest, but nothing came out. She knew nothing she said would matter anyways, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to handle being around Tom for the entirety of the holidays. She’d been comfortable leaving him at a safe distance away from her at school, but now she’d have to deal with seeing him at the Lestranges? She simply wouldn’t be able to trust herself being around him for so long.

“Thank you for your hospitality,” Tom beamed as Mrs Lestrange fussed over him, leading him away from the platform, and she, the Father, and Tiernan followed close behind. Tiernan made a point of ramming his shoulder into her every once in a while, and it took everything within her to control herself, to not shout or push him away. The Father saw this was happening but did nothing to stop it.

It wasn’t longer before they finally entered the Leaky Cauldron and made their way to the fireplace, and they each grabbed a handful of Floo Powder. The Father went first, then Mrs Lestrange, and Tiernan before it was down to her and Tom. It occurred to her that this was the first time they had ever been alone together, and she forced herself to look away as he stepped into the fireplace.

Tom was no stranger to her shy nature. He tilted his head to try and get a better look at her, watching as she peeked over at him only to find he was staring, and looked away again. He smiled, exclaimed “Lestrange Manor!” and he was gone, leaving her alone.

Soon, she too was back in the Lestrange Manor, and she nearly ran into Tom where he stood just before the fireplace. Her palms instinctively fell onto his back to find her balance, and oh, how she felt she’d explode where she stood.

It was the first time she had ever touched Tom, and she truly did not expect him to be so warm. Tom glanced back over his shoulder when he felt her hands on him and swiftly stepped out of her way, feeling her touch lingering on his back where she had touched him. Something ignited within him at that touch, and every doubt he had about still wanting to pursue her seemed to fray away.

He wanted her.

“Welcome to our home!” The Mother exclaimed with a smile as she dusted off the shoulder of Tom’s coat where some ash had fallen, letting her palms soothe back down all the way to his elbows. “Tiernan will show you where you will be staying. Feel free to make yourself at home.”

She began to follow Tiernan and Tom as they headed for the staircase leading to the next level, but just before she could, the Mother grabbed her by the elbow and tugged her backwards to face her and the Father. She scowled down at her adopted daughter as soon as she made certain Tom was out of sight and leaned down until they were eye level.

“Listen to me, girl, and listen to me good,” the Mother said lowly. “You are to be on your best behavior while we have a guest in the home. You are to stay up in your room for the holidays except for meals, do you understand me, girl?”

She blinked— normally, she’d hate the fact that she had to stay up in her room all hours of the day, but instead, she felt relief surge through her. At least she wouldn’t have to see Tom, at least she wouldn’t make a fool out of herself in front of him.

“Yes, Madam Lestrange,” she said as the Mother released her elbow, and the Father stepped forward, leaning down to eye level.

“And you mustn’t leave your room under any circumstances during the party tomorrow evening,” he muttered. “If I hear even the smallest of sounds coming from your bedroom, I will punish accordingly and do understand, I will not show mercy.”

She heard this rule every year, but still to this day, the way the Father threatened her sent chills down her spine. “Yes, Mr Lestrange,” she nodded and when the Father waved her off, she walked as fast as she could towards the stairs, practically sprinting up the steps and down the hallway until she finally reached her bedroom.

Tom and the rest of the Lestranges were already in the dining room when she finally bounded down the steps, and he could tell Mr and Mrs Lestrange were using all the self restraint they had within them to not blow up at her, most likely for his sake. He watched as she sat down across the table from where he and Tiernan sat, carefully only placing a small selection of food onto her plate.

He glanced back over to where Mr Lestrange sat on one end of the long dining table before looking over at Mrs Lestrange on the other end. Neither paid her any attention, or showed any intention of speaking to her. She didn’t seem to want to talk either.

“So, Tom, Tiernan tells me you’re exceptional at Defense Against the Dark Arts,” Mr Lestrange said, shaking Tom from his thoughts. He forced a small smile as he nodded, wiping his hands on his napkin. “Yes, actually, I wish to become Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher one day.”

She listened as she finished her dinner as quickly as she could, but she didn’t stick around to hear the rest of Tom’s story. She gazed over at the Mother who only nodded that she may be excused before she gathered her plate and hurried off to the kitchen where the Lestranges house elf cleaned.

“Thank you for the food, Gimbel,” she nodded at the house elf who only nodded back as she set her dirty plate on the pile of unclean dishes the house elf had stacked on the countertop. She hurried back upstairs where she shut herself in her room, sighing as she fell onto her mattress.

All she had left to endure was breakfast tomorrow morning, and she’d be free of seeing Tom for the rest of the day. She rested her arm over her eyes, her heart beating against her chest. She couldn’t believe the boy she’s been pining after since her first year is in her house, staying in only a few rooms down from hers. How she wished she could talk to him, to treat him like a guest rather than act like he wasn’t even there at all.

She even, for a moment, wished she was a true member of the Lestrange family, so that she could be treated as an equal.

Tom hardly saw her for breakfast the next morning, for as soon as he and Tiernan had entered the dining room, she was seemingly finished with her food, and once again scurried off towards the kitchen as she did the night before. Tiernan scoffed when he saw this as they took their seats on one side of the long dining table, loading their plates with biscuits and bacon and eggs.

“I apologize for her… strange behavior, my Lord,” Tiernan muttered to home as Tom took a sip of milk. “She’s always like this, you see.” Tom didn’t care to listen to whatever else Tiernan had to say about his adopted sister. Tom had already made up his mind about her, it was how he’d find the chance to talk to her that was the problem.

She seemed to avoid him like the plague, and he knew he more than likely wouldn’t be seeing her at all the rest of the day, since the Lestranges locked her in her room while they hosted their party. Tom was clever, so surely he’d be able to find a way around it?

But as the time for the party to begin approached, he still came up with nothing. He had no excuse for wanting to see her, and with Tiernan practically breathing down his neck, he hadn’t any chance of sneaking away any time soon. He wasn’t even sure if he’d be able to see her at all when the party began and Avery, Mulciber, Rosier, Dolohov, and Nott all came rushing towards him and Lestrange. He had no space absolutely no space and no time to sneak away.

“Don’t worry,” Lestrange was saying to his friends. “The mudblood is upstairs in her bedroom. Won’t be coming out at all tonight, that one.” The boys snickered as they called her names and made jokes about her, but Tom wasn’t listening. Even though it seemed as if all hope of seeing her tonight was lost, he was still thinking of every possible excuse he could come up with to sneak away.

But fortunately, he wouldn’t have to contemplate for much longer.

“Blast,” Lestrange cursed, feeling around his pockets. Clarence Avery furrowed his eyebrows as he watched his friend, the others soon joining in. “What is it?” Liam Mulciber asked as Lestrange emptied each of his pockets, coming up with nothing. “Left my damn wand in my room,” Lestrange muttered, and Tom perked at this. Lestrange turned to Tom and stepped closer to murmur close to his ear, “forgive me for asking you of this, my Lord, but I simply do not trust the others. Will you go upstairs and retrieve my wand for me? I can’t go upstairs, mother and father said I need to stay down here.”

If Tom was the type, he’d laugh and jump up and down at the request. All day he had been trying to come up with some sort of excuse to slip away from the party, and now he finally had one. He cleared his throat and nodded, “of course,” he said to Lestrange before making his way over towards the staircase, but he did not stop at Tiernan’s bedroom door as he passed.

Instead, he walked a little further down the Lestranges upstairs hallway, stopping at the last door on the left where she was, the black wooden door the only thing separating him from her now. Tom raised a fist to the door and knocked, and for a moment, it was silent on the other side.

Who could possibly be knocking at her door?

She knew it could not be any of the Lestranges, for they would’ve just burst through the door without any respect for her privacy anyways. It couldn’t be Gimbel either, the house elf never came to her room. She grew weary as she closed her book and set it down on the mattress beside her, clearing her throat before murmuring a low, “come in.”

She watched as the handle to her door twisted and it swung open, and when she saw who was standing there in her doorway, she felt as if all the air had been knocked from her lungs. She’d only ever dreamed of Tom Riddle being in her bedroom, but never before did she actually think he’d really come in here.

But there he was. There Tom Riddle stood, closing the door behind him and turning to gaze at her where she sat on her bed, his eyes entrancing as they were dark. Even from across the room, his irises seemed to pull her in like they were magnets and she was metal, and she lost herself further and further into his soul…

“Forgive me,” Tom said, and she blinked. Those were the first words she had ever heard him direct towards her. “I would not usually barge into a lady’s room like this.”

Fire raged across her skin, up her neck, and to her cheeks until they were seared with flame. She suddenly had the strongest urge to open the window, wondering if she had broken into a sweat yet or not.

She blinked again, and the corner of Tom’s lips curved into a soft smile. He knew he already had her wrapped around his finger.

“Your brother thought he left something in here,” he said, gesturing towards her desk against the far wall of the room. “May I?”

She could not think of anything Tiernan could have possibly left in her room, but she wouldn’t dare question Tom, so instead she nodded, and she watched as he strode across the room, opening her desk drawers and sifting through its contents.

Of course, Tom wasn’t searching for anything. But she needn’t know that yet.

“Hm,” Tom hummed, closing the drawers he had opened and turning to face her again, leaning back against the wooden desk. “Perhaps, your brother was mistaken.”

She felt small underneath Tom’s gaze, and she felt as though she could curl herself into a ball right now and shrivel away. But instead she sat still on her bed, unable to speak, unable to move. Tom chuckled and she pinched her bottom lip between her teeth, mentally cursing herself for being so shy. Typical Hufflepuff, she could imagine her adopted brother sneering.

“You know, you should really join the party,” Tom said, hoping to break the ice between them. She soothed the skin of her arms with her palms and rubbed at her elbows, shaking her head. “The Mother and the Father won’t let me attend,” she managed to speak at last, and she gulped down the lump in her throat.

Although Tom already knew the answer, he still tilted his head, feigning curiosity. “Why is that?” He asked, and she swallowed again, forcing back down the truth. She dropped her head and shrugged, “because I’m different.”

Tom blinked, and he suddenly felt like he was ten years old again, still living at the orphanage he grew up in. For over ten years, he grew up unlike all the other children, and even at an early and young age, he knew that he was different. It wasn't until Albus Dumbledore came to visit him that he finally understood why he felt this way.

It was different in her case, because at least she knew why she was different. But they were still treated the same, like they were misfits, rejects, outcasts. It was then that he understood the connection he felt towards her with a different meaning, that he first noticed this string tethering them together.

They had both been lost before, but just like he had found himself, she could be found too. Tom could be the one to find her, for he seemed to be the only one who understood her.

Tom’s footsteps permeated her bedroom as he made his way over towards her bed, setting himself down on the mattress beside her. She flinched when she felt the bed dip beneath his weight, and it was then that it occurred to her just how close he was.

They had never ever been this close before.

“Why are you different?” He asked, gazing down at her as she peered up, their eyes meeting closer than they ever have before. For a moment she said nothing, only continued to lose herself further in the dark depths of the treacherous caverns that were his eyes. He studied her— her eyes, her eyebrows, her nose, her cheeks, her chin, her lips.

It was no secret that she was beautiful, even Tom could admit that. But she was vulnerable, it was clear the moment Tom met her eyes again. And Tom could work with vulnerability.

“Well…” she trailed off, contemplating how much she should tell him. Tom’s fingers grazed against her knee and she trembled, her eyes flicking down to his hand and back up to his face. “You can tell me,” Tom said warmly. “You can tell me anything.”

She blinked. Never before had she heard those words. Nobody has ever wanted to hear her story before, for they all thought they already knew it all by now. She was the child who was left on the Lestranges doorstep as a baby, the child the Lestranges took in to ‘raise as their own’ because they just couldn’t bear giving such a young girl away since they were so kindhearted.

So never had she ever thought she’d be given the chance to tell someone about herself, to let someone read her story. But there was something about Tom, and she felt like she could trust him.

“I’m… I was left on their doorstep as a baby,” she began, and Tom nodded, encouraging her to continue. “I was… I am muggle-born…” she trailed off, wincing as she searched Tom’s face for disgust, but he didn’t even recoil. He only gazed at her with that same patient stare, waiting for her to keep going.

So she did.

“They hate me for it,” she added. “For having dirty blood. I’m not sure why they kept me, I could’ve been a Squib or not even a witch at all for that matter. Thankfully, I got my Hogwarts letter when Tiernan did.” She wrung her hands together in her lap, Tom’s warmth drawing her even closer to him. “It certainly didn’t help that I wasn’t sorted into Slytherin.”

She swallowed the lump in her throat back down again, and Tom let his palm rest on her knee again, his touch warm, like a kiss from the sun itself. She felt relaxed when he touched her, despite how nervous she actually was inside.

“They treat me… so bad,” she whispered. “They treat me like I’m nothing.”

Her voice wavered before it broke, and when it was clear that she wouldn’t be able to continue, the hand that had previously been resting on her knee retreated so that it may instead reach her face. Gently, he gripped her chin between his thumb and forefinger and forced her face up to his, her teary eyes searching his for something, anything she could hold onto. Warmth, comfort, reassurance, hope, anything.

So Tom would tell her what she wanted to hear.

“You are not nothing,” Tom murmured, and her lip quivered the longer she stared at him. “You are somebody. Don’t let them take that feeling away from you.”

She blinked and her brow softened, her vision blurring with tears. She was somebody. Tom Riddle thought she was somebody.

And somehow, that seemed to be all she needed to hear.

A silence ensued and they only gazed deeper into one another’s eyes. With the grip still on her chin, he drew her near and he leaned down to meet her halfway, his lips pressing against hers softly, as tenderly as he could. He felt the way she shuddered under his touch, as if his kiss was a tranquilizer, and she was becoming limp and pliant, all for him.

So he kissed her deeper, he kissed her harder. His tongue was warm in her mouth as she let him reign dominance over her own, her hands shaking as one cupped the side of his face and the other grabbed his bicep.

This was what Tom Riddle had been fantasizing about for years. To have her compliant beneath him, to have her completely under his control. He loved how easy it was, how easy it was to have her. Although he’d admit, this connection he felt towards her was growing, and it was growing at an alarming rate. As he pushed her down onto the mattress and trailed his kisses down from her lips to her jaw, he found that his heart burned, as if she had set it aflame, and this feeling was foreign to him.

He had no idea what this tenderness he felt was, whether he dared call it love or not. For eighteen years, he was under the impression that he couldn’t love, that love simply just wasn’t in the cards for him, and he was completely okay with that.

But this feeling, whatever it was he felt for her, came unexpectedly, and he was unsure whether or not he should embrace it or push it away.

For now, he worked at unbuttoning her blouse as he sucked marks into her neck, his tongue swirling around her collarbone.

She pressed her lips together to contain her noises as Tom slipped her blouse from her shoulders and down her arms, discarding it down onto the floor altogether. He made quick work of her brassiere, his lips previously kissing her collarbone venturing down between the valley of her breasts, sucking marks onto either mounds of flesh.

