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television-pil0t · 1 year

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Thoughts I’ll never say

Sometimes I think about him. I think about him to. All of them. How they touched me. Maybe if I think about it enough I can convince myself I liked it. I wasn’t raped. It wasn’t real. I loved him. Id I say it over and over and over it wasn’t fucking real. They way he touched my face and wiped away my tears after he was done. The way he grabbing my face and told me I was the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen. The way he grabbed on to me so fucking tight I almost felt needed.

It was the way he put his gun in my hands and said “if you really hate me than do it. Pull the fucking trigger bitch.” The way my stomach dropped and I feel right back down to my knees holding his legs while sobbing. I told him sorry. I said i don’t want him to die but I do. I did I hated him. I hate him.

For everything. For the way he shoved himself inside me. The way I walked to my own demise. The way his friend was on the bus calling me a slut and easy. It was a fucking cemetery you BITCH IT WAS A CEMETERY HOW ARE YOU GONNA DO THAT TO ME IN A CEMETERY!! Why would you do that to me. Why would you. Why wouldn’t you. I can’t get it off my mind as if I loved it. As if I loved the way he hit me. I think about his voice and they way when he yelled at me it felt so familiar. So good. The way he grabbed me he was so much bigger than me. They way he held my mouth open while he shoved his dick so deep down my throat I felt my something fucking break and not just my heart, my spirit. I don’t have a fucking gag reflex because of you now. I was 14. I had to have surgery. Everytime I brush my teeth I think of you now. How I barely have a reaction anymore. It’s your fault and you’d probably be proud to hear it.

Nothing as bad as the way he cut me. He held me by my mouth. He pulled up my shirt while he pushed his fucking disgusting cock to my ass and he fucking asked me. “Why are you scared. If you do it so can i.” And all I did was cry while he took my wrist and cut me over and over and I can still see the fucking scars. I know every time I do it now all I think about is you. All I can see is the way you kissed me and told me how good I was. He told me he loved the way I looked. He told me I was smart and pretty while he bite me and I cried. I cried not because it hurt. Not because I was scared. Because I genuinely for just a second thought he loved me. I thought maybe if I keep doing this. Maybe he’ll complement me again. I held his had while he hurt me and I thanked him for it.

Maybe none will ever be as bad as him. As a teacher why would you. I was just a kid. I wasn’t ready for that. I didn’t want that. I was scared. I heard about you but more than fear I was confident in my ability to fight you off. I looked you in the eyes and you looked me in mine and for a second I second thought myself. Maybe I was being insane. Your not a bad guy. It was when I was the room when dark. You told me it’s law to close your blinds before leaving school. And you locked the doors. Not because smiling and waving at the other teachers leaving to of course. You pulled a desk beside mine and helped me for a while. 15 minutes I guess you couldn’t take it any longer and you touched my thigh. Once softly. I’m not sure if you meant to do it that time to this day but the second time was definitely on purpose. You pulled my desk close so you could “see my work” and you wrapped your arm around the back of my chair. You said I was doing a great job. “Why can’t you do this type of work in class” and you laugh. You fucking laugh and GOD I FELT SAFE. Maybe your not bad because of that god damn fucking laugh I thought I’m overreacting because of my dumb ass trauma. I’m fucking crazy. NO! I WASNT! I SHOULDNT HAVE WENT TO THAT FUCKING CLASS! I souldve just taken detention. I still can feel every touch you made on me. The way you grabbed my waist while I tired to get up and you pulled me close and gave me a hug. “Hey you did a good job you wanna work a little more. I can give you 1 more paper and it will assure you pass my class this semester” and we walked to your desk to get that fucking paper. “Oh it’s fine just sit at my desk you can do it right there” and while I was looking at the paper cuz god knows I’m not good at biology you grabbed my face and pulled me to yours and you told me to just get up for a second. And I looked into your eyes and god were you pretty. Your such a pretty ass fucking guy. I can’t lie when I say I loved looking at you. When I say looking at you gave me butterflies I’m not lying. Everyone wanted you. The hottest teacher in school. Thinking about it now gives me mixed feelings but the laugh I let out gave you the sign I was fucking nervous. I was scared. You saw it. I was fletching every time you touched me and yet that wasn’t enough for you to leave me alone. I stood up and you pushed my hips to your desk and my brain shut off. I felt my heart beat faster than I’ve felt it beat in so fucking long. I felt every particle of air that entered my lungs. I felt your hands and your tongue in my mouth right before asking of FUCKING course. “You’ve been doing good so far.. come here” and that’s it. I remember being flipped over and feeling pain. The worst pain ever. It was so big and for a while I couldn’t do anything but scream but after a while I just laid there. It. Felt. So. Good. I couldn’t think of anything. I couldn’t do anything’s I was barely breathing. The way it felt inside and the way he moved his thumb around my clit and held my face. It’s like he wanted me to enjoy it just so I could feel guilty after. Just so years later I could think about it and cry remembering how good it felt. How many times I came over and over and over and you flipped me over and kept going. And you fucking ate me out and you made me suck you off and came in my mouth and slapped me so fucking hard when I spit it out and somehow. After that. It went from feeling good to.. something I can’t describe. It was almost torture with how much I wanted more. While I cried I and screamed no please it turned into just please and it turned into more and it turned into begging. I begged for it. I’ve never felt anything so fucking good in my life yet I just wanted to kill myself.

