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skepsiss · 5 months

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Reflection: Robin's POV

This is a 4 part mini-series about the Fruity Four. It's 1989 and Steve, Eddie, and Robin are visiting Hawkins over winter break. Nancy has invited them all over for a little Christmas get-together, and we read from the point of view of each member of the crew across 1 event.

I wrote these pieces to be read in any order, so... enjoy some Steddie, vague Ronance, Vickie x Robin, and just the Fruity Four being... fruity.

Dialogue prompt "You Remember That?" for @thefreakandthehair Spicy Six Winter Fanworks Challenge. Page break/border by @/alderdoodle.bsky.social on Bluesky.

Rating: T Words: 2,521 CW: Swearing, general anxiety

Steve's Part Robin's Part Nancy's Part Eddie's Part

“Now, now, children,” Robin said as she walked into the living room holding two mugs of cocoa.

Steve and Eddie were wrestling with each other-–as usual-–and Eddie seemed to be getting the upper hand this time around.

“Seriously, one of you take this cocoa before I drop it, and we have to spend the rest of the night scrubbing the carpet clean,” Robin said sharply before Steve pushed Eddie’s head into the seat cushion and took the mug from her.

There was a flash of something in Eddie’s eyes and Robin was worried for a moment that he would shove Steve back, but he settled instead and Steve passed him the cocoa.

Eddie had a hell of a competitive streak, so there was no knowing sometimes if that or logic would prevail—most times, logic lost.

“I’m glad I called when I did,” Nancy said as she walked in, offering another mug to Steve for him to take.

Eddie had huddled up with his mug as Robin was trying to seat herself back on the floor.

“I didn’t realize you guys would be flying in from Chicago,” Nancy was sitting prim and proper on the far couch, positively glittering with her smartly clipped-back hair and her Christmas-themed dress.

“Just easier,” Steve replied. He had sat back and had an arm around Eddie like he was some kind of husband from the 1950s. It was striking how Nancy and him seemed to mirror each other; Robin could understand why they had been a good couple once upon a time.

“Plus, I don’t want to put that kind of mileage on my car. But I’m still worried about driving that crappy, little Chevy in this kind of weather.”

“Would you get off it?” Eddie grumbled at Steve. He was hunched over his drink and slurping it tentatively, obviously not patient enough to wait for it to cool down properly. “I’ll eat my shorts if that thing can’t get us home, it’s Indiana, we’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, says the guy that didn’t believe us when we said Chicago winters were something else,” Robin retorted, before messily picking up a piece of shortbread. It crumbled in her fingers, and she awkwardly twisted and leaned over the table to keep from spilling on the rug.

“I don’t remember it being that bad! I was a kid… you remember that kind of stuff,” Eddie grouched back.

“You were like five the last time you were there,” Steve chastised, starting a harmless argument.

Robin ignored them and instead propped her chin in her hand and smiled at Nancy.

“See what I have to live with?”

Nancy chuckled, sounding charmed, which made Robin warm up in return. She had been a bit worried about coming over to the Wheeler’s house when Steve announced that Nancy had invited them all over before they had left the city. She hadn’t seen Nancy for ages, and she had been paranoid that all the progress they had made in their friendship during senior year would be wiped out. Nancy was a tough cookie to crack, but it seemed like once you were in, you were in.

“What’ve you been up to then?” Robin asked before grunting and crawling onto her knees. She picked herself up carefully so she wouldn’t knock any of the plates on the coffee table over and made her way to the couch where Nancy was.

“Just school,” Nancy shrugged, looking uncomfortable for some reason. “I’ve got two more years still, but I’m hoping to get an internship this summer.”

From what Robin knew, Nancy had been attending university in New York. She had heard from the gossip vine that Nancy and Jonathan had broken up earlier in the year and Robin had told Steve and Eddie to keep it to themselves under the pain of death. At least that was the last she had heard from Vickie on the matter-–and Vickie had heard it from her little sister who had heard it from Erica Sinclair who was in debate club with her at school. She wasn’t sure if she trusted Erica with this sort of gossip, or if she was more the type to amplify a rumour without vetting her sources.

Either way, Jonathan wasn’t here.

“How about you?”

Robin looked up at Nancy, having zoned out, and took a moment to process what was being asked of her.

Her? What had she been doing?

“Oh!” Robin replied, trying to laugh off her embarrassment. “Just my uh, just my basic credits. I haven’t really decided, not properly yet, well, maybe I have. I don’t know? It’s a big question. I might be transferring to another school outside of Chicago, but I have to think about whether it’s worth it and I haven’t really checked if my credits are going to transfer yet, but uh, Vickie was saying she was thinking of going to… Columbia State, so….”

Robin trailed off as she looked at the ground, trying to cover her blush. Vickie and her had been corresponding over the last several months via mail, and Robin wasn’t sure exactly where they stood. Nothing had happened between them in senior year, but they had been friendly with one another, and it was only by chance that they had reconnected earlier in ‘88. Robin liked to think they were dating-–they talked on the phone at least once a week with one another, and Robin had sent dozens of letters back to Hawkins, but they hadn’t said the word girlfriend yet. Long distance was complicated, and Robin wasn’t sure whether to be hopeful or practical.

“Vickie? Vickie Newberry from school?” Nancy asked, sounding surprised but not accusatory.

“Her high school sweetheart,” Eddie sighed, making himself sound overly dramatic.

Robin shot him a look, and Steve carried out her disdain by pinching Eddie in the side.

“Oh… that’s sweet. Are you guys seeing one another?”

Nancy obviously didn’t know what to say, but it wasn’t a secret amongst the four of them that Robin was a lesbian. She could remember Nancy taking her hands and speaking rather sternly when she declared that it didn’t matter, and she was happy to support her. That had been nice to hear, especially from another woman, but Robin couldn’t read the tone of voice Nancy was taking now.

“Sort of?” Robin replied, clearing her throat and shooting Steve an awkward look. Steve simply rolled his eyes and replied for her.

“Probably, but Robin hasn’t had the guts to ask her if they’re official.”

Robin scoffed at him, but all Nancy seemed to do was nod contemplatively.

“She’s still in Hawkins, right?” Nancy asked, turning the subject around a bit and taking some pressure off of Robin’s anxieties.

“Yeah, her Dad passed away suddenly in the summer of ‘86, and she stuck around to help her mom with her sister and stuff. But, I think she feels like she can move on now, or well, go to school at least,” Robin shrugged as she cradled her cocoa before taking too large of a sip and gagging at how hot it was.

“Speaking of,” Steve interjected as he shook his arm in order to read his watch. “You’ve got to leave in thirty to go meet her, right?”

Robin flushed again and glanced at Nancy, feeling guilty for having to cut and run so quickly. She had genuinely wanted to see Nancy, but she would be lying if she said she wasn’t champing at the bit to walk over to Vickie’s place.

To her relief, Nancy flashed her a smile and seemed to enthusiastically encourage Robin’s departure.

The next thirty minutes pressed on like that, and Robin found herself relaxing into the atmosphere. Things weren’t dire like they had been in ‘86, but it felt like the four of them fell easily back into a rhythm.

Idly, Robin thought about maybe talking to Vickie about going to school up in New York… if she was going to move away from Steve and Eddie, she might as well try and move somewhere she had a friend. It would be nice to have a proper friendship with another girl again, and Nancy was great. She was the type of person who went out of her way for you, and Robin had no doubt that if she decided to move to New York, Nancy would be all over offering her help.

“You should probably get going.”

Robin looked up, not having realized she was being addressed.

“Rob,” Steve snorted, and Eddie snapped his fingers at her to get her attention. “It’s nine, you’re supposed to meet Vickie.”

“It’s nine?!” Robin yelled, standing up abruptly, and knocking the little plate Nancy had in her hand onto the floor.

“Sorry, sorry!”

Thankfully, the dish didn’t break, and instead just strewed crumbs all over the carpet instead. Robin instantly fell over herself to try and sweep up the mess, making a bigger mess of it as she wiped at the spilled food.

“It’s fine, Robin, I’ve got it—you, stop-–you’re fine,” Nancy was placating her and Robin did eventually give up before looking at Steve anxiously.

“Yeah, alright,” he grunted, and got up from the couch to presumably go get the vacuum. Of course, he knew where it was, this house probably hadn’t changed in the last 4 years.

Robin shot Nancy another apologetic look, but she shooed Robin off toward the door.

Robin’s mind was moving a mile a minute as she pulled her shoes on and stuffed her hair under her beanie. She knew she was working herself up for no reason, it just felt like… everything could go wrong. She’d get there, and she would talk to Vickie, and then she’d find out Vickie had a boyfriend, or she had thought the whole time they were just ‘pals.’

As Robin got farther into her own head over whether or not things were actually going to be okay with Vickie, she pulled on her winter wear haphazardly. Her scarf went on second, which meant it got stuck in the zipper of her coat and she had to stop and adjust. Her boots were still untied, but she couldn’t see past the coat properly to do them up, and—god— she could only find one mitten.

Everything felt overwhelming, and Robin knew she was on the verge of calling the whole thing off and just hiding here at the Wheeler’s house.

“Rob.”

Robin looked up from scouring the floor for her missing mitten and watched as Steve held out the glove toward her.

“It’s going to be fine,” he offered, taking her by the shoulders and rubbing them. “It’s going to be fun and easy, and you’re not going to feel like you’ve even missed a beat. Knowing what I know? There is no way she doesn’t like you.”

Robin whined as Steve spoke, her anxiety still roiling inside of her, but forced back by Steve’s words.

“But what–” she started, only to be cut off by Steve shaking her violently by the shoulders.

“Nuh uh, no. Shut up. You’re being paranoid. If something goes wrong, just call me at Eddie’s and I will wake up at 3 am and walk through the goddamn snow to your parent’s house, okay?”

Despite her nerves, Robin felt a queasy smile inch across her face. Even if shit went south, Steve would be there, and that was more comforting than Robin was willing to admit. Even without a girlfriend, it didn’t feel all that terrible knowing that she’d have Steve; probably until both their dying breaths at this point… even if Eddie protested.

Steve was still staring at her—his brows stretched upward as if he was daring her to doubt him. He was looking for some kind of answer, so Robin nodded and then sucked in a deep breath to calm herself.

Without missing a beat, Steve turned her abruptly toward the door and yanked the door open, manhandling her to the entrance.

“Okay… okay, okay!” Robin yelled, laughing a bit at her own stupidity and how ridiculous it was to have Steve hype her up like this.

She looked up and grimaced slightly as she watched fluffy flakes of snow falling from the sky. She heard Steve whine behind her, but he didn’t let down his guard or let her back in.

“Okay!” Robin huffed once again, less determined and more excited than anything. Even if she was nervous, there was something thrilling about knowing she was very likely going to kiss Vickie tonight. Almost a year of correspondence and a couple of months of proper flirtation, and she was… going to kiss her.

Robin carefully made her way down the icy path and onto the road, not bothering to check the car that was definitely stuck at the Wheeler’s tonight.

Vickie didn’t live all that far from the Wheeler’s, actually. She was maybe a ten-minute walk away—more with the snow, but still easy enough to get to.

No one was out at this time of night, but Robin didn’t let herself romanticize the walk over to Vickie’s place. If she got distracted, she ran the risk of psyching herself out again, and she didn’t want to do that.

Two months. She had been waiting for this for two months. Ever since, she had sworn she’d be back in Hawkins for Christmas.

She could remember a time when she had thought no girl in the world was like her. When she had stared longingly at every pretty girl she came across and yearned to be a boy just so the girls would look at her. She didn’t want to be a boy, she just wanted the girls to be gay.

Robin checked the note in her pocket and scanned the house numbers to make sure she was getting close. She knew the street just fine, but she had never actually been to Vickie’s place before. She hadn’t lived on this side of Hawkins, and her ‘friendship’ with Vickie had stayed within the wall of the school.

Eventually, Robin found the right address and moved toward the little green house, noting that Vickie’s family only put up sparse Christmas decorations. It was a simple bungalow and the quietness of the street paired with the amber glow from Vickie’s porch lights helped a lot in settling her nerves.

Robin breathed deeply before knocking, her hands shaking slightly as she readied herself for this. She wasn’t sure what was going to happen tonight, but she hoped it went in the direction she wanted. How romantic would it be to sit in front of the fire and kiss Vickie for the first time? To tuck her hair behind her ear and compliment those red curls with her whole chest? To feel shy hand touches and… god, maybe something much bigger than that.

Robin was about to knock a second time when the door opened and Vickie stood framed with her cropped red hair and her oversized Christmas sweater. They both stared at each other for a beat before smiling shyly, and Robin managed to swallow her nerves in order to speak.

“Hey… made it.”

#I love Robin and Vickie together and I love the idea of them getting together even if it is years later #Robin is my favourite lesbian #my_writing #eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie #stranger things #nancy wheeler #robin buckley #ronance #robin x vickie #SpicySixWinterFanworksChallenge

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adrowningmansballad · 2 months

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report card

Do you have a heart? Can you feel it beat in your chest? Does it feel ooey, gooey and warm like the early rays of December's summer sun, peeking through your glazed windows when you wake? Like when a shy little girl or boy sneaks glances at their crush in a coming of age film with bated breath while walking to school, concealed by the shadows of wilted wallflowers. Does it flutter like cabbage butterflies that dance around your head as you walk down the cracked paved footpath? Tranquility breaks as you trip pitifully, the crumbling of concrete matches your confidence and crimsoning of cheeks. But you'll have more to be embarrassed about soon, don't you worry. Can you feel it pound as you're rushed by an influx of bodies, washing over you? As you enter school, moving from each class, slowly sinking on that anxious breeze that trails through the tall towering trees. Carrying that distinct scent of eucalyptus leaves that tumbles you dry. It follows you all the way to the end of the day, where you start to feel less alive. Can you feel your blood run cold when you realize what day it is today? When you're handed your progress report, and read the freshly printed Letraset flowing down the page. A column that pummels you into the earth- "A- for Math, A for Science, A for Music, A for Humanities, A for Physical Education...B for English". It's not much, but it's enough. It's enough to justify what will happen next. Does your heart thump hard enough to begin pushing it's way out of your chest? With each step home, do you feel yourself falling over? You might hope you trip again and break your arm. Or crack your skull. Or just bleed. Any reason to distract from what's in your hand. And when you finally get home, do you accept your fate and place the death sentence onto the dining table? If so, you should probably go hide. Wait in your bedroom, with only the melody of your heart sitting in the void with you. Does it drum the same beat of the bedroom door slamming open? Scuff marks signing "please kick here" from the day before. And the day before. And the day before that. And the day before that. And the day before that. There's nowhere to hide and you know that. All you can do is hold your breath. But we both know your heart won't steady. Do you sense the wall shake? The way they vibrate as he comes through the door. The windows rattle, no longer glittering with that warmth you felt when you opened your eyes. Are you starting to feel that sense of doom, as the static that descends like a burning vignette threatens to end you. You're unsure if your heart will burst from the pressure swelling in your chest, but your ears most definitely will; "You almost got an A" "You've really slacked off this time" "Maybe you've spent too much time with your friends" "You did so much better last term". It sounds nice enough now, but your continuing existence pours oil onto the fire; "You're a waste of space, you know that?" "A waste of time even" "How can you be such an idiot?" "That's all you are, and all you ever will be" "How could you be so sly and manipulative, making us think you could actually do something well for once" "Don't give me that look, or I'll give you something to really cry about" "Maybe grounding isn't enough, I ought to-". No matter how hard you try, this is how it ends; No happy love story in sight. It was never there to begin with. The end credits thanks you for your achievements that led us here. Do you have a heart? I have one. But I think it broke a long time ago.

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thebigqueer · 2 years

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Jason Grace & Piper McLean - "The Beginning of the Storm" - One-Shot

Summary: Jason & Piper break-up scene that happens before TBM :)

Word Count: 3293

Read on Ao3

Piper wonders, rather darkly, whether the pounding rain can finally just crash into the car and drown her. It would be better than the cold silence that she and Jason are currently writhing in.

They’ve been sitting like this for fifteen minutes on her dad’s driveway. The rain bangs insistently overhead, pounding so violently Piper almost considers the chances of a monster hitching a ride on the roof on their way back from their most recent battle several miles away.

But she knows there is no such monster above. The only dangerous creature right now is the secret that Jason’s refusing to share.

There’s a burning sensation in the air, turning Piper’s skin into invisible boils and blisters. The unspoken words in her mouth feel like ticking bombs against her tongue, just waiting to explode and destroy her.

She presses her head to the window, watching the gray water drops glitter down the glass. Thunder rumbles across the clouds, and she briefly wonders if that was nature or if Jason’s anxiety is manifesting itself into the rainstorm.

A frustrated sigh seethes between her lips as she sits up straighter. Piper turns her gaze to her boyfriend, who’s tapping the steering wheel with nervous fingertips, looking directly through the storm, his expression vacant and lost.

“You feel it too, don’t you?” she grits out, surprising herself with the venom in her words.

Jason flinches under the chill of her voice. “Feel what?”

“This. Us.” Piper gestures to the space between them. “Whatever’s going on here.”

Hesitation sticks to his lips before he answers. “Yeah, I do.”

“At least we’re on the same page there.” Piper’s voice still blisters, but she means the words genuinely.

She waits a few moments to let the heat of her words steam and evaporate in the frigid atmosphere. The rain starts more insistently again, perhaps trying to fill the silence between them with something slightly more comforting, but all Piper feels is cold and frustrated.

“I’m going to ask you one last time,” she hisses, turning back to him with a blade in her eyes, ready to wield it if the time comes. “What did you see in the Labyrinth?”

And now it’s Jason’s turn to sound irritated. “I told you,” he grumbles, “it’s not important. You don’t need to worry.”

Piper notes the shaking of his fingertips, the ragged heaving of his chest, the trembling of his lips. Her heart falls through the floor as she watches him, the chill of betrayal sinking to her stomach.

“I don’t understand,” she whispers in a solemn awe. “You’ve never lied to me, Jason. What’s so bad that you have to lie to me about it? I know you saw something, otherwise we wouldn’t be in this position right now.”

For the first time in the months they’ve been together, Jason turns to her with frustration curling against his lips. Frustration with her. “If you want to know so bad,” he mutters, “why haven’t you charmspeaked me yet?”

Despite the agony of his words, only guilt floods his eyes, falling all the way down to his heart and filling his entire body with regret. Piper realizes whatever it is that Jason’s hiding, it’s much worse than she thought.

Piper drags a nail across the seat belt still holding her tight against the seat, if only to try to focus on something else besides his raging eyes. “Because I’m not going to abuse my powers like that,” she promises coldly. “You’re my friend, Jason, no matter what. My best friend. I would never want to invade you.”

Her answer seems to take Jason by surprise, because the heat in his voice evaporates as he says, “I appreciate that. Thank you.”

But Piper won’t let the matter go so easily. She leans forward and narrows her eyes. “This doesn’t mean I don’t trust that you’re not lying to me.”

“I know,” he murmurs shamefully.

Piper waits for him to continue, perhaps to offer some kind of explanation, but he simply wraps the silence around him like a shield, protecting himself from the acidity of her words. Piper glares at him. “So you’re really not going to tell me?”

“I told you. Nothing for you to worry about.”

“If it was nothing to worry about,” she asks, “then why do you look so worried?”

There’s a slight pause before Jason responds, his eyes betraying his fears. But he snaps right back, grumbling, “Oh, I don’t know, maybe the fact that a bunch of monsters just chased us down?”

“Fine.” She crosses her arms and resumes watching the droplets fall. “I won’t ask anymore.”

Jason's sighs. “Piper…,” he tries, but her name turns to ashes in the space between them.

They seethe in the acidic quietness. Thunder rolls overhead again, rumbling the car, and Piper’s heart rolls dangerously right along with it.

Maybe it’s something to do with the rain, or something to do with the tension between them, but Piper says the words before she can really think about them: “I think we need to break up.”

For a second, she feels no emotion as she registers her own words. They feel like a mere statement against her lips, hard and unemotional. After all, she’s been practicing the line for weeks now, and she can almost imagine this is just another rehearsal in front of her mirror.

But when she hears the hitch in Jason’s breath, only then does the weight of her words fall into her chest.

This is no rehearsal.

Jason doesn’t say anything for a full minute. The rain speaks for him, turning louder and more persistent. Thunder falls over the sky. Veins of lightning crack against the gray clouds.

As the lightning fades away, Jason finally turns to her. “This isn’t because I won’t tell you what I saw, right?” he asks softly.

Piper shakes her head, taking a deep breath. An ache builds in her throat, but even then she doesn't quite feel much. Her emotions are more like an expected reaction than something real.

“It’s not because of that,” she promises, swallowing the ache away. Piper brushes a thumb against her other elbow, considering what to say next. She’s careful not to meet Jason’s eyes as she murmurs, “It’s just that I’ve been starting to feel like… like there’s a shift between us. Don’t you?”

And now she turns back to face Jason, who nods slowly, though he directs his own gaze back into the rain. “I know what you mean.”

She can’t mistake the break in his voice. It’s just a misstep, barely even a stumble, but nonetheless her heart cracks the tiniest bit, allowing a little more emotion to seep through. Her eyes burn and the ache crawls back up her throat.

Piper takes a deep breath, but this time she can’t mask the heaviness in her voice. “It’s more than that, though,” she continues, picking at the drawstrings of her sweatshirt. “In… In the beginning of our relationship, I had all these vivid memories of us, happy memories, romantic memories. But then I found out that Hera faked those memories, and all those moments between us… they never happened.

“Then I thought, hey, maybe this could be a second chance at us.” Piper shrugs nervously. “I thought we could do it right. And then my mother gave me this idea that I needed to keep you around or whatever, and I guess through all of that… I thought you were what I needed. I thought you could make my life complete, that we were going to have an end-game. I thought we were meant to be.” She pauses, thinking about her next words carefully. “And, for a while, we were. I think we were really good. But it was just so… temporary.”

Piper bites her bottom lip, trying to fight the tears now burning against the back of her eyes, begging to be let out. She turns to gaze at Jason again, who’s finally stopped gripping the steering wheel and is instead running his hands through his hair.

“Jason,” she says, and he stops to look at her. She pretends not to notice the tightness of his wide eyes, the muted shivering of his body. “After you got your memories back, I kept thinking about how I was so lucky to have you. Even aside from all that shit from Aphrodite and Hera, I really felt like you were right for me.” Piper sighs. “Everything was so chaotic when we got together, and I guess it felt nice to be with someone who got it. We were both so new to camp, lost and confused and scared. I think that was another reason I was so into you; you understood what I was going through, at least to some extent.”

Jason nods as she speaks, almost in agreement, but doesn’t say anything. Piper tries to assure herself that’s for the better.

“But after that,” she persists, a deeper solemness slipping into her voice, “after the war with Gaea, things have just been so… normal. And I’ve been thinking about us, and it’s, like… Who even are we? Aside from the fighting and war and pressure from goddesses? I mean, did we even get to take that much time to get to know ourselves?” She bites her lip. “Like, I’ve just been questioning a lot of things about myself, things that I’m not sure being in a relationship would help with.”

She tries to tread carefully with the words she chooses. She’s not even sure what she’s saying, but it seems to make sense to Jason, because he nods his head again, though no explanation comes forth. He brings his hands back to the steering wheel, eyes staring past her again, lost in some distant place behind the rain, behind the driveway, behind even this reality.

“I get what you mean,” he says finally. “We both needed people to look comfort in, and I found that in you, too. But we went into our relationship so suddenly. And after everything, after all that chaos, it was like… what do we do now? We changed so much over that journey, and it’s been really hard to understand those changes on their own, much less understand how to adapt with those changes in a world that’s… mostly normal now. Especially being with someone who’s changed a lot, too.” He shrugs. “Like, I hate to admit it, but every time I look at you… all I can think about is how I have no idea what to really say to you anymore. There’s no danger to protect each other from. There’s no fear to hold each other through.”

Piper nods agreeably, her heart lifting just a bare centimeter, though the pressure in her eyes and the throbbing in her throat haven’t disappeared.

She presses her hands to the dashboard, if only to hold herself against the tilting of the world. A new silence floods in, but Piper knows that if she allows another wave of it to wash over her and Jason, they’ll drown in it. So she sucks on her bottom lips and adds,“For us, normal was chaos. It’s what our relationship was based off of. But we don’t have chaos anymore, and now it feels like… like we don’t have a foundation for us anymore.”

Jason closes his eyes again, tighter, and a new pinkness has come over his nose and cheeks. He resumes running his hands through his hair.

“Jason?” Piper asks meekly.

This time her voice breaks for good, cracking under the heat of this conversation. That’s about all the trigger her body needs; the ache in her throat loosens as the tears leave a burning trail from her eyes.

Jason opens his eyes again and looks at her, his gaze coming back into the present, but they fill with a desperate sadness as he watches the tears shimmer against her face. His bottom lip trembles under his teeth.

“You’re right,” Jason whispers, though Piper has a feeling he isn’t whispering on purpose; his voice sounds like it’s just on the brink of death, reaching out desperately for a grip on the thinnest strand of life. “I don’t really know what else to say. You’re right about all of it.”

Piper nods, swallowing heavily, though it does nothing to help the tears from stopping.

Jason taps his fingers nervously against the steering wheel. “It’s only been worse with Leo gone. I know him being here wouldn’t change our relationship with each other, and maybe we would’ve been at our end anyway.” Jason shakes his head. “But at least he’d make it easier. At least he wouldn’t make it hurt as much.”

Piper opens her mouth to respond, only to be silenced by the sudden crumpling of Jason's face and the hitch in his breath. He presses his hands to his cheeks and breathes heavily, his body hanging in sorrow and confusion.

“You’re crying,” she whispers, surprise lacing her words.

In all the time that Piper’s known Jason, she’s never seen him cry. Not in the countless number of times they’ve fought monsters together; not in the several moments he’d almost died; not even when Leo went missing.

But now, as she watches the shudders roll through his body and the sorrow cling to him like a cloak, she feels an overwhelming sense of guilt.

She made him cry. She did this to him.

But it needed to be done, she tries to tell herself. It’s only the first step in a long process.

Jason looks up, his eyes now fully red-rimmed and cracked behind his glasses. He tilts his head towards her and, to Piper’s surprise, huffs a sarcastic laugh.

“Can you blame me?” he mutters. “I mean, we just fought a monster and almost died. We went to the Labyrinth and found nothing. Leo’s still missing. And now we’re breaking up. I don’t really know how else to react.”

Another wave of sadness comes over Piper, flooding her in tears. She’s never seen him look so beaten and broken, not even after the hundreds of battles they’ve been through. And here she is, telling him that after all that fighting they did to stay with each other, to keep each other alive, she was ready to separate.

Without thinking, she throws her arms around Jason and presses her nose to his shoulder. His familiar scent of thunderstorms envelopes her.

“I’m so sorry, Jason,” she breathes through another bout of tears. “You know I love you. Just… not in the way I’m supposed to.”

Jason hesitates against her, perhaps confused by her sudden display of affection, but then thinks better of it and wraps his own arms around her body, drowning in her familiarity. His embrace feels inviting and warm, much more comfortable than any time he’s hugged her as her lover.

“I know,” he whispers.

She sighs and presses herself closer into his shoulder, subconsciously drawing circles against his back.

“But it hurts,” Jason murmurs. “I know we aren’t meant for each other anymore, but it still hurts to let you go, Piper.” He takes a deep breath, swallowing back a shudder. “You understood me.”

“So did you,” Piper agrees, “and I’m so glad we were together. You helped me through so much.”

Then she breaks away from him and brushes the tears from her face, though she doubts that helps make her look any better. Her eyes connect with Jason’s, and after a hesitant second, she takes his warm hand in hers. Piper tangles their fingers together and brushes his hand against her cheek, a finally touch before she says goodbye. “But maybe it’s time to make new futures for ourselves,” she whispers. “Maybe it’s time we start going in different paths.”

Jason nods, but the tears in his eyes seem to be coming down faster, and his irises flash with brand new cracks in them. He looks away from her and rests his head against the window.

“We’ll still be friends, though, right?” she asks desperately. She knows the answer already, but she wants the guarantee that they won’t lose each other.

“Of course,” Jason promises, squeezing her hand. “We’re always going to be friends. I can’t lose you for good.”

Piper’s lips form into a smile as watery as her tears. “Good. Because I’m not losing you either, Sparky.” She takes a deep breath, then gazes outside to her driveway, glancing at the peak of her house. She points to it nervously. “I think I’m going to head inside.”

Jason nods, though his mind seems lost elsewhere. “Don’t go in the rain,” he says through a thick voice. “I can drive you up there.”

Piper shakes her head. “No, it’s fine. I think I’d rather give you the space. But thank you, Jason.” And, after one final squeeze, she takes her fingers from his. Her hand becomes her own again. “For everything.”

Piper tries for another smile, but it evaporates just as soon as it appears, and she gives up. She fingers the lock of her door, but before she opens the door, she asks, “Will you be okay?”

Jason shrugs listlessly. “I think so,” he murmurs. “I know we needed this. But it doesn’t make it hurt any less.” He shakes his head and sits up straighter. “I’ll be okay, though, I promise.” He pauses, then adds, “You?”

Piper nods. “Same. It’ll take some time, but… It’ll be okay.”

Jason tries for what Piper assumes is his attempt at an assuring smile, but it doesn’t work too well; his tears overwhelm his smile in seconds. She appreciates his attempt anyway.

“Then I think we’ll be alright,” Jason says around his tears. He hesitates for a second, then adds, “Is it okay if I stay on your driveway for a bit?” He gestures to the rain. “It’s still pouring, and I’ll be honest, I don’t think I’m in any condition to drive back to school.”