“T… Tom,” she mewled as he pressed a kiss to one of her nipples, kneading her opposite breast with his palm. He hummed in reply, gazing up at her through hooded lids as he sucked the erect bud, releasing it with a wet pop before doing the same to the other. She squirmed beneath him and squeezed her eyes shut, arching her back up off of the mattress. “T… Tom, I… they will punish me if they hear me.”

Tom smirked against her skin as he released her nipple from his mouth and kissed down her stomach, past her belly button, all the way to the hem of her skirt. He pushed himself up by the elbows as he hooked his fingers over the hem, beginning to tug them down her thighs.

“Then I suggest you stay quiet,” he said simply as he removed her skirt from her ankles, her panties soon joining the sea of clothes on the floor as well.

She sank her teeth down into her bottom lip so hard when he placed a kiss just above her aching clit, she feared she’d draw blood. Tom eyed her through his hooded stare as he teasingly dipped his tongue past her folds, testing the waters. He watched as her face scrunched and she kicked her legs, arching her back at just the simplest of touches.

So eager, he thought.

He soothed her stomach with one of his palms as he pecked her clit, watching the way she trembled and writhed, whining behind closed lips, silent pleading for more. Tears broke past the glossy barrier of her eyes and began to spill down her cheeks like crystals, and he smirked as he pressed his lips down against her heat, sucking her clit as it throbbed and ached to be touched.

She threw her hands down on the mattress on either side of her, her fingernails clawing at the sheets as he flicked his tongue up and down her slit, humming at the taste of her nectar on his tongue. She tried to watch as he lapped up the juices spilling down her folds before flicking his tongue against her bud again, but she couldn’t even hold herself up, much less keep her eyes open for longer than a few seconds.

“P… please,” she mewled quietly as one of her hands ventured down between her legs to grip at his hair, and she ground her hips against his face, eager for more. That was when Tom stopped and pried her hand away from his head, and she blinked up at him through her bleary eyes.

“Do you want to come?” He asked as he unbuttoned his shirt, shouldering it off of him and tossing it to the floor with the rest of the discarded clothes. She gaped at the sight of his chest, but he grabbed her face again and forced her to look at him, squishing her cheeks between his thumb and forefinger. “I expect you to answer me when I ask you a question.”

She trembled and felt her walls clench at his words, nodding up and down. “Yes. Yes please,” she whimpered as he tore his hand away from her face to work on his belt, tossing it and his trousers away until he stood before her completely in the nude, in all of his glory.

He was beautiful. And he was already beautiful to begin with but this, she never could have even imagined how he looked underneath the clothes. He wasn’t muscular or built like a statue or even a Quidditch player, but still, his arms and torso were toned, and his cock…

She could feel her patience slipping away the longer he kept her waiting. She watched as he took a hold of his cock and stared down at her, maintaining eye contact as he gave himself a few pumps, his other hand absentmindedly stroking up and down her slick. She bit down onto her lip as she gazed up at him, watching him in anticipation for what was to come next.

Tom leaned back down to her face and captured her lips with his, unable to resist the temptation any longer. He kissed her again and again and again as he slipped inside of her, her moans muffled by his mouth on hers. She instinctively wrapped her arms around his shoulders and dug her fingernails into his skin, etching crescent moons into his flesh. Tom broke their kiss and let his forehead drop onto hers as he rocked his hips into her, slowly at first. One of her hands slithered to cup the back of his neck as tears streamed down the sides of her face, never feeling this good in all her years.

Tom let his gaze fall upon her face again, her eyelids squeezed shut but her face scrunched in pleasure, every once in a while muffling her sounds by pressing her face into his shoulder. He began to thrust harder than before, her legs wrapping around his waist and squeezing, beckoning him further inside of her. So he fucked her harder, and harder and harder and harder as if he intended to break her, to shatter her into a million pieces.

And maybe that was the goal all along.

Never has Tom felt this good, never had he felt so intoxicated by another person, and never did he believe he could be so attached to someone else before. Part of him hated it, part of him wanted to throw it away and stomp on it and set it on fire.

But the other part of him embraced it, another part of him felt powerful as he fucked into her with reckless abandon, powerful having someone underneath his control. He never imagined another person could feel so good, he never imagined someone else could make him feel so infinite. As far as he was concerned, he was doing just fine on his own.

But this was different. This was on a whole other level of power. He felt strong, even when she clenched around him and gushed around his cock, even when he felt himself so close to the edge, so close to releasing himself for another person.

He pushed away from from her and groped her chest with one hand, holding onto her shoulder with the other as he fucked her harder than before, without a care for how much noise they were making. He’d make it up to the Lestranges, he’d go down and tell them it was him making all the noise, it wasn’t like they’d punish him.

For now, he focused on chasing his release, on the way she felt around him, on the way he was so close to climax he could practically taste it. She sobbed beneath him and her lips fell agape with the intent of screaming his name but he clapped his hand around her mouth before she could as he thrusted again and again and again until finally he released, and warmth surged through her.

Tom’s chest heaved and he fell on top of her as she cried, motionless beneath him. Sweat made her skin glisten and tears made her cheeks swollen and sticky, but he found that he admired her all the same.

This warmth in his chest was new, and it was a feeling he couldn’t quite place or put a finger on. But if whatever it was could make him feel like he was on top of the world, like he was the most powerful being on this Earth, like he was infinite…

…then surely he could learn to embrace it.

a/n; oop this is the longest imagine i’ve ever written 🙈 thank you so much for the request anon! i wrote this one up pretty fast because i really liked the idea, it definitely wasn’t stupid! so i hope this is close to what you’ve been imagining!! and feel free to send in more requests if you’d like! i love writing requests!

| 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 |

@darkmoviesquotespizza 🥹🫶

#tom riddle x you #tom riddle #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle smut #wizarding world #harry potter fic #harry potter fandom #harry potter imagine #harry potter #tom marvolo riddle

2K notes · View notes

judebelle · 5 months

Note

been thinking ab joao and reader hooking up behind his teammates backs'... like they've been "involved" for a while but sometimes the tension is too much and they have to sneak away iykwim ;)

sneaky - j.f. x reader

a/n : omfg anon ur gonna be the death of meeeeeee!! also i made this kinda long since i havent posted in a while, oops..

pairing : joao felix x fem!reader

word count : 2.3k

summary : joao and u prefer to keep your love life private, secret even, but the the flirty looks and knowing smirks from across the room are becoming unbearable.

cw : smut obv, lil bit of alejandro x reader, sneaky joao and reader, unprotected sex (wrap it b4 u tap it ppl), make outs, cursing, me not bothering to accent his name lol sorry

---

you were starting to regret going out to dinner with your friend alejandro and his teammates.

the only reason why being that one of his teammates had become more.

hooking up with joao felix on the down low has been fun, you won't lie. and while you enjoy sneaky quickies and flirty messages, there were times where you wish you could just tear off his clothes and fuck that smug smile right off his face.

you were currently sitting in a restaurant, a private room and table was booked for alejandro, his barcelona teammates, and their plus ones. you and alejandro had become inseparable ever since you met in spain a few years ago, and you had grown increasingly close to his teammates.

very close to a certain mr felix.

the first time you met joao, it wasn't anything magical, you just thought he was fit. alejandro had introduced you to him when he came on loan to barca recently, and you just couldn't get him out of your head.

it seems that the feelings were mutual, as that very same night he followed you on instagram. you, of course, played it cool and took your time following him back (you waited like 10 seconds).

from there, you two messaged often, especially after the team would hang out.

joaofelix79 : u got home safe?

ynsusername : ofc i did

ynsusername : alejandro wouldn't let anything happen to me

joaofelix79 : that's good.

you two started messaging more, sometimes even calling each other late in the night. you couldn't explain why, maybe he was just fun to talk to.

you would complain to him about work, and he would complain about a mistake he made in training.

eventually, you two started hanging out alone.

not anything crazy, of course.

joaofelix79 : hey

joaofelix79 : js noticed im about to drive by ur place

joaofelix79 : wanna get some ice cream? my treat

how could you refuse that?

it wasn't all that shocking to you when a surprise ice cream date turned out into a steamy make out session on a bench in a park in the middle of the night.

"we should stop, someone might see us.." you murmured against the portuguese boy's lips, you yourself making no effort to.

"ok, if that's what you want." he pulled away from you, his fluffy hair disheveled thanks to you.

"5 more minutes" you placed your lips on his again, feeling him smile against them.

from there, weekly hangouts became almost nightly. he would pick you up in his car, and you would drive anywhere. you just needed an excuse to make out. you even put your number in his phone.

eventually, joao grew tired of the make outs that led to nothing, and you did too.

12:03 am - joao : wyd

12:03 am - you : was ab to put some instant noodles in the microwave lol

12:04 am - joao : dont bother

12:04 am - joao : come eat at my place

12:05 am - joao : i ordered uber eats

of course, you went, and you two ate the chinese takeout he bought. you two sat and laughed together at his attempt at using chopsticks.

and then you found yourself perched on his kitchen counter, him in between your legs while he rammed into you mercilessly. you left red marks across his back and biceps.

"my god, you feel amazing, querida." joao's words were muffled as his head was nuzzled into your neck, his lips caressing your hot skin with every word he spoke.

"i'm so fucking close, joao.." you whined and whispered curses while your hands found themselves travelling from his arms to his hair, tugging on the soft brown locks.

"let go, y/n, i'm close too!" he removed his flushed face from your neck and connected your lips together again, breathing heavily into your mouth.

you came undone with a sharp whine, arching into him. his thrusts became sloppy as he let out a long groan against your lips, releasing into the condom.

that was the first time you two had fucked, and it definitely would not be the last.

his house was usually where you two would hook up because it was so big, and you didn't have to worry about anything when you were there.

you two fucked anywhere - on the bed, in the shower, on the couch, even in the laundry room.

you found that it didn't really matter where you were. if either of you were craving the other, it happened right then and there. it was fun. it kept you on your toes, kept things fresh and fun.

but it became a curse when you two were at a team dinner.

---

"si, i told him he could go fuck off if that was what he wanted. that guy needs to learn some manners, for fucks sake!"

the table erupted in laughs as pedro went on about some story that you weren't really paying attention to to be honest. you were sat right beside your good friend, alejandro, who was very intrigued in pedro's story and hadn't spoken to you more than twice this evening.

across from you was joao. he was wearing a black dress shirt that hugged his biceps perfectly along with black dress pants. of course, to make your life more difficult, the top two shirt buttons weren't done up.

one more open button and everyone would've seen the hickey you gave him the other-

"isn't that right, y/n?"

alejandro was speaking to you, and you were too busy staring at joao's biceps to hear him.

"hmm? sorry?"

"i said, it was you who i walked in on dancing silently in the darkness darkness of your room, right?" alejandro smirked at the sight of your cheeks going red, this memory being nothing short of embarrassing to you.

"yup, that- uh- that was me..!" you looked down in humiliation as the table giggled at alejandro's unexpected story about you. he loved embarrassing you, it was his thing. he found it fun because he thought of you like a little sister.

you looked up to see joao, laughing along with everyone else at the table, finding amusement in your misery. you shot him a playful glare.

"i'm only teasing, mi corazón." alejandro chuckled before ruffling your hair. "ale!" you whined, fixing your hair. his friends teased you. they all thought of you as their little sister, especially you being one of the younger ones.

the men continued on with their conversations as you continued looking at joao from your end of the table, only this time, he was looking at you too.

he was taking a slow sip of his water, eyeing you down.

joao wasn't the only one dressed all sexy tonight. you wore a short black satin strapless dress that hugged your figure perfectly. you thought of joao when you picked it out, you thought of him while putting it on, and you thought of him taking it off.

it seems that joao had the same thought. the way he looked at you from under his lashes gave you the impression that your outfit choice was a smart one.

you sent him a quick wink.

he smirked and dropped his eyes to your cleavage, widening them.

you rolled yours before continuing to eat your steak.

---

you couldn't take it anymore.

something the way he laughed with everyone at the table, his hair flowing when he turned his head. he had on a gold rolex and a gold chain, both glistening under the lighting over the table.

it was the way he carried himself with such confidence. he knew he was hot, and he knew you knew it too. that confidence definitely carried over into bed.

finally, you got up from the table, excusing yourself to "make a call".

shooting joao a quick look, he took the hint. his eyes followed you, watching you exit the restaurant and head towards the parking lot. after an agonizing 30 seconds or so, joao told everyone he forgot something in his car, and made a beeline to where he saw you last.

he saw you standing outside his car, waiting for him. he made his way towards you.

"so, who did you have to call?" he teased, his eyes waiting for your reaction. you scoffed and rolled your eyes, "very funny.".

you wrapped your arms around his neck, bringing him closer to you as you leaned against his car. he smiled down at you before looking over your figure.

"nice dress.."

"just take it off."

---

you two had squeezed into the back of his car, leaving nothing but surrounding street lights as your light source. you straddled his waist, rocking your hips while you smashed your lips against his. you two were breathing heavily, occasionally breaking the kiss to huff and puff before going back at it again.

joao's arms were wrapped tightly around your waist, his right hand occasionally sliding down to cup and smack your ass. his actions made you yelp into the kiss. your arms were everywhere. cupping his face, on his shoulders, in his hair, on his chest, on his abs.

it was like you two hadn't seen each other in years. like you were drowning and the only way to breathe was.. this.

your smooth rocking of the hips created a hard bulge in joao's pants which felt great on your throbbing clit. he groaned into the kiss, breaking it for you to breathe and to leave kisses down your neck.

"so, fucking, horny" he broke each word with a kiss. you moaned above him. "you can't even last one dinner party without my hands all over you?" you wanted him to shut up, so you grabbed his face in your hand and smashed your lips against his.

you started unbuttoning his shirt, but your hands were too shaky to do it quickly. "take this off, god damnit!" you groaned as he laughed and began unbuttoning it himself. you hiked your dress up and helped him with the last few buttons.

you moved his shirt partially off him, leaving it on his arms since you couldn't be bothered. you leaned down to kiss his chest while looking up at him. he was smiling down at you, hands rested behind his head.

he brought you back up to pull the top of your dress down just enough so that your tits would pop out. when they did, he licked his lips. now it was his turn to lean down and suck on them, making you tilt your head back and pant.

"joao, we dont have time for this-"

"shhh, patience princesa. don't worry." he went back to sucking.

"they're going to realize we're gone- joao!"

he couldn't bring himself to leave your tits alone, but when he did, you quickly reached down and undid his belt , not even bothering to pull it off.

"estás mesmo excitado, não é?" (you're really excited, aren't you?)

you nodded and bit your lip.

he unzipped his pants and pulled his hard cock out of his boxers. you raised yourself up on your knees and hovered over his dick. he held it up with one hand, the other resting on your hip.

"are you ready for me?" he teased.

"enough questions." you cut his teasing short as you took his cock in your hands yourself and sunk down on him.

joao hissed at the unexpected pleasure. he looked up at you, gasping for air above him before tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

"move for me, bebé."

you did as you were told, lifting your hips up until just the tip of him was left in you, before sinking back down on him, agonizingly slow.

he shuddered at the feeling.

you picked up the pace, causing the car to rock. your tits bounced in his face, causing him to twitch inside you.