My body loved it. Begged and craved for it but my brain knew how awful it was. While my mouth begged my brain screamed and I shut down and I don’t remember anything anymore. I remember him getting done and whipping my mouth and telling me to come back if I need help again. He told me I was smart. He told me I was the best. He told me! He told me he was proud of me for getting it through the day and the papers. He fucked me up so badly mentally that day. With just a few fucking words. I was completely changed and I don’t even remember most of it but thinking about it gives my body a intense reason. It’s disgusting how horny I get and I was ashamed for so long telling myself it wasn’t rape if I kinda liked it but it was. I screamed and cried and kicked and attempted to take my life after that day. I couldn’t handle what he did to me. Not just physically this time. It was completely mentally. He genuinely made me feel like he was doing it for me and that’s insane but the way he gave me head. He played with me first. He put it in slowly and kept asking if I was ok. He kept fuckibg praising me and then after he says?!? THAT!? That was the worst mental shit I’ve ever had to deal with and I’ve never came close to recovery. I don’t know how. Was I raped or not. I still don’t know. I feel so fuckibg guilty. I feel awful. I wanna cry. I still feel everything even tho I don’t remember it all. I’m living in hell.

I hate you all. You are the worst part of my past.

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anika-ann · 3 years

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One Door Closes... (S.R.)

Type: one-shot, pretty much canon

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader Word count: 2700

Summary: For Steve, your door is always open... or he thinks so. And even when it isn’t, it is.

In which one small Zoom mishap leads to an (un)usual ‘welcome home’.

Warnings: brief mention of blood and violence, lightest angst, attempt at humour, crack-ish, fluff and language

A/N: For @anjali750, because this is totally her fault. Thank you for inspiring me :-* Have a little bit silly weekend reading, y’all!

“Tell me about it,” Steve encouraged you gently, soft smile playing in the corner of his mouth despite the pain it must be causing him due to his busted lip.

You couldn’t but grin at the lenient picture he made. Feeling blood rush to your cheeks at the thought of him probably calling you cute in his mind if his expression was anything to go by, you obliged, proceeding to tell him about the new project at work.

Your project. Because somehow, you finally earned your boss’ confidence and could bring the great ideas in your mind to life.

You felt so giddy just talking about it! So you started explaining, excitedly gesturing with your hands so Steve would get the right visual and you grew so enthusiastic that you almost forgot to keep an eye on him.

But you were watching him – always.

His lower lip was split, but already healing – it would have healed much faster if he stopped tugging at the healing skin whenever he talked or smiled at you from the screen. He looked a little drowsy, a shadow of a bruise forming on his cheek, but as far as you knew, those were the only injuries he had; that and many hours of sleep to catch up on.

Steve had a habit of calling you via Zoom whenever he got back to the Tower from a mission. He usually took a quick shower and was online until the last second before he had to leave for a debriefing; the only reason why he didn’t head straight to your place.

He admitted once that he loved seeing your face and talking to you even if for a moment after a mission, that it grounded him. On a very sappy and loveable moment, he even called you his sun; and the fact that after few minutes of being with you – as much as technology allowed – his face always seemed brighter, made you think that it truly was how he felt.

Even exhausted as he was now, you could tell his half-lidded eyes shined with life unlike when you started the call.

And so you kept rambling, feeling your heart bursting with love for your man and with euphoria, because goddammit, finally some recognition at work!

“Well, obviously, to reach as much general public as we can, we’re gonna launch a world-wide campaign! World-wide!” you emphasized with a blinding grin, throwing your hands wide to demonstrate.

---and your fingers caught in a cord from the laptop, pulling at it.

Steve’s benevolent face disappeared as your screen went black.