Piper’s heart tightens at his words, pumping the chill of guilt into her bloodstream. He’s in no condition because of her. She tips her head sympathetically. “Yeah, of course. I’ll let my dad know you’re having car difficulties or something.”

Jason smiles, though the tears piercing his face give a certain sadness to his expression. “Thanks.” He chews on his lip, then whispers, “Goodnight, Piper. And thank you. For being with me through all of this.”

“Thank you,” she says. “Goodnight, Jason.”

She offers one last watery smile, then slips through the rain, turning invisible behind the heaviness of the storm.

Jason watches her run up the driveway and barge into the porch of her house, all the while trying to blink back the burn in his eyes. It isn’t until she’s truly out of sight that Jason’s shoulders fall again and he holds his face in his hand, trying to collect all his sorrow and tears and anguish into his palms. But it’s no use; they slip through his fingers and fill up his car, and in the end, he’s just drowning himself in his own despair.

Jason knows Piper will go to sleep sad and heartbroken tonight, because even though their love couldn’t last, it was real, and letting go of a real love is always a difficult wound to heal.

But he also knows she’ll recover, because she’s Piper. She’s resilient and strong and won’t let something as temporary as a breakup keep her down.

Jason can’t say the same for himself, though. As he remembers the Labyrinth, the woman he met, the future that was bestowed upon him, his tears come flooding down as fast as the rainstorm outside.

He knows this is only the beginning of losing Piper for good.

#my writing #jason grace #piper mclean #riordanverse #fic rec #fic recs #jason grace fanfic #jason grace fic #piper mclean fanfic #piper mclean fic

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iambic-stan · 11 months

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Portobello gills

Another Star Trek-themed heart story, featuring Voyager's Doctor and an Ensign/former member of the Maquis. These stories are all very silly but I hope someone enjoys them. :) And here's a sorta related gif of The Doctor and Kes.

This is the moment I built myself up to, but now I’m worried that I read it wrong. My assumption was incorrect—the EMH did not have stethoscopes entered into his database already. They must be such outdated medical tools that his programmers saw no need for him to be even tangentially aware of them. I’ve just spent the last twenty minutes explaining what mine is, what it’s for, and trying to eloquently describe what it all means to me. He has become so still that I’m almost afraid he’s malfunctioned somehow and deactivated without either of our commands. “Doctor,” I say a little loudly, reaching across the couch to touch his shoulder. I know he’s photonic energy, but I’ll be damned if he doesn’t feel like flesh. He stares into my eyes, but it's like he sees nothing. “Please state the nature of the medical—just kidding, Ensign,” he laughs. I shake my head and smile, glancing down at my shimmering pastel stethoscope sitting between us. My vision blurs slightly, my astigmatism causing the glint of the glitter to expand in an odd way. It takes me a second longer than it should to focus. Maybe I’ve had too much to drink, but at least I haven’t inadvertently activated some subroutine I wouldn’t understand how to deactivate. Somehow, in the last couple of hours of candor, something clicked for me. I’ve told him about my house on Earth, my partner, my cats, and my job as a freshman composition instructor, before I joined the Maquis. I’ve heard his stories about sickbay challenges, his growing fondness for Kes and revelations about her species, and his fantasies about taking command of Voyager and demanding the same respect and admiration Janeway enjoys. Now I’m asking him to listen to my heart, and this has somehow put a wrench in what was an enjoyable evening, a distraction from the dullness of waiting to get home. Is it a step too far? How do you know when you and a hologram are on the same page, emotionally?

“So you’re anxious about something? What are your symptoms?” he asks. “It’s nothing like that!” I say, laughing, wishing at this moment I’d tabled this until later, or maybe never. “I just think it’s really cool,” I say, immediately realizing my mistake. “Is it warm in here?" He asks sarcastically. "Maybe you had too much synthehol?” I have to look at him for a second to realize he’s joking again, and at my expense, really. “You realize I use a much more efficient instrument to scan multiple vital signs for multiple crew members all day? What about this is different, other than it being less comprehensive and less efficient? At the risk of sounding like a Vulcan, is this logical?” I take in a deep breath. I know he's well aware that I'm not asking him to be my doctor, at least not at this moment. I was obviously unprepared for this conversation, and I can feel my heart pounding away in my chest--a circumstance that, unfortunately, makes me yearn to be listened to even more.

“It’s more intimate,” I explain. “And I brought it up because I feel close to you. I want to share my heart with you. I mean…metaphorically. It’s been great…being one of the humanoids you connect with. I hope that we can still be friends after we’re back home. Keep in touch somehow, if you decide to stay aboard Voyager? So yeah…I’m fond of you, I love seeing you develop into someone more complex than the guy I first met. I don't know if you've thought about it this way, but that is very relatable to me, as a human who is also continually changed by my own experiences, as that's practically unavoidable. And I would just love it, if you listened to my heart." The last five words tumble out of my mouth almost as one jumbled mess, so difficult to say out loud. I have to get better at that, I think.

I grow silent while he considers what I've said. "I greatly enjoy your company," he begins. Then, with some hesitation: "I'm just not sure how that is connected to your request." He throws his arms up in the air, a little exasperated, or at least appearing to be. I know that the human doctor he was programmed to simulate, a Lewis Zimmerman from New Jersey, was notoriously ill-tempered, stubborn, and condescending, and our EMH did not stray from that programming easily when he was first activated full-time. It was only when Janeway agreed to expand his programming--both out of necessity and later at the Doctor's request--that he developed a personality all his own. My hope for him when we reach the Alpha Quadrant is that the Federation will grant him personhood on the basis of his sentience, because I'm finding the differences between us continually grow smaller. A precedent has already been set, if not for holograms, then sentient androids, I believe, with Data on The Enterprise. Whatever happens, I like to think I've helped him figure out his individuality, just as he's helped me feel much less lonely on Voyager.

“Am I bothering you with this? Was it a mistake to bring it up? I’m having a nice evening and I’m not trying to ruin anything,” I say. “You’re fine,” he assures me. “I’m simply curious. I want to understand and apparently, I just don’t. I have researched human bonding activities rather extensively. In the context of friendship, at least when it comes to Americans like yourself, evidently there’s little physical contact involved. Humans enjoy hunting for sport, drinking—like you’re doing, dining out together (except I don't consume food), and this game that involves throwing or kicking a sort of oval-shaped leather ball over a goal but is also rather violent...” I’m trying not to laugh at the poor man as he describes American football as no one from my hometown has ever heard it. “But this is not a romantic gesture of some kind? I’ve read about those, too, and—“ I have to stop him. “No, it’s ok—it’s not meant to be a romantic gesture. I still have hope that I’m going to get home to my partner, you know? But it's very emotional. I have strong feelings about it. If that's not obvious.” He sighs. “Well, despite all of my research into social skills and relationships, I’ve never found a reference to this outside of a medical setting. I don’t know what you expect me to do, if not behave as a trained physician. Perhaps I should be advised on how to act and what to say.”

It dawns on me that it is confusing to his mind to be asked to do something for which the only context he has is the wrong one. And there was no prior reason for him to deviate from the parameters that were programmed into him. “So the thing is,” I explain slowly because my heart is pounding in my ears and I’m beginning to feel so embarrassed that I want to hurl myself out of an airlock and into the Delta quadrant void. “I really like being on the other end of a stethoscope. Like, a lot. It makes me feel loved and safe. It's very sensual. I understand that hearts are organs that don’t have opinions, but I feel like my heart lives for being listened to. That’s my thing, admittedly—but I thought you might get something out of it, too. You know how to read a medical tricorder; you know everything that might cause a minor fluctuation in any given reading of the dozens or maybe hundreds that your device can keep track of. But have you ever actually just listened to someone's life force, in real time, with them sitting beside you? An unusual shared experience, right? Just permitted yourself to exist in that moment, outside of anything in your life that's causing you stress? And pondered that for all it represents? I can't tell you what to say or how to act. It just depends on what comes to mind for you, what you feel. Maybe you'll never want to do it again, or maybe you'll enjoy it and then you can just say whatever you want to say. Or keep that to yourself if you'd rather, you know? It would mean a lot to me, anyway, but it's up to you," I add sheepishly.

"No one has ever said that," he says, appearing dumbfounded and...impressed, is it? "Which part?" I ask nervously. "You said 'anything in your life that's causing you stress.' You acknowledged that I could experience stress. That I have a life. I haven't even been active for more than two and a half years." "Well, we all have to start somewhere? Why wouldn't I refer to that as your life?" I ask. He doesn't reply, but takes the stethoscope and affixes it in his ears, uncertainly. “Do I look like a 21st century doctor?” he asks, smiling almost haughtily. “I wouldn’t know firsthand, but yes?” I offer, shrugging. He moves closer to me on the couch and places the chestpiece in the middle of my chest. Immediately he blurts out an, "Oh!" and then "I didn't know it would be so loud. And so fast." "Yeah, I didn't realize you'd just like, go for it just then," I say, staring at the floor, giggling. "But I'm glad." Slowly, he starts to move the chestpiece around, listening everywhere: pulmonic, aortic, tricuspid, mitral. He does know anatomy. I find myself wondering if this is the first time anyone--human or otherwise--has enlisted an emergency medical hologram to have a friendly auscultation session with no medical purpose involved in any way. Is this novel to me, or is this altogether novel an occurrence? I look up and our eyes meet. "Still fast, I guess?" I ask, smiling. "Less so," he tells me. "It's a bit slower, and steady." "I like having you listening to it," I tell him softly, though I wonder if he understands me, in more ways than one. I wait a few breaths, then reach for his other hand to hold it for a moment. I look into his eyes, deeply brown like portobello gills--a pretty organic comparison my mind has conjured for someone computer-generated. They seem inquisitive, and I tell myself (or lie to myself?) that there's also a hint of emotion, of affection, he's associating with this act. I close my eyes while he listens a few seconds longer.

"Well, you are alive," he finally says, handing me the stethoscope, the grainy glitter on its tubing grazing my hand. "That much is certain. As far as standards for humans go, judging by the fact that you clearly have synaptic activity taking place. What I heard indicates that you have four functioning heart valves, as is expected," he continues. "Alright," I say kind of dismissively, holding up my hand that's still clutching the binaurals and grimacing. "You don't have to do that. I mean I guess if that's what you wanted to say. But I mean...this is a sweet moment. I mean, speaking for myself, anyhow. Thank you. You made my night." He cracks a smile and I reach over and put my arms around him, something I've never done before. He seems startled at first, then returns the embrace. He feels surprisingly warm and human himself. For one of the few times in the past two years, I don't mind that I'm stranded in an uncharted part of the galaxy if I get to be surrounded by amazing people.

#cardiophile #cardiophilia #stethoscopes #auscultation #cardiophile story #Star Trek #Star Trek Voyager #Star Trek: Voyager #heartbeats

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ferallymine · 1 year

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AOC: Cardplayers

a/n: I asked my deck what a reading for this trio would look like and here we are. -------------------------------------------------------------------------

The hut was small in comparison to her study- both rooms could easily fit inside it judging by how it looked on the outside. How could a space be so small, yet house so many oddities? The hut’s outside appearance lied to all watching about what it could possibly contain.

Zelda admired the trinkets and haphazardly displayed plants, potions, and other assorted goods in Iris’ living space. There’s just so many things to ask her. If she didn’t know better, Zelda would only think of her as a mystical hoarder. The bedroom door was closed, but she imagined what other mysteries could be inside. Even the dust highlighted in the sunlight from the window felt ethereal and specially placed. Her own study could never feel this cozy, no matter how much Zelda loved being in it.

Link simply sat beside her, silent but also curious. Only the ones who knew him best could tell by the glint in his eyes- often the only way to gauge his true thoughts. He didn’t have any burning questions, unlike the royal to his right. He felt her fidget in her seat, eyes darting everywhere.

Was it dust, glitter, dirt, or remains in that tattered leather pouch? What’s in all those corked bottles? Why are some of them sealed in wax? Some of these plants should be impossible to plant inside- how did she do it? Was that a-

“My Lily, you could summon a horde with the sound of your thoughts,” The witch laughed, turning from the counter to face a now flustered Zelda. “Do you want to ask about my living choices, or would you like to use our time on the cards?” Such an air of friendly teasing in her words.

“S-sorry! The cards please.” Zelda didn’t mind the nicknames Iris gave, but it always made her feel special in a strange platonic sense. It was a similar warmth to Urbosa’s ‘little bird.’ It was soft- gentle, even- in a world where a cursed prophecy required the worst parts of themselves to be put first.

Zelda realized she had spaced out, returning her gaze back to Iris.

She pulled beautifully worn cards from a sage green cloth. Iris closed her eyes, shuffling the cards with mastery. Her fingertips seemed to blur together as the cards moved. There was a faint energy in the air. All three of them felt it pull at their inner selves. What power could pull their questions into a carefully detailed piece of paper?

In rapid succession, Iris laid out seven cards. “Alright… what do we have?”

In front of Link lay the Page and 4 of Cups.

In front of Zelda lay the Hierophant and R! 8 of Wands.

In front of Iris lay the R! Sun and the Queen of Wands.

In the middle lay Justice.

“Ah.”

“Ah? What do you mean ‘ah,’ Iris?!”

“I mean ‘Ah.’ Like a pompous way to say the last syllable in your name.”

“Well, what does it say? Tell us!” Tell me, please…

“Don’t rush what you don’t yet understand, Highness.” Iris hummed as she looked the spread over. Her fingers gently hovered over each card, thoughts collecting before she spoke, “I think I know what it’s saying…”

“My Alium,” She turned to Link- his poker face unchanged, “…your cards mean to trust your instincts. Your passions and talents are unmatched in skill, yes, but there’s more to find if you look around. Let others help you; Don’t get tunnel vision.”

Link slowly nodded, pieces of his hair drifting over his face. Iris sensed reservations in the way he held his fists by his side, but said nothing. She shifted her weight to face Zelda- who was frantically scanning over all the cards. Easy there, Lily…

Zelda waited, anxious nerves tingling just underneath her skin. When Iris had told her she once knew cartomancy, she immediately begged for a reading. Zelda hoped that the cards would help her directly talk to the powers above, or at least give her answers to why her power wasn’t awakening.

“This figure is the Hierophant. Since it’s accompanied by the reversed 8 of wands, I think the powers want you to face your frustration with traditions and authority.” Iris closed her eyes, wiggling her fingers to find the right words. A breath before she continued, “You’re feeling stuck, most of it being entangled with standards of religion. Maybe let yourself be, well, yourself, instead of what His Majesty demands.”

“This is just what we already know!” Zelda stood in frustration, but hit her head off the bookshelf above the seat. She furiously rubbed the bump, both as a distraction from the pain and to just… move. Scream without screaming. Why can’t anyone give a straightforward answer!

Iris scooted her chair back, pulling the table with her. She figured that letting Zelda do what she needed would be better than anything else. Link followed suit, keeping his eyes on the environment for anything dangerous that could fall. The cards were jostled, but nothing overly disruptive disturbed their placements.

“I don’t mean to put so much into something so meaningless,” Zelda blinked back tears, “But by the Goddess I wanted some sort of straightforward answer.”

Iris cocked her head, “…I understand where you’re coming from, but this did give some insight-”

“NO IT DID NOT!” Her sudden yell silenced everything. It was as if even the very dust in the air came to a standstill, the plants seemed a bit less green, and the sunlight faded as clouds began to blot the sky. Zelda’s breaths became heavy as she tried to control her emotions. “What about your cards, huh? What do they say?! That you’re perfect and mighty enough to face this?!”

“I will not answer to someone yelling at me like that.” Iris interlocked her fingers, face stone cold. “Take all the time you need, but I will not tolerate this in my home.”

“You are to help me, Iris! You swore allegiance!”

“My allegiance is to Hyrule, not to someone who thinks yelling condescending insults will get her answers.” Iris waved a hand, maroon smoke sending the cards flying into the air. She reached out, randomly grabbing one as the rest fell wherever.

“Hmm… 9 of Swords,” Iris looked back at Zelda, “Go rest. You’ve got too much on your mind for clear thinking.” Another wave of the hand opened her bedroom door. Zelda stood defiant for only a moment, then sighed and retreated. The slam of the door rattled some pots, but nothing fell.

Link sat still, stunned at the sudden outburst. Not knowing what else to do, he knelt to pick up some of the scattered cards. Iris swirled maroon around, gathering ones he hadn’t grabbed.

“What did your cards say?”

Iris paused, looking up to make sure she heard correctly. Crimson met blue as their gaze set on each other. Link’s face blushed, realizing this was one of the very rare times he allowed himself to speak. He dared not move, suddenly too embarrassed to do anything beyond stare at her.

Iris’ face softened, thought a light blush graced her face. “Mine said that I’ve got to face some inner sorrows, but if I remain confident and determined, I should come out relatively okay. Anything could define that term, though. The middle card invited us to realize our impact on the Calamity if we stay to what’s true.”

Link smiled, looking at his hands. Seeing the remaining cards, he quickly offered them to her. There were only a few and they were all haphazardly clumped together, facing many ways. The Lovers card lay on top, just under his thumb. Iris chuckled before accepting them.

She knew that puzzled look on his face as she put the cards in the cloth. “The Lovers can be quite literal when they come up. Often times, though, they represent a choice to be made. There’s a duality to life that we tend to forget as we move along.” She finished tying off the cloth, moving to set it on the shelf, “But these are the cataclysmic prophesied times, so who knows how many choices we’ll have to make await us.”

#iris #legend of zelda oc #aoc link #aoc zelda #would hyrule have tarot? idk that's why i went with generic cartomancy #but iris is a witch she would defiinitely use it #this was fun tho #oc #writing #a fun little ditty for incorporating my deck(s) into my writing abilities

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poppy-metal · 3 years

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so uh,,,,this ended up being alot softer then i was expecting LMAO.

Bully!eren x reader

Cw: not alot, some smut at the end. Tame for me but i was in my FEELINGS okay.

Word count: 2.3k

The familiar sleek black of erens benz pulls up to the side of your house as you walk home from a late night trip to the grocery store, pints of ben & jerrys ice cream in the bags, as well as several other snack items one might munch on to cram for an exam, which is what you planned on doing.

You side step more onto the sidewalk when he pulls up beside you, still driving just slow enough to match your pace. He rolls down the window, jerking his head, “Just the girl i wanted to see,” he drawls hooking his arm out his window to lean out a little, he grins, “its fate”

You scrunch your nose up and scoff “Stalking is another word for it, jaeger”. You look him over suspiciously, “you wanted to see me?”

He rolls his eyes. He’s wearing aviator sunglasses, pushed up his forehead. Loitering in front of your house like this, you’re aware of how different the worlds you live in are. Everything about eren is expensive, from his car to his sunglasses to his clothes, even the way he smells, the cologne he wears, all tells how important he is. Meanwhile here you are in your oversized hoodie and leggings, hands full of stuff you’d bought from the convenience store, prepared to spend your night busting your ass to even stay in the college you had to claw your way to get into, wherein he had gotten in without even trying. You’re not self conscious, at least not usually. You’d never yearned to be apart of erens world too terribly, and it was eren who always sought you out, not the other way around, when there was plenty of rich girls right up his alley and status that would be glad to be with him and yet here he was at 11pm at night. You try to push down the way your heart flutters at that fact.

“Uh huh. Get in the car, bambi, m’taking you somewhere” his teeth are a flash of white against the night, promising trouble, as always. Your grip on your bags tightens, as does your heart in your chest. You glance away, “i have to study”

“Study?”

Your brows pinch together and you hold up your bags “Not that you’d care, jaeger, but some of us have to actually study to achieve our goals. I can't entertain you tonight, im busy”

Eren doesn’t look put out in the slightest, glancing down at your bags with casual disinterest“You dont need to study”. And then he looks up at you and meets your eyes, your breath catching, they look closer to the shade of seaglass today. “You’re smarter than anyone i know, ___, and i know alot of people. Whatever you want to pass? You’re already there. Just come with me, please”

Your eyes widen and your heart spasms in your chest, caught off guard by the raw honesty in his voice. He has moments like this, where he usually teases you and gets under your skin but sometimes he says something that makes everything in you jolt. Its not fair. Its confusing and it messes with your head, makes it fuzzy, weakens you and makes you do things you’d never do with a clear mind.

You wish you could fight it, wish you could roll your eyes and tell him no and do what you need to do. But you don’t. Huffing you say, “Ugh, fine. Just let me put this stuff up, my ice creams probably already a puddle by now” you turn and rush up to your house, ears burning when you hear him call out, “Thatta girl!”

You try not to put everything away to hastily, thinking he ought to squirm just a little, but even you can’t deny the eager buzzing under your skin. When you clamber into the passenger seat of his car eren turns to grin at you as he flicks his sunglasses back over his eyes. “Knew you’d see reason, bambi”. You roll your eyes at the nickname, crossing your arms over your chest as you side eye him warily, “where are you taking me jaeger, is this a kidnapping?”

“Not a kidnapping when you want it, sweetheart”, eren says, putting his arm around the back of your seat as he backs up his car to make a uturn. You dont know if the flustered leap in your chest is from the petname or the way his forearm looks flexing, the cords in his neck prominent as he looks behind him for any oncoming cars. “Just trust me, yeah? You’ll like it”

You sink in the seat, trying to get away from the warm heat of his arm so close to you, but hes taking it away soon enough, only to draw your attention again to the way his hands look steering the wheel. His hands….You turn to look out the window, opting for silence, because you feel like you’re about to lose your mind. This car is just so..him and its overwhelming your senses. It smells good, it smells like him, his cologne wafting all around you. The sleek interior of his car is crisp, clean, sharp, and just so richboy it feels surreal. You haven’t been in his car before.

Eren seems okay with the silence though, tapping his finger idly against the wheel as soft music plays from the radio. Its strangely peaceful, actually. Before you know it, the whirring of houses and neighborhoods and highway turns into palm trees and sand. You sit up straighter, coming out of your daze when you realize eren is pulling his car into the sandy bank by a large body of water. The beach. You haven’t had a chance to go here.

The water looks like black at this time of night, there are no waves, just sparkling dark abyss that stretches out for ages and ages, glittering under the moonlight. There are no other cars parked close to you so its just you, eren, and the sea.

You spend quite awhile gawking at the ocean before you come to your senses and turn to face eren. He has his elbow propped on the wheel, chewing idly on his thumb as he peers at you from over his sunglasses. A small smile is playing at his lips as he watches you.

You gape, “What…”

“You’re cute when you’re excited, you know” his voice is low, dropped in that way that makes your toes curl in your shoes. You ignore the way your heart skips at his words, probing him, “Why did you bring me here, ren?”

He turns to face forward, flipping the radio off so theres no background noise between the two of you. Taking his sunglasses off the folds them and puts them on the dash, sighing as he watches the ocean from out the windshield, gnawing on his lips. Tap, tap, tap, his fingers on the wheel go as you wait for him to speak. “Last week,” he starts, glancing at you, “When we had to do those presentations in class about places we feel at home..you talked about the library”

He laughs under his breath like its some kind of endearing joke, shaking his head a little. You dont speak. “The library is where i first saw you, you know? I mean, before all this, before i..talked to you, i noticed you before you ever noticed me.” A small secret smile plays on his lips, “You were reading ‘percy jackson and the lightning thief’, and you haid your hair in pigtails. Your glasses were way to big your face. My first thought was ‘wow she looks like an owl’, but then i saw you laugh at something on the page and my second thought was ‘i want to know her’. We were in middle school.”

Green eyes connect with yours, “You still go there, i know. But anyway..this is. My place, i guess”. He purses his lips “i figure since i'm always intruding on your little sanctuary , i’d let you see mine”

You take everything he just said in. He’d known about you, noticed you, since middle school? You hadn’t acknowledged him until sophomore year of highschool, hadn’t spoken to him since senior year, when this tug and pull had first begun between you two. You remembered that day, your mother wouldn't buy you the series so you’d relied on constantly re-reading the books at the library. It was around that time you began to see that place as something special, too. Tucked away from the world, you could lose yourself in another's story. It was like magic. And to realize eren had been there the whole time, had glimpsed that, realized that the library was your special place, that he’d even payed attention to your presentation in class at all in the first place...that he was here, showing you something of himself in return, even though you’d never asked. You’d wondered of course.

Eren was an enigma, he was on most days, the bane of your existence. He had made your life a living hell on many occasions, but with that, he also made you feel more alive than ever before. He’d dragged you out of your bubble and challenged you to see the world beyond school and books and fiction, he raised your emotions and forced you to experience everything head on. Anger, confusion, happiness, anxiety, thrill, lust and…

You look at him. The way the moonlight curls into the car like a kind of mist, making his eyes look absolutely beautiful. The soft wave to his brown hair, his eyelashes, everything about him made you ache with desire. All the time, even when you swore you hated him, you wanted him.

“Kiss me”. Its whispered out so low, for a moment you worry he might not hear it. Its the first time you’ve asked for him, reached for him first without his taunting to guide a confession from you. With this request, filling the air between you, you’re making it known that you want him, want this. It doesn’t change anything and yet it somehow changes everything. You can’t look in the mirror and tell yourself he doesn’t occupy your mind and your heart anymore. Not after this.

Eren seems to realize this too, his intake of breath letting you know he heard you loud and clear. “__..” he says, inching closer. His eyes, dark now, are so very hungry as he closes in. In a moment his lips, soft, so soft, are on yours. You sigh into his kiss, opening for him easily when his tongue glides into your mouth. His hand comes up to cup your jaw, tenderly, thumb stroking it. God, you want to eat him, you want him to eat you. The wet smack of your lips fills the car as you hungrily nip, and suck, and kiss at each others lips.

When eren pulls back, he’s panting, hair disheveled. You don’t remember when your hands first sunk into his hair, but they must have, messed up as it is now. He looks at you like he wants to devour you, he licks his lips. “I’m gonna put your seat back,” he tells you slowly, each word dripping with finality, “im going to kiss every inch of your body and then you’re opening those legs for me and letting me inside, baby”

You don’t have it in you to act scandalised, you know what you want. You’d basically asked for it. You just nod, never taking your eyes off his face when he reaches down and pulls the lever. And then you feel yourself being tilted backwards as the seat goes back, laying you flat. Your chest heaves with barely contained need as eren then settles above you, every clothed inch of him hovering just barely above you.

Holding your eyes, eren lowers himself. You spread your legs easily to accommodate him, gasping when you feel his clothed cock settle right against your clit through your leggings. He rocks once, gently, against you, his hair hanging over his forehead as he looks down at you with utter want in his eyes, “Want you to feel me”, he murmurs, and rocks again, “Wanna fill you up so good, you can’t ever pretend that im not apart of you. Because, this, baby?” Another rock, a shuddered moan leaving your lips, “This is it. No ones gonna fuck you like i do, no ones gonna get inside that little head and play the games we play so well together.”

One of his hands trails up your thigh, dipping his hand under the fabric of your leggings and pulling them slightly down, he pecks your lips, once, twice, three times. “Tell me”, he groans into your mouth, peeling your clothes off you slowly, “Tell me you understand, Tell me this is everything”

And you tell him. Tell him through your whimpers when he parts the folds of your slick cunt with his fingers buried inside you. Tell him through your moans into his mouth when he shoves his jeans down and splits you open on his cock. Tell him through sighs of his name, when he rocks into you, licking into your mouth as he spears you open. Tell him through the way you claw your fingers down his back when starts to fuck you hard, rocking the car with the force of his thrusts. Tell him through the way you spread your legs, even wider, toes curling as he wrings orgasm after orgasm out of your tight little pussy milking him.

“Its everything, you’re everything…” You cry out again and again, clutching onto him as he pumps you full of his cum, groaning brokenly into your neck.

“Fuck”. He pulls back to look down at you, brushing your damp hair back from your face, still inside you. “You’re gonna fucking kill me, you little nerd”

#eren jaeger imagine #eren jaeger smut #eren jaeger x reader #bully!eren #aot smut

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thisisarcanereverie · 3 years

Text

Something ‘Bout You (Biker Natasha x Reader) Chapter 1

A/N: Hey this is a new series! I’ve been meaning to write something for her for a while now so here ya go enjoy!

MAIN MASTERLIST

MCU MASTERLIST

NATASHA ROMANOFF MASTERLIST

REQUESTS ARE FREE AND ENCOURAGED

SUMMARY: After Wanda announces her engagement a familiar face returns into your life.

“(Y/n)!”

You heard the familiar chime of the doorbell and the familiar excited voice of your friend fill the relatively empty store. You whipped your head to her just in time to see her barrelling toward you and captured you in a bone crushing hug.

“Whoa there Wands,” You said as you returned the hug, “did something happen or are you just that happy to see me?”

Wanda quickly released you from her vice grip, “oh nothing much happened,” Wanda paused before holding up her left hand, “except this.” On her left hand on her ring finger sat a beautiful vintage ring.

“Oh my god!” You exclaim smiling as you grab her hand to get a closer look at the ring, it was simple in design but it really suited Wanda. ‘When did this happen?!”

“Last night,” Wanda reveals happily her smile never deterring, “Vis and I were watching reruns of the Dick Van Dyke Show, I told him how Mary’s ring was beautiful and next thing I know he asks ‘is it as beautiful as this ring’ next thing I know he’s down on one knee with the ring in his hand asking me to marry him.”

“I’m so happy for you and Vis.” You congrat Wanda as you and her continue to talk about her engagement for a few more minutes.

“Actually Vis and I were planning on going to the city tonight to celebrate, are you busy?” Wanda asks. You take a quick look at your calendar finding nothing but closing the store on the agenda for tonight.