"fuck, y/n, you're amazing-" you laugh breathlessly above him, your hands resting on his shoulders for stability while his gripped your hips tightly.

after some time, your thighs were burning, and you were getting tired. joao picked this up, taking control. his grip on your hips was put to some use as he moved your hips up and down for you. he lifted and dropped you so easily and made you move so much faster. you felt the air leave your lungs and arched your back to stick your tits in his face.

he grinned as he thrusted his hips up, meeting you in the middle. he tilted your body back, and started to hit the spot inside you that made you see white.

your pants and gasps turned into moans and whines as you felt the bundle of heat in your core.

"joao, i'm close" you warned, your nails digging into his shoudlers.

"i'm right there with you, baby, oh," he groaned and grunted as he watched him drill into you faster and faster. "meu deus, foda-se!" (my god, fuck!) he hissed with gritted teeth as he felt you clench around him.

his pace was too much for you to hold back. you let go with a gasp and moan, your hand slamming and sliding down the steamy car window, leaving a print.

joao was, indeed, right there with you. he pulled your body off of him and set you down on his thighs hastily before stroking his red, throbbing cock, cumming all over your stomach with a string of grunts and pants.

you both sat there in the hot and dark car in disbelief, covered in sweat and panting, after having the most mind blowing sex you've ever had. you leaned your forehead against his and smiled. he chuckled before teasing you once more.

"let's go. we don't want to miss dessert, do we?"

843 notes · View notes

woniverse-writes · 7 months

Text

"Moth to a Flame (part 5)"

Bada Lee x Reader

part 4 ⟵ part 5 ⟶ part 6

series masterlist

summary: y/n l/n is the youngest team member of Jam Republic, competing in the second season of Street Woman Fighter. she’s got the sweetest smile and the most vibrant personality, but she also may or may not be the biggest hothead on the show when it comes to defending her teammates. apparently that’s attractive to Bada Lee.

word count: 6k

warnings: swearing, angst, y/n is a little psycho asshole in this chapter, but like- bada.... eeh scary, a lot of plot changes cuz I like playing the victim lol, not proofread, ending was kind of rushed, nothing i write is a reflection of anyone's true character and is a work of total fiction

Shortly after Rie Hata’s message finished playing on the monitors all teams wrapped up their fun and began heading back to the studio to begin preparing for the mega crew mission. They all dry their hair and get changed, reapplying their makeup to prepare for filming again, when the host appears with another message. He congratulates the remaining teams for surviving, and at the mention of Tsubakill’s elimination y/n and the rest of Jam Republic immediately frown.

Daniel continues to explain the mission and informs them that there will be three different concepts that they have to use, but the way they will be decided is by group discussion. On top of that team Bebe has the benefit of going straight for whatever concept they want without discussion. The three creative prompts consisted of ‘outdoor’, ‘structure’, and ‘all gender’.

“Ooh we could definitely do something sick with structures” Audrey perked up and her partner-in-crime nodded in agreement before speaking

“Yeah but honestly I think we could do well with any of these…” y/n countered smirking cockily prompting Emma to hum and hold out her hand for a high five.

“I personally feel like we should go for outdoors. I already have so many ideas for what we could do and I know some of you do too…” the leader chimed in, eyeing Ling and Y/n at the mention of other members having ideas. They decide to have their three creative directors be Kirsten, Ling, and Y/n and the three begin coming up with their own separate ideas, with the help of another member.

When the crew came back together after a few moments of planning and creative briefing, they all shared their ideas. Kirsten came up with the idea of showcasing the beauty of New Zealand since it was most of their crew’s homeland- she wanted to shoot on the beach and have the rocks behind them. Ling’s idea was to take more of an approach that would appeal to their Korean audience, by incorporating more K-pop dance styles and music and shooting in the heart of the city with all the lights in the back. Everyone really liked both ideas, but y/n’s quickly became their favorite when she explained it.

“Okay so this might be too much, and could easily get muddled- but what if we did a sports theme? Like- we each represent a different sport or activity while also representing our culture or background… each of us could get a highlight and we’d all have our “teams” that would dance in our own styles- then we’d all come together in the end as a sort of pep-rally type thing…” y/n finished off the basic ideas of her take, and everyone immediately either nodded or clapped, thoroughly impressed with how quickly she had come up with such an elaborate idea.

“And this is exactly why you’re here girlfriend- forever a genius…” the leader nodded and smiled at her youngest, clapping her hands slowly and appreciatively. It was an idea that could work with all three concepts so the team decided to mark y/n’s as the top choice as of right now.

When all the teams gathered to pick their concept Jam Republic and Bebe were the only groups that chose something other than ‘structure’, Jam Republic sticking to their outdoor idea and Bebe going with the all gender category. After the pink team explained why they picked what they did, it caused Deep n Dap to change their pick to outdoor as well, saying it was because they felt their crew could easily rival Jam Republic, which caused Kirsten to maturely and professionally nod, while y/n covered her mouth and snickered.

After Jam Republic has guaranteed themselves a spot in the outdoor concept, they head back to their team hideout and begin to plan out their ideas in full. Y/n already begins to map out choreography for her and Ling’s sections, while Emma does the same for herself and Audrey, leaving Kirsten and Latrice to pair up. The girls decided to head back to New Zealand and take advantage of the scenery as part of the expression of their members’ culture. It was a nice blend of y/n and Kirsten’s concepts.

______

Y/n and Bada hadn’t really talked much since they began preparing for the Mega Crew mission, both focusing on their team’s success. Although they still texted daily, sometimes it was only a quick good morning or goodnight, while other times they had fuller conversations.

‘Have a safe flight, text me when you land plz!’ y/n read the message right before she got on the plane. She felt her heart swell at the little gesture of care, hearting the message and replying with a selfie of her in the airport paired with the words ‘thank you lovey, I will <3’.

Jam Republic boarded their plane and took off from South Korea to New Zealand, with many plans already going wrong as soon as the plane was in the air. You see, they had just been informed of how bad the weather was in the area, then about how many of the dancers they called for wouldn’t be able to make it. Each member was responsible for contacting and securing 10 members to come dance with them, explaining how the show would be paying for their trip and all the dancers had to do was show up and give it their best. It started off really well, with each of them actually coming back with more than 10 dancers. Then the weather hit. Flights were canceled or delayed to the point where people wouldn’t make it in enough time to learn the dance. On top of that, their idea to shoot at the beach was totally scrapped due to the intense winds. With the major setbacks of losing over half their dancers and not being able to use their original scene, the girls had to redo choreography and practically start the whole project over.

“This can’t be happening…” y/n was the first to start spiraling, ever the drama queen- but this time it was very justified. All six members of the crew stood in a circle in the middle of the studio floor, eyes flitting back and forth between each other and their leader, who was staring at the floor deep in thought. Kirsten let out a huge sigh and crossed her arms tensely.

“I’m sorry girls… but I really don’t know what we’re gonna do…” the leader ran her hands down her face and let out another deep breath, turning away for a moment with her hands on her hips. At that moment, the youngest realized how serious the situation really was, seeing as her leader wasn’t presenting her usual calm self. Typically when there was an issue, Kirsten was calm, cool, and collected- even if it seemed unsolvable… she always had an answer no matter what.

y/n being the perfectionist she is, began racking her brain for any possible solutions, already feeling her lungs begin to collapse at the possibility of complete failure. On top of being a perfectionist, the young girl also had a pretty bad case of savior complex, feeling like she had to fix everyone’s problems, especially when there was no one else who could- even if she knew that she herself probably wouldn’t be able to fix it either (at least not without bending over backward and bleeding herself dry).

“No… no we can easily fix this-” all eyes went to the youngest member who ran off to grab all their notebooks and bring them back over to where the crew still stood. She spread them out, riffling through the pages until she found ideas they could use.

“We can still use the stadium… it won’t be as grand of a scale as we wanted, but that can still work. And- and we can make it related to New Zealand instead of all of our different backgrounds, so it’s easier to put together and less choreography to make up… we can fix this!” y/n was frantically and hopefully (delusionally) explaining her ideas, trying as hard as she could to bring the team’s morale back up. They sat down in their circle and began connecting the ideas, just hoping for the best at this point

Even though the Jam Republic girls were frustrated, they only let it fuel their will to work even harder. It crushed y/n a little to have to scrap her idea, knowing it would’ve brought them an easy win, but she was determined to make their new routine strong. The team had ultimately decided to keep the athletic theme but changed it quite a bit to highlight rugby which was a big part of New Zealand culture. The girls planned on dancing in the bleachers and on the field to portray a Friday night lights feel, or a game- since it technically was still a competition between them and deep n dap.

A few days go by and it isn’t getting any easier for Jam Republic. As much as they try to stay positive, the insane lack of dancers makes it hard to achieve the impact they’re going for. Y/n kept saying how they needed to keep trying to find more dancers, but Kirsten just wanted to focus on perfecting the routine with what they had. The young girl also kept mentioning little ideas and elements to add in order to amplify the concept they were going for, but again the leader was more focused on solidifying the present piece. Y/n ended up getting so frustrated that she would just randomly start tearing up and crying during their breaks, not allowing herself to stop for more than 30 seconds, grabbing a quick sip of water, and then immediately going back to practicing. She thought that maybe if she gave it her all, she wouldn’t be as disappointed in herself when she wasn’t satisfied with the outcome.

Of course, all of the girls were on edge but they at least were able to put it aside at some moments, still being able to enjoy parts of the process. y/n tried her best not to let her teammates see how anxious and worked up she was, but the girl was so overwhelmed with fear of failure that it would be impossible for anyone not to see it. Which is why it made everything so much worse for her when she continued to go through the rest of the preparation without a single person asking what was wrong. Y/n understood- really, she did. Everyone needed to focus on the end goal, and that meant there wasn’t time to deal with her feelings.

Bada was beginning to worry, seeing as the last response she had gotten from y/n was days ago. The girl had landed her flight and texted the Bebe leader immediately, letting her know she was safe, but also explaining the problems that had already arisen. They talked briefly about how the pink team was likely going to have to restart everything if the weather didn’t ease up. Then a couple of days later, they talked on the phone about the complete concept change and reboot of their whole routine. Y/n tried to keep her stress to a minimum, not wanting to be a burden to the other girl who was also beginning to get stressed.

It had been many days since then, and she’d texted the younger girl three separate times as well as tried calling her twice. Bada finally got a response the day before Jam Republic would be flying back to Korea for the midterm mission check, where they as well as the other teams would be reviewing each other’s practice videos of the choreography. It had been a somewhat longer text message reading ‘hi. I’m really sorry for not responding at all for the last few days. I know you’re probably just as stressed as i am, so I’m sorry for not being able to be there. Things haven’t been going good over here and I’m honestly really scared to present what we have… but I’m sure everything will be fine haha. How have you been?’

Bada felt her heart clench at the girl’s words, understanding why she wasn’t responding but still feeling a bit upset nonetheless. It hurt her to see y/n try to brush off her stress and redirect her attention so it would focus on caring for others instead of caring for herself.

Jam Republic arrives back in South Korea and heads straight to the studio to film their reactions and judgments of the other teams. They immediately make their way to their pink hideout passing by other crews, but not having time to mingle or really do anything more than smile and wave. The girls were exhausted from the flight, jetlag, and overworking themselves. y/n didn’t even realize team Bebe wasn’t with the rest of the crews when they passed through the lobby.

Bebe sat in their room, feeling more anxious than usual, a bad vibe floating through the air. No one could quite put their finger on it, but something definitely wasn’t right and it was causing all of the members to feel its effects. It officially came time for all crews to review each dance practice video. Each team’s video played one by one and the members had time to fill out the review cards before moving on to the next.

Bebe’s video played next and the reactions were not positive, to say the least. Everyone seemed disappointed by the piece as a whole, expecting something much bigger- the music was too big of a risk, the props were poorly utilized, and it was overall just too simple. It wasn’t a bad video- it just didn’t meet anyone’s expectations since they were all waiting for some elaborate project, knowing Bada was very capable of doing so. Shortly after, a similar reaction was felt while everyone watched the Jam Republic video.

“They don’t have enough people…” Mina Myoung was the first to observe the team’s lack of crew members. They even paused the video to count how many were shown, seeing 28, which was under the minimum limit of 30 people.

“It honestly isn’t powerful enough… it’s just not impressive” Buckey commented, crossing her arms over her chest. Yoonji sighed and frowned.

“This is so sad… I was really rooting for them” The girl mumbled, genuinely feeling pity for the international team, hoping they’d be able to pull through.

When it came down to voting for the team that should be eliminated, Jam Republic ultimately chose Bebe. They were originally tied between voting for Bebe and Wolf'lo, with y/n fighting her best fight to vote for Wolf'lo because it just didn't look entertaining to her and they had no story or plot.

"y/n…" Kirsten started off in a warning but gentle tone

"We can’t just not pick Bebe because of you and Bada… this is a competition babe." and y/n was kinda hurt by that because she knows how to be objective and she didn't even think she was biasing Bebe- she just personally didn't like Wolf'lo and thought they should be eliminated over any other team.

Then it finally came down to the results. Each team would be given a scorecard showing the comments and feedback they’d received from the others. One card would reveal the team voted as most likely to place first, and another would reveal who was most likely to be eliminated. When Jam Republic opens their card, it felt like all of the air suddenly got sucked out of the room.

“God DAMN” Audrey laughed humorlessly in absolute shock, as they all stared at the words ‘MOST AT RISK FOR ELIMINATION’ in big bold letters at the top. y/n stopped breathing for a few seconds and she’s pretty sure everyone else did too, seeing as there was not a single sound to be heard in the dressing room. The young girl once again tried to convince herself to think rationally, but couldn’t get past the anxiety and crushing weight of failure that was starting to fill her lungs. She wasn’t even angry, even though she should’ve been because she understood. y/n understood that they didn’t meet the criteria, and their dance simply wasn’t as put together as it should've been, especially in comparison to other teams/

What really got her emotional was realizing that Bebe- that BADA- voted for them too… it felt like such betrayal and she wore that shit on her face like usual. But still- she didn't feel angry, just betrayed and heartbroken, and really fucking disappointed. The more mature and logical side of y/n was still trying not to jump to conclusions because maybe it wasn’t Bada that decided… Maybe it was the same situation her team had going on- maybe Bada didn’t want to vote for Jam Republic but the majority of others did. Y/n truly did understand everyone’s reasoning, but that didn’t make it hurt any less, especially having Bada vote to eliminate her as well

“It’s gonna be okay lovey… I promise” Kirsten wrapped her arm around the youngest’s shoulders and whispered reassuringly to her as she watched her begin to have a mental breakdown. Moments later, the rest of the crew’s ranking was revealed, showing 1 Million in first and Jam Republic in last, but also- Bebe in sixth, the second to last place. Seeing this, Bada sighed and began to have her own slight mental breakdown.