Because of course it did.

You had been talking yourself into buying a new laptop or at least having this one fixed for a few weeks now, because this was always the result whenever you accidently unplugged it. The battery was useless, ready to retire.

“Motherfu--- ugh!“

You wanted to be mad at the device – but this was totally on you.

Sighing, you hooked up the laptop again, waiting for it to wake up from a coma, shooting Steve an apologetic text in the meantime. Closing your eyes, you let your forehead lightly fall against your desk, mentally cursing yourself.

Dummy. If you only weren’t so lazy… and didn’t hate certain aspects of adulting with so much passion… you could have been talking to Steve-

Your eyes flew opened when it felt like it was quiet for too long; no reply to your text. Dread filled you and you quickly reached for your phone again, this time to dial.

You prayed you were wrong; but as the phone kept ringing with no one to answer it on the other end, you felt misery creep up you back and whimpered. Sliding your phone on the tabletop, your not-so-deft fingers stumbled over the keyboard, harshly welcoming it into the world of living by opening Zoom again to reconnect the call.

Your breath hitched in anticipation as the window opened---

An amused and yet somehow unimpressed face of Natasha Romanoff welcomed you and this time, you didn’t bother slowing down as your head hit the desk. It hurt, but that was only a presage of the real pain.

“Nooooooo,” you whined loudly, faking and not quite faking a sob, because shit.

“Oh yes,” Natasha hummed nonchalantly.

You straightened a bit in your chair, narrowing your eyes at her as you noticed the corners of her lips twitching while she pretended to be busy checking out her possibly-mission-broken nails.

“It’s not funny.”

She snorted and glanced at your no doubt desperate face.

“It really is. But also kinda sad,” the spy noted, something resembling concern flickering over her face before she scrunched her nose, irises twinkling. “And disgustingly cute. It has Rogers written all over it.”

You glared at her some more, not even bothering to roll your eyes.

“Tell that to my landlord,” you muttered under your breath, leaning your elbow on the tabletop and dropping your chin to you palm. A second later, a brilliant idea hit you and you tried to manipulate your legs from under you.

The thing was, even if you had a pretty good idea of what was coming if you didn’t stop it and knew that it would be a bitch to deal with, Natasha was right.

In a way, it was utterly cute, disarmingly charming and entirely heart-warming. Your stomach fluttered, the fabled butterflies flipping their wings, your face grew hot and your heart… well, it felt as if it was growing in size.

It was also sad, heart-breaking even; Steve, especially after a mission, was a man running on instincts. It was one of the reasons why he had developed a habit of calling you, why he wanted to hear you ramble about your either boring or exciting but always wonderfully normal day. A day which involved no shooting and no blood besides papercuts and a quarrel with your stubborn boss who shoot you glares at best.

On a mission, these carnal automatisms often meant survival. But back home, Steve didn’t want to be a sum of instincts of survival, fight and fear; he wanted to feel again. And with you, he did. He wasn’t just a Captain America, a soldier to be put on battlefield whenever the general found fit. He was a human being. A wonderful one at that, with beautiful soul.

So yes. It was also rather upsetting.

And in a way, it was a little funny too. You knew it was totally your fault and that Steve was being kinda ridiculous, because he knew you and your inclination to wild gesticulations ending up catastrophically. On top of that, he was aware of this particular problem being almost a daily occurrence; hell, he tried to talk you into having Stark look at your laptop and failed.

And now... well. Here you were.

“You know, maybe if you get up and welcome him with door opened…” Natasha teased you with your own genius ides and you grinded your teeth, frantically trying to move your foot, which was pretty much on fire and yet dead.

“I would, but I… eh, pins and needles, was sitting on my feet,” you explained, embarrassed, testing whether your feet could carry you or not, naturally finding that without support, you’d be down before you could take as much as a step.

This time, Natasha didn’t snort in amusement.

Instead, she graced you with an outburst on honest full belly laughter, her red hair unfairly shiny for a woman who just spend week on a mission in damn Moldova and probably kicked more asses that you could imagine.

“You know what, Romanoff…” you grunted, forcing yourself to wobble towards the door. Very slowly. And cautiously. Knowing your luck, you might actually get hurt.

“I’m not even sorry,” she choked out and then continued to howl in laughter. “You so deserve each other. I finally know what the ‘idiots in love’ mean. Thanks for that!”

“You’re very welcome,” you huffed, voice dripping with irony.

Finally able to put full weight on both of your feet, you headed towards the exit – and entrance – of your apartment.