“Nope,” You respond, “just have to close the store.”

“Close early and Vis and I will pick you up,” Wanda said, “We’re bringing Pietro, Steve, Bucky, and Monica with us.”

You hesitate for a bit, but you take one look into Wanda’s pleading eyes, the same eyes that have gotten you into more than your fair share of trouble since highschool, next thing you know you’re nodding your head in agreement.

Wanda lets out a small squeal before enveloping you once again in a small hug before saying goodbye and that Pietro will pick you up by seven.

As you continue about your day, stacking books and working the register you start to wonder when the last time you actually had a date was.

During the slow rush you decide to check your calendar again. You flip through each page until finally you land three months prior where you had plans to meet up with the local coffee barista at some bar you can’t remember the name of. What you do remember is that the date ended with you buying a half quart of ice cream and watching reruns of Gilmore Girls.

You check the clock and check the store to find it empty. You decide now would probably be a good time to close and to start getting ready for the night in the city with Wanda and the rest.

You turn the sign on the door to ‘closed’ and push all thoughts of dating to the back of your mind.

---

You had just slipped your shoes on when you heard Pietro knock on your door in the familiar pattern he’s done since high-school.

You answer the door to reveal Pietro. You always thought he had looked handsome in that mischievous way. But when he wears that white button up and slacks with his hair gelled back he is a special type of handsome.

“Well damn don’t we look fancy tonight?” You say as Pietro noticeably checks you out in the same appreciation. You did a small turn in your black dress that fell just mid thigh.

“And you don’t look too bad yourself Princeza,” Pietro said as he offered his arm in an overdramatic gentlemanly style. Which you responded in kind, laughing slightly as you made sure to lock the door behind you before finally heading out.

---

You were back in your parents backyard, sitting in that hammock with a book in your hands. Nancy Drew had wormed her way into eleven year old you’s heart, with all of her adventures and detective skills.

Just as you were about to reach the climax of the book you heard a familiar voice.

“Whatcha reading today?” You look away from the book and spot a familiar blue haired girl the same age. She was the neighbor that moved in about three years ago, Natasha, who quickly became your best friend.

“Nancy Drew,”

“Again?”

“There’s more than one Natty.” You responded, next thing you know the book is lifted from your hands and Natasha is hovering over you with the book in her hands.

“Naaat.” You whine as you try to reach for the book only to have her expertly move it away from you.

“C’mon,” Natasha says as she makes her way to the bushes separating your yard and hers, “adventure awaits.”

You struggle a little as you make your way out of your hammock and through the lush bushes to Natasha who slips through the crack in between.

“Nat,” you warn lightly.

“I promise I’ll give you the book back,” Natasha promises, “but first we go on an adventure! Grab your bike and meet me out front!”

“Where exactly is this adventure?”

“Just grab your bike, chatty cathy!”

You hear her footsteps rush over to her bike as you rush to yours.

By the time you let your parents know you’ll be riding your bike and get to the front of your house Natasha is already waiting for you.

Together you both rode your bikes until finally settling on a clearing near the local park. There was this big oak tree and in front of it a huge rock as well covered in green moss.

For a while both you and Natasha played by either climbing on the rock and proclaiming yourselves rulers of the land, climbing the tree, playing pretend in the most kid way possible.

However you would catch glimpses sometimes, you didn’t know what, but it made you worry for her. Like how sad she looked, or scared.

Finally, after being worn out by playing you both lay on the grass beneath you and watch as the fireflies began to dance around the big oak looking like thousands of moving stars.

You were enjoying the bit of peace and silence when you felt her hand hold yours. You look over and see the blue haired girl still staring at the millions of fireflies with a smile on her lips.

“Thank you for being my best friend.” She said gently as you looked away from her and continued watching the fireflies dance, until the sun finally set and it was time to go home.

She never did give that book back.

---

“Princeza, we're here.” You hear the familiar accented voice say. You slowly open your groggy eyes to see the glittering lights of the city.

“How long was I out?”

“An hour.”

“So the whole car ride,” You say, you could see Pietro nod from the driver's side, “I’m sorry.”

“What for?”

“I was asleep the whole car ride, you were probably bored.”

“No, I wasn’t bored,” Pietro said, “I know you haven’t been sleeping much because of the store.”

Here it comes.

“You need to start working less Princeza,” Pietro continued concerned, “you spend all your waking hours at the store, tending to your books, and life is going to pass you by.”

“Pietro-”

“I don’t mean to be harsh or rude,” Pietro quickly added, “it’s just I see you all the time at the store and nowhere else lately. I get that the store is demanding, but just try to make some time for yourself. Promise me?”

You look at him and can’t refuse.

“I promise.”

You can start relaxing tonight.

---

You came to quickly realize that clubbing really wasn’t your thing.

A pile of random sweaty bodies ground on each other on the dance floor to music that hurt your eardrums.

It wasn’t that you were judging anyone for liking this atmosphere, it just wasn’t your cup of tea, you preferred to stay on the sidelines and watch your friends dance.

And the full bar proved that you weren’t the only one.

You had looked away for a second to order a beer when you spotted someone familiar.

It was dark save for the flickering lights that illuminated her every once in a while. You couldn’t place where you knew her but you knew that you knew her. It was in the way she walked with a certain grace and her eyes were sharp enough to cut through you and you imagined her tongue was the same way.

She must have noticed you staring because the next thing you know she’s staring right at you. Your eyes lock and that’s when it hits you.

You didn’t recognize her without her blue hair.

Natasha.

You panic and turn back to the bar to order that beer you were going to order about five minutes ago. You mentally beat yourself up, if you didn’t look like a creep before you definitely did now.

You were so busy mentally assaulting yourself that you didn’t notice the redhead sauntering her way to you and sit on the empty barstool next to you.

“Well if it isn’t Nancy Drew.”

You turn your head and see Natasha there beside you. Her hair was shoulder length and no longer blue. Now her hair was it’s natural elegant red color, her blue eyes sharper than you remember as well as her cheekbones. You noticed hints of tattoos peeking out from the collar and sleeve of her leather coat.

“You never did return that book.”

You both couldn’t help the laugh that erupted. Even though it’s been years somehow it almost feels like no time has passed.

Almost.

“So what’ve you been up to?” Natasha asked, “still into books?”

“Uh yeah,” You confirm, “I actually own a bookshop back home.”

You see Natasha smile from ear to ear before taking a sip of what was your beer now it seems to be adopted by Natasha.

“That’s so you,” Natasha said before taking another sip from the beer bottle.

“Well what about you?” You ask, “what have you been up to?”

You could see the hesitancy in Natasha’s face, just as she was about to answer, however you see a light brown haired male come up beside her.

“Hey Nat, I hate to interrupt but we got a Budapest situation over here.” Natasha swerved her attention to where he pointed at the blonde who was obviously drunk off her ass putting a six foot tall man into a choke hold. Which you had to admire and be impressed at.

“I guess that’s my cue Nancy Drew,” Natasha said as she took one last sip from the beer bottle before abandoning it. As she was making her way through the crowd but before she got too far you saw her turn around.

“What was the name of your bookstore again, Nancy Drew?!” She yelled over the crowd.

“Oh-um- Summertime Stories!” You call out, you catch a glimpse of something in her eyes before it disappears.

“I’ll see ya soon Nancy Drew!”

Oh how right she was.

#natasha romanoff #natasha and yelena #natasha x you #natasha x reader #natasha romanov #Natasha romanoff x reader #MCU #mcu natasha romanoff #marvel characters #marvel cinematic universe #marvel #marvel x reader #mcu x reader #x reader #x reader fluff #x reader smut

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lipstickstainz · 3 years

Text

true lies - s. r. (7/15)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Series Summary: Spencer is furious, when you rejoin the team after a year and after you left him, when he got arrested. Little does he know, that you leaving him was the only option to ever get him out of prison

Chapter Summary: Girls night - and Spencer and you accidentally meet each other the day after.

Warnings: a little bit of angst, and fluff

Word Count: 2.5k

A/N: I'm sorry it took me song long, but I was really busy. I hope you like it! gif not mine.

Series Masterlist

previous part

"Will you please pass me the can of glitter?", Penelope asks. Everyone gives her confused looks, except you. Your gaze is fixed on the pictures in front of you.

"What do you need glitter for?", JJ asks, taking a sip of her wine.

"This is supposed to be a vision board", she grins, grabbing the reddish can Emily holds out to her. She twists off the cap and sprinkles a little glitter on her hand before letting it trickle onto the glue-covered cardboard. "In my vision, my future is full of glitter. With the cruel things we have to see every day, everything should be full of glitter."

Emily has to grin, but raises her wine glass. The others do the same. "Here's to a future full of glitter." As the others toast and glasses clink together, you silently slide the pictures back and forth on your drab piece of cardboard.

It's been Penelope's idea for you girls to get together on a Saturday night to create vision boards together. It's been a week since Spencer and you spoke, and Penelope couldn't take your suffering anymore. She had tried so many times to cheer you up, but nothing had worked. Your heart was broken, your world was shattered, but Penelope can't take it. Ridiculous.

At first you were against it. In the last days you were just vegging out, your emotions as if erased, repressed and burned out. If you allowed your true feelings, you would break. You got up, went to work and went to bed at night. You weren't capable of doing more than that, because even every breath was far too exhausting.

And then, all of a sudden, the girls had shown up at your door. Their bags were filled with craft supplies, sleeping stuff, and alcohol. Penelope, not knowing what had even happened, had rounded everyone up and decided you needed cheering up. You wanted to slam the door in her face, but there was so much pain in her gaze and only then did you realize that you weren't the only one to suffer. Your friends were suffering with you and their visit was a kind attempt to get you back on track. And it started with them forcing you to shower and put on a sweater that didn't have a coffee stain on it.

"Y/N?", Tara addresses you and it takes a moment for your eyes to focus back on the piece of cardboard in front of you and you realize that you haven't put a single picture, saying, anything on it yet, while everyone else's hands are covered in glue. In your friends' faces you see confusion and pity. You look away. "You haven't picked out anything for your vision board yet."

Because I don't know what my future will look like without Spencer by my side, you reply in your mind. You don't want to pretend you can imagine a future without him when he's been a big part of it for years. And most of all, you don't want to admit it.

"What do you think of this one?", JJ asks, pushing toward you the snippet she's cut out of one of the countless magazines Penelope has brought. The words are written in thick letters. "Trust the timing of your life." Funny.

"Do you want to tell us what happened?", Penelope asks quietly, sipping her cocktail. There's already red glitter on the glass. "We can see how bad you are."

She only means well and she's also a good friend and actually you want to tell, but then it would come true. As long as you keep your conversation to yourself, you can pretend it didn't happen. You could go on as before and hope that everything will work out. But it wouldn't be the truth.

The truth is that Spencer and you would never get back together.

As you begin to tell it, all the dams break. Tears are streaming down your cheeks and you have to gasp in between as the words get stuck in your throat. No one interrupts you, they just stare at you, amazed that you are actually talking. And you don't leave out a single detail. You tell them that you were standing outside his room at night and he slammed the door in your face.That he wanted you off the team and insulted the crap out of you at Rossi's party, only to cuddle with you on JJ's couch afterwards and then call it a mistake. You tell them about the angry kiss, about your fights and reconciliations, and finally you tell them about your last night together and your conversation.

When you're done, you reach for your glass, which you haven't touched yet, and drink the wine down to the last drop.Only when the glass is empty and you put it down do you look at the others again. Uncertainly, you look around and recognize an infinite number of questions in their faces, which they don't ask - to be honest, you wouldn't have the answers either - and mixed feelings, which you can't interpret despite your good profiling skills. But there's one thing you can recognize in every look you meet: pain. And even though they look at you with a lot of pity, you don't regret telling them about it.

If you break from it, you know the girls will put you back together.

"That's ... a lot”, Tara says first, taking a sip of her cocktail. You nod mutely.

"We always hoped you'd find each other after all”, Penelope confesses, twisting the glitter jar shut.Apparently, she's lost the desire to put more on her cardboard.

"Even though you left Spencer, we always thought it was for a reason other than you didn't love him anymore. You were the perfect couple and we just couldn't imagine it." Up until this point, JJ had been suspiciously quiet. She looks up from her cardboard. "And now you're back, and the way you're suffering right now, we can imagine it even less. So why would you say that to him? If it's not true after all?"

"That's enough, guys. We should change the subject”, Emily interjects pouring wine into your empty glass. You're infinitely grateful to her. Talking has drained you, and just thinking about Spencer hurts. Talking about it doesn't exactly make it easier to deal with it all, but the weight on your shoulders doesn't feel quite so crushing anymore.

"You still love him, don't you?" Penelope sounds hopeful. And you don't want to take away her hope, and especially you don't want to lie to your friends, but it has to be done. You promised, even swore, that the deal would stay secret, and it was already too dangerous to have told Emily then. You wouldn't risk your friends' lives.

"No, Penelope." The glimmer of hope in her eyes goes out. It's a feeling you know all too well.

"I don't want to get too close to you, Y/N”, Tara begins. "But then why do you feel so bad? If you didn't love him anymore, then you wouldn't be so heartbroken, would you?"

And you don't have an answer to that anymore.

The topic is over and will not be brought up again. At the end of the evening, your cardboard is still empty, but you feel a little better and you mentally make a note to yourself that you owe them. When the girls say goodbye the next morning after breakfast - Penelope hugs you a little longer than the others - you head out as well. Thanks to your friends, you've realized that there's nothing you can do about the situation, that you're going to have to deal with it - and definitely not alone - and that sitting lonely in your apartment waiting for a miracle to happen is not an option.

The warm sun on your skin feels good, like a hug, and you reach out to it as you walk to your favorite bookstore. There are many people out and about, walking or shopping. Countless people are sitting in the small cafes, eating and drinking and talking. You've only been back in D.C. for a few weeks and it feels like you've never been away.

Over the past year, you've been on the road a lot, not only in the States but also in Europe. In addition to work that has sent you nearly halfway around the world, you've sat in the Hamburg State Opera, eaten in the cute cafes in Bucharest, and admired the medieval old town in Lund, Sweden. You've seen and experienced so much, met new people, but nothing resembles home. And not being able to be here for a year had been incredibly difficult.

As you enter your favorite bookstore, the smell of old books rises to your nose and goosebumps spread across your warmed skin. How much you missed it. You may have been to other bookstores, but you know this one like the back of your hand. How you've missed this. You walk down the aisles, running your fingers over the various spines before stopping at a book. The cover is a faded red and somewhat damaged, with white writing that makes you want to pull it off the shelf and open it.

You are so engrossed that you don't notice how someone comes up to you and stops next to you.

"I crave your mouth, your voice, your hair," the person begins to quote and you wince, but don't turn around. "Silent and starving, I prowl through the streets. Bread does not nourish me, dawn disrupts me, all day I hunt fort he liquid measure of your steps."

You have to swallow, put a finger between the pages to find the poem again before closing the book and turning around. "Hi."

Spencer smiles at you. "I didn't think I'd run into you here."

You pucker your lips into a thin line. "Yeah, um, I haven't been here since I got back. Wanted to see if it's changed."

Oddly enough, it doesn't feel strange to be standing in this bookstore with him, considering you'd been here almost every day before and this moment is the first time you've seen each other outside of work since you had your clarifying conversation. Nervous, though, you are. You suppress the urge to tap from one foot to the other.

"So, has it changed?" Spencer tilts his head, but doesn't avert his gaze from you.

You shake your head. "Not really. But I guess the salesgirl who had the hots for you back then doesn't work here anymore." You try to lighten the slightly tense mood with the joke, and it seems to work. Spencer laughs out loud.

"I still don't think she had a crush on me." His smile widens, and it's so infectious that you have to smile, too.

"One hundred percent”, you return, nudging him lightly with your shoulder. "It was pretty funny watching her flirt with you all the time, but you didn't go for it."

The bookstore is completely empty except for you and the clerk at the entrance. Silence surrounds you, but it is not uncomfortable despite the circumstances and the new situation. You just stand there smiling at each other until Spencer takes the book from your hand.

"Neruda writes beautifully." He flips through the book once before handing it back to you. As your fingers graze, a flash goes through you, but you try not to let it show. "Very nice poems."

You nod. "I know. Only know him through you”, you answer truthfully.

Spencer has to grin. "True." He runs a hand through his tousled hair. "He's in that book I gave you once."

"Right." You don't want your conversation to end, and you don't want to leave, but it would be best for both of you. You're not ready to be friends yet, and while your meeting doesn't feel awkward, you're not sure how to handle it. You tap the book and look at him.

"I'll go pay for that." You walk past him, but turn back to him. "It's good to see you, Reid." You use his last name on purpose, knowing full well that his first name is reserved for friends. And in your opinion, you're not ready yet.

"It's good to see you, too."

You nod to him again before leaving without turning around again. You feel his gaze on you anyway.

When you get to work the next day, there's a gift on your desk. It's wrapped in brown wrapping paper and a cord is tied around it and tied into a bow. Simple and beautiful. You set your bag down, confused, before sitting down and inspecting it.

"Who's this from?", Luke asks, walking past you to his desk. You shrug ignorantly.

"I don't know."

The gift is slightly larger than your hand, but not particularly heavy. After opening it and putting the paper in the trash can under the desk, you take a closer look at the book. It's black, and the cover features a plain white flower, with the word "poetry" engraved underneath. As you open the first section, you come across something written. You recognize Spencer's handwriting.

"And then the day came, when the risk to remain tight in a bud, was more painful than the risk it took to blossom - Anais Nin."

Your heart skips a beat and you block out the feeling spreading through you. You flip through the book and realize it is completely blank except for this poem. The pages are lined and practically screaming to be filled.

"Do you like it?", Spencer asks, sitting down across from you at his own desk. He sets his fresh cup of coffee down in front of him and you give him a friendly smile.

"It's wonderful." You blink away the tears forming in your eyes. "Thank you."

"I found it in the bookstore after you left. And I know you like to read poetry, and I thought you could write down your favorite poems in it." He takes a sip of his coffee.

"That's very sweet of you. Really, thank you, Reid."

"Spencer." A thin smile spreads across his face and you warm. "My friends call me Spencer."

next part

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the-insomniac-emporium · 3 years

Text

Crimson Ties (Bela Dimitrescu/Reader, Soulmate AU) Pt. 4

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: T for language Warnings: None for this chap Genre: Hurt + comfort Summary: Sure, your soulmate may be a vampire (of sorts), but there's nothing that love can't conquer, right?... Maybe it's time you learn a little more about the odd circumstances of your soulmate's existence- and the fear that lies beneath the surface. Notes: If the last chapter was "hurt" followed by comfort, this is "comfort" followed by hurt, also known as the part where the story's central conflict comes into play. Features an appearance from Daniela, who reminds us that Cassandra's not the only one with a sharp tongue around here. Previous Chapters: 1: Stem the Flow, 2: Tangled Strands, 3: Rumbling Thunder

4: That Which Burns

“Of all the stars, the fairest,” Bela murmurs in your ear, keeping her arms wrapped loosely around your waist, before giving you a gentle kiss on the cheek. If you hadn’t already been blushing, you certainly would have now done so. You’re leaning into her touch, face flushed as can be, loving every moment of this. For a while now you’ve been curled up with her, while she reads excerpts from her favorite works. Although both of you would have preferred to do this outside, enjoying the view of the stars, you figured it would be best not to push your health too much. After all, you had lost a huge percentage of your blood. Well, temporarily, but it was still better to be safe than sorry.

“That’s probably my favorite line from Sappho,” you chimed, fondly remembering some of your schooling. “Though the one about being remembered always stands out to me. I’m not sure I remember it correctly, and I’m sure it’s been translated a few different ways over the years… but I think it’s ‘someone, I tell you, will remember us in another time’. Might have gotten that backwards, actually.” Giving an awkward little smile, you sheepishly rub the back of your head with one hand. “Either way it feels so romantic. To think of a love so strong that it echoes throughout time, fondly remembered for generations… it warms the heart.”

“Mhmm, most definitely, my dear. Many aren’t as lucky, however,” Bela laments, an odd expression crawling onto her face. There’s the slightest waver to her lower lip as she speaks. Concerned, you turn in place to get a better look, gently reaching out to caress her cheek. Is there something I’m missing? You think, wondering what you should say. “I’m alright, I promise. Merely distracted by a fleeting thought. Let’s read another, yes?” Before you can protest, she’s already turned to another page, starting to read as if she already knew which one was next (which would not, at all, surprise you).

Love shook my heart, Like the wind on the mountain, Troubling the oak-trees

“Oh, if only I could speak Aeolic Greek, so that I could serenade you with tender prose, all the days of your life… just as it was originally written. Wouldn’t that be lovely?” Bela offers, once again smiling wide, as if nothing in the world was wrong, at least not when you were by her side. Though you are not keen to ignore her earlier stroke of misery, you are equally reluctant to put a damper on her current upswing. Now what were you to do? Little comes to mind, other than the simplicity of human warmth, and so you lean once more into her embrace, head held aloft on the strength of her shoulder.

“Here, as I am now, is more than lovely enough. Your voice is soothing in any language, sweet as sugar, relaxing as can be,” you reassure her in your softest tone. Heart fluttering, she finds herself easing back into the comfort of the moment, forgetting all about her earlier woes. “Shall we read another?” Nodding, Bela again turns the page and begins to read:

He’s equal with the gods, that man Who sits across from you, Face to face, close enough to sip Your voice’s sweetness

And what excites my mind, Your laughter, glittering. So, When I see you, for a moment, My voice goes,

My tongue freezes. Fire, Delicate fire, in the flesh. Blind, stunned, the sound Of thunder, in my ears.

Shivering with sweat, cold Tremors over the skin, I turn the colour of dead grass, And I’m an inch from dying.

“Does that make me equal to the gods, then?” You ask, as soon as the last line is given its moment to shine. A small hum comes from your soulmate, who seems equal parts intrigued and confused. “I look in your eyes and my lungs light on fire, my heart ricochets around my chest, and I hear the chorus of angels singing your holy praises. The fact that I can manage to speak at all is confounding. Maybe the muses have seen fit to lend me their artistry, so that I might make conversation worthy of your existence, my dear.” With that said, you find yourself being squeezed gently, Bela placing another kiss against the top of your head. Now, it seems she is the one without the ability to speak. “The divine witnessing the divine, yes?... Let me read the next one, and we’ll see if my voice could ever compare to your own.”

It’s innocent enough, your choice. A turn of the page, just another poem, selected for nothing more than respect for chronology. Yet something drains from the space around you as you begin to read, so subtly slow that you hardly notice.

Girls, you be ardent for the fragrant-blossomed Muses’ lovely gifts, for the clear melodious lyre: But now old age has seized my tender body, Now my hair is white, and no longer dark

How were you to realize that the great shadow of fear loomed over your soulmate, when she had refused to name it mere minutes ago? How were you to know to halt your reciting, when the aching of her heart rendered her throat dry, and she could not bring herself to call out to you? Words poured like poisoned wine from your lips… your soulmate having no choice but to drink up every last drop.

My heart’s heavy, my legs won’t support me, That once were fleet as fawns, in the dance I grieve often for my state; what can I do? Being human, there’s no way not to grow old

A shaky breath from age-old lungs, exhaled into tense air, forced out past a trembling jaw. Say something, Bela tells herself, any poem but this. For a split second you pause, and she wonders if her thoughts have found new light in your own mind. But you break the momentary silence without much care, simply having been unsure of your pending pronunciation of an old name, perfectly unaware of your partner’s panic.

Rosy-armed Dawn, they say, love-smitten Once carried Tithonus off to the world’s end: Handsome and young he was then, yet at last Grey age caught that spouse of an immortal wife

At last her ordeal was over. The final words hang heavy in the air, weighing down her shoulders, but they are done. Her fears had been dragged out from the pit in her stomach, now waving about like dirty laundry. There was only one way for her to avoid this happening another time: Tell you the truth. By now her silence had earned your attention, with you turning in her lap again, concerned gaze meeting her hollow one. Gently, she gives you a reassuring squeeze.

“I… am not one to balk at the nature of things, however painful the truth. Yet I hesitate now, with the very person I am bound to with crimson ties… How cowardly of me,” Bela all but snarls, anger clearly not directed at you. It’s clear in the way that she holds herself that she has more to say. There’s not much you can do other than wait, though you do tuck an arm around her waist, beginning to rub soft circles against her back. “Allow me to drop the pretenses. You are not immortal, but I am. We’ve only been together for a day and a half, and already I’m worrying about your lifespan. It’s safe to say that this particular poem was an unfriendly reminder of our situation.”

Oh. How exactly were you supposed to respond to that?... Your girlfriend- your soulmate- was immortal. Hmph, as if her essentially being a vampire hadn’t already been enough to freak you out. Now this? Well, maybe it wasn’t too much farther of a stretch from the last revelation, even if you were still recovering from that one. Even then, something told you that this was equally hard for Bela- both to say, and to simply feel. As if she needed more stress surrounding her partnership with you…

“Of all the ways for us to mimic legends… I don’t even know what to say, my dear. I… I suppose that I can only reassure you that we will make the most of every moment we have. However much time we are destined to get, we’ll make sure it is filled with bliss,” you reply, slowly, making it up as you go. An ache builds in the center of your chest as you talk, an internal yearning for greater confidence. Although words were your “weapon” of choice, you were not always a master in your use of them, too human to be infallible. “Maybe we should set aside the poetry for now, shift our focus to something, ah, less meaningful?”

“That would be for the best,” Bela agrees, already shifting like she was going to stand up, before you even had a chance to get off of her lap. Something strange had fallen over her expression, an invisible veil, putting an uncomfortable distance between the two of you. Inside your chest, a thundering heart threatens to go still. Had you done something wrong? Did you commit some unspoken sin? Together the two of you rise, in sync yet more separate than before, a thousand questions and anxieties rendering both of you silent...

—————————

Across the room from you, a pair of bright eyes watch your every movement, peering out from over an open book. If you didn’t know better, you might have thought that the “ruse” was intentionally poor. But for all the five hours you had known her, Daniela Dimitrescu had done nothing other than prove herself odd, clumsy, and quite possibly… overconfident. Admittedly, that still made her undeniably more pleasant than Cassandra. If you had to be stuck alongside someone other than your soulmate, well, ‘twas best that it was this strange redheaded gremlin. Even if she had expressed an unfortunate interest in eating you.

Gods, what is wrong with this family? You think, frowning a tad, unable to stop yourself from making eye contact with Daniela. Instantly she’s looking away, pretending to be engrossed within her book. The very same book that had remained open to the same page for half an hour now. I do hope Bela is having more fun right now, with whatever “business” called her away so unexpectedly. She hadn’t seemed happy to have to leave your side, earlier tension notwithstanding. Coming here to the library had been her suggestion, though you doubted she knew that Daniela was there, or at least hadn’t anticipated her sister’s unnerving behavior. Already the redhead was looking back at you, even less subtly than before.

Sighing, you decided that you could only put up with so much of this tomfoolery.

“Are you in need of something? Or is there something on my face?” You ask, setting your own book aside as you do. There’s a few moments of silence, as Daniela glances around the room, as if you might actually be speaking to someone else. When no scapegoats teleport to her rescue, she very awkwardly clears her throat, then moves to sit at your table. Though you are loath to admit it, your heart starts beating faster as she approaches. Not out of attraction, hell no, rather fear. Perhaps getting her attention hadn’t been the wisest choice after all…

“I just think it’s funny,” Daniela chimes, trailing off just long enough to run a finger down the length of your arm, “that Bela abandoned you so quickly. You’re so… fragile. Cassandra told me about the fun little introduction you had to our family- the blood loss, being chained up, the fear you felt when you got caught in our territory.” Suddenly she’s devolving into a fit of giggles, hand resting not-so-gently on your wrist. When you try to pull away, her nails dig in, and her gaze snaps back to your own. “But you don’t remember that part, do you? If you did… oh, we’d have to lock you up, like the little pet you are, to keep you from running away. I’m sure Bela wouldn’t mind seeing you in chains.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” You snap, uncharacteristically furious. While it was true that you couldn’t recall exactly how you made it into the castle’s dungeons, you refuse to accept Daniela’s implications about your soulmate, or her assessment of your dedication. A brief second passes where you think she’s about to lunge towards you. Instead, she withdraws her hand, moving it to prop up her chin instead. Then, her lips slowly drag upwards into a wicked grin, wide eyes filled with dangerous amusement.

“So you’re more than a wannabe Shakespeare, after all? A bit more teeth, a touch more vulgarity, maybe a twinge of bloodlust, and you might actually fit in around here. Not enough to get our family’s ‘gift’- our secret to a long, happy life- but enough that Bela won’t grow bored of your sappy poems,” she teases with another string of laughter. Before you can question her about this ‘gift’, she’s all but jumping to her feet, stretching out her arms as she does. “I can’t wait to update Cassandra about you. We’ll be betting on how entertaining you’ll end up being. Try to keep from bailing on my dear sister too soon, alright?”

Just like that she’s disappearing into a swarm of flies, leaving you more confused (and angry) than ever. Taking a deep breath, you try to focus on what you need to do next: Find Bela. Talk to her. Get some goddamn answers.

#bela dimitrescu x reader #bela dimitrescu #resident evil: village #re8 village #got some fluff got some angst #casual reminder that daniela is capable of being just as cruel as cassandra #just normally a different kind

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eureka-its-zico · 3 years

Text

Irrevocably Yours

Request: hey! can i request a scenario of jungkook being a rich kid who has ome of his legs is leg failure , basically can't walk without a cane , And he falls in love with a normal girl , and they end up running away , happy ending plz , also if u can , LIT IT Up with smut ' thank u ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

A/N: So. This request was sent to me a long ass time ago. I mean a LONG time ago, and I spent so much time working on it...it became too long. So I broke it up in half. Just to see if anyone actually becomes interested in how this ends. Just to see if anyone still reads anything I write. So if you end up enjoying this, please let me know and I’ll post the last of this. I have so many things buried inside my google docs that need to be set free from hibernation.