Some teams celebrated their rankings while others sat quietly, reviewing the feedback and pondering what to do. Jam Republic sat in silence as Kirsten read over the comments. Y/n sat by her side with her head in her hands sobbing silently, so overwhelmed that she didn’t know what to do. The entire team was at a loss, and soon Kirsten started crying too, wrapping and arm around the youngest members, who finally let her emotions be shown to her team. The loud cries were the only sound in the room.

Y/n was able to calm herself down after about 20 minutes of crying. The poor girl felt so awful about how things were going feeling responsible for a lot of it- thinking that maybe if she had pushed her ideas a little more, or gotten in contact with more people, or even just tried a little harder, maybe Jam Republic could’ve done so much better. Even though she’s calmed down, tears still flow down her face without her even realizing it. Y/n was never angry at anyone else for their opinions, but now she’s feeling awfully spiteful towards herself. The youngest member was filled with so much resentment and self-hatred, that it immediately sent her into an inescapable depression.

The show writers and staff were cruel. So cruel for making these girls show off their inspiration boards and creative briefs live in front of the other teams. Each team explains their given concept and how they came up with the details to highlight what they chose. While it was much more of a relaxed environment (in the sense that there would be no feedback or ranking based on this), a majority of contestants were nowhere near feeling at ease.

The members of Jam Republic were able to build themselves back up and put on their game faces while presenting, except for y/n. She really did try her best to not look like she was about to cry at the drop of a hat, but it was no use. The girl was simply not herself. The small girl’s usually bright and energetic personality was nowhere to be found, not once cracking even a hint of a smile- even when Jam Republic received immense praise for their ideas. She didn’t find any enjoyment in the other crew’s presentations, although to be fair she wasn’t really able to focus on them- she just sat there in a daze.

It made everyone nervous to see Jam Republic’s youngest member like this. Her members noticed that she had become even more irritable than before- but now in a scary way that genuinely had them concerned for themselves and everyone else. The girl was calm but you could just feel the rage and depression and resentment radiating off of her to the point it made chills run down your spine.

_________

After every crew had shared their ideas and idea boards, they were allowed to go back to head back to their hideouts to discuss any adjustments or further plans that had to be made before returning to their projects. Jam Republic had to get right back on a plane in a few hours to head back to New Zealand and somehow fix their entire routine, again.

Y/n just finished walking up the staircase leading from the fight zone to the crew lounges, when she heard someone call out her name from closely behind her. The girl turned around to come face to face with the tall leader she had been talking with for the last few months.

“Hey, are you okay? I called your name like three times…” Bada questioned worriedly, her eyebrows furrowed and head tilted as she waited for the younger girl’s response, with wide caring eyes.

“...I'm just really tired” y/n whispered in the meekest voice possible, already feeling her eyes start to sting again, but trying to cover it up with a smile. Bada sighs and pulls her into a big hug, and surprisingly y/n doesn’t burst into tears. The girl continues to try as hard as possible to keep the droplets from escaping her eyes as she squeezes them shut.

“Look… I’m really sorry” the older of the two began resting her head atop y/n’s, but the shorter one felt her body tense at the apology already not liking where the conversation was headed. y/n let go of Bada’s waist and backed away, waiting for the older girl to continue.

“It wasn’t personal… the dance was still very good, and it’ll look even better with all of the ideas planned out!” she finished, referring to how her team had voted Jam Republic as the worst crew. Y/n’s face lost any emotion she had regained, looking empty and exhausted again, making Bada’s skin prickle.

“no, I understand” was all y/n spoke, already trying to disconnect from reality to save herself from crying again or making a bigger fool out of herself than she already has. But Bada is only more upset by the reaction, seeing as y/n just doesn’t seem at all like herself. The girl genuinely looks empty inside and no one on the show has ever seen her like this, in fact- no one in Jam Republic has even seen her like this and they’re all beginning to become extremely worried about her. And even though it’s clear the small girl just needs time and space, Bada decides to keep talking

“The vote was objective I promise, I don’t want you to think anything personally of it” At the end of the older girl’s sentence, y/n just felt the tiniest bit of a scowl make its way onto her face, feeling pissed off at the thought of someone once again thinking she doesn’t understand the concept of a competition.

“Obviously- I’m not stupid, this is a competition.” the harsh tone that comes out of the younger really throws Bada for a loop because she has never seen y/n speak to or about anyone like this- and it makes her feel sick to her stomach that her first time witnessing it is directed at her.

“I- no, what? Of course you’re not stupid! I just wanted to make sure… to make sure you knew. That’s all.” Bada started off a bit panicked and emotional but quickly was able to calm down and speak rationally, understanding the younger girl was known to have a bit of a temper. There was a long silent pause.

"did you decide on Jam Republic?" y/n asked a bit accusatorily

"Huh?" the older tilted her head, still absolutely confused about how this situation was occurring right now.

"did YOU, as in yourself, Bada Lee, decide to vote Jam Republic as the team to be eliminated, or was it someone else's idea…" There was silence for a moment before Bada sighed then pursed her lips

"We all decided-"

"but who's idea was it? Did you even argue it? Were you even thinking of anyone else? Or did you just immediately decide and agree that my team should be the next to go?" Bada didn’t say anything as she started to get a little frustrated, but she watched as y/n just scoffed at the lack of response and turned to walk away, rolling her eyes. Bada followed her and pulled her aside, a few feet away from the outside of Bebe's dressing room

"well you voted for my team as the worst, so how is this any fair at all?" the tall leader finally let her emotions take control of her as she shot back with much less frustration than her counterpart, but still irritated nonetheless.

"because I didn't want to vote for you! I fought to vote Wolf'lo over you guys because I know you don't deserve to go home! I understand it from an objective perspective- I promise Bada, I do- but that doesn't make it hurt any less!" There were a few beats of silence before y/n continued

"and it's honestly really infuriating that you don't think I understand that this is a competition-" she finished off quieter than before but still filled with annoyance and betrayal.

"WOAH- now when did I EVER say that??" now it was Bada’s turn to blow up

"Oh my god- you don't have to say it! You clearly think I'm just here to have fun and make friends!" y/n once again raised her voice, this time rising in pitch as well.

"Why would you say that??" Bada fired back and was immediately met with the calmest tone of voice y/n had spoken in since the argument began, and it terrified her.

"Bada- you haven't seen me as a threat once this entire competition… have you? Not to you, not to your team…" Bada stuttered for a second, completely blindsided by the argument

"where is this all coming from y/n?" the tall girl asked, genuinely concerned. y/n sighed and her eyes softened, shook her head.

"never mind" She turned and went to walk away, but Bada grabbed her by the wrist again and dragged her inside the blue team room, closing the door behind her

"you need to speak to me. You need to communicate with me what's going on right now because whatever you're feeling is totally valid- we had a rough day out there- fuck, we’ve had a rough few days, especially you- but that doesn't mean you get to take it out on me… so please tell what's wrong, so I can try to help." the older girl calmly and gently explained her thoughts and feelings to the girl in front of her, and y/n almost cracked. almost.

“I think it’s best for me to focus on the competition… building relationships clearly isn’t working out to my benefit" Her previously soft and watery eyes, had quickly cleared up within a few seconds, leaving her looking cold and unapproachable again. The response was petty and childish, y/n herself knew that, but she said to hurt Bada.

why do you want to hurt Bada? She was apologizing, why are you making this harder? You’re being childish and proving everyone right- you’re not fit for this competition, you’re too young y/n and you don’t know how to handle things when you actually need to.

The younger girl’s internal dialogue was emotional and resentful towards herself, but for once, the expression on her face didn’t show how she was truly feeling. The anger and hatred taking over her features wasn’t directed towards the older girl in front of her, which is what anyone witnessing the interaction would assume. y/n could feel her stomach churning and her face getting hot with embarrassment. She didn’t understand why she was acting like this and didn’t know how to get herself to stop.

It felt like hours had passed before Bada spoke again and when she did it was led by an aggressive scoff.

“You can’t be serious right now…” she challenged so calmly that it sent a chill up y/n’s spine, the younger girl’s resolve finally breaking down and it became apparent that she wasn’t actually as tough as she was trying to be. Bada could see the cold glare falter for a split second, watching as her eyes became full of emotion before the younger was able to reel it in again.

“Why wouldn’t I be serious? This is a competition and the only people I should be trusting are my teammates, I shouldn’t be letting my emotions get in the way of things…” y/n responded just as calmly. If anyone else were to be present for the interaction they probably would've froze to death due to how cold the two were being.

“Next time I'll make sure to vote objectively and solely based on what I see in front, instead of trying to think about who deserves to be here more.” she finished with an empty, tight-lipped smile, tilting her head feigning understanding, and Bada let out a humorless chuckle

“God- have you always been this manipulative?” it was her turn to try and hurt the other girl. y/n’s cocky grin dropped immediately and she straightened up entirely.

“Excuse me?” the younger girl furrowed her brows and scowled again

“You heard me…” Bada replied cooly and nonchalantly as if this were any other normal conversation

“I came to you, apologizing for what I did and your response to that is to start an argument- and THEN when you realize you’re in the wrong, you try to turn it on me?” the older girl finished, voice rising slightly

“I never turned it on you- I said how I needed to focus on the competition and stop being so friendly with everyone, how are you so self-absorbed to think that was about you?” y/n could barely even get her last word out before the other was shouting over her.

“BECAUSE IT WAS- it so obviously was a dig at me y/n, because who else are you close with? Huh??” the volume of Bada’s voice caused the younger girl to flinch, no longer being able to preserve her emotions. The tall girl took a few steps forward and leaned down, getting in y/n’s face.

“Who else can actually stand being around you…” shot after shot fired, Bada was doing a much better job at hurting y/n than y/n was doing hurting Bada. She wasn’t even thinking about how she used to tell herself that she would never be the reason y/n would be crying, and now here she is, feeling satisfied when she sees a single tear run down the girl's face. She wasn’t paying attention to how it sucked all the air out of her lungs and made her stomach turn in disgust, only noticing the minuscule feeling of satisfaction.

“I think it’s so funny how you say that, knowing damn well you get jealous any time someone even looks at me… you know better than anybody that anyone in this fucking place would love to be in your position-” and this caused Bada to let out a loud laugh of disbelief, backing away slightly before getting right back in her face

“Yeah? Then how come nobody even paid attention to you until I took notice… you know that’s the only reason you’re popular, right? If it had been anyone else, no one would’ve cared… admit it to yourself, nobody wants to be in my place y/n- they all wanna be in yours, so maybe think about how lucky you are…” Bada didn’t believe in a single thing that was coming out of her mouth, she honestly couldn’t even believe her own voice hearing how condescending and spiteful the words sounded as they left her lips. She could feel a slight ringing in her ears, part of her brain processing it as a tiny voice screaming at her to stop and that she was making a mistake. But the damage was already done.

Y/n was barely holding back tears anymore, pursing her lips and clenching her jaw did nothing to stop the flow of salty droplets from streaming down her face. Her nostrils flared slightly as she swallowed down sobs and tightly closed her eyes.

“I’m not having this conversation anymore…” she managed to get the words out without sounding horribly choked up as she turns away to leave, hand about to turn the knob as the older girl lets out another dry chuckle.

“Oh so now you wanna act mature? Let me tell you this isn’t the mature way to handle the situation anymore- you don’t know how to talk to people or resolve conflict, in fact you’re NOT confrontational at all, and are really just a scared little girl who’s all bark and no bite. You’re such a child- that’s all you are- is a FUCKING child…” it’s dead silent after Bada’s done screaming at her. Y/n turns around slowly and just stands there for a moment with a blank stare, then lets out the most dry, humorless laugh. It honestly scares the shit out of the older girl, eyes going wide and face paling, coming to her senses and realizing how fucked the situation was.

Y/n was smiling and laughing, albeit a little psychotically, all while still crying- she had finally snapped, and Bada was terrified. The girl in front of her could easily be a danger to herself, and possibly others in the state she was in, but all the leader could think about was how there was probably no coming back from this. The younger of the two just closes her eyes and takes a deep breath before opening them and nodding at Bada with a tight-lipped smile, taking a deep breath.

“Okay” y/n smiles painfully as tears continue to run down her face- she turns around, swings the door open, and slams it shut as she walks out. The silence that followed was broken only seconds later as Bada heard the sobs that were almost immediately released by the girl who had just left.

y/n hadn’t even noticed the rest of Bada’s team standing around the corner, as she walked in the other direction to head back to her own room. Once she was far enough away, Lusher led the group quietly into their space seeing their leader sat on the couch with her head in her hands.

“Hey…” she speaks quietly, and Bada looks up with an empty look in her eyes, but tries to hide it when she realizes her team is present. Before she can even try to pretend nothing happened, the sub-leader was speaking up again

“We heard everything…” Bada sighed and felt tears pricking her eyes, disappointment and heartbreak finally taking over as she realized how fucked up the things she said were. The younger members sat around their leader and rubbed her arm or leg while they all watched with sad eyes as she sobbed. This was going to be a rough next few days.

notes: i'm so sorry...

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#moth to a flame #street woman fighter 2 #bada lee #bada lee x reader #street woman fighter x reader #bada x reader

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forzalando · 3 months

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okay so i had a look at the prompt list and it made me think of a few scenarios🤭 it can honestly be ideas for blurbs, bigger fics or just brain rot, whatever you’re comfortable with:)

first one i came up with - daniel + "Letting go was the hardest thing I have ever had to do."

i’ve always felt like danny is a perfect for second chance romance:)

hello, hello! thank you so much for your requests!! this is definitely longer than a blurb lol but i was inspired and kept writing! i hope you enjoy it!! Daniel Ricciardo x ex!reader wc: 1.4k warnings: angst, curse words, mentions of drinking

You knew in your heart that you’d see Daniel Ricciardo again someday – but you never pictured it like this.

In your mind, you’d be out at a club in Monaco and lock eyes across the room or you’d finally accept one of Max’s invitations to come to a race and have to explain why you were there.

You never once entertained the idea that he’d seek you out – let alone show up to your apartment late at night in the pouring rain, but Daniel was dramatic. Passionate. He always has been. It was one of the reasons you first fell in love with him, he never did anything or said anything halfway.

When you heard the frantic knocking at your door, you should’ve expected it, but you didn’t. And now he was here, dripping water onto your floors, chest heaving with the smell of whiskey and his cologne surrounding you.

“Why did you leave me?” He asked you, the vulnerability in his voice like a punch to your gut.

“Daniel, it’s late, we can talk about this in the morning. I’ll get you a change of clothes.”

“No, I want to talk about it now. Why did you leave me? Why was it so easy for you to leave me? And don’t call me Daniel, you never called me Daniel.”

“It wasn’t easy. Nothing about the past three months has been easy. And let’s not forget who left first. I may have been the one to say “we’re done” but you had been checked out long before then. All you cared about was your standings and getting Checo’s Red Bull seat. Congrats, by the way. I hope it was worth it.”

He winced at your words. At first, you supported him wholeheartedly. The rumor mill in general was vicious but the Formula One rumor mill was an entirely other beast. After Danny’s return in the 2023 season, all eyes were on him to perform then and throughout 2024. Checo’s seat would be up for grabs, he hadn’t been performing at the level he should have been in a Red Bull, and so Danny set his sights on a top team seat that everyone said could be his.