Halfway, you decided it was a lost cause. You would be willing to bet that the moment you’d touch the doorknob, you’d get hit to your face. It wasn’t worth it.

Yes, maybe if you did get hurt, it would make Steve think twice before coming all guns-and-shield blazing into your apartment; then again, it would probably cost you a broken nose.

Not to mention Steve’s tendency to get swallowed by the enormity of his guilt.

So not worth it. Best if you stayed put.

That was what you kept telling yourself when you stood there for about two minutes, in which you’d be able to open the door about forty times. Your annoyance – mostly with yourself and the cackling redhead – and the anticipation was becoming unbearable. As seconds ticked by, you were trying to convince yourself into taking the last few steps and opening the door and save yourself some trouble---

You yelped when the loud bang rattled your apartment the door sent flying of their hinges along with a spray of powered plaster despite knowing it was coming.

A glint of metal appeared next, the striking red, white and blue no longer there as it was covered in more bland colours for stealth missions.

And then a large figure cladded in blue shirt and grey jeans entered, his chest heaving, face flushed with red. Piercing blue eyes wiped of all previous traces of tiredness scanned the room, instantly falling on you as you awkwardly stood there, dumbfounded, startled and utterly speechless.

Also, much to Steve’s puzzlement, you were perfectly fine otherwise – even with both legs functioning, no remnants of pins and needles present.

Steve eased his posture instantly, eyes narrowing and then widening as he looked you up and down, lips parting in genuine surprise – and relief.

He said your name, clear and almost reverent, dropping the shield on the floor with a clang.

The ‘hi babe’ got stuck in your throat as you could see the tension leaving his shoulders, his eyes turning glassy and absent despite relief rolling off him in damn tsunami waves.

It hit you like a train – that you were delighted to see him, actually see him, even under these circumstances; and you truly didn’t want him to withdraw to some freaky brain-space after he had probably got one of the most ridiculous scares of his life due to the fact that his brain was not fully back in the normal world.

In the normal world where you abruptly disconnected a call without warning, because you talked too animatedly and not because some terrorist high on the FBI’s, CIA’s, NSA’s and SHIELD’s most wanted list found out you were Steve’s girlfriend and decided to take you out.

So to prevent another psychical horror trip of his, you went for distracting him – with a very relevant issue.

“You broke my door.”

Steve blinked, gaze refocusing on you fully, simply staring for a long moment.

“You went offline,” he objected quietly, a hint of accusation in his voice. God, you missed his voice.

“You broke my door, Steve.”

As if hearing his name was a spell, his frozen figure came to life and he took a cautious step closer, repeating his previous statement, this time with a hint of guilt.

“You went offline.”

“And you broke my door. That’s the second time this month, Steve! My landlords gonna k--- be real pissed at me,” you corrected yourself in the last second, not wanting say kill.

Steve ignored the slip and apparently got the message, his face twisting in genuine apology. “I’m sorry. I’ll fix it!”

With efficiency of a supersoldier, he spun on his heels and rushed to pick up the door as if it was lighter than a paperweight and swiftly put it in place.

Only for the door to slowly tilt his way again. He caught it with a loud curse and moved it aside, leaning it partly against the wall. The action sent more plaster down onto the floor, like the only truly white snow in New York City. Peripherally, you noticed Steve grimacing, his face an expression an epitome of yikes.

You let your eyes slipped shut, shaking your head with a sigh, but couldn’t but chuckle. When you looked at Steve again, he resembled a 240 pounds giant Labrador puppy, truly regretful, approaching you reluctantly as if he was afraid you would slap his big paws for being clumsy.

What he would deserve was for you to clip round his ear for impulsiveness, but could you blame him? God knew what he had seen in Moldova in the past week, what horrors he had lived through and what a nightmare his mind had created when you ‘went offline’.

Him barging in like this due to your own dumbassery was kinda sad; a prove of his demanding job full of terror.

It was cute and heart-warming, because he just cared for you that much.

It was a little ridiculous, because as Steve finally crossed the distance between you two, the head of your elderly neighbour peeked from behind the empty doorway, puzzled and rather concerned.

You snorted unattractively, the scene in front of you seeming epically hilarious all of sudden.

“I’m good, Mr. T!” you called over Steve’s shoulder after the poor man who gossiped like an old woman and was just as hospitable. “Just my boyfriend fussing because of a technology fail!”

A grin spread on his wrinkled face; a testimony to years of laughter and amiability. “Oh. Hi, Mr. America!”

“Afternoon, Mr. T! I am verry sorry for disturbing you.”