Also, I’m sorry if this isn’t any good. I’ve rewritten this a thousand times trying to fix it, and I’ve done all I can for now. I hope someone out there enjoyed this craziness. And to the original person who asked for this, if you ever see this, I’m sorry it took so long. P.s. I also took creative liberties and changed it up a little. Much love, Jenn

Jungkook x Reader

Word count: 13,756 (yeah I know, it was longer before I halved it. Sorry!)

Genre: fluffy/Smutty(later)/First Love drama sorts mess

A part of you would always remember the first day you’d met Jeon Jungkook. His presence standing in the doorway to the classroom held every single one of your classmate's attention along with yours. Jungkook silently demanded to be noticed, even though in a way he wanted no one to notice him at all. The classroom felt louder than usual, or maybe that was just how you recalled it. Maybe it's what caused the ringing in your ears when the room was swallowed up in silence. The sound of his cane hitting the stained linoleum; ticking like a time bomb with every step.

At first you couldn't see why he necessarily needed it. Jungkook was a master of hiding things. Even pain. It wasn’t until he’d reached the teachers desk, his hip moving to rest against it to ease the extra strain off his good leg, that the stories of his accident became true. Not one of you were willing to look too long at the challenge in his face. Defiance turning his soft features bitter as he glanced out across the room. Jungkook wanted to appear strong; to dare anyone to mutter even a word that he wasn’t. That he wasn’t the same person he was before the accident.

He must have been able to fool your home room teacher into forgetting. His eagerness to introduce Jungkook only caused him to accidentally come too close to his legs in passing. The teachers’ waist moved and harmlessly bump against Jungkook’s bad leg. A small movement that was enough to change Jungkook’s entire demeanor for just a second.

The whole room collectively took a breath; waiting for him to scream out in pain. To turn savage and yell or curse at the stupidity of the teacher. Jungkook did none of it. He continued to look out into the room with his chin held high.

You could see, however, through the crinkle by his eyes and how heavily he now leaned on his cane that it’s caused him a great deal of pain. A brief moment in showing what he tried to hide and if you weren’t staring so hard at him, you were sure you would’ve missed it.

An infamous legend among other schools as his face showed up on Sports articles that featured proud features of parents beaming excitedly at cameras. Taekwondo and track metal’s around his neck by the dozens. Grades to match the intensity of his athletic drive with a rumor that if he tried something for the first time, Jungkook would still be phenomenal at whatever it was.

Even without ever actually meeting him - everyone in that classroom knew who he was. Jeon Jungkook was a hard man not to hear about.

In the beginning of the year there’d been a different headline for him, however. He’d been the passenger in a friend's car that was struck by a drunk driver. The ferocity of the impact leaving the car looking like a bow. Jungkook lost a friend that night, and part of the mobility in his left leg. The driver himself died instantly and you weren't sure if that was justice enough for the two boys who’d lost so much in a matter of three seconds.

And with so much, yet so little known about him you found yourself unable to join the others in measuring up the boy in front of you.

Jungkook was taller than you thought he would be, or maybe you’d silently been hoping the universe wouldn’t be so cruel to give someone talent and every single attractive feature known to man. He’d been played up like he was a god among the rest of you feeble mortals. You figure’d girls were overacting, I mean it happens. Imagining after listening to all their swooning, you’d somehow shockingly find out he was nothing more than your average - ordinary - boy.

Jungkook was anything but ordinary.

His lean frame still retained years of training that wasn't so easily hidden, even under the layers of the school uniform. You could see the care he still placed on his outward appearance. The rising star who was still handsome, even underneath all his brooding. His school uniform strained against tight muscles in his arms and, worse, was his legs. Your cheeks heating into an embarrassed blush as his eyes landed on what seemed like your desk. It was silly to think he’d caught you gawking. Everyone was gawking at him, but even a millisecond of his gaze made your cheeks light up with embarrassment at the idea of being caught.

There was gossip of him not wanting to go back to his old school; his old life. You didn't really blame him. Why be stuck in a place where there were millions of memories of a time you had with a close friend? Of having the ability to walk down the halls without everyone looking at you like you were damaged goods.

“Everyone pay attention!” Mr. Choi shouted.

It all seemed unnecessary. Your attention was already on him whether he wanted it or not.

“I’d like to welcome our transfer student, Jeon Jungkook. I expect you all to be on your best behavior.”

“I don't need you to defend me,” he snapped.

He started moving his way down the aisle towards the only empty seat in the room: the one next to you.

You quickly turned away from him and started cleaning up your space. Jungkook got to the desk faster than you thought and dropped his backpack down on top of the desk. His long body slumped down into the seat, placing his cane next to the window seal.

“We’re going to continue with our previous lecture from yesterday. You can share with Y/N until you get your own books.”

You flipped to chapter eighteen with your many notes scattered inside. Your eyes giving him a sidelong glance before sliding the book neatly between the desks. Jungkook didn't bother to look at the pages: his gaze was locked elsewhere. Somewhere outside the window with the freedom far beyond the gates of the school.

The enter class you’d spun a hundred different sentences in your mind. Each one playing out in your head as pure idiotic or unnecessary. You just couldn’t shake the feeling that it felt wrong letting him sit there like no one cares. To be a part of the prying gazes of the class; to know his name and him not knowing yours in return. You weren't sure why you gave a shit so much, anyways, but you did.

At the sound of the bell he was the first one to hop back onto his feet. His hand instinctively taking hold of the cane to keep him propped up as he moved to situate his backpack over his shoulders. You’d followed close behind him and gathered up your things.

You didn't see him again until fifth period. His brooding presence in the back of the class hung like a dark cloud you couldn't shake. You knew you weren't necessarily the most cheerful person in the room, but even Jungkook’s sour puss attitude was making you want to throw glitter at him.

He didn't acknowledge you when you came to your usual seat at the window, and it didn't bother you. No one usually acknowledged you anyways. What did bother you was that he was sitting in your window seat. Statistics was by far your least favorite subject this year, and the one thing that kept you sane was that window seat.

“That's my spot.”

Your voice didn't hold any hint of malice. It was just definitive: you wanted your seat. Jungkook didn't look at you straight away. His eyes still daydreaming through the window and the world beyond. When he did finally look at you, you were sure the annoyance in his face was meant to send you packing. Too bad for him you’d seen worse.

“Is that look supposed to scare me? It doesn't change the fact you're in my spot.”

“I don't see your name on it.”

Your laughter turned to a scoff; cut short by your disbelief.

“What are we in middle school? If you want to get technical, it was assigned by the teacher aka my name is theoretically on that seat. So -”

You acted like he was a pet you could shoo off your bed. The hand motion earning you his brow to raise in return.

“You’d really make a cripple get up?”

“Is that what we’re calling you? A cripple? Because it looks to me like you’re still capable of doing things, oh say, a paraplegic can't.”

The anger rolled through him suddenly like storm clouds. All the possibilities of playful mischief disappeared as he regarded you with so much hate, it was as if he’d struck you.

“Oh, really? I didn't realize that they were giving away M.D titles in high schools now.”

Your mouth opened to - to what? Apologize? The sensitive part of you told you that you should. His accident hadn't been a full year yet, and here you were badgering him. Yet, you knew if you continuously babied him like everyone else it was only going to do more harm than good. Your next choice of words were cut short when your teacher walked in and asked why you were still standing.

“He’s in my spot.”

God, now who sounded like they were in middle school? Your teacher seemed to draw a blank. His gaze moving from you to Jungkook then back to you.

“Just sit down, Y/N.”

You did so with a huff. Your arms pulling your backpack you’d sat down on the desk closer to you like a pillow. Just so you could rest your chin on top of it and tried to ignore the smirk that was now on Jungkook’s face.

After you’d gone to your next class you couldn't stop thinking about your exchange. It turned your mood sour the rest of the day, and you couldn't understand why. A part of you wondering if it was because of your choice of words or the defeat that shown all too bright in his doe eyes.

The end of the day couldn't have come fast enough. You just wanted to get home and out of your uniform and maybe get a chance to go take some photos before your parents got home. You were too preoccupied with thoughts of where you wanted to go, and what coffee shop you wanted to stop at, when you collided into the back of someone else. A loud curse followed suit of the sound of a cane dropping on pavement making your eyes shut tight and your throat constrict around a groan.

“Jesus, can't you watch where you’re goi- oh, it's you. Enjoy attacking cripples, do we?”

You opened your eyes to see a less than amused smile on his face. He acted more like a judge at your hearing and whatever sentencing he was giving out, it wasn’t in your favor.

“I’m sorry I wasn't paying attention.”

You moved to pick up his cane for him when his hand angrily swatted yours away making you jump back a step.

“I don't need your charity. I can do it myself!”

“No one said you couldn’t! I was only trying to be nice.”

“Yeah, well, go and be nice somewhere else.”

He situated his weight on his good leg and bent at the knee low enough for his hand to reach out and grab his second form of support. The movement so graceful that it left you stunned, but not as much as his words did.

“You know, just because something bad happened to you, it doesn't give you the right to be an asshole. You aren't the only person to lose someone or something important. Get over yourself.”

With your hands latched underneath the straps of your backpack you stomped around him. Not caring that you left him standing stone still. His mouth slightly agape as he watched you take your exit.

During your walk home, somehow, Jungkook plagued your thoughts. Your mind unable to comprehend why you were still thinking about him. It was the first time you’d met, and yet, you couldn’t stop thinking about him. If you were being honest with yourself you knew from replaying the last thing you said to him.The look on his face saying plainly that you were an asshole.

Everyone’s pain mattered. Grief and loss wasn’t measured by anyone else’s pain but the person who experienced it, and to diminish it in any way was unfair. Regret was building inside your chest and it was all you could do to keep your feet from sprinting back in his direction.

When you got home you went directly to your room, throwing your bag on the bed, and sulked to your desk. You had more pressing matters to attend to than a boys’ possible hurt feelings. No matter how many times you tried, however, you weren’t able to write out theories on government history or explain anatomical questions.

The only thing your brain appeared to focus on was how to apologize.

You thought about Jungkook while you showered and brushed your teeth. You thought of him when you laid in bed and struggled to find a way to sleep. Your mind playing out the million different possibilities of how your apology would be taken from him. You didn't necessarily understand what it felt like to have your dreams stolen from you. To be forced to cope with a new life you hadn’t asked for and the emptiness of losing someone you loved all in one go.

If the tables were turned and it was you, wouldn’t you feel equally as bitter?

The following morning in between toaster cooked waffles and fixing your uniform in the mirror, you’d resigned to apologizing to him. No matter how much thinking of it made your teeth grind and a growl rise in your chest at the thought. You imagined him sneering and replying with smart remarks and it caused your mind to waver, but you were better than the pettiness swelling in your chest. You were okay with knowing his prickled exterior came from something you couldn't ever understand.

You made sure all the time you had while you walked to school was used up by mumbling the speech you’d made up the night before. At crosswalks practicing the best stance that didn't appear threatening, was friendly, but wouldn't be misconstrued as flirting.

That was by far the last thing you wanted to happen in his eyes. Sure, Jungkook was undeniably attractive...as much as you would've loved to laugh sarcastically in his perfectly sculpted face that his obviously very masculine features did nothing to make you weak in the knees. That you hadn’t noticed when his elbows, still clad in his jacket, moved to rest on the desk it’d caused his biceps and shoulders to equally fight for whatever was left of the fabric. Or that small scar on his cheek caught your attention when he became annoyed; his tongue poking out at the side of his jaw.

No, you hadn't been paying an embarrassing amount of attention to him at all (or at the ridiculous outline of his thigh muscles in his school uniform) with every step he took.

So, since you hadn't personally taken notice of any of physically appealing traits, why would you flirt? You were well aware of the vast difference of not only your social scale, but also of your class ranking, and looks overall. You were lightyears away from ever being able to consider being more than a female acquaintance he happened to get stuck next to at school. He wasn't the first boy who was out of your league, and Jungkook wouldn't be the last. Why it bothered you so much was a child's thought you refused to entertain.

When you finally got to school you hurried up the steps and briskly made your way down the hall. Not stopping even after Jenny cursed after you for nudging her as you went by. As soon as you swung open the door for homeroom, your eyes landed on Jungkook’s position. His cane leaning against the desk, hands tucked inside the pockets of his uniform slacks as he leaned back against the chair.

His gaze was focused somewhere outside the window, completely blank and motionless, and you wondered if he could've been having a thought at all. He was close to being marked as unreal in your book when he blinked and turned his gaze towards you.

You hadn't realized you’d been staring until that moment. Your gaze dropping to the worn linoleum as you briskly made your way down to your desk. A mumbled, “Good morning,” falling like a bad habit from your lips while you came around the side to slid into the desk chair. Nervous hands clutching tightly to your bag as you stared straight ahead, unwilling to glance in his direction.

Somewhere between cursing your awkwardness and staring out the window like an escape hatch your teacher started the lecture. None of it to which you were paying attention too, which was probably why you heard him call your name. You jerked in your seat as he yelled it a second time. Your eyes no doubt wide from giggles that sounded around the room.

“Y/N, since you're listening, you can go ahead and answer number forty-seven in the workbook.”

Panic sent your eyes wide as you stared back at his expectant face: waiting for you to fail. You hadn't even taken your book out since you’d sat down, finally moving to do so, when you felt a light tap against your bag. It was enough to jerk your gaze away from the teacher and down to a completed book of all the problems done by Jungkook.

He cleared his throat and tucked his hands back inside the pockets of his trousers easily not understanding the severity of how his actions had left you wide-eyed in surprise. You were still taking too long, causing your teacher to prompt you with a grunt and Jungkook to casually reach out and tap the answer again. Your eyes trailing over the written answer before standing up and clearing your throat. The answer rolling off your tongue as easy as breathing; as if you didn't just steal it from a notebook.

You made a silent prayer the teacher didn't notice the sweat threatening to break at your temple. The nervous ticking of your feet tilting from spot to spot. A rush of relief escaping your lips when his response to your answer was to continue class.

You took your seat next to Jungkook; unable to acknowledge him just yet for saving you from whatever punishment your teacher would've no doubt thought of. The realization that Jungkook himself was the reason for your lack of concentration making your cheeks flush an embarrassing pink making your arms wrap protectively around your backpack.

You’d never even brought out your textbook. Never dropped your bag from your desk and no doubt Mr. Choi knew you were given the answer. You buried your mouth against the coarse nylon in a weak attempt to stifle your embarrassment.

“Thank you.”

Your eyes caught the soft tilt of his brow as it rose at the muffled words. You could make out his left shoulder leaning him down towards your huddled position, making your hands involuntarily tighten into your backpack.

“What was that?”

The husky whisper of his words weren't anything you’d heard before, and they resonated up your spine to leave you staring starry-eyed.

“Th-thank you. For giving me the answer.”

He didn't respond. His gaze fixed solely on your face until you forcibly struggled to keep from fidgeting under its weight. After what felt like a small eternity, Jungkook nodded his head and faced forward. The sudden ghost of the death of your conversation causing you to blink at his profile.

The rest of the class was spent with your focus lacking on taking notes. How could you focus with his presence commanding your attention? A small army of ants creeping along your nerves demanding to acknowledge him. It was so strong, when the bell rang you jumped up from your seat to try and escape into the freedom of the school’s hallway, only to end up with your knee connecting straight into the hardwood of the desk. Jungkook’s snort at your misfortune was enough to remind you how much of an arrogant pain in the ass he could be.

“Wow - good job doofus.”

Your head snapped back in his direction; tongue rolling in your cheek as he hopped up from his seat. A hand snaking out to grab his bag and sling it over his shoulder as the other reached for his cane. You held your head high despite how awful your knee was stinging, and stood up adjusting your bag.

“Seriously? That's all you've got? Doofus? Next time let’s try harder.”

Jungkook didn't seemed miffed by your retort, actually seeming more amused than anything, and for some reason it only bugged you more. Did you really want to get into another argument like you were in primary school with him? You discarded the thought as you tightened the strings on your backpack and decided to take the mature route and leave him behind.

The hallways mass of bodies rushing to get to their next period giving you comfort; until you remembered you shared the same economics class. Today was also a field trip to a farm to learn the process of making soy products. It would take up the last few classes of the day. You’d been excited to spend the day out of class and enjoy the rustic scenery out of town. Your only hope was that he hadn't been able to get his parental slip signed; he’d just started the day before. How could he?

When the teacher walked in and asked Jungkook for his permission slip you wanted to howl. Why was the universe so cruel? But why did you care so much?

It was a question you didn't bother to think about; you just grumbled the whole way to the bus. Your teacher standing at its entrance to put a check by your names every time one of your classmates passed him by like lined up cattle. You were the last checkmark: the last person to find an available seat. You rounded the final step and your stomach sank down into your shoes. The universe seeming to play a sick joke of musical chairs; your only options being Jungkook or Amber, the girl who actively struggled to make sure your life was a living hell.

You’d rather be eaten by dogs than even attempt to sit with her. Jungkook it was, then.

Your hand clasped tighter around the strap of your bag as you moved it farther up your shoulder. A large sigh accommodating your steps as you side-stepped down the aisle ending with you in front of his seat. His cane taking up what was left of it.

Jungkook didn't seem to register your presence or he just decided to pretend you weren't there. Either way you felt your annoyance grow as you cleared your throat to grab his attention. His chin barely leaving the perch of his fist as his head turned; gaze intimidating in a way that left your fingers pinching the fabric of yours clothes just to make sure they were still there and he hadn't stared straight through them.

“Can I help you?”

“I need a seat.”

He looked back and no doubt noticed the open spot next to Amber. Jungkook’s giving the slightest nod as he retorted, “There’s one right back there.”

“Come on, Jungkook. What do you want?”

“You're bribing me now?”

His smile was so bright, borderline adorable, and you hated how it threatened to make you retaliate with your own.

“Stop being a brat and just tell me,” you snapped instead.

Jungkook shot a quick glance back at Amber’s giggling figure. You were sure most people thought she sounded like wind chimes or something else cute and feminine, but to you it just sounded like a cat dying. When he looked back at you, Jungkook checked you out one last time. His eyes stopping at the lone earbud that sat against your chest. For a moment, you thought he was actually staring at your breasts making your cheeks burn and your gaze to look anywhere else but at his smug face.

“Let me listen to your iPod there and back on this trip, and I'll let you sit with me.”

“What am I supposed to do?”

Jungkook did a lavish hand sweep at the window. The motion reminding you of the showgirls on The Price is Right, making you believe maybe he’d somehow watched it, and one too many times.

“You get to use your imagination while you look out the window.”

“No way. Joint custody.”

“Fine. Joint custody, but I get to pick the music the whole way. If you have shitty taste the deal's off.”

He stuck out his hand for you to shake and there was a moment, a minor second, that it felt like you were making a deal with the devil. However, the sound of Amber’s laughter practically had your hand bolting into Jungkook’s. You shook it harder than was necessary before dropping it and shooing him to move.

Jungkook removed his bag and cane from the seat. Your legs giving out moments later so you could plop down in it, only to be greeted by his outstretched hand. The smile that spread across his lips shining brighter than the mischief in his eyes.

“As per our agreement: the iPod.”

He wiggles his fingers and you wanted to smack him. Your own squeezing tighter against the metal until, reluctantly, you chose your fate by placing it into his hand. Jungkook didn’t seem to mind your current look of displeasure while you watched him begin to scroll through your assorted music collection.

At least the seat was warm.

The first few seconds were somehow more awkward than you thought possible. Eyes locked in a fifty-yard stare so intense a soldier would’ve been envious. The only movement you caught of him was from your peripherals. Jungkook’s thumbs picking up speed from the leisurely way he scanned through the artists you’d offered. And no you did not, whatsoever, happen to notice the way his bottom lip would dart inside his mouth just to be held gently between his teeth. All the while his eyes focused on the task in front of him.

Nope. You weren’t paying attention to him. Not even a little bit. So how he was able to make you jump twelve inches out of your skin, while you were most definitely not embarrassing yourself by gawking over a beautiful man, was beyond you.

“Ya!” Jungkook clicked his tongue in distaste. His hand wiggling the ipod in your direction, as if it had caused some great offense. “What is this?”

Your neck tiled as you regarded him like he’d grown two heads. You were also positive if your eyebrows knitted together any harder you’d end up with a unibrow.

“Ugh, a mystical device that plays music.”

The look on Jungkook’s face faltered from frustration to annoyance. It was so sudden it ended up sending a bark of laughter in his direction. And just like that, the annoyed look was back again.

“I mean, what the hell do you have on this thing. Who is The Dead Weather? City and Colour? Joji?”

“They are artists I enjoy.”

“They’re shit.”

You rushed to try and snatch it back from him. Jungkook’s reflexes proving to be faster than your growing urge to smack him.

“Excuse me, little miss,” he began. “What do you think you’re doing?”

He used his index finger to push gently against your forehead, but with the current level of irritation, he still proved faster than you. Your failed attempt to swat his hand away meeting only empty air. Earning you a smirk of smug satisfaction.

“I’m trying to get my things back.”

“That wasn’t part of our agreement.”

You tried one last time to take him by surprise. Your right hand shot out too hard to grab at the object clasped in his large hands. The momentum carried you forward to land shoulder first against his chest. Leg nudging against his with enough force that it caused his cane to move an inch. It took everything you had to keep your head down to hide your flaming cheeks.

“And now you’re assaulting me.”

If your eyes were capable of rolling back any father you might've seen brain cells.

“I was only trying to get my property back. Since the only thing that’s coming out of you is complaining.”

“I’m not complaining,” he snapped. “You’re acting like an Indian giver.”

“Is that all you know how to do: complain?” You continued, completely ignoring him. A slight smirk now etching your lips. Jungkook’s eyes flicking down to notice your amusement at his expense. “I believe they call it, ‘trying something new.’”

His eyes narrowed on you and for a split second your pulse began to race. Sure, the agitation on his face at your teasing was obvious, but you could’ve sworn...maybe...just maybe he was smirking. Could you have possibly been able to make him smile?

“I should make you go sit with Amber.”

The smugness in his voice and the cocky smile that joined it instantly made whatever fun you were having come to a complete halt. Jungkook was so pleased with himself he had the audacity to shimmy his shoulders like he’d already won. The rolls had reversed. It was your eyes turn to throw daggers in his direction.

“Now who's the Indian giver.”

Even though he played up on what he felt like was a win, you could tell he was not as amused. His non-injured leg bounced to an incredible rhythm that he could only hear. Probably a furious count to a hundred to keep himself from saying anything else to continue your usual thrilling conversations. So when he handed over one earbud, and the iPod, but placed the other into his ear, it was fair to say it left you baffled.

You were waiting so long for him to give an explanation, but all he did was continue to stare at you. It was starting to make your pulse race again. Why did he constantly have to feel so intense? Everything about him. Not even his current state made him seem any less notable. It just didn’t seem fair.

It wasn’t until he cleared his throat did you realize you’d been staring. For god knows how damn long.

“You gonna play something or not?” he asked.

His hand motioned towards the music while his fingers adjusted the earbud he’d kept.

“I’m so confused.”

“You look it,” he retorted, causing your earlier thoughts to remember, although handsome, he was an incredible pain in the ass.

“Ten seconds ago you complained about my music. Now you want me to play it for you.”

Jungkook turned his gaze away, his body relaxing back against the hard foam of the seat. His eyes still cast outside the window as if he was trying to find some way to escape.

“Either I can spend the next couple hours listening to you talk, or “try” out some new music. If I have a choice, I’ll pick the music please and thank you.”

Oh, how you wish you could’ve shoved him out that tiny window. But as much as you hated to admit it, Jungkook was right. Music was the only reasonable escape from possibly having either of you commit murder.

It was your turn to try and get comfortable. This time your thumb scanning down the list of artists until your eyes caught sight of one he’d mentioned. Without giving him warning you pressed play. The haunting melody of Joji’s “Dancing in the Dark,” flooded the earbuds. His voice melancholic as he began to sing a sad tale of not wanting to be the hidden second option.

The song choice was enough to finally get Jungkook to look back at you. Somehow already having enough with the song choice before it’d barely even reached the chorus.

“Just listen.”

It was the only advice you could give him, and hopefully the reassurance you’d tried to ease into your tone was enough. Whether it was or not, by the time the chorus began he seemingly relaxed again into the seat. His arms moving to cross lazily against his chest. He seemed to actually be taking in the song while he watched out the window. The passing of the steel and concrete that was Seoul into the rural areas of green and forest.

The music itself was calming. It was enough to let yourself fully relax back against it and close your eyes. With your eyes closed you could easily fade out the sounds of the sporadic conversations on the bus. Even though you only had one ear bud, all you needed was to concentrate on the music to drown out the world.

It took a few seconds for you to be pulled into a Joji’s song about terrible longing and being left behind by a lover. I mean, you didn’t really know too much about the latter, but hey, a girl could daydream. His voice was seconds away from heading into the second verse of the chorus, when you heard the sound of the melody being lightly sung beside you.

The voice was beautiful. The most startling part, not the fact of its softness, or the way it swelled in perfect harmony with the song, was that it came from Jungkook. Your eyes flung open with your head snapping to gaze at his serene expression. He continued to face the window, daylight playing along the profile of his face, and his gentle voice singing perfectly in tune.

It wasn’t loud enough that anyone else could’ve heard it over the dozens of bursting conversations being spoken throughout the bus. That the only conclusion you could come up with to why he would be singing at all. He thought no one would be able to pay attention. You probably would’ve stayed gawking at him if his eyes fluttering open didn’t send you crashing back against the seat and clutching your eyes shut. You needed to pretend you hadn’t noticed. Or else he would stop. He would hide this part of himself that showed he was more than what he tried to portray.

You didn’t have to open your eyes to know he was glancing in your direction. To see his eyes gaze over you with suspicion before settling back and listening to the next track. Khalid’s intro of “Talk,” beginning to play into your earbud.

You spent the rest of the trip staying beside him, close as you could get without looking creepy, just to hear him gently sing. He breathed a gentle version of each one he knew, or came to like, and made it his own. Even being a few times were his nerves got the better of him. His voice rising ever slightly when he drew too deep into the song. He would quiet after each outburst, but to your pleasure Jungkook would start back up moments later.

After all the bickering, you could definitely say the trade was worth it. You were so taken with listening to him that when the bus came to a stop, you didn’t realize it until your earbud was yanked from your ears. Your eyes heavy from sleep fluttered open and closed a few times before they focused on Jungkook’s face.

“Ya, didn’t you hear them call us off the bus?”

Your response came in the form of slow blinks and a mouth half-hung open. You wished more for a nap than going out to explore a farm, but your limbs were screaming to be stretched. You went to answer him when, instead, Jungkook grabbed his bag, cane, and started to try and scoot over you.

“Hey! What do you think you’re doing?”

“Trying to get by! So excuse me!”

His backside rubbed against your arms and, to your horror, your chest. Without thinking, your hand lashed out to smack across his bottom causing both of you to go as still as the dead. Your heart was thundering as you looked at your hand like it’d just finished committing murder. Maybe it had. But the only person it’d murdered was you with your eyes roaming up to see a shocked Jungkook gawking down at you over his shoulder.

“Did you really just smack my ass.”

“It was an accident!”

“An accident?” He questioned.

“Self-defense!”

Jungkook tried to hide the amusement your no doubt panicking was causing him. His mouth struggling to keep the frown that was tilting ever so slightly at the top of his lips.

“If anything needed to be defended, it was my honor. Over here just smacking people’s ass’s without a warning.”

You knew by now your face looked like a fire hydrant.

“Self-defense from you dragging your ass all over me! I’m not a seat, ya know.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

This time Jungkook didn’t try to hide his smile. To your surprise, it wasn’t a malicious one that showed he enjoyed your embarrassment. No. This one decorated his face in something softer that made your heart thunder to a different rhythm entirely.

“Oh, look you guys. Shit Stain and The Cripple are flirting.”

Amber’s grating voice was one you’d grown painstakingly accustomed too. The sinister way she spoke impossibly loud just so everyone was forced to hear her. Whether they wanted to or not. You were used to her coldness and the constant way she harassed you. What you weren’t so used to, was having Jungkook as part of the punchline.

Immediately, you felt his legs tense where they touched you. The muscles ramrod straight and flexing under the skin. The lighthearted tone you’d heard seconds before in your banter was now replaced with an aloofness that made you stiffen in your seat. Jungkook’s jaw held tight as he regarded Amber as if she were no more than a pest buzzing at his ear.

“Ya, fix your nose before you bother talking to me. I can see half the planet up there.”

Amber’s eyes flashed hellfire as she glowered over her shoulders to stop the giggling that ensued. When all grew quiet enough to where she felt like she would be heard, a harsh smile spread her lips. Her legs began to take a step to move away from the two peasants who’d held enough of her attention.

“Whatever, Cripple. Try not to get your stick in any holes.”

She was passing the front of your shared seat when, suddenly, Amber’s legs gave way. A tumbling mess of shrieks, bleached hair, and her arms flapping rapidly a solid indication of her mysterious attempt at taking flight. The only thing that moved to catch her was her face. The minute the laughter began to bubble up inside you, you quickly placed a hand over your mouth. Least the she-devil hear it escape.