Somewhere along the way, he forgot himself. He forgot you. Late nights on the sim, time spent with Max both due to friendship and to talk about how possible it was for them to be teammates once again. You knew Max, and you knew that Max knew Daniel, so you knew that Max would give him just enough to keep that fire in his belly and keep pushing. He had to think things weren’t final up until the very end, even though you’d found out recently that they’d decided on Danny not even eight races into the season.

It took until summer break for you to muster up the courage to talk to Danny – to tell him how hurt you were that the only time he talked to you was to vent about a race or to make you feel guilty for not being at all of them. In all the years you’d been together, he’d never made you feel that way before. He promised he would turn things around. He’d sobbed in your arms that he could never lose you.

And yet, he did. Things didn’t change. If anything, they got worse with the added pressure of sitting just outside the top 10 in standings and Yuki performing extremely well in the second half of the season.

“I wasn’t fair to you,” he whispered. “I knew it then and I know it even more now, but I promise you. I swear to you. I will never be that way again.”

“And how can I trust you? You said the same thing to me six months ago when I came to you ready to leave and I gave you a chance. I stayed, and nothing changed. What’s different now?”

He opened his mouth to answer, and you knew what he would say. That he had the seat, that he wouldn’t be under that constant pressure. He could prioritize you. He would be the man you fell in love with.

“Don’t even start with me, Daniel. That’s bullshit. You may have the seat but it’ll be even worse now. If you make one mistake, the media will tear you apart. You’ll always be compared to Max. Hell, look what Red Bull did to Pierre and Alex! Talk to them! One fuck up and you’re done! There’s no way they made your contract any more favorable than the others, no matter how much respect there is between you and Christian.”

“I’m not Pierre or Alex, do you think they’re better than me? And that if they couldn’t handle it neither can I? You don’t believe in me?”

“You know that’s not what I’m saying, don’t put words in my mouth. I’ve always believed in you and I always will. I’m only trying to make you realize that the pressure will be even worse now, so how can you promise me that things between us would be better?”

The dead silence enveloped you – he said nothing in return, though you weren’t sure if he was quiet because he didn’t care to fight, or because you had scared him.

You didn’t want to keep going in circles, you’d said your piece and hoped that Daniel would understand. “I’m tired, Danny. Can we just go to sleep? The spare bedroom is made up, some of your old clothes are in there.”

Calling him Danny was a slip – it was what everyone called him, what you always called him, and he always claimed it was different coming from you. No one else said it with the love and care that you did. Even now, through all the hurt, the pain, the distance, he could hear the emotion in the way you said it.

He looked straight into your eyes, renewed determination and love – like it had never fizzled out between you.

“I’ll quit.”

You turned around and laughed, refusing to look at his face while he mocked you. “Don’t be ridiculous, Daniel.”

“I’m serious.”

When you looked back at him, his phone was pulled out of his pocket. He was typing furiously, swiping droplets of water off the screen when they dripped down from his curls. After a few moments, he slid his phone across the counter to you, the screen lit up.

An email was sent to his attorney, asking what his options were if he wanted to get out of his contract with Red Bull before he even had a chance to drive the car.

“You are more important to me than any car, any team, any career. You’re more important to me than anything in this world. I fucked up and I lost the best thing in my life because I thought something else would make it better, make me happier, and the only thing I could think about when I signed that stupid contract was how badly I wished I had been the man you deserve so that you could have been there next to me. Celebrating with me. It means nothing to me without you.”

He'd moved closer to you, tentatively reaching to wipe the tears gathering on your lash line and then swiping with his thumb to catch those that fell.

“There will never be anyone else that I love,” he whispered. “Please let me prove to you that this isn’t how things are supposed to end. It’s you and me, forever.”

“Letting go was the hardest thing I have ever had to do, Danny. I can’t do it again. Do not make me do it again.” You fell into his embrace despite his soaked clothes, and for the first time in months you felt like you could breathe again.

“I won’t.”

You stayed in your kitchen until sunbeams bloomed on the horizon – clothes sticking to your skin, sharing kisses that tasted like rainwater. You began to doze off eventually, tucked into Danny’s side, but before you lost yourself to sleep completely you mumbled into his chest.

“Also, when your lawyer emails you back, tell him you were drunk and it was a dare. You’re not quitting, though I appreciate the gesture.”

#daniel ricciardo #daniel riccardo x reader #daniel ricciardo angst #f1 x reader #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 angst #forzalando blurb #f1 blurb

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toecrust69 · 9 months

Note

Can I request a gn!reader x batfam? The reader is in the batfamily business and is the 2nd youngest. They’re on a mission with the others, when they get hit by a alien tech which turns the reader into a toddler (2-3 years old?)😱 so the batfamily had to take care of the reader till they find an antidote. You can end it with the reader being turned back to their original age?

Young Again

Warnings: cursing, Bad writing, mild mention of violence

A/n: sorry if this took a while to get out, I was at a concert when I got this lol

Enjoy!!

'Bruce is not going to like this...' You thought to yourself as you looked up at everyone towering over you.

"Aw, look at them! Even their suit shrinked" Dick squeeled as he bent down to better look at you.

You rolled your eyes in annoyance and just ignored him.

Damian stared down at you with a smirk, clearly amused.

Tim was busy creating an antidote on the side but he'd glanced at you every once in a while.

Jason was dying of laughter, clutching his stomach in pain only a couple feet away.

And, as expected, Dick was treating you like a baby.

Which you technically were, but-

Damian hummed, "How will we tell father?" He asked.

Jason finally finished his laughing fit and walked over to all of you.

"Simple," he glanced down at you, "we don't. Problem solved".

"What? But that doesn't solve to pro-"

"Hush," Jason put a finger over damians mouth and he immediately smacked it away in disgust. "How do you think Bruce is gonna react to this news? Do you think he's gonna be happy?" Jason reasoned.

Damian thought about it for a second. "Hm, I suppose so"

Standing up, Dick looked over his shoulder at Tim, "How's the antidote going?"

Tim clicked away at the batcomputer rapidly before turning to look at everybody. "It's almost done, it should be out in about an hour" he stated calmly.

"An hour!?" Dick and Damian said in unison.

You huffed out in annoyance and Jason looked back down at you with a smirk.

He crouched down to your level just like Dick had a few moments ago, but instead of baby talking you, he flicked your forehead.

You stumbled back rather ungraciously with a loud and painfull 'thump' and Jason began laughing again.

Even Damian chuckled.

"Hey!" You whined just as Dick and Tim turned to look at you.

Dick was about to help you up when you felt two hands grab you from behind and pick you up.

You all turned and saw who it was; Alfred.

Alfred put you against his hip and looked down at you.

Smiling warmly, he gently poked your nose before looking down at Jason who had since stopped laughing but was still crouching down.

"What did you do to them?" He demanded.

Everybody stammered in an attempt to find an explanation when you finally spoke. "Alien tech. Patrol" you said simply and he looked down at you again.

"Ah, I see" he said, looking up at the rest. "And how exactly do you plan on telling Master Bruce about this?" He asked.

Everybody froze and Alfred almost immediately understood.

They weren't planning on telling him

He huffed and everybody instantly felt a bit bad.

"Sorry, Alf" Jason said sheepishly.

"Yes, we didn't know what else to do" Damian explained and everybody followed suit.

"Well, I don't know what he'll do but I sure do know for a fact that he won't like this"

"Who won't like what?"

Everybody froze and looked behind Alfred to see who it was.

Bruce.

He set down his mask and ran a hand through his messy, sweaty hair.

"And why are you back early from patrol?"

Alfred kept his back to Bruce while everybody else scrambled to find an explanation once again.

They were all trained to be great at lying but it all went out the window the moment they had to do it to Bruce.

They were talking over one another and Bruce couldn't understand a thing either of them was saying.

"Okay, okay, calm down and speak one at a time" everybody settled down and looked at him.

"Father, we-"

"No," he put his hand up, signaling at him to stop talking, "let Dick speak first. He's the oldest," he looked at all the other brothers, "and the most mature. At least for the most part"

Dick gulped and everybody turned to look at him.

Some sent him empathetic looks while the rest simply smirked, knowing he'd mess up.

"Well, w-we were out on patrol when..." He glanced at you in Alfred's arms for a split second and that was all the Bruce needed.

In the blink of an eye, he was in front of Alfred.

He gasped and everybody, including you, braced themselves for an earfull.

But when nothing happened, they looked at him.

Instead of a fuming Bruce, they saw a sad Bruce.

You froze as he brought his hands and picked you up off of Alfred grip.

He pulled you close to his chest and silent tears began soaking into your hair.

Bruce was crying.

Bruce Wayne, Batman, was fucking crying.

"B-Bruce are you crying!?" Jason gasped.

"No, its just the rain"

"Father, it's not even-"

"Shh, let him have his moment" Dick slapped a hand over Damian's mouth just like Jason had.

Everybody stood awkwardly— some staring in awe— behind Bruce meanwhile you slowly melted into his touch.

When you arrived at the manor, you were just 3 years old— still a toddler.

Originally, he would've never adopted you but you were technically his child and he knew your mother would start a huge scandal if he didn't accept you.

But as time passed, he grew to fall in love with your bright and once innocent personality.

Sometimes he stays up in the middle of the night, remembering the times you were young and innocent and he just wishes he could go back in time and stop you from joining the vigilante life.

Sometimes he'd cry. Just like now.

He knew they'd probably make fun of him for it later but he didn't care— all he could think about was how his beautiful, innocent baby was back.

Even if it wasn't true, even if it was just for a split second, he loved it.

Suddenly, a loud ding rang from behind you and you turned to see what it was.

"Oh, the antidotes ready" Tim walked over to the bright green liquid in a bottle and gently picked it up.

"I thought you said it'd take an hour?"

"And I thought you said you wanted an antidote" he said sassily like the gay dude be was.

He turned on his heel and locked eyes with Bruce.

"Can I...?"

Bruce nodded his head and reluctantly pulled away from you before wiping his tears.

Tim thanked him briefly and scooped you up.

He propped you onto his lap and slowly fed the nasty green liquid into your mouth.

You held back a gag and nearly spat it out but you fought through it and drank it all.

Tim immediately pushed you off of him and set you down on the floor.

You were about to complain when you suddenly felt a sharp pain shoot through your body as it grew to its original size.

You tried your best to bite back a groan and hunched over in pain.

It felt like you were burning from the inside out, like a million scorpions were biting every part of your body.

But thankfully it was only for a few seconds.

Alfred and a Tim rushed over to your weak form and helped you up.

"We'll take them to their room so they can rest, the antidote was painful" Tim explained.

They eventually disappeared up the stairs with you, leaving everybody else alone.

They all thought they were clear when Bruce suddenly spoke. "Well, who wants to tell me what happened?"

I'm not really proud of this fic but I hope yall were!

-toes

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incognit0slut · 8 months

Text

Right Kind of Wrong (11)

She ever thought she would be involved in a murder investigation and encounter her one-night-stand again, the awkward guy who isn’t exactly that good in bed—Or is he? Offended by the sentiment, Spencer is determined to prove her wrong… But as he gets tangled with the beautiful stranger, he realizes there is more to her than what meets the eye.

Part Summary: Her involvement in the case becomes more crucial than she lets on. wc: 2.7k

Series Warnings: 18+ explicit content, graphic details of murders, mentions of suicide

a/n: I know this part is long overdue, I've been very busy lately and I can't seem to write anything good for me to post. But do not fret, I am back and better than ever before (lol) Also, thank you for patiently waiting for this update🤍

Other parts: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14

"I WOULD HAVE STRANGLED HIM IF I WERE YOU."

Y/n frowned as she watched the slight furrow on her friend's brow, adding an element of emphasis to her words.

A moment of silence passed between them before Sandy rolled her eyes, leaning against the plush couch in the living room with a tall glass in her hand. "I'm just saying," she explained. "He was being a total jerk."

She let out a sigh. A slight confusion weaved itself whenever she contemplated him. She thought that voicing out her emotions on what occurred these past few days could ease her, yet thinking of him was only making her question her sanity. It was as if her mind was attempting to decipher a language it didn't fully comprehend, leaving her caught between curiosity and apprehension.

She honestly didn't know what to think anymore. One minute she felt like she was head over heels for the guy, and the next minute strangling him didn't seem like a bad idea after all.

She could even list all of the things about him that riled her up, yet somehow the thought of having her hands wrapped around his throat reminded her of something entirely different, which was why she found herself saying, "You know, he would actually enjoy that."

Sandy raised her brows. "What? Getting choked to death?"

She scoffed. "No, not to that extent. But like, in another context." She then narrowed her eyes. "If you know what I mean."

The subtle innuendo didn't go unnoticed as Sandy's eyes widened in surprise. "No way."

"Way."

"Damn," her friend mused before taking a sip of her drink. "Smart and kinky. If only he wasn't such an ass to you."

Smart and kinky weren't exactly words she considered using in one sentence, but the sound of them put together surprisingly sounded enticing. It sounded enticing enough that her mind was starting to play tricks on her. It sounded good enough that she found herself starting to miss him, even when logic dictates that she shouldn't.

And now it sounded compelling enough that she couldn't help but weigh in the pros and cons when it came to the man, putting the cons on his ability to switch attitude in a span of seconds into a completely different person—not to mention his tendency to assume biased reasonings based on poor judgment.

On the other hand, the pros were very hard to ignore. There was a certain charm in his awkward demeanor, especially in his shy and uncertain smile every time it was directed her way. Then there was also his intelligent mind she was definitely drawn to.

But above all that, he was, without a doubt, a certified freak in the sheets.

And that was on top of her list.

A subtle sigh escaped her lips, revealing a hint of her internal struggle. "I mean, he did have a good point, don't you think?"

"Y/n," Sandy warned disapprovingly.

"What? He was only doing his job..." She glanced at her. "...right?"

"This is the alcohol talking," Sandy dismissed before standing up. "You would never forgive a man this easy if you were sober."

"It's Margarita Night, what's the point of being sober?" She proved her point by finishing the last drop of liquor from her glass, the vibrant notes of freshly squeezed lime and tequila playing across her taste buds.

Sandy simply scoffed as she took her glass and disappeared into the kitchen, the sound of utensils clinking together following behind as she started making them a refill.

Y/n leaned back and closed her eyes, her body poised for a moment of relaxation. But just as the first tendrils of calm began to envelop her, a sharp interruption pierced through the air—the sound of the doorbell ringing.

A grin tugged at the corners of her lips as she rose from the couch. "Our pizza is here!"

Light steps carried her to the door as her stomach grumbled in anticipation, the scent of cheesy goodness already wafting through her imagination. She slowly wrapped her hand around the doorknob and swung the door open, but instead of being greeted by the delivery guy clad in his familiar uniform, the last person she thought would be on the other side of her door stood right in front of her.

Her eyes widened, capturing the shock that rendered her momentarily speechless. Time seemed to slow as her heart raced with caution while she attempted to process on what was happening.