You took a second to inspect what could’ve possibly taken down the ice queen. Even when she wore ridiculously high heels, Amber walked with a grace you knew you’d never pull off. Not without looking like a newborn giraffe, that is. Glancing down you noticed Jungkook’s cane strategically placed right where her foot would’ve landed. The culprit in making Amber a freshly minted carpet on the bus’s floor. Somewhere on the bus you knew she was up from her tumble and huffing a few choice words. You were sure she knew, just like you did, that Jungkook was the one who’d done it. You paid no attention to her tantrum and kept a transfixed gaze on him.

He’d finished scooting the rest of the way to get to the middle of the bus and was situating his cane and shoulder bag. His hand suddenly reaching down into view and patiently waiting for you to take it.

“Come on, Y/N. Let’s go.”

You knew you looked like a fool. Your eyes mirroring the thousands of silent questions that threatened to make you ill. A part of you hoping he understood your dumbfounded look simply begged him to find some way to answer you. You’d stared starry-eyed up at him for so long you half expected the patience of Jungkook’s open hand to fall flat. Instead, he continued to surprise you. His gaze gentle, and hand openly waiting for you to take it when you were ready.

With eyes wide and mouth agape, your body rejected your stunned silence and placed a small hand in his. His own quickly enveloped yours perfectly and gave you the added support you needed to find stable footing beside him. Jungkook finally looked away from you to stare at the remaining goons.

The moment you stood beside him you became painfully aware of the noticeable height difference. Your gaze moving up inch-by-inch until your eyes were locked onto his face. The stubbornness of a hard set jaw and eyes that dared anyone to speak enough to make your heartbeat pick up in your chest. When he appeared to be finished making sure his presence was known, Jungkook’s eyes turned back to you. A silent request of reassurance to know you were alright making you answer with a quick nod.

Your cheeks blushed furiously as you struggled to look away from his gaze. No longer were you so worried about Amber; your mind trapped on a repeat of questions. Did Jungkook always smell like Calvin Klein cologne? Could it be considered weird how you felt undeniable comfort pressed up against him? Or really weird if in your head you suddenly imagined recreating this scene a million times later with you being braver beside him, instead of being the damsel in distress.

He didn’t seem at all perplexed with your case of sudden shyness. His strong legs pulling you both forward and past the horde of Amber and her lackeys without missing a step. His head held high while the other hand helped him keep his balance without using his cane. For the small world that was high school, Jungkook showed them he was still that once popular boy who was known for not taking shit from no one. A demi-god amongst mere mortals that were somehow honored by his presence.

And here you were. So close to the orbit of his sun and walking away unscathed.

Your train of rushing thoughts kept you from paying attention. It was something you soon were going to regret when he led you off the steps of the bus and onto the dirt road. Jungkook’s exit was obviously graceful while yours in comparison was a train wreck. Instead of your feet stepping off the last step and landing like a normal person, you lost your footing. Your clumsy feet sending you struggling to find a balance with the earth before you crash landed on the floor. Luckily, Jungkook’s back was there to catch you.

The momentum of your fall sent his feet skittering to correct you both before you fell into the dirt. A few choice cuss words leaving his lips and crimson flaring up on your cheeks to make the dance of falling even more entertaining. You could practically hear the cackling of the witches echoing out of the bus like a cave.

Jungkook made quick work of righting you both; his good leg furiously hoping to support the weak one. His cane dug into the earth a good inch to add some more stabilization. You let go of his hand and moved away from his side where you’d previously been planted. You weren’t worthy of being there. This boy who saw your distress and helped you. Only for you to ruin it in the process.

“Well that’s one way to ruin an exit,” he huffed.

He glanced in your direction and you could’ve sworn he was smiling. Or was that a smirk? Whatever it was, it was quickly washed away as his eyes took you in. “You okay?”

“I’m sorry!”

Your words rushed from your lips with your back snapping to bow a perfect ninety-degrees. Your hair a curtain to try and hide your embarrassment.

“Ugh...for what?”

“For bumping into you like that. I should’ve been paying attention.”

A soft laugh bounced from between his lips and you were willing to beat his face lit up like pure sunshine. You moved to stand upright just in time to see you were right. Jungkook was either oblivious to the way you were looking at him, or was simply unfazed. His shoulder hiking the backpack where it’d begun to fall as he adjusted himself to get ready to move to join the rest of the class up ahead.

“You did ruin one hell of a stylish exit.”

“I don’t know how stylish you can be stepping off of a school bus, but...thank you.”

The both of you locked eyes with one another. A large part of you hoped Jungkook was able to see the sincerity or at least hear it. Maybe he wasn’t that much of a pain in the ass after all. That soft smirk you’d grown accustomed to etched back on his lips as he took the first step towards your waiting classmates.

“No problem. Plus, I figured I owed you for letting me listen to your music.”

You felt your brow shoot up in mock surprise. Your legs falling into step beside him.

“I thought you said I had terrible taste.”

“I never said terrible,” Jungkook corrected. His eyes danced with a playfulness that lifted a smile to your lips

“You could’ve fooled me.”

“Well, it wasn’t the greatest, but thank you. I actually ended up liking most of it, at least.”

“Oh, what a sweet way of insulting my musical taste.”

“Hey! I said I liked most of it. It’s like a win-win. Kinda.”

You wanted to be snappy. Give him some more hell for always playing up on being a condescending moody jerk. In reality, walking next to Jungkook while the silence swelled around you without the awkward pressure; you knew that wasn’t all of him. He’d proven how sweet he could be at the memory of how easily you’d felt protected by a simple stretch of a hand. The look in his eyes while he waited for you to take his extended hand a plea to know you could trust him. Strangely, a part of you already felt like you could.

You snuck a look over in Jungkook’s direction, and felt a smile begin to sweep up the corners of your lips. It was a different, but nice, change to have someone come to your defense. Yeah, most of the time you wanted to throttle him for seeming like he could care less. In that moment, however, he cared enough to help. That had to mean something.

“You’re welcome.”

You hoped your words conveyed the gratitude you felt in that moment. Prayed that Jungkook could hear it. When he looked at you, you made sure to give him a quick smile before you looked away. Your eyes struggled not to look back at him; to tell him all the things that were racing through your head. It took every ounce of your will to stay focused on the group of classmates that were growing closer. Somewhere along the way, you’d hoped Jungkook would’ve replied with his usual smart ass remarks. It worried you how sad a small part of you felt at his silence.

Now, you worried maybe you were going a little nuts.

Instead, you came to the edge of the group in silence. Your ears struggling to grasp on to the middle of what your teacher gave out for instructions for the day.

So what if that insane part of you didn’t receive a smart ass remark in return for your gratitude. You were more than happy with the fact Jungkook stayed by your side. The close proximity just enough to convey what you were both feeling without unnecessary words.

______________

For the past hour the farmer -Kim Sejung - had shown the class around his vast property. The beginning of this magical tour starting with where he manufactured the tofu once it was fermented then sent down to be processed for packaging. He was a man who took immense pride in his work. The next room where the fermentation took place and, his overeager explanation, spelled out how devoted he was to his craft.

The whole entire backwards presentation was something your teacher decided became a chance for everyone to write down everything you’d been shown. A punishment you knew was coming when Kim Sejung lost half the class to their own conversations long before you’d hit the second part of his speech.

Now, anyone could be wondering why all of you were taking the longest stroll of your life out in the middle of the farm. A fair question you’d been asking yourself since you realized your shoes were completely covered in mud. You’d been trying to understand why this hadn’t been the first place Kim Sejung would’ve taken all of you. Your only guess being he just enjoyed showing the process backwards. Or maybe he was secretly a mastermind at torture. It was the only logical conclusion you could come up with at having the entire class now out in the muddy acres of his farm.

And sure, maybe your attention was being sent over your shoulder every five seconds. A certain boy with exhaustion creased in his brow making it harder for you to ignore. You were looking back so often you felt like you’d end up with whiplash at any minute. Really, it was all Jungkook’ fault for causing you to worry; becoming painfully aware with each glance at Jungkook’s struggling frame.

How Sejung -, or anyone else for that matter, hadn’t noticed he was falling further behind the group with every step left you completely perplexed. You’d gave up listening to whatever the farmer or teacher talked about or what questions they were throwing around. You could bet it had to do about soil.

If everyone else could ignore him why couldn’t you? It’s not that you hadn’t tried, cause of course you’d done exactly that. Your bottom lip now held a semi-permanent indent from your teeth. Whenever you felt that tick in your neck to look back to check on him: you bit down. When you felt like drawing attention to him by saying something: you bit down. A part of you willing to bet Jungkook would never forgive you if you did.

Your solution? It was ingenious, really.

You fell back behind every classmate. Patiently, you waited for everyone to pass you up. Your feet dragging in the muddy dirt until you were sure no one would notice when you inevitably stopped.

With a soft count of three under your breath, you came to a halt at the back of the group. Your small count continued for another round before you were comfortable with the distance it’d placed between the group, Jungkook, and yourself.

You let out a huff of satisfaction as you turned around to give Jungkook your complete attention. Your neck thanking you for the small favor. What you found, however, greeting you was far from what you’d hoped to find.

Jungkook’s current location became a solid five feet behind the group. His feet finally coming to the large puddle of mud that you and the class had easily maneuvered Jungkook had not. His struggle coming to a standstill at the muddy puddles edge. Jungkook’s face etched itself in harsh determination to no doubt allow him from moving forward. You told yourself you would stay back and wait for him.

Just wait, You kept telling yourself over and over. A broken record having nothing on what you felt capable of standing there. Your pulse bonding in your veins and feet bouncing with anxiety as he assessed his options. All you were supposed to do was hang back to walk with him. That was it. You weren’t his nanny. You knew how he felt about being pitied, and yet, when he took his first tentative step out into the mud and his cane sunk deep and his bad leg followed suit, your feet deceived you.

It appeared Mother Nature had her own way of pushing you past your reserved good intentions. Your feet sprinted forward fast enough that you were embarrassed at their quickness. The expected movement bringing Jungkook’s frustrated gaze up from his current dilemma to you.

“What are you doing here, Y/N?”

The annoyance held in his question didn’t go unnoticed by you. If it was you in his position, you’d be annoyed seeing you standing there too and not offering to help.

“I came to help you.”

The words just streamed out with your running thoughts. Your feet willing to move forward back into the mud to help him. Jungkook noticeably began to struggle to remove his foot that submerged quickly underneath.

“I didn’t ask for your help.”

“You didn’t have too, Jungkook. I want to help.”

“Let me rephrase myself.” His irritation was pure fire in his eyes as his words hurled in your direction. “I didn’t ask for it and I don’t want it.”

You wish you could say you handled his dismissal with grace. That you understood he was only being a jerk because he was embarrassed and angry at his current predicament. You really wanted to be that bigger person. Well...that most definitely wasn’t what happened.

Your eyes narrowed in on him. Your previous desire to help evaporated as you watched his leg sink deeper. His other foot soon joined the first in a poorly calculated attempt to release the other. Your arms crossed over your chest as you took in the scene before you.

“Well, Jungkook, I’m not sure if you noticed but you’re slowly heading towards being buried under that mud.”

“Thank you for that astute observation. Anything else you’d like to add?”

“Why are you being such an asshole?!” you snapped.

Your arms came loose down at your side and turned to clenched fists. You weren’t exactly sure what you expected his reaction to be. You knew Jungkook held a hatred for being pitied. Hell, you would too if it was the other way around. You knew he wasn’t helpless, but you also knew he couldn’t do everything alone. No one could. So what was so wrong with offering to help him?

You weren’t sure how you looked. Maybe crazy? Or did the desperation of not knowing how to handle the situation have you appear sad? Whatever it was Jungkook saw, it was enough to look away. His eyes dropping down to his covered feet.

The space between the two of you swelled with tension. His hair perfectly covering his face, and kept you from being able to steal any glance. It was enough to make you unsure if you should prepare yourself for a verbal battle with him or if you should simply walk away. What if you’d made a mistake thinking Jungkook would want to be bothered at all with help. Especially from you.

“God, this is embarrassing.”

His words were so light you weren’t sure at first if he’d spoken. A part of you wondering if you’d made up the sound of his voice as Jungkook’s face continued to be hidden by layers of hair. But, lord help you, you knew you weren’t imagining things. The sound of his voice is something you’d come to recognize with ease. You knew without a doubt it most definitely was him. And the sadness that reverberated from his words made your anger dissipate instantly.

“What?”

Could you have picked a stupider response? When Jungkook lifted his head up to look at you, you knew he silently agreed.

“It’s embarrassing!” His hands motioned to take in his current predicament. The hurt shown on his proud features made your heart ache to comfort him. “How pitiful can I get? It’s so damn frustrating! The cripple unable to get himself out of some stupid mud.”

“Jungkook, you are literally the least pitiful person I’ve ever met.”

“And yet, it doesn’t make me any less stuck.”

You took a step forward and began to try and edge around what you could of the puddle. You knew there was no way you weren’t getting more mud on your shoes, but the purpose was worth it.

“Why didn’t you just go around it?” Your question earned you a dead stare. One that reminded you of your mother when she felt like you’d asked the silliest question. You held your hands up in surrender and said, “Hey. It’s a fair question.”

“If I just go around it, it proves that I can’t do the simplest thing, Y/N. It proves…”

“That you aren’t like everybody else,” you finished for him.

You could’ve kicked yourself. How could you not have noticed it sooner. Jungkook just wanted to prove to himself that he could still do things like he did before his accident. Because even though he showed people bringing up his disability didn’t bother him, it did. He still hadn’t come to terms with what happened, and believed the current state of his leg deemed him less worthy.

He looked away from whatever he saw in your eyes. His own fighting not to show the sadness that threatened to spill down his cheeks.

“You aren’t like everyone else, Jungkook.” Your words tore his head back in your direction. His shoulders quickly squared up to take whatever verbal blow you were about to hurl in his direction. You were happy to convince him otherwise.

“You don’t need to prove anything to a single person. Yeah, you aren’t a hundred percent who you used to be, but it doesn’t make you any less you. You aren’t defined by a damn leg and if another human being does treat you differently because of it: fuck’em. Now, get your shit together and hand me the end of your cane.”

The both of you stared at one another for what felt like an eternity. Jungkook’s face unreadable as his eyes took you in making you squirm just the slightest bit. Whether he was looking for a hint that you were deceiving him; that something hurtful laid underneath, he wouldn’t find it. You made sure with your hand this time open and waiting for him, that he could see just how much you meant what you said.

After what felt like a baby size eternity, Jungkook answered you in a way you’d grown to expect. In one swift motion, he picked his cane out from the mud and placed it, dirty end first into your waiting hand. Your face scrunched up in disgust, as the leftover mud squished between your fingers. The action enough to break the coldness of Jungkook’s blank expression into the smirk that was all too familiar.

“Oh my god! You would do that.”

The amusement on his face was enough to tell you he’d most definitely done it on purpose. Of course, you’d already known that. You didn’t need his raised eyebrow or that devilish smirk to inform you of that.

“Oh, so you think you know me now.”

“I know enough to know, without a doubt, this is something you’d do. Brat.”

You saved the last word for good measure and it was met with a bark of surprise laughter. His reaction was not something you’d expected, but a welcomed one as his face instantly lit up brighter than you’d ever seen. Jungkook’s laughter and smile was genuine and good god, was it breathtakingly adorable.

Who knew calling him a brat led to so many heart stopping possibilities? Like no longer having a permanent scowl.

“Alright smart ass, how about we settle this for when I’m not stuck in the mud.”

“You got yourself a deal. Only if you stop pouting.”

“I was not pouting!”

It was your turn to laugh wholeheartedly while your other hand moved to secure itself to his cane. There was no way you’d be letting it slip free from you. Mud or no mud.

“Tomato potato: pouting is pouting.”

Jungkook’s head tilted to the side. His brain noticeably trying to comprehend what it was you just said.

“That makes absolutely no sense.”

“It makes perfect sense, Jungkook now grab a hold of yo-“

Honestly, you should’ve seen this coming. He’d already given you a muddy end of a cane. It was the perfect foreshadowing moment that was leading up to this, and yet, somehow you were surprised when he pulled with full force. You figured he was strong - not freakishly. Not enough to send you flying face first toward the large mud puddle with the sound of a squeaking bird of surprise that you could only assume was yourself.

The only thing that kept you from going face first was a split second decision to ruin just the lower half of your outfit.

The impact with the mud was squishy and came with the weirdest sound effects that reminded you of pushing your hand into a container of slim. God, was it squishy. An immediate, “Ewww,” dragging out from your lips as your hands lifted up from where they’d been buried. Your eyes taking in the full extent of your lower half now resembles the Swamp Thing.

Jungkook’s laughter brought you back to reality and flinging what was left of the mud on your hands in his direction. It only earned you another bark of laughter.

“What in the hell was that for?!”

“Now whose pouting?” He teased.

You wanted to hit him but you knew you couldn’t reach. So you settled for flinging another round of mud.

“Are you kidding me? You pulled me in here cause I said you were pouting!”

“Yup.”

“Unbelievable. You’re a child.”

“I thought you said brat?”

“That too! Ugh! Jungkook! You’re such a pain in the ass. I’m not helping you anymore.”

You moved to try and pull up one leg and found it way more difficult than you’d imagined. Seriously, was this shit superglue? No matter how many times you struggled to pull up either leg it wouldn’t budge; producing an agitated groan to seep from your body.

You wanted to murder him.

When you glanced up at him at least Jungkook had the decency to appear worried.

“Do you need help? I didn’t think it’d be so hard for you to pull yourself up.”

“Oh, so you’re worried about me not being able to pull myself up, but not about me covered in mud.”

The shrug Jungkook gave as an answer made you want to throttle him. You wanted to tell him to shove his help up his ass. Realistically, however, you knew there was no way you were getting unstuck without getting dirtier from crawling around. For a second time, his hand appeared, like magic, in front of you.

Your eyes trailed up his hand to that devilish grin of his and found your earlier agitation disintegrate. What you hated the most, was how his eyes lit up to match his smile. This warm version of Jungkook wasn’t someone you were used to. You’d seen the cocky jock who knew he was good at everything. Experienced the real asshole Jungkook that made you want to rip out chunks of hair. But this side of him...was worth a heartache or two.

Without another thought you reached out and took his hand and allowed him to start lifting you up. It wasn’t until you were half way you came up with your own plan. A devilish grin of your own spreading your lips wide as the idea grew into something worth doing .

Jungkook had a moment to be confused before your free hand shot out and took fierce hold of his forearm. You made sure it was locked in place before your body went completely limp, and sent his body into an unbalanced mess.

“The fu-!”

Jungkook’s descent, at first, made you feel like you’d accomplished a victory. One you didn’t get to relish in for long. Jungkook may not have been able to finish his earlier sentence, but you easily made up for it. A softened, “Fuck!” came pressed from your chest as he landed sideways on top of you. The angle reminded you of an awkward pair of scissors: if one part of the scissors was ridiculously muscled for a student.

You’d had little time to move your hands up to brace yourself against his weight. The air from your lungs whooshing out in laughter with your body struggling to recover from underneath him. And no, no you weren’t painfully aware that your hands could feel every well lined muscle under the fabric of his t-shirt. And no, you were not blushing. Not even a little.

You were sure when Jungkook lifted his head up to look in your direction, he’d see the sinful glee you took in your awkward positioning. Instead, your lungs erupted into laughter. One side of his face perfectly smeared with mud making one eye remain closed and his right doing most of the work. He looked ridiculous...and cute.

“You think this is funny?”

“I think-I think it’s the best thing I’m going to see all day.”

It took a few tries to speak through your laughter, but when you finally got the words out you couldn’t have been more proud. Jungkook on the other hand, seemed to struggle to keep the annoyance on his face. The first sign of a smile cracking into the mud that began to dry on his face.

Jungkook moved to prop himself up - the action giving you the room you needed to wiggle out from underneath him. You were about to call it a success, a retort to an unspoken comment he’d yet to make. All of it came crashing down, however, when Jungkook’s mud covered hand rose from the depths and placed a long streak down your nose with his thumb giving an artistic sweep across your cheek.

The marks he gave reminded you of those old western movies you’d seen. Warpaint covered faces of men getting ready to square off to defend their home from invaders. The thought seemed to match perfectly with the beat of your heart thundering like a drum inside your chest.

It wasn’t just because Jungkook touched you - on purpose - in a playful way. It had nothing to do with the fact his muddy hand was currently resting against your cheek. Or from the denial that it brought out a spark of mischievous happiness to ignite inside you as your mouth fell open to expose the sound of laughter. No, your heart pounded against your chest purely for the look that passed behind chocolate eyes and the soft smile that followed close behind.

So, sure. In that instance it could’ve just been a plan old look. You weren’t a hundred percent sure it wasn’t more than just a look though, either. There was that one boy in first grade, however, who did give you an aggressive teeth-clacking peck on the lips during recess, but this was completely different.

And because you were so uncertain of what it all meant, your only reaction was to lift your hand up from beside you and slam it palm first against his face.

Jungkook’s face lit up in shock and you couldn’t stop the eruption of laughter that spilled from your lips. It was an immediate rush of joy at seeing his handsome face marked by your small muddy handprint that streaked itself across the plains of his face. Normally, you’d be mortified: waiting patiently to be scolded and made to feel small. Instead, the shock wore off his face in an instant. Jungkook’s eyes lighting up with childlike excitement as a giddy, “Oh yeah?” rushed between his lips.

You didn’t have a chance to wonder what he meant before he reached into the mud and brought up a snowball version of the earth.

“Oh, no you don’t!”

Your eyes went wide and frantic giggles exploded free as your body struggled in vain to get out from under him. The previous joy of being pinned by his weight dissipating when that large mud ball found its new home smeared on top of your head.

“Jungkook-ah!”

His own laughter rose up around you as your body began to move in earnest to get out from under him. When you finally realized it was pointless, another bright idea overtook you. If Jungkook noticed the renewed mischievous glint in your eye, he didn’t show it.

He continued to smile obliviously down at you until the two fist fulls of mud you’d taken in both hands came crashing down on top of his head. It didn’t matter that your face caught some of the aftermath: the face he made was priceless.

You didn’t get a chance to enjoy your tiny victory before the two of you were a mess of arms and limbs rolling feverishly around; the two of you playfully wrestling for dominance. The mixture of your laughter rising up until you weren’t sure where Jungkook’s ended and yours began. By the end of it, you were both resembling the pigs you’d seen earlier on the farm. Bodies fully covered in wet earth and lounging beside each other in exhaustion. Every few moments random fits of giggles overtaking the two of you until you realized you both needed to get back.

This time, instead of the two of you refusing help from the other, you eagerly took it. The both of you worked together to reach the edge of the mud pit and, without further incident, pulled each other out.

The walk back to the main barn was done in silence. In other circumstances, you would’ve been consumed with a need to fill it. The impending weight of anxiety would’ve flared across your skin until you would’ve blurted out anything. Small talk was never one of your strong suits, but a comfortable banter had somehow formed between the two of you. You knew if you started talking, Jungkook would respond. It was still a fifty-fifty on whether or not it would be a smart ass response or a real one, but a response nonetheless.

You didn’t try to start a conversation. You chose to enjoy the reassurance that he was beside you. Your mind running through what exactly just happened and how you both ended up looking like bad impression art. You’d spent so much time stealing glances in his direction that you could’ve sworn you caught him doing the same. But who were you kidding. No one had stolen glances at you since middle school, and that was only to steal the answers off tests.

There was no way Jeon Jungkook would be the one to break that trend. No matter how flattering the thought. So when you felt that knowable itch of being watched you found yourself surprised that Jungkook was indeed staring at you.

“Are you cold?”

Jungkook’s question jolted you from your train of thought and sent you reeling into another. He was closer to you now. Close like you’d been while sitting on the bus with your shoulders brushing with every movement. Every bump helplessly sending you lightly banging into the other.

On the bus you could easily play it off as something out of your control. But now? Now there was no good explanation that you could find to why Jungkook decided to walk so closely beside you. There was no way to explain away the way his gaze drew across your face like he’d save it to memory.

“Well I am covered in freezing mud water.”

You’d tried for sarcasm but your voice barely carried over a whisper. It made Jungkook’s head subconsciously dip lower just to hear you. The devilish smirk he was infamous for spread like wildfire across his lips.

“I would offer you my jacket, since it’s the gentlemanly thing to do, but you see some crazy person pushed me into the mud.”

A scoff escaped you as your hand playfully whipped out to slap his shoulder.

“Ya, Jungkook! You? A gentleman? That’s funny. What is also funny is the fact you got yourself stuck in the mud first. I just came to rescue you.”

“Rescue me?” He asked with an eyebrow coyly cocked.

“I’m like your knight in shining armor.”

A throaty laugh came from between his lips; sending his head back exposing his face to the sun. You were mesmerized watching him as the sun kissed down across his face and weren’t at all ashamed at being caught watching as he brought his attention back to you. A smile of your own growing to match the one he wore along with your mind fluttering in wonder of how he was even real.

“If you’re my knight, Y/N I’m in a lot of trouble.”

You feigned hurt but couldn’t hide the grin happily splayed on your face and, crazy thing was, you didn’t want to. It felt impossible that the two of you were so giddy with each other. A strange familiarity brewed heavily between you to the point it felt like the two of you joked like this for years.

Jungkook’s own smile enough to warm the chill that began to creep up your arms to expose goosebumps on your skin. The two of you fell into a shroud of companionable silence and continued to make your way back to the main entrance of the farm. Your heart skipping a helpless beat every time you feel Jungkook’s fingers graze across yours. Your mind hopelessly wanting to believe maybe, just maybe, he was tempted to reach out and hold it.

You came back to the main farm and found your teacher and classmates impatiently waiting. The immediate shock your teacher showed at your appearance seemed to grow more intense until he came storming over: hysterical at your current condition.

“What on earth have the two of you been doing?!”

“They’ve been rolling around with pigs.”

You knew that tart voice anywhere and wasn’t surprised it was Amber that spoke. What did surprise you was how much you didn’t care with Jungkook standing like an equally filthy calm current by your side.

“We’re sorry, seonsaegnim,” Jungkook began coolly with a bow. When he realized you were still standing a hand shot out to the back of your head to bring it down. You quickly slapped it away but kept yourself in a bow. “We got lost from the group and found ourselves stuck in a giant mud pit.”

“It seems to me like you were playing in it,” the farmer chuckled. “I could hose them off before they get back on the bus.”

His offer left heat rising to your cheeks. The sound of a sea of giggles making your stomach ache in embarrassment. You used the curtain of your hair to hide and hoped they’d come up with a different suggestion, but with a small shrug of his shoulder, Jungkook brought your heated attention back to him. A soft smile cracking the now dry handprint you’d left across his cheek.

It was ridiculous. You both looked ridiculous, and yet, he was still handsome. You probably looked like a troll.

“Hey Knight in shining armor,” he whispered. “It seems we get to take a bath together.”

The sun couldn’t be anywhere near as hot as your face felt. The heat spread from red cheeks and down your neck until the butterflies in your stomach were out of control. Jungkook knew what he had done. He could see it plainly on your face and he loved it.

You, on the other hand, wanted to hit him.

And just like divine intervention your teacher did it for you. His curled up pamphlet struck down on top of Jungkook’s head, but it only made his smile grow impossibly larger.

“Ya! I don’t think so! We’ll have you go one at a time to clean up. I’ll look for something for you both to change into.”

Jungkook went first to be hosed down. The farmer actually allowed him to have his privacy so he could get into his more...private areas in peace. The clothes that were found for both of you to wear were old gym clothes thrown in a box in the storage bay at the bottom of the bus. You imagined they must have been thrown there for a reason. The colors were sad and faded down to a color that resembled the mud you’d fallen in. An even sadder rim of yellow wrapped around the sleeves the only hope of color in the terrible outfit you were now forced to wear. At least it was warm with the added bonus Jungkook somehow ended up with the shortest shorts in the box.

After the two of you dried off and changed you were shepherded onto the bus. The place that held Amber and her minions now vacant due to the teacher demanding you sit exactly in the far back in their spot. He must have imagined it would be like putting two naughty kids in time out. The only effect it really had was giving you the chance to breathe and enjoy the solitude.

Jungkook dug around for your earbuds inside your bag. Finally finding the small container and lifting it open. His fingers pulling out the left and surprising you by placing it gently in your ear. Your face must have shown this but Jungkook paid you no mind. He was busy placing the other bud into his ear; flipping the case shut and throwing it back inside to forever be lost until you practically tipped out your bag to locate it again. Oh well. A problem for another time.

“Put on something for the ride home, Y/N. I trust you to be dj again.”

You wanted to tease him. To joke about putting on the YMCA or Macarena . The only thing that stopped you was the relaxed features of Jungkook’s face. The lazy way his neck rested back against the seat and his head languidly gazing in your direction. You tried to squish back all the butterflies that look gave you and a hushed, “Alright. Lady Marmalade it is,” embarrassingly came from between your lips.

Your eyes were too focused on your music list. You didn’t allow them to look as he chuckled beside you. The sound light and rough all at once - demanding you give it attention.

“Don’t make me regret it,” he joked.

You kept scrolling until you found Deans’ “D (Half Moon)”. The soft piano and tone of his voice quickly filled the ear buds and by the soft hum of the voice beside you, you knew you’d pick a good one.

You allowed yourself to relax beside him. Your right hand placing the playlist down between the two of you. Your body was so relaxed you didn’t think about moving your hand anywhere else. Your eyes falling comfortably closed as you continue to listen to the acoustics of the song and the even softer, and equally pleasurable, song of Jungkook singing along.