What were the chances of seeing him again right at the moment when she had her friend coming over just so she could rant about the guy?

It was as if the universe was playing a trick on her, presenting a twist she could never have anticipated. As the seconds ticked by, she then finally found her voice, a mix of caution and confusion lacing her words as she muttered, "You're not the delivery guy."

"I'm not," Spencer—god, she still couldn’t believe he was here—responded, his eyes scanning along her features. "Sorry to disappoint you."

There was a fleeting moment where their gaze met, an unspoken wariness passing between them. The memory of their last meeting surfaced with a wave of tension that tugged at the corners of her mouth. She watched as his expression shifted, the space between them seemed to shrink, the air heavy with the weight of their unspoken words.

Then a throat being cleared cut through the silence, a soft disruption that broke the spell of their locked eyes. Startled, her gaze broke away from his, shifting to the source of the interruption. And there, standing beside him was another figure—a woman she hadn't noticed until that very moment.

Recognition flashed in her eyes as she glanced at the familiar face, recalling the blonde-haired lady as one of the agents she met at the bureau the other day. Agent... Jareau, was it?

Yes, that was definitely her name. She was one of the few agents who actually treated her without judgment, checking in on her from time to time, which was why she focused her attention on her instead.

"Agent Jareau, what brings you here?"

"Sorry to barge in this late," she replied with an apologetic smile. "But we'd like to have a few words with you."

"It's fine." Y/n stepped aside and pulled the door wider. "Do you want to come in?"

"No, it's alright, we'll be quick—"

"Yes."

Her gaze turned back to the other man and narrowed her eyes.

"I think it’s better to have this conversation inside."

She studied him for a moment before nodding, letting the two agents step inside her home. There was a clatter coming from the kitchen as she closed the door before walking down the hallway, expecting them to follow behind. "We can talk in the living room but—"

"We're putting you on protection."

She abruptly turned on her heels. "What?"

Agent Jareau sent a disapproving look towards Spencer as if trying to say this was not how they usually handle things in this situation. The woman turned back to her and gave her a reassuring smile before explaining, "We've been investigating the situation thoroughly, and it appears that the Unsub we're dealing with might have developed an unhealthy obsession with you."

Her heart slowly raced, a mix of fear and disbelief coursing through her veins as the words finally sink in. "Obsession?” Her brows furrowed deeper. “What do you mean?"

"As you may know, all of the victims were related to you in one way or another, where you received some kind of mistreatment by them all. We believe the Unsub might be doing this out of his way to protect you."

She felt a knot tightening in her stomach, a growing sense of vulnerability she had never experienced before. "P-Protect me? But why?"

Agent Jareau's expression softened as she continued, "We're still working to understand the motives behind their actions. But given the escalating behavior and the potential danger it poses, we've decided it's best to put you under protection."

Her mind was a whirlwind of confusion and fear. "Protection? Like... witness protection?"

Spencer, who had been quietly observing, spoke up. "Something similar. We're proposing a protective measure—having an officer discreetly follow you during your daily routine."

Her eyes widened in disbelief. "You want me to be followed?"

Agent Jareau interjected, "It's for your own safety. We believe that having an officer close by could deter any potential threat and give us a better chance of identifying the Unsub."

Her mind raced as she considered the implications. "But how will I know? Will the officer be obvious?"

"Officer Anderson is currently outside in a separate car. He's trained to blend in while keeping a watchful eye on your surroundings."

"I..." she trailed off, then shook her head. "Will he be there all the time?"

Spencer nodded. "Yes, but we'll do our best to be inconspicuous. You won't even know he's there most of the time."

The idea of having an undercover officer tailing her sent a mixture of emotions coursing through her veins. Safety, yes, but also an unsettling feeling of being under constant scrutiny.

"Is this really necessary?"

"Yes, it is."

Her thoughts suddenly spun like a whirlwind, torn between disbelief and grim realization. She had always taken her daily routines for granted, the simple act of going to work or meeting friends devoid of apprehension. Now, each step she took seemed laden with an invisible weight, as if unseen eyes were tracking her every movement.

And to top it all, was she actually the sole reason behind these murders? She wasn't exactly the one acting out these gruesome crimes, yet it might as well happened because of her. Who could harbor such an unhealthy fixation on her? What had she done to attract this unwanted attention?

The unanswered mysteries gnawed at her.

Agent Jareau reached out and placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder as she read the familiar look in her eyes, it was the same look whenever a witness was starting to blame themselves. "This isn't your fault, we're here to support you through this. Your safety is our priority.”

With a deep breath, she nodded, silently accepting the protection they offered. The blonde-haired woman then gestured for her to open the door, which she did, and pointed towards a car parked a few blocks away with its window down, revealing a normal-looking guy sitting behind the wheel.

"That's Officer Anderson, he'll be trailing behind you at a safe distance. You won't even notice he's there."

The officer caught them staring and lifted his hand, a gesture of his greeting. Y/n waved back at him. "Great, I've always wanted a personal bodyguard."

Unfortunately, none of the two agents standing beside her caught the sarcasm in her voice. Agent Jareau turned back to her. "You have our number, right? You can call us anytime if you need assistance."

She did have her number, she also had Agent Prentiss' number who constantly assured her to call if she ever found anything new that could help with the investigation. But surprisingly, out of all the agents she met, the one agent she didn't have their number was the one she had been sleeping with all along.

Not that she was ever going to call him. She simply nodded out of politeness, and as she did, she could feel watchful eyes staring at her intently. Agent Jareau's keen eyes also caught the subtle interaction unfolding before her. She caught the way Spencer's gaze fixed with unwavering intensity on Y/n, who seemed determinedly oblivious to the weight of his stare, or rather, she was purposefully attempting to ignore his scrutiny.

Sensing the tension in the air, she took a step back, offering a fleeting glance to Spencer before turning to leave. "I'll wait in the car."

Her footsteps softly echoed in the night as she disappeared, and Y/n wasn't sure whether being left with him was a good idea.

She could feel the subtle shifts of his movements, the barely perceptible rise and fall of his chest, as they stood just inches apart. She could also feel the warmth radiating from his body, a tantalizing contrast to the cool breeze that brushed against her skin.

"You okay?"

The air felt charged with tension as he spoke, his voice carrying a mix of nervousness and sincerity.

"It's safe to say I'm far from being okay," she decided to say.

He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his fingers curling and then relaxing by his sides. His lips parted slightly as if he were on the cusp of forming the words he had carried within him for so long. His gaze, intense yet searching, traced the contours of her face as if trying to find the right entry point into a conversation that had been left untouched.

And then he finally spoke.

"I'm sorry."

She finally dragged her gaze on him with an expression that betrayed little emotion. "Are you sorry because a serial killer out there has an unhealthy obsession with me or are you sorry about your misconception of me?"

"Both." He seemed to search her eyes for a reaction, his uncertainty palpable. "But you must understand I was doing my job, it was never my intention to hurt you."

"But you did hurt me," she answered, her gaze dropping momentarily before returning to meet his. "Whether it was intentional or not."

He seemed to struggle for words, a mix of emotions playing across his features "I know. I'm sorry."

She tilted her head slightly, her expression remaining impassive. After hearing the new update on the case and how much she was actually involved, she wasn’t in the mood to be having a serious conversation.

"It's getting late,” she mumbled, crossing her arms. “You should probably leave."

Spencer let out a sigh. "Listen, I—"

"It’s getting late,” she repeated, her voice sounding severe. “We can have this conversation another time.”

His shoulders slumped, the weight of his remorse heavy on his chest. He had hoped for a reaction, a sign that his apology had made a difference. Instead, her indifference left him feeling adrift, as if it was a barrier that he couldn't breach, a shield that rendered his efforts to make amends ineffective.

There was nothing else he could do as she turned to face him fully again, her eyes meeting his with a calm finality.

"Good night, Dr. Reid."

He reluctantly took a step back.

"Good night," he murmured.

Then with a nod, he slowly turned away, leaving her standing there all alone. Her gaze remained fixed on his receding figure, his form gradually blending into the night.

Doubt suddenly gnawed at the edges of her consciousness—Had she made the right choice? Was her choice to distance herself a shield to guard against potential heartache, or was it a missed opportunity to rebuild what had been lost?

She shook her head and went back inside, closing the door behind her before leaning against it. It wasn't until she heard footsteps emerging from the kitchen that she realized Sandy was still here.

"What was that all about?"

Y/n glanced at her friend. The two freshly filled glasses in her hands were calling out to her and drowning herself in heaps amount of alcohol seemed like a good idea, even when she was probably going to regret it tomorrow morning. But she needed to feel numb by all of these emotions.

She watched as Sandy offered her a glass, waiting for her reply. There were a lot of things she could answer with, but the only matter that stood out to her was the new revelation on her involvement on the case. So she took the glass from her and pressed her lips around the rim as her mind drifted toward the disguised officer sitting right outside her house.

There was no other way than to explain it as it was.

"I think I might be in danger."

>> NEXT PART

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forthevillains · 2 months

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Ok so here’s my idea… came from a video where a man hires a “wife” and pretends to have a loving family in order to get a promotion from his boss. The “wife” decides to play along and even refuses to get paid for it. The man falls in love with her eventually cause she’s so kind to him.

So i was thinking… what if Wesker had to hire someone to be his significant other to attend a big event/party held by Umbrella? Then he fell in love with her? Imagine he was forced to participate but didn’t expect to meet his love in a boring party 😭

This sounds crazy and kinda cringe but this got me so excited lol

I wanted to write something like that for so long so I feel u! I added a few things to make it work in my head so I hope you don’t mind🫶 (I wrote this while being sick so if anything doesn’t make sense, I apologize)

It was a very important evening to all workers of Umbrella. Everyone was invited and well, the more known they were, the more important their presence would be. Everyone was allowed and not just that - they were expected to bring their other halves, significant others. Wesker wouldn’t care at first. He didn’t want to come anyway, he thought of it as a waste of time, so why should he care? Though when he tried to talk to Spencer, to convince him that he could use that time to work on the research instead, it was to no avail. All Spencer did was tell him to bring some girl too.

Wesker’s annoyance and anger got the best of him. If people thought of him as grumpy before, he’s become an absolute Satan now. Especially when he got to know that he’s to take a woman to the party. Why would he do that anyway? He doesn’t have one, he doesn’t need one, it all sounded so stupid. Is he supposed to find a girlfriend that quick only to dump her as soon as it’s over? No that would be even more stupid.

Wesker knew he had to appear eventually and if he was to do so, he needed someone to act as his partner. An act is all it has to be…

Suddenly an idea popped into his mind. A genius one to be exact. He never thought that he’d come to do something like that, but the opportunity like this could not be wasted. If he didn’t have a spouse, he would simply hire one. And who would be better for the job than someone he already knows? Someone who’s worked for him for a while undercover, someone who always gets the job done - you.

"What the fuck did you just say?!” You nearly choked on your coffee when Wesker informed you about the situation through the phone.

"Just one night, you’re going to act like a girlfriend of mine, be nice to whoever talks to you and at least pretend to have manners. That shouldn’t be a problem, right?” He explains once more, his lips curving into a wicked smile at your reaction. You two weren’t on best terms exactly, but he was willing to pay how much you asked and you were willing to do any filthy job for him. You worked perfectly fine, however only as partners at work.

"I’m an agent, Wesker, not some of your whor-“

"How much do you want, dear?“ he interrupted you. He knew you couldn’t say no to such an easy job. All you wanted was money and he was willing to deliver. So you agreed, though you knew he wouldn’t make it easy for you.

You two made the deal and of course, he wouldn’t let you drown in your own questions about the evening, so you were properly informed, even gifted what you were to wear.

For the whole evening you tried not to leave Wesker’s side. As if he’d let you anyway. You knew what Umbrella was and if you felt anything apart from disgust as you entered, hand in hand with the head researcher, it was curiosity. You were nervous, yet made sure to be observant. It was your first time in there, although you’ve been working with Wesker for a while.

It didn’t take much time for people to notice you, their gazes not leaving you for even a second as realization of who you’re there with hit them. Some of them whispered to each other, some just stared in a surprise. It’s not like anyone would expect Albert Wesker himself to be close to someone, especially in a romantic kind of way. He was a loner, someone who didn’t trust anybody apart from himself, who only talked to two people more than was necessary.

Soon you met a few other scientists and you could feel how Albert was tense as he held you, his arm around your waist, gripping onto you tightly whenever someone was talking to you. You looked at him each time he did that only to find out that he was paying you no other attention. Or so you thought.

It was only about time you let loose finding out that there was no catch as you might’ve thought at first. You’ve began to seek fun instead of possible threats. Though when you were ready to leave Albert’s side he only tightened his grip on you, stopping you immediately.

"What do you want now?” You raised an eyebrow.

"You’re staying here with me like a good loving girlfriend would,” Wesker immediately replied.

"Oh right… I should’ve expected that if you had a girlfriend you’d treat her like a dog.” Your words were harsh and inappropriate, but that was the way you are - honest whenever you could. And since no one could hear the two of you as you kept the distance, you said what was on your mind.

"How I would treat a woman is none of your concerns. You’re staying here.” What you didn’t know is that he wanted you by his side to avoid any unnecessary interaction with others. There were too many people that despised him and it wouldn’t be far from truth that he felt the same way towards them, if not even worse. He needed you, you were the most comfort he could have there even if you were just an agent who happened to work for him.

"Albert! I-I mean we have been looking for you.” It’s no surprise that William with his wife appeared, but it almost made you jump, which made them turn towards you. "And who is this?”

Wesker let you introduce yourself on your own, to make it more difficult for you, grinning at you the whole time. It was quite entertaining seeing you struggle with saying out loud that you’re his girlfriend. You surely needed a shot after that. And this time, he even let you go. Which was probably not the best idea. You didn’t get too drunk, but enough to be a little tipsy.

You roamed around like a lost puppy, telling yourself that you were looking for toilets, but deep inside you knew you just grew more curious knowing this place is free for you to explore without any restraints. However Albert never really let you out of his sight. His shades were very good at hiding his eyes so that no one knew he wasn’t listening to them at all, that he didn’t even look them in the eyes as he shook their hands. You were his girlfriend for the day and he would not risk anything knowing how much you loved to play games with him. Even though he loved it too…

When you disappeared in the hallway, he was right behind you, immediately pinning you to the nearest wall. "Where do you think you’re going, dearheart?”

You gasped at the impact and looked up at him. "I needed to pee,” you said.

Wesker looked you up and down, thinking whether to trust you or not. But no matter how hard he tried to do just that, his eyes got stuck on how beautiful the dress made you look, especially in the cleavage area.

"My eyes are up here, Wesker,” you frowned. You maybe couldn’t see his eyes but you sure felt his burning gaze on your skin and the way his head was tilted downwards also hinted where he was really looking.

"Really?” Now he looked into your eyes and you wished nothing more than to see his own in that moment. Drunk or not, you’d always appreciate Wesker when he wasn’t acting like a grumpy old man.

He leaned forward, his nose brushing against your cheek lightly, before he whispered "I apologize, my dear, I didn’t know.” His words sent shivers down your spine and you tried to make a step back, even though you were so close to the wall it almost hurt your back. That made him smirk.

Wesker was never a touchy person, but right now, after he had few glasses of wine himself, he couldn’t resist the way you looked, not only talking about how good you smelled. And you were all his, for this night at least. Before you got the chance to ask him what the hell is he doing, he gently kissed your cheek, his lips slowly moving towards your jaw. He found it adorable when you threw your head back to give him more access, sliding a hand to your lower back to support your trembling body.

"This wasn’t part of the deal,” you choked out, trying your best to not let out any sound of pleasure.

"I feel like this is what couples do, though. Don’t you think so too?” His mouth moved even lower, his tongue caressing your skin before he nibbled at your neck lightly, drawing another gasp out of you. He felt unprofessional, he was suddenly nothing but a man in need. How the hell did you taste so sweet?

He began to kiss your neck, too caught up in the moment, in how good you tasted. His teeth kept grazing your skin, over and over again, teasing you, leaving you scared whether he would sink them into your neck like a vampire or not. You didn’t even want to think about it, because if you did - you’d probably come to conclusion that you like it.

Though, instead of sinking his teeth into you, he sucked in your delicate skin, forcing a moan out of you. It flattered him, it really did. The way you squirmed in his arms, the way your heartbeat quickened, breath ragged and pupils dilated… He was too caught up in all that, he got carried away (or maybe he did it on purpose).

Suddenly an echo of steps could be heard and he was forced to pull away from you, as a few of his co-workers walked by, already giving the two of you disgusted looks. Wesker only nodded at them to get going before turning back to you.

"That was a mistake.” He spoke, breathless, one of his palms already on your cheek, gently caressing it. And it meant one thing - he didn’t mean the words. All of his actions sold him out. No matter what he’d say, it wouldn’t save him now. No matter how calm he acted.

You were a totally different case though, your head was dizzy and you couldn’t tell if what just happened was real or a dream. You felt like you were floating, but still, you nodded. "We should… get back,” you then muttered and tried to make a step forward, but your knees failed you and you almost fell to the ground. If it wasn’t for your boyfriend for the night who quickly caught you. "Sorry.” You only added. He couldn’t comprehend whether it was the alcohol or his doings that got you like that, but he somehow found it cute. But you could never know, he was too good at hiding his own feelings.

When you got back, it was all the same, except for a few details that you probably wouldn’t even be able to catch. Wesker’s hold on you was firm, yet gentle, his gaze kept drifting towards you as he scanned your body language to know if you’re alright. He was trying to see if the moment the two of you had did leave a mark on you only physically or also mentally. He wanted to know how you felt. But he wouldn’t dare ask, not in front of all these people. So he just waited for the end of the night. Only taking in how beautiful you looked, how well you talked your way out of all the questions even with alcohol in your system. He truly admired your talents, how well you worked with people. Though what he enjoyed the most was your warmth. Something he hasn’t felt for a while as he was a workaholic, with no time for lovers, not even affairs. He thought he didn’t need physical touch, but your body next to his felt perhaps too good.

Finally, it was over. You were able to say goodbyes to the very few people that dared approach you, before the two of you finally left the building, both glad it was finally over. The silence between you was uncomfortable, tense and even though you wanted to speak up, you were afraid of making it all just worse. You might’ve talked your way out of discussions about opinions on animal or human testing, but for sure you couldn’t find one good word in a conversation with the man beside you.

Only when you two entered the car, Wesker in driver’s seat and you in passenger seat, then he sighed in relief as it was just the two of you. And that alone made you speak up.

"Don’t say anything, whatever it is, I don’t wanna talk about it, I’m too done for that,” you say before he has the chance to say anything and for once he gives up, knowing that it must’ve been draining for you. Especially knowing that you hate special occasions and tight dresses. But you still did it, for him. And also for money, but that didn’t really seem that important to you as you’ve actually quite enjoyed his company (you wouldn’t admit it though).

Wesker started the car and let you be without any other words. He wanted to give you space after what happened and so he did. You were quick to fall asleep in your seat, making it easier for him to look at you without being seen at all. His eyes kept drifting towards your neck the most and it took all his self control not to grin at the hickeys. God did he want to do it again.

His first intentions were to bring you to your house and drop you off in there, but as you slept in the seat next to him, he changed his mind. You were going home with him whether you liked it or not. He paid you for the whole night anyway, so you couldn’t say a word against it even if you were awake.

If you were still asleep when he got home, he’d carefully take you in his arms and carry you all the way to his bed. You might wake up alone the next day, but you’d surely know who was the one to take care of you. And even though he wouldn’t dare admit any feelings towards you just yet, he’s surely going to be way more gentle with you from now on…

#albert wesker #albert wesker x reader #oneshot #resident evil #resident evil wesker #wesker x reader #wesker x you

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sugar-coat-it · 2 months

Text

Body piercer! Matty

Part 2

May I present my pride and joy (and first AU), body piercer Matty <3, based on the 2020 NOACF mohawk era

Fem! reader

****CW! Needles, pain****

Contains: Matty piercing reader’s nipples*, lustful fantasies, praise, Matty has a tongue piercing, HELLA tension and pining, Matty being a sweetheart through the whole thing

*note, I don’t have nipple piercings lol, apologies if any of this is inaccurate.

Word count: 5313

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PART ONE- Fate lands you in Matty Healy’s capable hands when looking to get your nipples pierced. Tension ensues.

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The thought of getting your nipples pierced had been in the back of your mind for what felt like years. It nagged at you every time you saw a pretty girl with barbells poking out under her tank top, you wanted to be her. You’d done all the research, article after article on the healing period, the pain level, and the kinds of jewelry you can get. You also knew fairly well how they enhance sexual encounters, which had a whole draw of its own. You’d done everything except actually make the appointment. That is, up until a few days ago. Fresh off of a breakup and tired of feeling sorry for yourself, you’d called your local tattoo parlor and scheduled a slot with a body piercer named Maddie, then hung up feeling rather pleased with yourself for finally getting it done. The anticipation of the leadup to the appointment had you biting your lips raw. You’d gotten other piercings before, but never in a place so intimate. Never one that required taking your top off, that’s for certain. But friends had been encouraging you nonstop, telling you what a “hot girl” move it was, and who were you to argue?

Finally, the day comes, and you’re swinging open the parlor door a little too hard, evidently very tense. The bell that jangles when the door opens clanks against the wall, making the man behind the counter startle. Wide-eyed and wincing, you shoot him an apologetic look, embarrassed that you’d practically ripped their front door off the hinge. Great start!

Slowly, after making sure the door is safely shut, you approach the counter, absentmindedly toying with the rings that adorn your fingers, twisting them between your thumb and your forefinger. The man at the counter is exactly who you’d expect to be working at a tattoo and piercing parlor, but an even more stunning rendition if you were being honest. His slightly sleepy-looking eyes brighten a little at the sight of you, a fluffy mohawk of chocolatey waves sitting atop his head. He’s adorned with inked patterns along his skin, a patchwork of symbols across his arms that you restrict yourself to only glancing at for a moment. His eyes crinkle at the edges when he greets you with a warm smile, offering a little wave before you start to explain why you’re here, your voice uncharacteristically high-pitched.

“Hi, I’ve got a 1:00 appointment?” you explain before providing your name, trying your hardest to stop fidgeting.

Your mind is in about 20 places, and it doesn’t help that your heart just fluttered at the eye contact he’s holding with you. The man nods at you, a low hum rumbling in his chest as he picks up the scheduling book, sifting through the pages with black polished nails. When he turns his head, you catch a glimpse of the single silver hoop earring that he’s sporting quite well. Curiosity creeps up like a slinking cat, making you wonder what other modifications he might have. His narrowed eyes scan the book, toffee-colored irises flicking over names until he finds yours penciled in, jabbing his nail against the page.

“Yeah I see you, you’re with me then. And, you did your paperwork and payment stuff, it looks like,” he says, snapping the schedule closed definitively.

“Oh, no I don’t think…” you start to correct, tilting your head at him with confusion until you trail off into quiet.

That’s when it catches your eye, the nametag on his white tank top reads “Matty”. Then it clicks. Matty. Not Maddie. You’d scheduled your appointment to get your tits pierced with a guy. A very attractive guy that was now going to watch you squirm like a child. Your jaw drops slightly, a sinking feeling in your gut starting to fester as you realize your mistake.

“Everything alright there? Second thoughts, perhaps?” Matty prompts, raising an inquisitive eyebrow at you.

“No… no second thoughts. To be honest, I thought I had an appointment with a female piercer,” you answer, preemptively grimacing before you’d even finished your sentence.

“Oh, shit. Well, that’s not ideal. Listen, we can get you in here another day then, no problem. Tell me what works for you,” he says, already scrambling for a pencil to put your name elsewhere in the book.

“Actually, I think it’s fine. I’m already here, right?” you offer, shrugging to try and appear more nonchalant about the whole thing (your palms are sweating).

“Are you sure? Seriously, I don’t want you uncomfortable on my watch. It’s not a big deal to get you a different appointment,” he frowns, absentmindedly twirling the pencil between his fingers.

His eyes are strangely soft for someone with such an intimidating job, you can only describe the feeling they give you as melting. You can’t quite place why, but his presence alone is somehow quelling your nerves, even if it’s just a bit. Your hands start to still, dropping to rest at your sides as you decide to let him do it anyway. He looks trustworthy, right?

“Yeah, I’m sure. But thank you, truly,” you say, a soft smile pulling at your lips at how keen he seems on making you comfortable.

Matty nods slowly, rising from the chair while eyeing you like he’s not sure if you’re going to turn on your heel and run out the door if he looks away. He asks you to follow him to the back, you’re trailing close behind as he pulls his baggy camo pants further up his hips by his belt. The room he leads you to is small and fairly chilly, but only in temperature. The space itself feels homey, plastered with stickers and posters of various punk bands, it doesn’t feel like some sterile hospital room.

“Stay standin’ for me, just need to get some things,” he instructs, turning to reach for his supplies, including the jewelry you’d selected over the phone, “and, whenever you’re ready you can take your top off, okay?”

Without the pressure of his eyes on you, it takes a moment before you slowly ease your shirt up and over your shoulders, setting it beside you. You take a slightly uneven breath as you reach to fumble with the clasp of your bra, suddenly forgetting the muscle memory from doing it for so many years. The moment it’s off, the rush of cold air instantly sends a shiver licking up your spine. You lean back against the counter, trying to appear as casual as you can as you eye the piercer. Your eyebrows slope with admiration, softening your expression as you realize that he’s now aimlessly fishing through a drawer, trying to give you time to ease into undressing while he’s still turned around. He stays with his back to you until you clear your throat, signaling that you’ve finished. His expression is unphased as he turns around on the heels of his platformed lace-up boots. God, he really is beyond cool, isn’t he?

“Right, I’m gonna put these on, and then I’ll mark the placement,” Matty explains, holding up a pair of latex gloves.

Matty pulls the gloves over his sizeable hands, the bulging veins catching your eye as he flexes his fingers to test that they’re taught. He’s taking a few steps closer to you, now only about an arm's length away as he explains that he’s not going to touch you without the gloves, though of course, your first unfiltered thought is that you wish he would. His eyes hadn’t strayed from your face for even a second this whole time, being remarkably neutral despite the fact that you were topless. Though, you suppose that sort of thing must not phase him since he’s probably pierced tons of nipples. That doesn’t stop the odd tinge of disappointment that he hadn’t even glanced at your body. You swallow the feeling like it’s bile, knowing that it’s totally unreasonable to want him to gaze at you with anything but professionalism.

“Is it okay if I put my hands on you? Need to clean the area,” he asks, his eyes searching yours for any sign of discomfort, it’s making you slightly weak in the knees, he’s just so fucking gentle.

You nod, rolling your shoulders back in preparation for him to touch you while he pours solvent on a cotton pad. His disciplined, gloved hands reach out, and only now does he allow his gaze to dip down to your chest. You could swear his breath hitches just a little, the quiet room allowing for the smallest sounds to be heard. Maybe he is just a man after all. The thought makes pride simmer in your chest, but you’re not dwelling on it for long, your mind going blank the moment he starts to swiftly swipe the pad along your nipples, sanitizing your skin and also effectively making them harden from the stimulation. You tense up, standing straighter than before as you bite back any semblance of a reaction. Matty throws you a glance to assess your discomfort, soft brown irises following the slopes of your features. He places the sanitizing supplies to the side, now uncapping a purple skin marker. This was going to be a long process if he kept looking at you that way.

“Nothing's happening yet, okay? Just gonna draw on where they’re gonna go,” he says, holding it up while raising his eyebrows as if to say “Look, it’s harmless”.

Matty leans in again, his eyes narrowing with concentration, gloved knuckles brushing the side of your breast as he marks a dot on the side of your nipple. Watching Matty stare at your tits with such laser focus has your cheeks flushing just slightly, heat prickling at the bridge of your nose. He runs the tip of the marker from one side of the hardened bud to the other, marking a symmetrical dot. Tingles spread under your skin like wildfire, he’s barely touched you and yet you can feel yourself buzzing at the slightest sensations. His pretty brown eyes meet yours and he just smiles at you sympathetically, knowing how hyperfocused on his every movement you must be.

“You’re not breathing,” he whispers, playfully jabbing the capped end of the pen against your arm.

Your eyes widen as you realize that he’s absolutely right, you’d been holding your breath this whole time. You release your bated breath, your chest heaving slightly as Matty keeps looking down at you, giving you a moment to regain your senses. You swear the eye contact while being inches away from him is making you more lightheaded than the lack of oxygen. With a satisfied nod, he resumes, repeating the same process of drawing the dots at the peak of your other breast. Then, he takes a step back, biting the cap of the marker between his canines while he evaluates his work. This allows you another moment to admire him as he eyeballs the symmetricalness of his markings. Your mind is wandering, perhaps trying to distract you from how intently this man is studying your breasts. You’re wondering what it would be like if he wasn’t so gentle with you. What if he touched you instead with greed, the need to satiate himself? In your head, you imagine the warm, honey tones of his eyes darkening like tinted glass as he drinks you in not as his client, but as something to desire, to want to feel flush beneath his calloused fingertips. This version of Matty doesn’t try to limit every graze of his working hands, he’s starving; groping, and mapping every part of your skin that he can reach. You’re jumping the gun now, the image flashes through your mind like a ricocheting bullet: Matty’s got you pressed up against the wall, his hands are mean as he grabs a handful of one of your tits, his thigh is hitched between your legs, keeping your thighs parted. His head dips down, his shaggy mohawk tickling at your neck as he tugs on the silver barbell through your nipple with his teeth, pain melding with pleasure till they’re impossible to separate. And, oh, fuck, does he have a tongue piercing? Your eyes flick down to his mouth now, mind reeling as you spot the silver stud on his tongue revealed by the way he’s chewing on the cap of the marker. You are losing yourself, and fast, but he doesn’t seem to notice.

“Alright, looks just about even. Would you go ahead and lie down there, darlin’?” he asks, cocking his head towards the reclined padded chair next to him.