When his left hand found its way down beside yours, you didn’t question his reasoning. The music held between the two of you and maybe he wanted to change the playlist. You let your mind continue to think that even after his finger gingerly grazed yours and found a home beside them. Both of your hands stayed this way the entire ride back to campus. Neither of you moved to change positions; lost to the sounds of the melodies of the playlist.

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you-didnt-see-that-cuming · 4 years

Text

Shy Glances | George Weasley x Reader

Summary: George Weasley was quite possibly the most perfect man to ever exist. He’s smart, funny, charming, and incredibly handsome. Pansy Parkinson has known about her roommate and best friend, Y/N’s crush on George for while, watching her do nothing about it. Pansy decides that it’s time for her to take matters into her own hands and quite literally pushes the two of them together with the help of Fred Weasley. All they really did was speed fate up a little bit.

Warnings: Smut towards the end

Word Count: 8.1k

A/N: This took me a while to finish, it was a request from an anon so I’m hoping that I did their vision justice! This ended up being over 28 pages so it’s a nice long one for you guys!

AO3 Link

Masterlist

Ever since Umbridge had taken over teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts, spirits at Hogwarts were not exactly high. The only things that managed to put a smile on anyone’s face were the Weasley twins’ ridiculous pranks and the weekend trips to Hogsmeade. Occasionally, a loud explosion would go off in a nearby hallway, followed closely by the shrieking of Umbridge and the smiles of students who had witnessed whatever had happened.

Despite the twins being identical, Y/N had always had a crush on George. Fred always seemed to be the one to start the chaos that followed them around, but there was something different about George, he was more compassionate, he genuinely cared about other people. The Hogsmeade weekend before the beginning of the Christmas holidays was the subject of almost everyone’s conversations. It had snowed for almost two days straight and Christmas decorations were already being erected around the castle, only adding to the general feeling of excitement.

Y/N was feeling excited for a whole other reason. The Hogsmeade trips were some of the only chances she had to see George. Being in different houses and years complicated things, and staring throughout mealtimes wasn’t exactly subtle.

The morning of the trip to Hogsmeade, Y/N and Pansy were woken up abruptly to the sound of feet running down the hallway towards the common room.

“Damn! What time is it?” Pansy grumbled. She wasn’t exactly a morning person and interrupting her sleep was not a good way to get on her good side. She stretched her hand out to the bedside table and blindly felt around for her watch. Bringing it up to her eyes, Pansy suddenly turned her face into her pillow and screamed in frustration.

Y/N tried to blink the sleep from her eyes, staring up at the velvet green canopy above the bed. It was dark in the room, the heavy curtains that had been drawn the night before, blocking out the sunlight from the windows at the top of the high ceiling. The only light currently in the room came from the crackling fireplace in the corner across from their beds and the strings of fairy lights that they had taken from the Great Hall to liven the place up. Rolling onto her side to face Pansy, who had now waved her wand to light some of the lamps that were scattered around the room, Y/N yawned loudly and stretched her arms over her head.

“It is absolutely disgusting that we have to be awake this early, absolutely no respect for other people,” Pansy continued grumbling about her disturbed sleep as she swept the covers dramatically to the side.

The fire began glowing a little brighter once Pansy’s feet touched the rug covered floor. Y/N soon swung her legs off the bed before sliding out from under the heavy comforter. Pansy flicked her wand and the curtains swished open. It was snowing heavily, and by the looks of it, it had been snowing through the night. There was already a substantial layer of snow on the bottom of the window sill.

“C’mon, we better get going before everyone leaves without us.” Pansy had already pulled on a pair of jeans and was sliding a black turtleneck over her head. Y/N walked over to her trunk and began pulling items out.

“What should I wear? I was thinking a sweater, I want to stay warm.” Y/N held up a cream fisherman’s sweater for Pansy to look at.

“Ooh, you need to wear that one, you always look pretty in it. George is going to love it on you.” Pansy smirked at that last bit, dodging a rogue pillow that Y/N threw at her head.

“We don’t even know if he’ll be at Hogsmeade today,” Y/N looked down and began fiddling with the hem of the sweater she was holding. “Besides, I heard that he was interested in Alicia Spinnet, they’re always at Quidditch practice together.”

“Just get dressed will you? You’re being ridiculous. I’m going to brush my teeth, I’ll wait for you in the common room.” Pansy pulled a sherpa jacket around her shoulders and a knit hat before she swept out of the room leaving Y/N to herself.

Y/N sighed and pulled the sweater over her head. Pansy was right, she did always look good in that sweater, especially when she wore it with something green to make her eyes pop.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Pansy was waiting at the bottom of the stairs when Y/N finally walked into the common room.

“Agh! It’s about time! Let’s go, the last group is leaving in a few minutes.”

The two girls hurried out of the common room and up through the stairs of the dungeons. Once they had reached the courtyard where the last Hogsmeade group was congregating, Pansy pulled Y/N close to her side and whispered into her ear.

“Listen, I spoke to some people and they said that George is definitely going to Hogsmeade today. This is your chance to actually say something to him!”

Y/N opened her mouth to respond to Pansy when her eyes fell on George Weasley jogging into the courtyard next to Harry Potter and his brother Ron. He was laughing at something Harry had said as he ran his fingers through his hair, pushing it back carelessly. He was in a maroon sweatshirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, his wand loosely grasped in his left hand. He began twirling them across his fingers before Y/N forced herself to turn around.

“You alright? You look like you’re about to be sick,” Pansy asked. She hadn’t seen George walk into the courtyard yet.

Y/N shook her head and straightened her back. She put a smile on her face and turned to Pansy.

“I am absolutely fine!”

Pansy had a frown on her face as she studied Y/N’s reaction. Once she had seen George over Y/N’s shoulder, her face dawned in realization.

“You absolute idiot, I thought you were dying for a second, what’s wrong with you?” Pansy lightly punched Y/N’s shoulder.

Y/N began making excuses when Professor McGonagall’s voice rang out around the courtyard.

“Could I have everyone’s attention? Now, this is the last trip to Hogsmeade before the winter recess and I expect everyone to be on their best behavior. I don’t want to have to send an owl to anyone’s parents after today so let’s not ruin a nice holiday,” She gave a pointed look towards George, who only smiled brightly in response. “Alright, remember to be back at the castle by 6 o’clock, promptly!”

People began filing out of the courtyard and walking down the path to get to the main road that led into Hogsmeade. Pansy looped her arm around Y/N’s, pulling her close into her side.

“I want to stay warm, I wasn’t built for cold weather.” Pansy was shivering, even through the heavy jacket she was wearing. She looked down at Y/N’s outfit with a hint of jealousy. “Ugh, I wish I had thought of wearing corduroy trousers, my legs are freezing. I like that color on you though, house pride and all that.”

Y/N was wearing some green corduroy pants, the cream sweater she had pulled from her trunk, and one of her Slytherin scarfs that her mother had knit for her a few years before. She unwrapped the scarf from her neck and placed it around Pansy’s shoulders.

“Here, wear this if you’re so cold then.”

Pansy smiled and squinted her eyes shut.

“Ooh, thank youuuuu! You know I love you right? This is why we’re best friends.”

“Why, because I give you my clothes when you’re cold?” Y/N asked, laughing a little.

“Yes, was that not clear from the moment we met?” Pansy’s serious tone didn’t match her smiling face. Hogsmeade was slowly coming into sight down the hill.

“C’mon, I want to get some Fizzing Whizbees and Chocolate Frogs, we can go get a butterbeer to warm up a little after that,” Pansy started running down the hill, pulling Y/N along as they ran past the rest of the group and made a bee-line to Honeydukes.

Honeydukes was one of the best places to visit in Hogsmeade. There was no better sweets shop in all of England, the entire place was filled to the brim with different assortments of candies and chocolates. For Christmas, the entire place was decorated in red, white, and green decorations and the air smelled like gingerbread and caramel. Needless to say, it was difficult to not be in the Christmas spirit once you walked into the shop.

Y/N was looking through the different flavors of licorice ropes when Pansy began drawing her attention to the two different types of chocolate frogs they had that she was pretending to be interested in.

Pansy’s eyes glittered in the way they usually did whenever she was planning something mischievous, but before Y/N could say anything, Pansy’s hands collided with her shoulders and shoved her backwards.

Y/N stumbled back a few steps before she crashed up against someone.

“Oof!” Y/N felt as though the wind had been knocked out of her. “Oh my god, I am so so sorr-” Y/N stopped apologizing as she turned around and looked up to see whose chest it was that she had just slammed into. To her surprise, she was soon staring into the eyes of George Weasley.

George had a surprised look on his face before a mischievous smile took its place. Now that Y/N was this close to him, she could smell his cologne. It was intoxicating. Notes of evergreen and birch smoke wafted across his chest and Y/N felt her knees go weak.

“Oh you don’t have to apologize, I should have been watching where I was going,” George’s eyes narrowed a little, the smile still present on his face. “I don’t think I know your name. I’m George, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Uh, my name is Y/N, it’s a pleasure to meet you as well.”

It was quiet for a few seconds as the two stared at one another before Pansy suddenly appeared next to Y/N.

“Hey, are you ready to go? I want a butterbeer.”

“Um, what?” Y/N asked, a little dazed. She didn’t get an answer to her question before Pansy was dragging her by the arm towards the door. Y/N looked back at George, only to find him staring back at her, a confused smile on his face. The two made eye contact for a second before the door slammed shut and he disappeared from view.

“Oh my god! What the bloody hell was that?! I shove you into him, hoping you’ll take that moment and seduce him with those bedroom eyes you make at him all the time, but no! Instead, you stare at him and become fucking Bambi!”

Y/N gaped at Pansy who was still dragging her down the street.

“Wha- I do not make bedroom eyes at him!”

Pansy gave her an exasperated look.

“Now I really do need a butterbeer, and you’re paying.” Pansy sighed before they walked into the Three Broomsticks.

After Pansy had gotten two steaming mugs of butterbeer, the two of them sat down at an empty table in the middle of the tavern. Madam Rosmerta had obviously spared no expense with the decorations and had put up evergreen garlands and red bows across the walls and beams. It was easy to feel comfortable and at home in the Three Broomsticks.

The two girls were chatting aimlessly to distract themselves as they sipped on their butterbeers until the entrance to the tavern blew open. Their eyes were drawn to the door as the Weasley twins walked in, followed closely by Ginny Weasley and Hermione Granger. They were shaking snow off of their heads and stomping their boots when Y/N felt Pansy’s hand squish her cheeks and turn her head towards her.

“Hey! You need to keep it together this time, alright?” Pansy let go of Y/N’s cheeks and went back to her butterbeer as if nothing happened. Y/N was rubbing her cheek when someone cleared their throat.

Standing next to their table, was George, who was towering over the two of them with a kind smile on his face.

“Hey,” His voice was soft and reminded Y/N of melted caramel and velvet. “I didn’t get a chance to say goodbye back in Honeydukes. I think I’ve seen you around Hogwarts, you’re in my brother’s year, right?”

“Oh! Yeah, I am, we’re in the same Potions class together I’m pretty sure. He’s really nice.”

The two of them stared at one another for a few seconds before Pansy finally broke the silence.

“So! Y/N here was actually just telling me about how much she liked your most recent prank on Umbridge with the firecrackers in her office.”

Seemingly out of nowhere, Fred Weasley appeared right next to George.

“Does she now? Well, I can tell you for a fact, that George was the brains behind that one.”

Fred and Pansy shared a knowing look with one another while Y/N and George both shyly made eye contact.

“Um, yeah, I thought it was really clever of you guys, I heard that Umbridge was trying to get rid of the smell of it for weeks. She still smells like smoke sometimes in Defense Against the Dark Arts.”

The twins smiled and laughed a little at your response.

“Yeah, apparently Umbridge spent four hours trying to get rid of it before she gave up,” George said, a little bashfully.

Fred and George pulled two chairs up to their table and the four continued talking, especially George and Y/N. By the time it was almost time to head back, the two were heavily invested in listening to the other’s voice. The entire walk back to the castle, George and Y/N both fell into a comfortable conversation that ended far too quickly.

They were talking about their favorite books when they reached the entrance to the Great Hall.

“Unfortunately, this is where I have to leave you, Ms. L/N,” George said in a solemn, posh voice. Y/N smiled.

“I suppose so Mr. Weasley. Until we meet again.” Y/N gave a shy little curtsy in response. George grabbed Y/N’s hand and swept into a deep bow before kissing the top of her hand.

The two then parted ways, heading to their respective house tables where they continued to sneak glances and stares at one another through the rest of the night.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A week later, Y/N was still thinking about George. Occasionally, their eyes would meet from across the room in the Great Hall or as they passed by one another in the hallways. It was difficult to think about anything but George.

However, on the last few days remaining before the winter holidays started, George stopped showing up around school. In fact, all of the Weasleys seemed to have disappeared from Hogwarts.

By the time the Hogwarts Express came to take everyone back home for the holidays, Y/N had given up on looking for him. Pansy was good at distracting Y/N by coming up with different plans to see each other before school resumed. This distracting continued up until they reached Platform 9 ¾.

The first three days of the break were peaceful and relaxing, a much-needed change from the O.W.L exams preparation the professors at school had them doing. On the fourth day, Y/N received a large barn owl carrying a letter. It had crashed into one of the closed kitchen windows during breakfast, completely missing the open one right next to it. After making sure that the owl was uninjured and able to stand back up on its feet, Y/N looked at the letter that the owl had been carrying.

The front of the envelope was addressed to Y/N in a messy scrawl of blue ink. Once she had opened the letter and scanned to the bottom of the page to see who it was from, her eyes widened.

“Sorry, I’ll be right back, this is important.” Y/N quickly excused herself from the table and ran to her room where she leaped onto her bed in order to read the letter thoroughly.

Dear Y/N,

I hope your holiday is going well! I know I had to leave pretty suddenly before the break and I didn’t get a chance to say goodbye or even spend a lot of time with you. Maybe we could spend a Hogsmeade trip together when we get back?

- George Weasley

Once Y/N had read through the letter another three times, just to make sure she had actually read it correctly, she turned and screamed into her pillow.

After laying there for a few seconds, contemplating what to do next, she quickly ran over to her desk and pulled a piece of parchment and a quill from the drawer. Dipping the quill into the open inkwell that was sitting in front of her, she began writing a letter to Pansy.

Dear Pansy,

I have just received a letter from George Weasley! He has asked me to spend a Hogsmeade trip with him once we get back to school. How do I respond?! What do I say?

-Y/N

Y/N blew on the page to dry the ink and quickly folded the letter into thirds before shoving it into an envelope and closing it with a wax seal. In green ink, she wrote Pansy’s name and address before rushing back into the kitchen. She would need to send the letter by the family owl, Athena.

“Mum, I’m going to borrow Athena, I have a letter I need to send to Pansy.” Y/N didn’t wait for a response before she opened Athena’s cage and let her hop onto her wrist. She held out the envelope and the owl took it in its beak.

“Take this to Pansy, alright? Make sure she writes back immediately.”

With a muffled hoot, Athena flapped her wings before taking off and soaring out through the window and over the treeline.

Only a few hours later, Y/N received a response from Pansy.

Dear Y/N,

I was going to send a Howler with Owlexander, but Mum said I couldn’t. Apparently, Owlexander would get too spooked if the Howler went off mid-flight. SAY YES!! Tell him that you would love to spend a Hogsmeade trip with him and that you are looking forward to it. Also, ask about how he is doing and stuff like that if you want to keep receiving letters from him during the holiday.

-Pansy

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Once it was time to return to Hogwarts, Y/N was filled with dread and excitement. On one hand, she would be seeing George for the first time since they had started writing letters to one another. On the other, Umbridge and the other professors would be piling on the homework and O.W.L.s preparation to the point that Y/N probably wouldn’t even be able to enjoy spending time with George.

Y/N didn’t see George until they were disembarking from the train once they had arrived at Hogsmeade station. He was standing with the rest of his siblings, as well as Hermione and Harry. When the two had finally made eye contact, Y/N gave a shy wave to George. However, once George raised his hand to wave back, Ron’s voice spoke loudly.

“Is that the Slytherin girl you fancy, George?”

Y/N had to stifle a giggle as George’s face went red and he quickly elbowed Ron in the stomach. Y/N felt Pansy’s hand close around hers, pulling her off towards the carriages that were waiting to take the students back up to the castle. Once they had arrived at an available carriage, Y/N began looking around for a familiar glimpse of copper hair but was quickly yanked in. Pansy was yet again ill-prepared for the cold winter weather and was shivering so hard that the seat was almost vibrating.

“Close the door, I want to keep as much of the warm air in.” Pansy’s sock-clad feet were pushed up against the small metal furnace in the middle of the floor. She gave a smirk as she leaned back against the cushioned seats. “You can invite Weasley to join us if he happens to ‘walk’ by.”

Y/N continued looking out the window, hoping for even the smallest sign of George, but the fogging of the windows only made it more difficult to see anything through the crowd of black robes.

Soon enough, the carriage was filled with some girls from Ravenclaw who had managed to get a last-minute seat before the carriages began up the path.

Pansy noticed Y/N’s defeated look and lightly poked her leg.

“Hey, don’t worry about it, you’ll see each other in only a few minutes, then you guys can stare at each other all through dinner.”

Throughout the feast, Y/N and George made eye contact several times which was closely followed by fierce blushes. Their glances couldn’t have been more obvious, and by the time Professor Dumbledore had cleared their plates and dismissed them from the Great Hall, both Pansy and Fred were shoving Y/N and George towards one another so that they could finally talk.

Their paths finally crossed when they walked through the large wooden doors that guarded the entrance to the Great Hall. George pulled Y/N aside and leaned down to whisper in her ear.

“Can I walk you back to your dormitory?”

Together, they took the long way down to the dungeons, talking quietly.

“How was your holiday?” Y/N asked once they had started the descent into the dungeons.

George gave a strained smile in response.

“It was alright, I’m sure you must have heard about my dad and everything.”

Y/N felt a surge of sympathy, her parents had come home from working at the Ministry with the news of what had happened to Mr. Weasley.

“Yeah, I’m really sorry that you all had to go through that. I’m glad he’s alright now, Mum and Dad said that St. Mungos had discharged him.”

“Yeah, we were all really relieved to hear that he was going to be okay. But what about you, how was your holiday?”

“It was alright, nice and relaxing, you know? But it could have been better.”

George had a confused smile on his face at her last comment.

“Oh? How so?”

They had finally reached the entrance to the Slytherin common room when Y/N turned to answer him.

“It would have been better if I had been able to see you.” Y/N then entered the common room and left George with his mouth hanging open slightly in surprise and a vibrant flush across his cheeks.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sitting in the Astronomy Tower late at night was one of Y/N’s favorite ways to distract herself from the stress of assignments and exams. On nights when Astronomy classes weren’t being held, Y/N would lie on her back and watch the night sky through the enchanted ceiling. Focusing on finding constellations in the silence and stillness was meditative.

It was crisp in the tower, and Y/N choice of sleep shorts and one of Pansy’s silk pajama tops didn’t do much to fend off the cold breeze. Y/N was lost in thought when a sudden knocking on the side of the door alerted her to another person’s presence. She turned to see George leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed across his chest. He was wearing some plaid pajama pants and a loose, black t-shirt. He looked really good in casual clothes like this. The corner of his mouth was turned up slightly in a reassuring smile.

“Hey,” Y/N said in a soft voice.

“You don’t mind if I join you, do you?” George asked, taking a few steps into the room.

Y/N smiled and shook her head.

“Not at all.”

A comfortable silence surrounded them for a brief moment.

“So what brings you up here this late at night?” George asked, now leaning against one of the window sills.

“I like to come up and watch the stars, it’s a nice way to relax after a long day.” Y/N looked at him quizzically. “I could ask you the same question, what are you doing up here?”

George laughed quietly before pulling out a piece of parchment from his pajama bottom’s pockets.

“I received an owl at my window with this letter.”

George unfolded the parchment and read aloud.

“Y/N is up in the Astronomy Tower by herself. Go for it.”

Y/N turned to hide the blush that was forming across her face. There was no doubt in her mind that Pansy had sent that letter, she was the only one who knew where Y/N had gone to.

“You know, I wanted to ask you to Hogsmeade earlier, before we left for the holidays.” George was looking at his feet, his hands shoved in his pockets. “I was too scared to ask you when we were in Hogsmeade, I didn’t think you would say yes.”

Y/N studied George’s posture closely. His shoulders were curled in, he seemed to be trying to make himself look as small as possible without being too conspicuous.

“Well now you know that there is nothing to be scared about,” Y/N hesitated before pushing herself away from the wall she was leaning on. “Come and help me get some blankets from the closet, I’m pretty sure Professor Sinistra keeps some extras in there.”

George had a bemused expression on his face, but followed Y/N to a small closet door. Inside the closet were scrolls of parchment, planetary charts, and astrological drawings for Professor Sinistra’s classes, some dusty telescopes, and rolls of blankets that were used for cold nights.

Spreading the blankets on the floor, they laid down next to one another, staring at the sky above them. There wasn’t a cloud in sight and the stars were bright, the perfect night for stargazing. They watched the sky silently before Y/N broke the silence.

“That constellation over there is Perseus,” Y/N was pointing to a cluster of stars above them, “I always loved hearing his story in class.”

“Why’s that?”

There was a beat of silence.

“He was one of the only Greek heroes who actually had a happy ending. That’s all any of us really want, a happy ending.”

“Well, what was Perseus’ happy ending?”

Y/N smiled to herself.

“He got the girl and married a princess.”

George was quiet for a moment before he responded.

“Yeah, that does sound like a happy ending.”

Y/N felt George’s fingers brush against the back of her hand. She opened her palm and felt George’s hand clasp hers, their fingers intertwining together.

“You know, if you had asked me during that first Hogsmeade trip, I would have said yes.” Y/N spoke softly. It was quiet between them once again and Y/N turned her head to the side.

George had turned onto his side to look at Y/N. The usual mischievous smirk was gone, replaced instead by a look of relief and a gentle smile resting on his lips.

Y/N’s eyes flitted down to his mouth before looking into his eyes once again.

George’s other hand came up to her face, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear before stroking her cheek. His thumb traced down her cheek and around the outline of her lips, parting them slightly.

Y/N softly bit down on his thumb, a smile behind her eyes. George withdrew his hand a little before gently tilting her chin towards him. Y/N raised her hand to caress his cheek and pulled him into a soft kiss.

His lips were soft and warm, and she felt herself melt into his embrace. The kiss felt sweet and comforting, almost like warm honey running down her throat. She hadn’t realized how pliant she had become in his grasp until he moved his hand to the small of her back and around her waist, pulling her closer to his body. Y/N could feel the warmth of his chest pressing against her own, fending off the crisp coolness that had filled the tower.

Her hand that was resting on his cheek moved to the back of his neck and she tangled her fingers through his hair. A low moan resonated from his throat and he gripped her waist, pulling her even closer to him.

Her heart was racing and she felt a spark in the pit of her stomach that was growing more ravenous by the second. George pulled back a little, breaking the kiss before he started kissing down her neck, slowly tracing a line to her collarbone.

Euphoria couldn’t even begin to describe what Y/N was feeling as George’s hands slid underneath her shirt, his hands warm and comforting.

With a sudden burst of bravery, Y/N took their still clasped hands and guided them to her sleep shorts. George froze for a second before slowly drawing back.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to rush you into anything you don’t want to do.” His face had a nervous expression painted across it.

“I’m sure. Are you?” Y/N studied his face, his mouth twitching into a smile.

“Yeah, yeah I’m sure.”

George pulled the sleep shorts down Y/N’s legs, who kicked them off carelessly to a corner of the tower. Y/N felt a shiver course down her body once her legs were fully exposed to the night’s air.

George pushed himself up, his legs straddling Y/N’s waist, and pulled his shirt over his head in one, seamless movement. His body was toned, no doubt from the hours of Quidditch practice, and the way the silver light coming through the open windows glanced off his body made it look like moonlight was made just for him.

George’s head was cocked to the side, as if he was considering what to do next. His eyes looked heavy and dark, a stark contrast to their usual bright and lively expression.

“Why don’t you take that off for me?”

He nodded to the sleep shirt that Y/N was still wearing. Y/N’s hands moved slowly, undoing the buttons carefully. After the shirt had been completely undone, George brushed the fabric off her shoulders. He paused for a moment, looking at Y/N, before he cupped the back of her head and pulled her into another kiss. There was something different about him now though, this kiss felt more passionate and heated. Y/N’s hands were embracing George’s cheek and the back of his head, once again tangling themselves in his soft hair.

George’s hips were slowly grinding down into Y/N’s, setting off sparks deep within her stomach. Her reaction to his touch made her reflect for a moment, no one else had ever had this kind of effect on her before, no one else made her swoon just by looking her way, and certainly no one had made her fall apart under their touch.

Y/N’s hand traced down George’s neck, down his chest, and down to the waistband of his pants. He seemed to understand what she was asking and wordlessly pushed the elastic band down, kicking the pants somewhere haphazardly. The sparks Y/N had felt in the pit of her stomach earlier were coming back in full force.

George pushed Y/N’s legs apart and slotted himself in between them, pulling her hips closer to his face. There was a smile behind his eyes as he pressed a kiss to each of her hip bones, never breaking eye contact.

“You know, I have been wanting to do this for ages,” George began kissing up the inside of her thigh. Y/N threw her head back, her eyes closed as she reveled in his touch.

Y/N didn’t have time to respond as George’s thumb found and slowly circled her clit. A low moan escaped from her and Y/N threaded her fingers through the fringe on his head. Y/N could feel his smile against her thigh.

“But don’t worry, I’m about to make it up to the both of us.”

His thumb drew back suddenly, and Y/N was about to groan in protest until she felt his tongue take its place. Her grip on his hair tightened between her fingers. Y/N’s breaths were shallow now as she tried to keep her voice down. But with each passing moment, she found it more difficult to keep the sounds at bay.

George’s tongue expertly moved, making Y/N fall apart with each passing moment. It was almost as if time didn’t exist, all that mattered was the pleasure that Y/N was experiencing and that George was the one making her feel this way.

Y/N felt the pressure in her stomach begin to rise and grow in intensity. Each breath was now a gasp for air as George became more fervent with his movements. His hands were tightly gripping her thighs and waist, pushing them down so that she could not writhe around. Her leg began to shake and Y/N had to bite down on her hand to stop the loud moans that were threatening to escape from her.

“I-I’m going to-” Y/N couldn’t finish her sentence, but George seemed to understand. He increased his relentless pace, not giving Y/N a moment to fall from the high she was about to experience.

Her vision went white and her back arched as the feeling of euphoria became all-consuming. With one final gasp, Y/N’s orgasm faded into a muted throb in the core of her stomach once again. Her grip loosened on George’s hair, her hand sliding down to his cheek.

The mischievous knowing smirk was on his face again, his tongue resting between his teeth.

“That was-,” Y/N took a deep breath.

“Amazing? Wondrous? Phenomenal?” George had a proud tone to his voice.

“Aren’t you smug? I was going to say mind-blowing but you don’t seem to need an ego boost.”

Her hand dropped from his cheek and rested on her stomach, which was rising and falling with every deep breath she took.

George pushed himself up onto his arms and moved so that his face was only inches from Y/N’s. Her hands came up to his bare waist, where they then slowly moved up his back, tracing over the lines of muscle, and finally to his shoulder and the back of his neck. Her fingers threaded through the short hairs at the nape of his neck, tracing light patterns that sent shutters down George’s spine.

“You,” George leaned down and kissed the tip of Y/N’s nose, “are so,” a kiss on her left cheek, “incredibly,” a kiss on her right cheek “beautiful,” and finally, a kiss on her awaiting lips.

“Are you ready?” George’s voice was soft, a vague expression of concern on his face.

“Yeah, I am.” Y/N pulled his waist closer to hers, giving George the permission he needed to continue.

George slowly entered Y/N, moving carefully as to not make any sudden movements. Once his hips were flush with Y/N’s, he paused, giving her a moment to adjust to the sudden pressure. Y/N let out a content sigh, which George took as a sign to move, and he slowly began pulling out.

His hips began to find an easy rhythm and Y/N pulled him down into a heady and meaningful kiss. Every movement was slow and deep, Y/N’s hips raising to meet George’s with each thrust. The cold breeze that was washing over them went unnoticed, the heat from their bodies shielding and keeping them warm. Y/N could feel George’s muscles flex with the rise and fall of his chest and the rolling of his hips which only added to the electric feeling in her core.

Y/N’s back arched as George drove into the very spot that made her fall apart, soft moans falling from her parted lips in concurrence with George’s quiet grunts. With each thrust forward, George kissed along the line of Y/N’s neck and down to her chest, his lips grazing over her collarbones.

“D-don’t stop,” Y/N gasped, tensing as his cock somehow drove deeper into her than it had before. Her request elicited a breathy laugh from George’s mouth.

“Does that feel good sweetheart?” his voice had a teasing tone to it, she could hear his smile in his words.

“Yes, yes it feels so good,” she moaned loudly, not caring anymore about keeping quiet. George pushed himself up in response, his hand tightly gripping onto her waist as he drove into her, pulling her down onto his cock with force.

‘Oh my god, right there,” Y/N continued babbling praise, her mind going blank. Each breath was a gasp for air, her legs were trembling violently as she began to approach her high once again. Once George’s calloused fingers came down to her clit, she felt her orgasm crash over her once again, loud moans falling from her mouth.

Y/N felt herself tense around George and his hips began to stutter, the steady rhythm losing its pattern as he began chasing his high after Y/N’s. It only took a few more stroked before his orgasm finally washed over his body, his toned arms supporting his upper body as he fell forward.

They were both panting, trying to catch their breaths in the wake of their climaxes. George carefully pulled out and laid down beside Y/N, his arms trembling slightly. Y/N turned to face George and rested her head against his chest, which was rising and falling rapidly. The only sound within the tower was their heavy breathing as they took a few moments to recover.

George’s fingertips brushed the tops of her thighs, following the curves and dips of her waist and hips. His hand finally came to rest on her lower back, where he began tracing aimless patterns. The light patterns sent exhilarated shivers down Y/N’s spine, keeping her in a state of bliss. If heaven was anything but this, she didn’t want it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After they had magically cleaned up after themselves and put the blankets back into the closet, they walked down the spiraling staircase from the Astronomy Tower, hand in hand. They were surrounded by a comfortable silence, the only sounds being their footsteps on the stone steps and the occasional whisper from the portraits on the walls.

George noticed the hint of a smile that was resting on Y/N face. When they had turned the corner to an empty hallway, George nudged her shoulder, pulling her out of her thoughts.

“What are you smiling about?”

She shook her head, smiling.

“I’m just really happy right now.”

“Me too,” he responded, squeezing her hand reassuringly. A smirk suddenly appeared on his face, “how long did you actually like me then?”

Y/N felt her cheeks flush with heat.

“Well I’ve always liked your pranks and I’ve always thought you were attractive, but I think it was the Yule Ball where I realized that I liked you. I don’t know if you remember this, but you asked me to dance. No one had ever asked me to dance before,” she glanced up at George’s face, which was now dawning in realization.

“Oh yeah! I remember that, Fred dared me to ask the prettiest girl in the room for a dance. I asked McGonagall but she said no, so I asked you instead,” a teasing smile was on his face now, “Have you really liked me for all that time?”

“Yeah, I think Pansy became so fed up that she had to start intervening.”

“Is that why she shoved you into me that day in Hogsmeade?” George laughed, “I think Fred was getting fed up as well, he’s practically been shoving me towards the Slytherin table every day.”

They crossed through the entrance hall towards the grand staircase, where they would descend down to the entrance to the dungeons. A gust of cold air blew down through the halls from the Quad, sending a shiver down Y/N’s spine. George pulled her close into his side and they continued, his arm wrapped securely around her shoulders.

They descended the steps to the dungeons and past the Potions classrooms and down one final set of stairs to the entrance to the Slytherin common room. Most of the time, the cold and wet feeling of the dungeons before walking into the warm and cozy common room was unsettling for Y/N, but she didn’t mind it as much when she was standing next to George.

“I had a really nice time tonight. I’m glad you came up to the tower,” Y/N said, turning to say her goodbyes to George.

“I had a nice time too,” his voice was quiet, barely above a whisper. Y/N looked up to the hair that was falling across his forehead and tucked it away from his face.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then? At breakfast?” she tried not to sound too hopeful, but it was difficult to not look forward to the next time they saw one another.

“Yeah, I will. And then maybe I can take you out on a real date?”

“I would love that.”

They both leaned forward for one final kiss goodbye, then Y/N turned to the stone wall and uttered the password. The wall dissolved away and she walked through, looking back at George. As they brought their hands up to wave goodbye, the wall reformed and became solid between them once again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The common room was pretty much empty, with the occasional cat stretching out on the plush velvet couches, and the fire in the fireplace now a pile of crackling logs. Different patterns of light were dancing around the room, shining through the transparent ceiling beneath the Black Lake. The only thing that could be seen through the inky darkness was the rippling moon, which was hanging brightly in the sky. Even the lake seemed to be asleep at this hour.

Y/N quietly tiptoed up the winding stone staircase to the girls’ dormitories where she shared a room with Pansy. She attempted to silently slide the door open, trying not to wake anyone, but her efforts were abandoned as soon as Pansy crashed into her, a barrage of questions pouring from her mouth.

“Was he there? What happened? Why were you up there so long, I thought Filch had caught you for sure!” Pansy was pulling Y/N by the arm to her bed, insisting that she answer every question that was thrown her way.

Once Y/N was situated on the bed, she began to tell Pansy about everything that had happened in the tower. Once she had gotten to the part where they kissed, Pansy let out a gasp and her hand flew over her mouth in shock.

“So he admitted that he liked you and he kissed you under the stars?” her voice was a whisper this time, her eyes rounding in shock.

“Mmhmm, but wait, it gets better,” Y/N giggled, leaning forward to continue her story in hushed tones. Pansy swooned at all the right moments and gasped encouragingly whenever a new detail of Y/N’s night with George was brought up.

It was almost sunrise by the time they had finished talking about George and sleep was pulling at their eyes.

“We better get some sleep now before we have to go down to breakfast,” Pansy yawned loudly, stretching her legs out before walking over to her bed. She looked at her watch as she crawled under the covers, “we should be able to get a few hours in before those damn first years wake us up again.”

Y/N pulled the covers back and slid between the cool sheets, thinking about the next time she would see George and what she would say to him. The fairy lights above their heads dimmed slightly and the fire in the fireplace slowed to a soft crackle.

“I’ll see you in the morning then. Good night,” Y/N began to draw the velvet curtains around her bed closed. There was a smirk on Pansy’s face as she began to close her curtains as well.

“Oh, you definitely had a good night,” Pansy ducked, laughing loudly as a hairbrush was thrown her way, narrowly missing her head.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Once they had gotten a few good hours of sleep, the two of them walked down to the Great Hall for breakfast. Y/N was fiddling with the hem of her sleeve nervously as they entered the entrance hall.

“Oh my god, will you stop futzing with it? Just act normal, you’ll be fine,” Pansy whispered, hooking her arm around Y/N’s. They finally walked through the large doors that entered into the Great Hall and were greeted by the loud chatter and clattering of silverware against plates. The hum only grew louder when Slytherin’s Quidditch team walked into the Great Hall wearing their emerald green Quidditch robes.

“I completely forgot, there’s Quidditch today!” Y/N remarked to Pansy as they sat down. Pansy was already filling her plate with some bacon and scrambled eggs.

“What do you mean ‘you forgot’? They’re playing Gryffindor, I would have thought you’d have the Gryffindor Quidditch schedule memorized.”

It wasn’t until a few minutes later when Y/N finally caught a glimpse of fiery hair walking through the entrance and over to the Gryffindor table. George and the rest of the Gryffindor team strode into the Great Hall to cheers and applause from the Gryffindor table. They were wearing their scarlet Quidditch robes, a stark contrast to the black school robes everyone else was wearing. George was carrying a brown paper parcel wrapped in twine in his hands which he slipped underneath his robes.

It was nearing the end of breakfast when George stood up and walked over to the Slytherin table, stopping in front of Y/N.

“Can I speak to you for a moment?”

Y/N nodded her head slightly.

“Yeah,” Y/N’s voice was quiet, almost a whisper. She stood from the bench and followed George out into the entrance hall. Y/N could feel people’s eyes on her as she trailed behind George, it wasn’t every day that a Gryffindor walked up to the Slytherin table to talk to someone, let alone pull them aside for a private conversation.

George pulled her behind a pillar so that her back was against the stone wall. He pulled the wrapped parcel up and held it out for her to take.

“I was hoping you would wear it at the match today,” George said as Y/N carefully untied the twine holding the brown paper together. The paper fell away to reveal a red and gold scarf.

“I know we’re playing Slytherin and all, you don’t have to wear it if you don’t want to.”

Y/N brought it up to her nose and breathed in, the scent seemed to envelop her senses. She glanced up at George’s face, a smile resting on her lips.

“I would love to,” Y/N wrapped the scarf around her neck, tossing one end over her shoulder, “how do I look?”

George cupped her cheeks and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“Wonderful. Really wonderful”

Y/N walked back into the Great Hall still wearing the scarf. She sat down next to Pansy again and casually grabbed a croissant from Pansy’s plate, the corners of her mouth upturned slightly. Pansy leaned forward, her elbow leaning on the table and an amazed look on her face.

“Are you going to tell me what that was about?” a smile was growing on Pansy’s face as she stole a few glances at the scarf.

“Oh nothing,” Y/N paused for a moment, the croissant inches from her mouth. She had a look on her face like she was contemplating something amusing before she spoke again, “I’m just really excited for Quidditch today.”

#george weasley #george weasley x reader #george weasley fluff #george weasley smut #Harry Potter #pansy parkinson x reader #pansy parkinson x friend!reader #wingman!pansy parkinson #mutual pining

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whoacanada · 4 years

Text

Zimbits - Bartender!Jack + NHL!Bitty AU

Prompt: Retired NHL player Jack Zimmermann takes ownership of a sports bar in Pittsburgh and accidentally falls for the Penguins’ (closeted) new left winger.

A/N - just the start, I’d like to get around to more of this; the basic idea was an It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia AU, but I couldn’t manage to make everyone that terrible so Jack owns and operates a gay sports bar and starts crushing on one of his patrons.

“Can’t believe you’ve owned this place since ’89.” Jack coughs, waving the dust away from his face. “Did you ever come back after we moved home?”

It’d be disingenuous to say Jack had been expecting anything other than cigars and whiskey when his father had invited him on a trip down to Pittsburgh to see Mario and glad-hand some Penguins sponsors. In fact, he’d kind of been looking forward to sulking and getting shit-faced, not limping around a condemned building dodging roaches and rats.

“It was an investment opportunity. That was the trend back then, famous athletes buying up restaurants and clubs — I had big plans for this building. Then your mother got pregnant and I realized I didn’t really give two shits about running a nightclub.”

“Realized you were pretty lazy, huh?”

As Bob laughs, Jack picks at the peeling, lacquered bartop, trying not to imagine how many decades of grime he’s just collecting under his nail, the situation made even more disgusting in such close proximity to the glittering gold championship ring his father had insisted he wear to their lunch meeting with the Penguins front-office suits. Jack flicks the gunk away as Bob levels him with a weighty look, hands braced in the air as if outlining a play and not offering a tour of a cobweb-filled dive.

“Here’s my thought,” Bob says. “The bar. It’s yours.”

Jack leans against the counter, taking some weight off his braced leg, and asks, “What’s mine?”

“This place,” Bob gestures around the room. “The whole building. It’s just sitting here, empty, the bar, the liquor license, there’s apartments and office space upstairs, we’d just need to do some renovations and —“

Jack can’t help himself. He barks a laugh and says, “I’m not moving to Pittsburgh.”

“How many times have you and I talked about opening a sports bar? I’d wanted to get this place fixed up so it’d be ready when you retired, but since the final — you could make it a gay bar, even, if you wanted!” Bob says quickly, offering another awkward olive branch. “A gay sports bar. I wouldn’t care.”

“A gay sports bar. In Pittsburgh,” Jack echoes, reaching for a chirp to defend himself, but he closes him mouth as he realizes a sports bar run by a Zimmermann might not be a terrible investment idea. “The building needs a ton of work,” Jack settles. “I just saw a rat.”

“That was a mouse,” Bob dismisses, not bothering to look at the rat still clearly in view. “Nothing that can’t be fixed. Got a dollar?”

Jack pats his pockets, finds a spare looney and hands it over. Bob doesn’t hesitate, pulling an envelope out of his back pocket to exchange for the coin.

“Congratulations. You are now the proud owner of,” Bob looks around helplessly. “I actually don’t know what they call this place now. A Bar?”

“I’m sure we’ll figure something out.” Jack swallows against the tightness in his throat, holding the deed carefully in his hands. “Thanks, Dad.”

Bob brings Jack in for a loose hug and they both ignore the soft squeaking coming from the backroom.

Five Years Later

There’s a man examining the announcement board in the vestibule, and Jack knows that posture: the forward hip cant, thick thighs, a small but definite bubble butt — guy’s a hockey player, and he has been for some time.

“Hey. Hi.”

Blondie spins around at Jack’s address. Not quite startled, but something close enough that Jack feels a twinge of guilt. “You interested in playing in our beer league? You look like you might know your way around a rink.”

The man quickly looks at his chest, as if expecting to find something displayed, but relaxes immediately. Jack fights a grin, he was once old hat at wandering into public spaces decked out in identifiable team merch.

“Bitty.” The man squares up to offer his hand; his accent is warm and distinctly southern, not at all what Jack was expecting. “You can call me Bitty.”

“Oh, with a nickname like that, you have to play, now, no excuses,” Jack gives Bitty’s arm a firm shake, surprised at how complementary his grip is; not just an overcompensating bro who’s walked into the wrong club.

“If only I had the time,” Bitty placates wryly. “Is this place new?”

“Been here a few years, but not long. How about you? Are you ‘new’? In town, I mean.”

“Moved for work,” Bitty’s smile is timid, eyes darting around the room looking for other patrons, up at the memorabilia and the various pennants. “First year. Slowly learning the area.”

Jack doesn’t miss the way Bitty’s eyes linger on the Pride flag draped from the second floor railing, but Bitty doesn’t mention it, and Jack isn’t in the business of prying.

“Let me be the first to welcome you to The Bar.”

“I saw that outside, do you not have a name?”

“We weren’t creative. The owner didn’t realize he was filling in the wrong line on the business license so we are literally called ‘The Bar’.”

“That’s actually pretty solid,” Bitty laughs, the sound lifting Jack’s mood easily. “I’ll have to make sure I come back and patron your establishment at a reasonable hour.”

“What you aren’t interested at getting sloshed before noon?”

Bitty laughs, and Jack is enough of an adult to recognize he’s got a tiny bit of a crush.

______

True to form, Bitty slowly becomes a feature of Jack’s early afternoons. The first few weeks, he does little more than quietly purchase a single domestic beer before tucking himself away in a corner booth, hunched over his phone, ball cap pulled low for discretion. Jack gives him space, and aside from a few curious regulars, Bitty is little more than another closeted young man seeking quiet sanctuary.

That is, until, hockey kicks up and Mario hooks Jack up with season tickets beside the bench. It’d taken time for Jack to get comfortable with being in an arena again, especially without the ability to step onto the ice himself, but he’s acclimated and learned to appreciate his new lot in life. He can be happy for his success and mourn the end of his career with equal measure.

(Doesn’t hurt he still gets asked for autographs on the regular.)

Bittle, the new forward traded out of Columbus, spins to whip the puck between Lundqvist’s thighs and the score is 3-2 with a minute left in the third. Jack stands to cheer with the crowd as Bittle’s pulled into a celly with his line mates, and the new angle gives Jack a good look at the man’s sunny face, complete with a familiar, bright smile and missing canine. Jack’s heart leaps into his throat when he realizes Bittle is ‘Bitty’, and Jack can’t help but cheer louder.

________

After the game, Jack does his homework. Pulls up stats pages and articles on Eric Bittle. Looking to link the quiet hottie from his bar with the energetic man he saw tonight on the ice. If Jack wasn’t in love before, he absolutely is after watching highlights from Bittle’s time in Columbus.

The next time Jack finds Bitty slipping into the bar, probably between practice and a good nap, Jack makes his move; filling a pint glass, wedging an orange slice on the rim, and adjusting his shirt before striding to the corner booth as easily as one can with a titanium femur.

“On the house,” Jack says, setting down the glass gently. “Choice goal, Tuesday. Great bounce.”

Bitty’s grateful smile falters, turning into something guarded.

“What goal?” Bitty asks, voice steady, and Jack’s immediately alerted to his misstep. Jack casts a careful eye around the room and doesn’t find anyone watching, kicking himself for not thinking this through. He’s used to playing this game with guys who aren’t quite comfortable, who might be visiting with the wrong people, but he hasn’t had to do the closeted-pro-athlete dance in a while.

“You know, I must have been mistaken.”

“Happens all the time. Very sweet of you, though.” Bitty apologizes and pushes away the beer, but Jack waves him off. It’s the least Jack can do for calling the guy out.

“I should have known,” Jack tries to recover. “You’ve still got all your chiclets. But, between you and me, Bittle’s a spitfire, eh? Crazy soft hands. I’d like to meet him someday.”

Jack whistles low, rapping his knuckles on the table before turning back to the bar, moving slowly enough he catches the way Bitty’s cheeks flare pink at the compliment.

About thirty minutes later, Jack, half focused on counting down the till, nearly misses Bitty’s exit. He looks up to offer a parting wave, and Bitty returns the gesture, flashing a shy, incomplete smile; one canine missing on the left side.

________

“Anything new to report? Sales look good, think you might be able to take some time off and visit your poor parents?”

Jack slides open a window to let some air into his bedroom, not for the first time wishing he’d taken the chance to tear out a wall and convert a corner of the top floor into a balcony. There’s still time — his father never seems to wary of giving Jack renovation loans — but Jack loves his condo and hates the idea of relocating again, even temporarily.

“New distillery opened, cut a deal on some local gin. We’re working on drink specials, if you have any ideas for names I’m open,” Jack eases onto the windowsill and looks down at the line of people waiting to get into the bar. “And I met someone. Think he might be a hockey player.”

“No shit? Beer-league?”

“NHL.” Jack corrects, an edge of caution in his tone he knows his father won’t misinterpret. “Started coming around a few months ago, gave me a fake name. Went to a game last week, scored right in front of me.”

“Well, you going to tell me who or am I going to have to guess?”

“He’s keeping to himself,” Jack holds the curtain steady to catch sight of a particularly flashy person in a glittering teal gown, texting Holster to snag a photo for the bar’s Instagram. “Don’t go hunting.”

“Well, if he needs any help you let me know.”

“What could you do?”

“I don’t know. Talk to . . . someone. I guess.”

“I’ll keep that under advisement.” Jack placates, smiling at the saucy photo Ransom texts back immediately of Holster lifting their favorite Drag Race runner-up above his head like something out of Dirty Dancing.

“So.”

“Mmm?”

“Does this mean you’ve got a little boyfriend, again?”

Jack leans out over the railing and tries to see if the universe has blessed him with a sighting of his favorite new Left Winger. Sadly, it’s Saturday evening and the Penguins are in Dallas, so no Eric tonight.

“Working on it.” Jack offers, rapping his knuckles lightly against the window sill and trying not to think about the way Bittle’s face lights up when he sees that Jack is working. “Think I might really have a shot at something.”

“Well, you know what Wayne always says.”

“I do,” Jack breathes, pressing his forehead against the cool glass, taking in his one-of-a-kind view of the city. “I’ll let you know how it goes. Once he gets back.”

“ — You know, I’ve got the game on right now. I bet you $1000 I can tell who you’ve got the hots for. You have a specific type — ”

“Papa.”

“Okay, I won’t.”

“Thank you.”

“But it’s the kid we just got from the Blue Jackets, isn’t it. Bittle? You always like the fast ones — ”

“Goodnight, Papa.”

#bar au #jack zimmermann #NHL!Bitty #zimbits #Zimmermann #retired Jack #zimbits fic #look I wrote a thing #it's only been forever #my fic #my stuff #omgcp #check please

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skzsauce01 · 3 years

Text

The Student Council President Reads Shoujo Manga?!

Synopsis: You discover that the student council president, who claims to hate romance, reads shoujo manga. Slight influence from Kaguya-Sama: Love Is War.

Warning: none

Word Count: 4.2k

Pairing: fem student council vice president!reader x student council president!Hyunjin

After forgetting your textbook in the classroom, you expect to be the last person to arrive to the student council room, but it appears that you’re actually the second.

“Vice President, you left your manga here last night,” Secretary Kim greets. He glances at you momentarily before returning to his paperwork.

You shut the door behind you. “My manga? I don’t remember— Oh.”

Sitting on the mahogany desk is a tote bag that you recognize is the president’s. You loaned President Hwang the first five volumes of The Life of A Dragon and Its Rider two weeks ago. When you peer inside the bag, you find that he forgot to take off his manga protectors. You keep telling him that he doesn’t need to take such a precaution since you trust him, but he always does so anyway. Even your old battered copies are wrapped in plastic.

You take the topmost one and hold it to the light streaming through the window. Not even the outline of the title can be seen. You voiced your confusion at his choice of using opaque protectors before; how would he be able to differentiate between different volumes or different mangas? His answer made you laugh: it was how he got away with reading during class. The image of the student council president doing such an illicit thing seemed ridiculous, and he pushed his hair back in embarrassment as he recounted the time the teacher almost caught him. Then you stopped laughing and wondered what the symptoms of a heart attack were. Your rib cage felt like it was going to smash open.

Now as you peel off the protector, the same feeling returns. The corner of Dragon Rider is blue and purple, not dark red. Did he spill something? No, none of the pages are wrinkled with water damage, and he would never be so careless so what exactly—

“Oh my goodness!”

Secretary Kim, pen twirling in his hand, looks at you curiously. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes, yes!” you squeak out, hiding out the manga behind your back. “I just… I just… it’s nothing! Everything is okay!”

“Alright then.”

While he goes back to his papers, you hurriedly turn around and check the book. It’s the same as it was a few seconds ago. Instead of a fearsome dragon and its hardworking rider on the cover, there is a teenage girl flanked by two boys with wolf ears. The title reads Tsukiko of the Wolves. You flip through, discovering with both amusement and disbelief that it’s a shoujo manga. There is nothing wrong with reading shoujo — you’ve read a fair share yourself when you were younger — but President Hwang is the least likely person you would expect to have a secret love for them. You regularly loan him your shounens to read, and he eagerly discusses each volume with you. He frequently complains about the romance, saying he’s reading it for the adventure, not for the love triangles.

This has to be a mistake. He has a younger sister who you’ve seen at the bookstore occasionally. It’s possible that they share a bookshelf and that he accidentally grabbed hers on accident. You put the protector back on, set it aside, and reach for the next book on the stack.

You have no real idea if it’s another shoujo or not, but NecRomancer sounds like one. The summary on the back describes a girl panicking about her newfound powers of resurrection and the attractive man she just brought back to life. You open to the middle of the manga and let out a squeak when you see the naked corpse on the page. It’s just another accident, it has to be. President Hwang is close with his sister, so it’s only natural that his manga would be close to hers. You try the next book in the stack, hoping that it’s one of yours.

The corner reveals a dark red cover, and you hold your breath, keeping an eye on Secretary Kim. He is still preoccupied with his work, muttering sentences and scribbling things down. You fully peel back the protector, and Why Do I Not Remember You? is written across the cover in glitter. Could this be his sister’s bag? No, she doesn’t use protectors.

You mindlessly thumb through the pages, seeing but not really seeing the crying woman being comforted by a stranger. Then at the flashbacks of broken beer bottles and a ring. The chances of this being a mistake are lessening. Once is a coincidence, twice is a coincidence, and three times is a pattern. Does this mean that…

The student council president reads shoujo manga?

You quickly replace the protector. Your heart pounds, and possibilities swim in front of you. At the very best, he will be mortified if he knows that you found out. At the very worst, the entire school will find out. President Hwang’s reputation will be tainted, and with the upcoming reelections, his reputation is of the utmost importance. If he’s not president, you might still be vice president, but what’s the point then? It’ll be no fun without him.

No one can find out about this.

Suddenly the double doors to the student council room burst open, and you drop Why Do I Not Remember You? onto the desk. President Hwang slouches in the doorframe, resting his hands on the handles, completely out of breath. A Blueprint Books bag hangs in his grasp. That must be the one containing your manga.

He looks up from the floor, and you realize you are directly in his line of sight. Your hands fly to the ribbon around your neck, and you begin to untie and retie it.

“President, are you alright?” you distantly hear Secretary Kim ask. “What happened?”

“Nothing happened. I’m alright.” President Hwang’s voice comes out strained as he notices you standing behind his desk, three books out in the open. “Vice President, I see you discovered the manga as expected.”

“I was just counting to make sure I got all five back,” you reply with a fake smile. He can’t know that you know because he will never speak to you again out of embarrassment. “You left the protectors on, by the way.”

He walks toward you. You are the perfect picture of innocence. He will not know. “Did you… check them?”

“No, I was in the middle of counting them. Why?”

“It’s nothing,” he says, but you can hear the relief. “I left the wrong bag for you last night. Working late must be getting to me, haha. Here you go. The Life of A Dragon and Its Rider.”

You peek inside, and sure enough, the volumes are there with no opaque protector to obscure the title on the spine. You clutch the bag in front of you like you can use it to hide the truth you have just uncovered. President Hwang stacks his shoujo manga back into his bag and tucks it underneath the desk. His face has gone pink, and he fans himself with the latest edition of the school newspaper.

“What did you think of it?” you ask to distract him. “Isn’t the artwork amazing?”

Mission successful. President Hwang’s eyes go glassy as he recalls the story in his head, and he stops his fanning. “It is. And the worldbuilding too! The academy is so different from the usual school settings, and the dragon breeds are so cool. Also, Hirajima is such a tsundere. He’s going to end up falling in love with Kimi, isn’t he? Ugh.”

“I won’t spoil it for you,” you cryptically reply. The president is holding tightly onto his facade, which you need him to do. “I’ll lend you the next five volumes tomorrow. Just wait until you get to the tournament arc. You’re going to love it.”

He groans and leans back into his chair. “Was that sarcasm?”

“No! Tournament arc is always the best arc! That’s why Feast of the Gods is so popular. Every arc is pretty much a tournament arc.”

President Hwang lights up even more at the mention of the fantasy cooking-themed manga. He borrowed it from you last month and loved it so much that he bought matching keychains for the entire council. “Secretary Kim is the bird's milk, Treasurer Lee is the silkworm flour, you’re the delphinium rose syrup, and I’m the volcanic pepper,” he explained.

“Why are you the pepper?” Treasurer Lee complained. “You can’t even handle spice.”

“Because I’m hot.”

While both the secretary and treasurer cackled and while the president grew increasingly embarrassed by his own claims, you did your best to focus on your new keychain and not him. He looked too attractive loosening his tie and running his fingers through his hair. He looked like a manga character come to life.

President Hwang’s comment snaps you out of your daydream. “The ending is good! I can’t believe that Ryuzaki actually—”

“Shouldn’t you two be working?” interrupts Secretary Kim’s flat voice. He peers at the two of you over his glasses and flicks his eyes towards the suggestion box he must have brought in earlier. “Especially with reelections coming up soon.”

“We’ll talk later,” President Hwang whispers to you. “I want to discuss my theory about Kimi and Bando with you.”

“Yeah, of course. Let’s go through the suggestions now before Secretary Kim gets mad.”

You walk over to the door and grab the suggestion box. It’s heavier than expected, and you hold it flush against your chest to keep it from slipping out of your grasp. President Hwang notices your struggling and meets you halfway. He nearly makes you drop it as his fingers brush yours while he takes it from you.

“Thanks,” you stammer out. Your hands are empty, so you toy with your ribbon again as you follow him back to the desk.

“No problem,” he says. He lifts open the lid and takes out the first paper on top. “Shin Ryujin is asking for more funding for the Tennis Club again. Speaking of tennis, have you seen the animations for Bleeding Heart? It’s so good.”

Though Bleeding Heart starts off like a shoujo, it devolves into a mystery. If it weren’t for the knowledge you have now, you would have teased President Hwang for watching it. Instead, you enthusiastically nod. “They play croquet, not tennis, but yes! They’re so smooth!”

“President, Vice President.”

You and President Hwang exchange sheepish smiles. He softly sighs and scans through the paper, playing with a lock of hair. You imagine him doing the same as he reads. Why is the image of him secretly reading shoujo manga so charming? You shouldn’t find it so when he has this much at stake. He needs to be reelected.

“What do you think?” he asks, pointing at a proposal that you should have been reading with him, interrupting your thoughts. He edges closer to you, and breathing is suddenly difficult. He smells like laundry detergent. “Are new uniforms justifiable?”

“Yes, I think so,” you choke out. “Excuse me for a minute.”

You practically run out of the student council room, stopping only when you reach a small alcove in the hall. It’s dim and quiet, and you can hear your heart trying to break out. You press your hand over it, trying to push it back inside. Heart attacks don’t feel like this, or so says the medical website you consulted. Your heart thunders against your wrist, and its beat perfectly matches your pulse.

Steady.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

It eventually slows, and you return back to the room with more composure than you had earlier. Treasurer Lee has finally shown up, and you decide to help him with calculations instead of reviewing proposals with President Hwang. It’s better this way.

During the weekend, you head to Blueprint Books and wander down the aisles, trying to find the manga President Hwang reads. You know what he likes for shounens, so what is it for shoujos? You mindlessly swing your tote bag back and forth as you scan the shelves. He Doesn’t Know My Secret, Steampunked!, Squirrel Princess. It’s been some time since you visited this section of the store. As you look to the next shelf, you notice a familiar keychain hanging from someone’s pocket. When you do a double-take, to your surprise and horror, President Hwang is standing at the end of the aisle. He looks different when out of uniform. Good different.

Maybe you made a noise of some sort because before you can turn around and leave, he glances up from the book he holds. His eyes meet yours.

Disbelief. Confusion. Panic.

“Hey, what are you doing here?” he shakily asks as he slides the manga back into place. He’s mostly calm, that’s good. If he can lie to you about it, surely the entire school will be a simple feat. “Is there a new release?”

You shake your head. “Just browsing. Are you buying something for your sister? I know you don’t like romance that much.”

The relief in his voice is palpable when he says, “Yeah. Do you have any recommendations?”

“What does she like?”

“What do you like? You read a lot of manga.”

The question makes you pause, and you recount all the conversations you’ve overheard during lunch. Shounens are more of your thing now, but you're not above shoujos. “I’ve heard good things about Best Friend Boyfriend and I Wouldn’t Change A Thing.”

“Have you read them?”

“Not yet, but I always hear people talking about them.” You shift from foot to foot. A change of subject is much needed. “How’s the campaign going?”