Now is where the nerves are starting to kick in, it’s all fun and fantasizing about your body piercer until you actually have to sit in the chair. You were hardly able to mentally fawn over the pet name as you took unsure strides to situate yourself in the cold, plastic parlor recliner. Matty busies himself with preparing various metal objects while you stare up at the ceiling, squinting at the fluorescent lights and wondering why you wanted your tits pierced so badly in the first place. Then, his unreasonably darling face is in your field of vision, peering down at you with a consoling smile.

“Comfy?” he prompts, a needle in one hand and a small pair of forceps in the other.

It’s not a comforting sight, no matter how lovely the man holding them is.

“Sorta. I’m actually kind of a chicken about these things,” you admit with a wobbly smile in return.

“No… really?” he grins boyishly, clearly being sarcastic with you.

You shoot him a look for that, but it melts away into a little laugh, you can’t seem to even fake a cold stare around him, it’s sort of pitiful. Standing over you, Matty raises the forceps close to your breasts but doesn’t touch you with them just yet. You bite your lip, lifting your head to get a better look at what’s happening, even though you’re not entirely sure you even want to watch.

“Now, this is just going to feel like a little pinch, shouldn’t hurt,” he says, his voice lowering a little before he slips in a: “You’re doing really good.”

The praise tears your gaze away from his hands and onto his face, blinking in disbelief at the way he’d caused a fizzling pang of desire inside you so effortlessly. That feeling doesn’t get any weaker the moment you feel the cool metal clamp around your nipple, your lips parting with a soft gasp, hands tensing with the urge to hold onto something, to hold onto him. Matty’s pierced tongue darts out past his lips in concentration, soothing over his bottom lip as he lines the needle up next to the hardened bud. You jolt at the sharp tip of the object against your sensitive skin, your hand shooting out to grab onto Matty’s bicep in a moment of pure reaction. Both of you seem equally shocked that you’d suddenly clutched his arm, your nails slightly biting into his skin amongst the spattering of pretty freckles that mark him. There’s a moment of the loudest silence you’ve ever heard, his stare feels like it’s searing you. You’re about to rush into apologizing, but then he’s placing his tools back down onto his tray of supplies, tentatively reaching to rest his larger hand over yours, enveloping it in a way that makes your heart skip a beat.

“It’s alright, sweetheart, I’m just lining up my shot. I’m gonna tell you when it’s time, okay? Just breathe with me for a moment,” he reassures, his thumb rubbing tenderly over the back of your hand.

He takes an exaggerated breath, encouraging you to do the same, his chest rising beneath his white tank top. You mirror Matty, taking a deep breath in of, well… him. He smells like a dizzying combination of Marlboros and woody aftershave because of course, he does.

“That’s it, much better. It’ll be a whole fuckin’ ordeal if you pass out on me, so stay with me here. Can you do that?” he questions, raising his eyebrows at you.

“Yeah… yeah, I can. Thank you,” you say softly, trying to disregard the sparks radiating under Matty’s palm.

You stay like this for a few breaths longer, Matty doesn’t look away from you and you’re not so sure that it’s only because he doesn’t want you to conk out. His gloved hand gives yours an encouraging squeeze before letting go slowly. The heat still lingers as he retrieves his tools a second time, the flexing of his bicep under your grasp reminds you that you should probably let go of him now. But, the moment you start to retract your hand, he glances at you and speaks in that silky tone of his.

“You don’t have to let go, s’okay. You can use me like a stress toy, or something. I don’t really care,” he shrugs, winking at you.

You just nod dumbly, your eyes going a little wider as you settle your hand over his bare arm again, right over the top of his Newcastle United seahorse tattoo. You’d like to use him in other ways too, but that’s not very appropriate, now is it?

You let out a sigh as you come to the same point in the process again, Matty lining up the needle diligently while keeping your nipple clamped with the metal forceps, but this time, you get to cling to his arm. You don’t want to distract him, because it would be your loss in the end, but there is a sense of satisfaction when you feel his bicep flex slightly as you trace your thumb along the symbol inked on his skin, following the curve of the seahorses mane with your nail.

“Okay, love. Here’s what’s gonna happen, I’m going to do it on three, and when I say three, I need you to take a sharp breath in for me, like this,” he instructs, making a lot of gestures with his hands while he talks, then shows you what he means with a harsh inhale through his nose.

You breathe out a weak “okay”, already gripping his arm harder from the anticipation building up to a high. You decide it’s best not to watch, especially since you’d promised you wouldn’t pass out. You let your head rest back against the chair, your nose scrunching as you squeeze your eyes shut tightly. Matty begins to count down, increasing the pressure of the clamp. 1. 2. 3. You inhale sharply through your nose at the same time that an unprecedented amount of burning pain reverberates through your chest, your eyes snapping open. You’re clawing at his arm, a cry ripping past your lips while tears well up and blur your vision. It’s a feeling so intense that it’s seeping through you to your stomach, crawling like the meanest sunburn. Of all the piercings you’ve gotten, you can say without a doubt that this takes first prize for the most painful.

“Oh, fuck!” you sob, the sound being embarrassingly close to a full-bodied moan.

Matty slides the jewelry through while swiftly retracting the needle, trying to stifle the way the sound you’d made was affecting him, echoing in his skull in a way he knows it shouldn’t. He doesn’t even flinch despite the way your nails are leaving angry, red crescents marred on his skin. He quickly screws the barbell together before completely retracting his hands from you, taking one more glance at his handiwork before consoling you, his heart seemingly aching for the pretty girl in his chair.

“I know, I know. Hurts like a bitch, but you’re halfway done. Doing so good, you’re alright,” he murmurs, reaching the gloved back of his hand to your face to wipe some of the stray tears on your cheeks.

You just whine, the radiating pain only now starting to subside as you keep your hold on his arm, now smoothing over the marks you’d left with your fingertips as if you’re kissing them better. His thumb grazes along your cheek for a little too long for it to be accidental. Matty’s praise while he wipes away your tears is making your mind fuzzy, it’s like he’s numbing the pain; the sweetest morphine.

Your gasps for breath are slowing, the pain like a dull pulse, easing its grip on you. But now, mortification is starting to sink in now that you’re not reeling from shooting pain. One of the most attractive men you’ve ever seen just watched you in one of your most vulnerable moments, and there’s still one piercing to go, much to your dismay.

“Fuck, this is embarrassing,” you admit with a breathy laugh at your own expense.

“Nah, don’t be embarrassed. You could’ve done much worse, probably,” he says, looking amused as he shakes his head at you.

“Like what?” “I dunno… like, socked me in the face as a fight or flight response.”

You laugh at that, a bright sound filling the room that makes Matty’s smile grow fonder as he gazes down at you with those pretty, sparkly eyes. The moment lingers on for a few beats, tension blooming between you that almost makes you forget about the throbbing ache of your left breast (almost).

“You do know I have to do the other one right? Unless you’re a bit odd and like the one-piercing look,” he reminds cautiously over the clinking metallic sound of him picking up his tools.

“I know,” you sigh, “can you do it fast?”

“Erm… I’ll do it as quickly as I can without making it cockeyed, but I reckon you’ll be fine. Besides, the second one’s always easier from what I’ve seen.”

He doesn’t seem like the type that would elude you for the sake of false security, so you take his word as gospel, settling in to prepare yourself for what’s hopefully a more tolerable experience. His next words have your heart thrumming against your ribs.

“Can you handle it?” he asks, more of a challenge than a question.

You nod at him quietly, absentmindedly drawing little feather-light swirls on his bicep. The incentive of his praise is becoming all too tempting. You want to handle it, you want to show him that you can do it. There’s a new, honeyed kind of heat seeping into your bones.

“Good girl. You’re a strong one, love,” he praises, sensing just how eager you are.

The next pulse you feel doesn’t come from your chest. Good girl? He has to be fucking with you. Jesus, does he talk to all of his customers like this? Does he wipe all of their tears too? Something in you wants to believe he doesn’t. He watches as your lips part slowly, your lashes fluttering as you look up at him. You have to know.

“Do you call all your customers that?” you whisper, blinking up at him coyly.

“Not really, no. Only the pretty ones who deserve it.”

Your breath comes out as a shudder, it’s unfair how easily he leaves you stunned. He clicks his tongue casually before getting back to work, all too pleased by the look on your face. You know the routine by now, Matty makes quick work of clamping your nipple and arranging the prodding tip of the needle just so. You’re still clinging to his arm, or your personal stress toy, something you’ve grown very familiar to the feel of throughout your time here. The countdown starts, he’s not giving you as much time to prepare. 1. 2. 3. What was more like a shriek from earlier comes out as a whine this time, a high-pitched, whimpery noise spilling from you. You don’t curse or practically maul his arm this time, but it’s still painful, you can’t say you’re fond of how vividly you can feel the needle go in and out amidst the burning sting.

“Beautiful, atta girl,” he whispers, screwing the end of the barbell on before leaning back to admire his work, his eyes unabashedly glued to how the jewelry sits prettily on your breasts.

You have no clue if he’s talking about you, your tits, or the job he’d done, but it makes your skin warm all the same.

Finally, you allow yourself to look at your chest, gently sliding your hand off of his bicep to prop yourself up on your arms and get a good look at the two new adornments. Shit, they look good on you, better than you’d hoped, and perfectly symmetrical thanks to him. He smirks when he notices the way you’re gawking at the piercings, knowing that the pain is barely a thought in your mind now, too distracted by how newly desirable you must feel. Matty likes knowing that one, he’s good at his job, and two, that he’s just helped you feel sexier. He’s really enjoying watching you admire yourself and in turn, his work. There’s a slight stir beneath his baggy pants, which he knows should never happen while he’s with a client, but you might just be the sweetest thing that’s ever been in his chair. He’s allowing himself a pass.

“Shit, Matty, they’re really nice,” you gape, your stomach swooping when you glance up to see the smug look playing on his lips.

“Yeah, they came out mint. Suit you nicely, don’t they?” he says, daring to dance along the line of being unprofessional as he then glances down at your tits and whistles.

What a boy.

“Thank you… for everything I mean,”

“Don’t mention it, you were great,” Matty smiles, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he waves off your gushing.

Butterflies are rampaging in your stomach, god, why does he have to be so lovely? He looks like he has something he wants to say, but it goes unspoken, rattling around in his head instead. His expression is hard to read, but would you be deluding yourself to say there’s a tinge of longing? A few beats of quiet tick by, and you’re now becoming acutely aware of the fact that you no longer have a reason to be topless, awkwardly crossing your arms. Always so attentive, Matty suddenly straightens up and reaches over your body, his chain dangling in front of your face as he grabs your shirt and bra from the counter. He places them on your lap and politely turns away as if he’s never seen you undressed, clearing his throat like that will clear the thick tension in the air.

You wince as soon as the cups of your bra meet your immensely tender breasts, sucking in a sharp breath through your teeth as you power through clasping it. The sensitivity is something you’d been warned about, and now you get to joyfully experience it firsthand for the next however many weeks. Your eyes are on Matty’s back as you slip your shirt over your head, taking note of how rigid he seems as he gathers the after-piercing care papers for you. But maybe it’s in your head. You haven’t known him very long at all, it’s a dangerous game to assume any of the tension of this afternoon was real when you were freaking out for more than half of it.

“Right, any questions for me?” he asks, striding over to hand you the pages.

Are you single?Can we go out?Should we make out right now?How are you real?

“No, I think I’m alright.”

“Okay, well, if you’re not woozy, you can go ahead and stand up when you’re ready,” he says, clasping his hands together as if he’s wrapping up his job well done.

With the care pamphlet in one hand, you start to slowly swing your legs over to the side, noticing the way Matty stands at attention like he’s ready to catch you if your legs give out. But they don’t, you’re able to stand with minimal wobbles, shaking out your hands to try and relax your poor, recovering body.

The walk back to the front of the parlor is quiet, the both of you trying to grapple with the tension you couldn’t quite leave behind in the chair. There’s not much else to say, is there? You’re both standing next to the door now, and Matty retracts one of his hands from within his pockets to hold it out to you. Nothing says “I just blurred the lines of professionality while piercing your tits and now this is goodbye” like a good old handshake, does it? You try to keep your expression neutral even though this all feels quite bittersweet, grasping his hand with a firm shake. It’s the first time you’ve felt his hand without the latex glove between you, they’re soft, but you can tell he works with his hands, the callouses on his fingertips grazing your skin.

“Lovely to meet you, sorry I wasn’t a chick,” he chuckles, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Yeah, you too. And don’t worry about that, I’m glad it was you,” you reply, perhaps being a little too sincere, but it feels right to say.

“... well, listen, get home safe, alright? Take care of yourself, call if you have any problems,” he says, once again seeming like he’s biting his tongue, keeping himself from saying something to you.

You reach for the handle of the door, but you don’t open it. You look back at him like you’re giving him one more chance to tell you what you’re hoping to hear, but he doesn’t, he just offers a nod with an unreadable expression on his face. Heartache.

“See you, Matty,” you nod in return, opening the door and shutting it behind you.

You evaluate your situation on the walk back to your car. You’ve rid yourself of the urge to get your tits pierced, and they look fantastic, but your new problem is that you have a massive crush on your body piercer that you’re likely never going to see again unless you get another piercing. It’d be a rather expensive hobby to get a piercing just to see his face, so scratch that. Your only option is to be reminded of him every time you take your shirt off, how miserable is that?

Little do you know, the moment the shop door closed behind you, Matty groaned with his face in his hands, mentally kicking himself for not asking you out, or at least getting your number. Sure, you were a client, he had to be careful, but shit, you weren’t just any client, now were you? What was wrong with him? Something about you left the body piercer stiff and tongue-tied, replaying every moment of your encounter back in his mind. Never in his life had Matty Healy felt anything for a customer.

—---One month later—----

After a hellish month of healing, scabbing, and getting your piercings caught on things, you’ve decided that there’s no real point in having nipple piercings if no one gets to see them but you. You’d like to tell yourself that you don’t think about Matty as much anymore, but that would be laughably dishonest. Dating apps are just about one of the most aggravating wastes of time ever, and you’ve had no luck meeting people naturally, so here comes the next best thing: blind dates. Your close friend fancies herself to be somewhat of a matchmaker, she’s been talking up this guy to you for days now, telling you how funny and totally your type he is, and nothing could possibly go wrong if she set you up. You have your doubts, but still, you find yourself in a cafe waiting for your mystery man to sweep you off your feet with his supposed punchy one-liners. What you don’t expect, however, is to watch a very familiar mohawked man stride into the place, the eyes that have patronized your dreams every night scanning across the cafe until they lock onto you.

—----------------------------------------------

Don’t you worry, I won’t leave you hanging with just tension, ofc there’s going to be a smutty part two <3

Thank you very much for reading, I hope it wasn’t underwhelming! And thank you to any other writers that I reached out to to consult about my ideas, ily, mwah!

#oh god I’m nervous about this one #matty healy smut #matty healy x reader #matty healy x you #the 1975 smut #the 1975 x reader #matty healy fic #body piercer!Matty

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