“It’s going well, I think. Yeji and her friends are asking everyone in their year to vote for me, so that’s cool. The Japanese Culture Club is apparently doing the same,” he answers. He thumbs his pepper keychain, and you instinctively reach for your complementing one. The tiny syrup bottle is cool on your skin. “What about you? You’re still going to be my vice president, right?”

‘My’ makes you warm. “Of course! Just worry about yourself. Han Jisung really wants your spot.”

“I’m not letting that happen. Trust me, on Friday, the principal’s going to announce me as president again. And you’re going to be vice president. Secretary Kim and Treasurer Lee are going to be there as well. We’re going to be the student council until graduation.”

He says it with so much determination, you can’t help but laugh. “I really hope so. Hey, I’ll bring you the next five volumes of Dragon Rider on Monday. Just give me six through ten whenever you’re done.”

“Thanks. Do you want to borrow one of—”

“There you are!” President Hwang’s younger sister bounds into the aisle with a shopping basket filled with stationery. She furrows her eyebrows when she notices exactly which aisle her brother is in. “Don’t you have enough al—”

“I’m going to be late for dinner!” you interject. You step backwards, nearly bumping into the cardboard cutout of a manga character. “See you in class, President. Have a nice day. Bye.”

As you speed walk in the opposite direction, you hear his sister quietly ask him, “Wait, was that the vice president?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, I'm so sorry.”

You don’t hear if President Hwang replies anything because once you’ve turned the corner, you sprint out of the bookstore. It’s not until you’re home that you realize that you never found out what kind of shoujos he enjoys.

The days leading up to Friday are fraught with worry. Han Jisung is campaigning hard for the position this year. His small band of dedicated followers pass out flyers at the school gate every morning and trade lollipops for votes. Despite that, the president is unbothered.

“Did you watch the new episode of 00 Daniel?” he asks you on Wednesday.

You place your shoes inside your locker and shut the door. “Today’s the last day of voting, and you’re concerned about that?”

“I think the mission’s going to go badly this time. It’s been like five missions since his last screw up,” he continues like you said nothing. “There’s no way the season is ending without setting up for the next one.”

“President.”

“He’s not going to win, I promise. Treasurer Lee took a survey a few days ago, and I’m in the lead. The Mathematics Club’s survey confirmed the same thing.”

You start heading to your class with a resigned sigh, and President Hwang follows you even though he’s in a different room. He tugs on the sleeve of your blazer.

“You have nothing to worry about, Vice President,” he reassures. He lowers his head down to meet you at eye level. “It’s you and me until graduation, okay?”

You quickly nod and try not to burst into flames right on the spot. He’s too close yet not close enough.

“I think you’re right about 00 Daniel,” you stutter. “They’re taking too long to find the target too. I’ll see you after school then. Class is going to start soon.”

He retracts himself, a bit disappointed that you don’t want to speculate now. “Okay, we can talk later. See you.”

“See you.”

You two head to your respective classrooms. As you slide into your chair, you notice the boy next to you has a red candy wrapper on his desk. The girl in front of him has a purple one.

You really hope the Mathematics Club is right.

When Friday arrives, your stomach is in knots, and you feel ready to pass out at a moment’s notice. The traffic lights are slow today, making your usual stroll to school longer than usual. Students your age all the way down to elementary, pass you by, laughing and chatting with their friends. How can they be so relaxed when the results of the election come out this morning? You bet the paper announcement is already tacked to the bulletin board at the front of the school.

“Good morning,” comes a familiar voice.

“Good morning,” you reply back. President Hwang easily falls into step with you and holds out a tote bag to you. “Oh, you finished all of them?”

“Yeah. That last battle was crazy! I can’t believe it ended like that. And the epilogue! I knew it would happen! I feel so bad for Bando and… You okay? You look a little sick.”

“It’s nothing.” You take the bag from him and hold the books to your chest. You peek inside to make sure the protectors are off and to check that he gave you the right bag. No shoujo manga this time. “Are you nervous?”

He’s surprisingly apprehensive when he asks, “About what?”

“The election?”

“Oh. No, not really. Are you?”

“A little bit,” you lie as the two of you walk through the gate. The bulletin board is surrounded by a crowd, and you’re ready to march through to see what the paper says. Please let President Hwang be on there. “Let’s go.”

But the president is soon stopped by Han Jisung and his followers. Han Jisung holds his hand out, and you hold your breath as he opens his mouth.

“Congratulations on winning, President,” he says with a good-natured smile. He shifts his gaze to you. “And you as well, Vice President.”

You let out an audible sigh and quickly cover it with a cough when everyone looks at you. “Thank you.”

President Hwang shoots you a knowing grin, making you blush, before exchanging pleasantries with his defeated opponent. In the meantime, you push through the crowd to double-check the results. There it is in black ink: Hwang Hyunjin as President. Relief floods through your body, and you happily accept the other students’ congratulations and swap theories about the upcoming season of 00 Daniel with your fellow manga and anime fans.

“Told you,” President Hwang later says after he manages to get away from Han Jisung. He shuts your locker door with one finger. “There’s nothing to worry about.”

“Hey, are you going home now?” President Hwang asks. With no changes in the student council, everything is business as usual, including Secretary Kim and Treasurer Lee leaving as soon as they can on Fridays.

“Yeah. Are you staying late again?”

“Not today. Want to walk home together?”

“S-sure.”

While he reorganizes the papers on his desk, you fiddle with the strap of the tote bag. It’s not the first time you’ve walked home with the president, but it sends you into a panic every time. The golden sun and orange sky makes everyone look beautiful but him especially so. It’s difficult not to be tongue tied around him when he looks exactly like the lead of a shoujo manga.

Manga. The thing that accelerated your feelings for him in the first place. His good looks and his sweet talking charm were enough for you to notice him, so learning he shared the same hobby as you? Discovering that he adored coming up with theories?

You were smitten.

“You ready?” he interrupts.

“Yeah.”

The two of you make it to the front entrance before he stops and turns to you. “Actually, before we go, can I show you something first? It shouldn’t take too long.”

“Sure. What is it?” You follow him through the school, taking note that he seems to be headed to the courtyard.

“Have you read Limitless?”

As you step over a pile of fallen cherry blossoms, you rack your brain. You read it a long time ago, mostly because it was on every recommendation list online. “The shoujo about the math tutors? It’s been some time, but yes. What about it?”

President Hwang stops in the middle of the courtyard and faces you again. The sun is behind him, the rays of light forming a crown on his head. “Well, there’s a scene near the end that I thought you might like.”

The end of Limitless…

… features a confession scene in the school courtyard.

He gently takes your hands. “Do you remember the first day we were elected? I was the first person in the room, and I was so nervous to meet you because I didn’t know that much about you. Secretary Kim and Treasurer Lee said you were really kind, but I was still nervous. Then you ran into the room with a bunch of manga and almost tripped over the rug. You laughed it off and held out a book for me to shake since your hands were full.”

“It was the first volume of Feast of the Gods,” you whisper. That day is burned in your mind. “Lee Chaeryeong just finished the first ten volumes and gave them back to me.”

“And then I asked you if I could borrow them because I wanted to read them but Blueprint was out of stock. You said yes immediately, and that’s when I knew that you and I would be a great team. When you wanted to listen to me talk about the chapters I read, that’s when I knew I liked you. And when you continued to offer me other series to borrow, that’s when I knew I had to tell you. So,” he breathes, “here it is. I like you, and I want to be with you.”

“I… I like you too.”

He breaks out into a grin and wraps you in a hug. He still smells like laundry detergent, and you bury your nose in the collar of his shirt.

“What do we do now?” he softly laughs as he pulls away. “The shoujo mangas usually stop here and cut to a new scene.”

The words fly out of your mouth without thinking. “So is that why you’ve been reading shoujos? For the confession?”

His smile falters but recovers soon after. “Yeji gave it away last weekend, huh? Ah, I was hoping you hadn’t heard her.”

“Actually… I found out when you gave me back Dragon Rider the first time,” you admit. You twirl the ends of the ribbon around your neck. “I took off the protectors and saw some of them. But there’s nothing wrong with liking shoujo! I was just surprised since you always say you hate romance.”

“I mean, I did. I started reading them for confession tips, but then it turns out some of them are really good. Like Limitless? And then I started reading my sister’s, and I kind of like them now. Is that weird?”

“No. Honestly, it’s kind of cute.”

“Really? You’re not weirded out by that?”

“Not even a little bit. I don’t care what you read as long as you’ll talk to me about it after.”

“Well, I finished Winter Fireworks recently. Have you read it before?” When you shake your head, he takes a step closer and leans down. “It ends like this.”

As it turns out, the story ends with a kiss.

~ ad.gray

None of the mangas/animes mentioned actually exist. They’re just riffs of other fics we’ve written. Was this just a giant ad for them? Yeah, kind of lol. In order of appearance:

The Life of A Dragon and Its Rider ➞ Normal (Hyunjin)

Tsukiko of the Wolves ➞ 42nd Moon (Hyunjin)

NecRomancer ➞ Magic Words (Hyunjin)

Why Do I Not Remember You? ➞ Eternally Yours (Hyunjin)

Feast of the Gods ➞ God’s Menu (Felix)

Bleeding Heart ➞ King of Hearts (Bang Chan)

He Doesn’t Know My Secret ➞ Harmony, Melody (Seungmin)

Steampunked! ➞ Matters of the Head and Heart (Felix)

Squirrel Princess ➞ Squirrel and Wife (Han)

Best Friend Boyfriend ➞ Ruin My Life (Lee Know)

I Wouldn’t Change A Thing ➞ Even if Things Were Different (Han)

00 Daniel ➞ Apologies in Advance (Lee Know)

Limitless ➞ love you to limx (Han)

Winter Fireworks ➞ Ringing in the New Year (Bang Chan)

bonus after credits scene

It’s only when the two of you are crossing the bridge do you realize what he has done. “You just spoiled the ending for me!”

“Sorry, I forgot.” After a few seconds, he asks, “Can I give you more spoilers?”

You reach for the front of his blazer. “Yes.”

#stray kids #skz #stray kids fanfiction #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #skz fanfic #skz imagines #hyunjin scenarios #hwang hyunjin #hyunjin #hyunjin fluff #stray kids fluff #skz fluff #hyunjin fanfic #hyunjin imagines #stray kids au #skz au #20210701

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spencersawkward · 3 years

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hi i love your writing sm, could u do something w having sex w mgg in his trailer🦋

oh yes i can most definitely do that. i just did a blurb that included something similar but i have a whole other fantasy for this one that i think would be so hot. this is just like filthy smut i might have done a lil too much lol.

summary: reader goes to visit her friend, Matthew, on set. when he catches her doing something dirty in his trailer, he offers to help.

word count: 4.2k

relationship: Fem!Reader/Matthew

content warnings: unprotected penetrative sex, creampie, masturbation, dirty talk, face-sitting, degradation, Cocky Matthew, some semi-exhibitionism.

masterlist

my toes curl over the sheets and I let out a dissatisfied groan as I throw the abandoned vibrator onto the side table. ever since flying home from visiting friends in New York, I’ve been absolutely, embarrassingly... horny.

usually, my trusty toy is able to work wonders; this week has been rough, though. maybe it’s something to do with my stress-levels or maybe my body just doesn’t feel like cooperating. it doesn’t help that I have about an hour before I’m scheduled to visit my friend on the set of his show.

I haven’t seen Matthew in almost a year. between his shooting schedule and my own job getting more demanding, spending time together really hasn’t been possible. I miss his laugh and the way our conversations always flow so easily. whenever we hang out, it’s like we pick up right where we left off. and now, as I give up on trying to get one off before seeing him, I start to wonder what to expect. a tour? meeting his castmates?

to be completely honest, I don’t really want to do any of that. I’m sure they’re all very nice people and we’d have a good time, but the last week in the city was so full of group interactions that I’m really hoping to sit across from each other and just... talk.

there’s no point in speculating, though. instead, I glance over at my disappointing toy and sigh. maybe next time.

when I get there, Matthew texts me to wait for him so he can bring me to his trailer. everyone is bustling around, moving according to their own chaotic schedules. a couple golf carts occasionally roll through the space, toting actors and other personnel. it’d be overwhelming for anyone who isn’t used to it.

“Y/N!” Matthew’s voice cuts across the din of the set as he waves. he’s leaning out of the side of a golf cart that he’s driving, which makes me nervous as he pulls up to me. I raise my eyebrows in surprise as he stops the cart and hops out to wrap me in a hug.

he smells good, like expensive cologne and cool air. as he withdraws, he sets his hands on my shoulders and grins at me.

“you look great! how are you?” as usual, he’s talkative. I smile back, though, and take in his appearance. he’s always been handsome, but right now Matthew is looking especially good: the breeze has swept his curls, he’s got on a colorful button-up short-sleeve with parakeets on it, and there’s some stubble growing on his face that’s new. he looks older, more mature.

kind of sexy.

“I’m really well. cool ride you’ve got.” I nod to the golf cart and Matthew laughs.

“you wanna know a secret?” he smirks. I raise my eyebrows and he leans down a little to reach my height. “I’m not supposed to drive that.”

“how’d you get it?” I frown. knowing him, he probably managed to charm his way around the rules, but I’m sure there’s a funny story behind it as well. he’s full of weird anecdotes.

“one of my cast mates distracted the guy who runs the warehouse where they keep them.” he winks, then gestures for me to follow him. I slide into the passenger seat and before I can really process what’s happening, he’s swerving in a wide circle and speeding off.

“I’ve been meaning to call you,” he practically yells over the sound of the motor. “but I know you’ve been busy.”

“yeah, I actually just started writing for this new show.”

“you’re downtown, then?” he glances over with a smile and then we’re slowing to a stop. an enormous trailer sits among rows of other enormous trailers, presumably for his cast mates. he turns off the cart and turns his body to face me while I talk. zeroes in on me in a way that makes my stomach flip.

“for right now, yeah.” I can’t help the smile. it’s been a while since I’ve worked in Los Angeles; I was working as a writer on one of Matthew’s independent films when I got an offer in New York and decided to relocate. and even though it was amazing there, I missed California sunshine and I missed him. we were inseparable before I left.

“so, what I’m hearing is that you’re now legally bound to hang out with me.” he grins in that dazzling way of his. I laugh and nod, climbing out when he does. he opens the trailer door for me. “I have to go back to work in about twenty minutes, but afterwards I wanna take you to dinner.”

“oh, I could have come later. I’m sorry.” I turn to apologize, but he’s quick to wave it off.

“it’s fine. as long as you don’t mind spending an hour in here, it shouldn’t be too torturous.”

I peer around the space, noticing the little ways in which Matthew has made this place his own: aside from all the complimentary gift baskets and notes, the trailer is occupied by strange trinkets that he’s collected, random books and notebooks that scatter the couch and what looks like an attempt at a desk.

“wow.” I say. he sidles up next to me, sighing and realizing that it’s a bit cluttered.

“sorry about the mess. I haven’t really had time to clean up.”

“no, no, I meant ‘wow’ in a good way.” I walk over to the couch and sit down, patting the spot next to me. he smiles, pushes an acting theory book out of the way, and sinks into the cushions a safe distance from me.

“tell me about this job, then.” he immediately starts. I shrug.

“it’s nothing huge, just a teen drama. everyone I work with is brilliant, though.”

“that’s amazing. have you had a chance to work on your art?”

I think back to all the times when Matthew and I would spend free afternoons doing doodle competitions of the crew, usually on random scripts. they were judged by other cast mates, anyone who would take the time to look. I don’t think I was supposed to be on set as much as I was, but it was worth it.

“I wish. my schedule is so busy now, I barely have time to make dinner for myself.” I laugh. he leans back into the corner of the couch, resting his arm on top of the back. I pull one leg beneath me and mirror his actions.

“that’s too bad. I was looking forward to seeing some new stuff.”

“I don’t think any of my co-workers would particularly enjoy the representations I do of them.”

“sour sports.” he says. the strangeness and vehemence of the sentiment makes me snort and I glance at the notebooks around the room.

“how about you? any new masterpieces?”

we go on like this for a while, just catching up and slipping into our inside jokes and memories as if they aren’t from a different time in our lives. although I was excited to see him today, there was a lingering nervousness about it going as planned. sometimes you try to reconnect and the spark is just... gone. but Matthew is still Matthew, and I’m still me.

he ends up leaving to go shoot sooner than I can believe, time passing quickly, and tells me to feel free to read any of his books or look through his sketchbooks. he never hides anything, and it’s admirable.

once he’s gone, I settle onto the couch with a used Ray Bradbury anthology that I found beneath a bag of sour candies and start to read.

my mind wanders, however, as I try to concentrate on the page. I think about how Matthew looks now, how the stubble makes his jaw even more defined. those wide, hazel eyes that always seem to glitter with enthusiasm. I don’t know if I’m still frustrated from the unsuccessful session with my vibrator earlier, but the thoughts begin to turn over in my mind and mingle with other ones.

there were moments with him that I remember, quiet ones where we’d be about to say goodnight or moments where he’d fall asleep on my shoulder in my apartment, where I’d look at him and consider the possibility. we get on so well, and he’s arguably one of my best friends. distance hasn’t changed that. there are things I would tell him that I haven’t told my other friends.

and when he’d brush against my skin, or grab my arm to get my attention, and my imagination would run wild. heated kisses and closed doors. finding the way to my bed in the dark, his hands on my waist while he crawls on top of me. things that never happened but that I imagined as if they were real memories seared into my mind.

and now, sitting in this trailer with this book and on this couch that smells like him, those feelings return like something lost, then found: rushing, feverish, overpowering. the images come in a flux, his weight on top of mine and his teeth dragging over my tits. on this couch, that’s all I want.

there’s a blush on my cheeks as I drop the book on the floor and undo the button on my pants. it won’t take me long; I can feel how wet I’m getting and I haven’t even thought that much about it. the pent-up excitement from earlier will overtake my senses. he said I have an hour, and this might take ten minutes tops.

as my fingertips brush over my panties, I close my eyes and imagine they’re his. curious, gentle, teasing before reaching below the waistband and cupping me. I whimper, starting to trace over the wet folds of my entrance with an eager hand. it feels good, right, and the heat of my body tells me that this time, it’ll work. my head is full of thoughts of him, and I dip a finger in, clenching around the digits. the heel of my palm presses into my clit and I moan, starting to work myself.

I imagine Matthew coming in here after he’s done and kissing me like he’s wasted enough time waiting; like he can’t wait another second to be with me. my pace quickens at the memory of his hands, veined and strong and sure, pumping into me. taunting me.

“Matthew...” I whine, removing my fingers to circle my clit with a hurried pressure. every second burns across my skin, reminding me that what I’m doing is wrong. I shouldn’t be touching myself in his trailer while he works, especially not when he’s coming back soon.

but it’s hot, too, and the rhythm I create is impossible to resist. I switch between fingering and toying with my bundle of nerves while clenching my free hand in the couch cushion. my eyes are squeezed shut as I get closer to orgasm, the knot in my stomach tightening with every moment.

“o-oh my god,” I hum. “Matthew--”

the sharp intake of breath makes my entire body freeze. my eyes fly open to see the bastard himself standing there, lips parted. he can’t seem to figure out where to look: my face, which was just contorted in pleasure while I moaned his name, or my pussy, which is almost completely on display now that I’ve managed to push my jeans down to my knees.

“oh my god.” I stutter, immediately removing my hand and sitting up. my cheeks are on fire and everything around me seems surreal. this can’t be real. “y-you weren’t supposed to be back for an hour.” I say stupidly. shit ton of luck that hour did me.

“we, uh, wrapped early.” he averts his eyes, then glances cautiously at my face. “I promise I walked in here before I knew. I never meant--”

“no, it’s fine.” I pull up my jeans, still too shocked to make any sweeping movements. he doesn’t seem quite sure what to do with himself, and I speak to break the silence. “sorry, I know I shouldn’t have done that.”

“I wonder what you’d have done with an actual hour.” he says it like he’s attempting to lighten the mood, then winces as he realizes that he shouldn’t have said that. “sorry, bad joke. I’m just-- surprised.”

“Matthew, I’m so sorry--” I start. there’s literally no other direction to take this conversation. I feel like I’ve ruined our friendship within the span of a few seconds.

“were you saying my name?” he asks, eyebrows slightly raised. I would like to sink into the floor and never come up again, I think.

“well, the thing is--” I take a deep breath. “I don’t normally, um... do that in people’s trailers?” my frown makes him smile a little as he relaxes. now that I’m fully clothed, he doesn’t seem so daunted. I scoot up on the couch and glance between the open spot and him to get him to sit. standing only makes it weirder.

he obliges, watching me pull my knees into my chest before I start to explain. guilt is building in my chest now, so much more real after being caught.

“I don’t wanna make this even more awkward than it is, but I feel like I should make it clear that there’s a reason why I was doing it in here and I’m not some freak who, like, contaminates people’s space. like, I was just gonna be super quick about it and be done because-- and now I’m justifying it, which is even worse--”

“hey, Y/N, relax.” Matthew reaches out and touches my wrist, his fingers soft as they pull my attention to his. when I finally muster the courage to look him in the eyes, he’s got a small smile on his face. “I’m not mad or anything.”

“okay.” I sigh, spine going a little less rigid.

“you were moaning my name, though, right?” he smirks. my eyes widen.

“don’t get too cocky,” I try to play it off. “I haven’t been able to get off for the past few days and I only tried it to see if it would work.”

“looks like it did.” he glances between my flushed cheeks and the hand that was playing with myself, which is now sitting on my jeans. how is he being so fucking smooth right now?

“whatever.” I turn my face away, knowing that anything else would be damning.

“are you still... frustrated?” he asks. his voice is low. my face snaps up, jaw dropping. one of his hands is covering the crotch of his jeans, trying to hide something.

“why?”

“I can help you out. only if you want to, of course.” he says this in complete seriousness. my gaze passes over his features once again to make sure I’m not absolutely dreaming. every line in his face, the intensity of those pretty irises, feels too real to be fake.

“like...” I think about his hands, about what he’s offering. it’s heavier than just sex, but also maybe not. it doesn’t have to be; we’re adults. our friendship wouldn’t be shattered by one encounter.

“like I’ll eat you out right now and fuck you until you can’t take it anymore.” we’ve moved closer on the couch, our faces inches apart while he says it so quietly that I wouldn’t hear it otherwise. the way he licks his lips, stares at me, tells me that we’ve already passed the point of no return. there’s no use in holding back anymore.

“mhmm.” I nod. if I say anything more, I’ll reveal more than he wants to know. that I’ve wanted this for a while, even though I tried to forget the way he makes me feel.

“come here, then.” he beckons me forward and I impatiently crash my lips to his. he responds immediately, threading his fingers through my hair and pulling me to him. he’s greedy, but not in a way that overwhelms. like he’s trying to enjoy the moment. his nose brushes my cheek when he deepens the kiss, my hands looping around his neck. he begins to bite on my lower lip, tugging to get me to moan. I let him explore me, those features that he’s seen so many times but has never touched.

we’re hopeful in our embrace, and my mind feels like spring and how I imagine the earth feels when it’s in full bloom. excitement in my veins as we get more heated. when his fingers unbutton my jeans, he pulls away to take a moment.

“sit on my face.” he breathes out, feverish. I nod, getting up to shrug off my jeans. he watches, licking his lips when I pull down my panties and step out of them, then take off my top and bra. he leans back as if to sink down onto the couch for me, but I shake my head.

“take off your clothes first.” I tell him.

“you wanna see me naked?” he knows the truth, but wants me to say it. the smirk on his face makes me annoyingly aroused. I just start to go for the buttons on his shirt.

“yeah, I wanna see you naked.” I reply. this makes him grin and he helps me out by working on his jeans. we strip him down and then we’re both there, looking at each other.

“c’mere, beautiful.” he grabs my hip and pulls me closer until I get on the couch and position myself. he lies down flat, gesturing for me to scoot up his chest until my core is right above his face. “perfect.”

I’m about to poke a little fun at him for being so confident when he reaches up, wraps his hands around my thighs, and pulls me down against his face.

I yelp, overwhelmed by how he moans against my heat and starts to eat me out. his tongue moves expertly, lapping at the wetness that’s gathered between my legs before teasing my entrance. I release a series of noises that are downright sinful, but the red marks he’s leaving in my thighs tell me he’s loving my reaction. his nose brushes against my clit and I start to roll my hips against his face, falling apart already as he switches between sucking, licking, and sliding his tongue inside me. I grip onto his hair, mumbling like a prayer.

he takes the opportunity to quickly slap my ass before returning to my thighs, burying his face and working with a divine acuity. I can’t believe how good it feels, throwing my head back and arching my spine while I hold my tits. Matthew moves my hand and massages one while he stares up into my eyes, lust evident in every sound and motion.

“Matthew, please--” I gasp. “don’t stop.”

he groans, running his nails down my stomach while I ride his face. I’m needy for him, only uttering his name and more pleas for his tongue. and the sensation of him holding me down like he can’t get enough makes the knot from earlier return easily. I lean back a little, swirl my hips, and then it comes like a white-hot wave.

“oh my god—“ I can barely get it out, moving with abandon. “it’s so fucking good.”

he lets my body slow to a reasonable pace, drawing out the high until I’m swallowing all the air I can get and pull myself away from him. Matthew’s grinning, mouth glistening while he sits up a bit.

“such a wet little pussy.” he tells me, licking his lips. I’m pretty much resting on his chest and I start to move off of him when he quickly straightens himself, wraps his arms around my waist, and pushes me so I’m laying on my back at the other end of the couch with him leaning over me.

I brush his curls out of his face, appreciating the hunger in his face. he craves more of me, and the erection he’s pressing into my inner thigh is proof. I look up at him.

“you’re good.” I concede. he shrugs, smiles. butterflies.

“I just think about it a lot.” the response is simple, but it’s the right one. I blush and he grabs his dick, pumping it a few times before lining it up at my entrance. I search his eyes, those widened pupils, as he shoves into me.

“shit.” he moans, jaw dropping once he’s reaching the hilt. “give it to me, baby.” I can feel him deep inside, cock twitching against my walls as he settles. one of his arms is over me, supporting himself on the arm of the couch, while the other holds my waist.

I don’t speak, only bite down on my lip and whimper through the initial shocks of him. it isn’t until he pulls out that I get more vocal. he starts to roll his hips, never breaking eye contact while I arch my back and moan.

“harder.” I whisper. he tightens his grip on me and slams himself inside. my body instinctively moves up away from the pressure, but he brings me right back down.

“is this what you were thinking about?” he breathes out. “me fucking you like a slut?”

I nod urgently, but he uses an index finger to tilt my face back to his.

“tell me who you belong to, little slut.” his tone is low, laced with lust when he bites his lip and watches my reactions to his cock.

“you.” I whine quietly, grabbing his shoulders for stability while he plows into me.

“louder, sweetheart. you were plenty sure before.” he mocks, pausing after to moan in my ear like he’s absolutely losing it. he roughly tugs me further against him and the sensation makes me cry out.

“y-you-- fuck!”

“c’mon, baby.” he pants. we’re definitely rocking this trailer with the way he’s ramming my body right now. I can feel him like he’s in my ribs.

“Matthew, oh god--”

“show me how you cum, Y/N. lemme see you fucking break.” the final word is punctuated by him bottoming-out within me, his noises their own stimulation to my senses. I’m trying to breathe but it’s so hard with all the thoughts firing in my brain. he doesn’t go easy on me.

“I’m cumming.” my hips jerk up into his, pussy fluttering like it’s trying to push him out. but the tension only makes him thrust harder, further, chasing his own release as I claw at his back and squeeze my legs around his torso.

“can I fill that tight little cunt up, baby?” he moans into my ear, our bodies like undulating waves. I nod and buck against him, which drives him mad as his thrusts get sloppier. we’re filthy together and it’s otherworldly. “good girl.”

he lets out a whimpering sound while he stills inside my body and cums. I feel him twitching, shooting his load into me. I’m writhing while I clench around him, both of us falling apart. for all his cockiness, he’s lovely when he’s orgasming-- mouth open, eyes rolling back into his head before focusing intently on my face, a sheen of sweat that glows on his cheekbones.

when he finally withdraws, leaving me naked and panting on his couch, his eyes run over my body appreciatively.

“that help?” he smirks as he straightens. I glare at him, kneeing him in the ribs, and he leans down to kiss my cheek, giving me a tender look. “I’m joking. are you okay?”

“more than okay.” I smile. he doesn’t say anything for a moment, closing and opening his mouth as if debating whether or not to say something else.

“you’re really beautiful, you know that?”

“thanks.” as if this man hasn’t already fucked me senseless, I blush, look away shyly. he grabs my clothes from the floor and hands them to me.

“do you want some water?” he’s worried about giving me space. there’s a question lingering between us that I’m afraid to ask, especially now that he hasn’t. Matthew has always been the more bold between the two of us.

“uh, sure.” if it means he takes his eyes off me long enough for me to regain my bearings, yes. I watch him pull on the rest of his clothes before standing and going over to his mini-fridge. I’ll need to clean up soon.

“so...” his voice is measured, hazel eyes slipping over my form.

“so.”

“dinner? and then breakfast?” he suggests. my eyebrows raise at the second question, one that he hasn’t mentioned until now. the implication makes me laugh.

“you think you’re getting this again?” I try to act nonchalant, as if I’m not already imagining it.

“oh, wait--” he frowns, hesitates. “that’s not what I meant.”

“what did you mean?” there’s a grin taking over my face, hopeful as I await his response. I guess we’re about to answer that question after all.

“I wanna finally take you on a date.” he smiles softly, surprisingly shy. I don’t even hesitate to answer.

“I’m in.”

#mgg smut #mgg #matthew gray gubler #rpf #criminal minds #mgg oneshot

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