The older-looking man waved off Steve’s politeness.

“It’s fine. You keep taking care of your lady, Mr. America, and keep her safe!”

“Yes, sir,” Steve humoured him with a salute, earning a wink.

As your neighbour walked away with a fresh topic for his Sunday tea party, Steve turned his attention to you again, eyes searching, wide, apologetic – but also soft, taking in the view of you, revelling in it.

“Hi, sweetheart,” he whispered lowly, the lopsided smile you loved so much gracing his face, once again pulling at that damn split lip. You grimaced a bit, the sight of him almost brining tears into your eyes; the gentleness and the remnants of fight punching you straight in the gut.

His eyes fluttered close when you lifted your hand and traced the line of the bruise on his face with the lightest pressure you were capable of. This time, tears definitely prickled in your eyes, but you blinked them away, cupping Steve’s cheek and pulling him close.

“Oh come here, babe,” you breathed out, fingers carding through his hair as he leaned his head on your shoulder, lips brushing the crook of your neck, strong arms embracing around your form.

He was warm and big and held you a bit tighter than necessary and dammit, you loved your sweet of heart and occasionally dumb of ass boyfriend. Boyfriend, who was crazy in love with you. Sometimes with emphasis on the crazy.

“I missed you, sweetheart,” he muttered, nose nuzzling the sensitive skin of your neck, breathing in deeply. You pretended it didn’t do things to you as he did everything to get lost in you and leave all the bad behind. You failed.

“You’re totally paying for fixing my door.”

Well, maybe not failed entirely.

“Of course,” Steve assured you dutifully, no hint of humour in his voice.

It broke you on a completely new level; he was serious. Dammit you loved this man!

“I missed you too,” you finally admitted and this time, he did chuckle, squeezing you even tighter, hand running up and down your back. Without any warning, he tightened his grip and lifted you from the floor so you had to cling to him entirely, causing you to gasp.

You never got the chance to gather your wits and comment on that, because an annoyed voice of a certain redhead sounded from your laptop.

“…alright, you crazy kids, you had your cuddles. Now, Rogers, should I tell Fury you’re coming back for the debriefing or should we just finally change with the times and do it over Zoom?”

Clutching Steve’s waist and shoulder, face contentedly in his chest, you voted for the latter.

Steve Rogers masterlist

Lovely divider by whimsicalrogers.

A fic from collection ‘This was supposed to be a drabble.’ Also, I couldn’t for the love of god figure out a better title.

I hope you enjoyed at least a bit :-*

Thank you for reading!

#fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x you #steve rogers #captain america #captain america x reader #captain america x you #captain america imagine #steve rogers fluff #captain america fluff #steve rogers fanfiction #captain america fanfiction #marvel #mcu #one door closes #anika ann

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imaginedxlan · 3 years

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Pike (George Weasley)

a/n: i have an addiction. i’m sorry. take this platform away from me. anyway ENEMIES TO LOVER BITCHES.

You’ve always hated George Weasley. You can’t quite explain why, but the two of you have had bad blood since the moment you met freshman year. it’s nothing either of you said or did, just the general presence of the other always set something off in the two of you. however, you weren’t going to give up partying at his frat just because you hated the red haired boy.

warnings: alcohol & cussing, unconsensual touching but it isn’t graphic(not by george obv), mentions of sex and assault/sexual violence, violence and fratboy!georgie

i’m very serious when i say do not read this if you’re easily triggered or impacted by the theme of sexual assault. there is nothing graphic in this fic but i know it is very easy to be triggered by even the smallest mention. if you ever and i mean EVER need someone to talk to about anything pertaining to the topic, my messages are always open. dealing with sexual assault in any form is one of the most traumatising things a person can go through. please never hesistate to reach out if you’re struggling. i love you guys so much, i never want to go suffer in silence.

if you or someone you know if struggling with a rape or sexual assault, you can call 800.656.HOPE (4673) to be connected to a sexual assault service provider in your area. all my hugs and kisses to you all, i love you with all my heart❤️

saturday nights on campus are nothing short of lively for you and your friends. whether you’re testing your fake ids at every bar on the main street or dancing in a sweaty frat basement, there’s never been a dull weekend.

pike has always been your favorite fraternity to attend . you’d become close with some of the pledges on your floor your freshman year and have become obsessed with shutting down every function they hold at the house. there is one part of pi kappa alpha, however, that you could do without. george weasley.

the six three, red haired monster has been getting under your skin for an entire year now. since you met in your first semester of freshman year, you and george had never been on good terms. between the constant teasing from him or your drunk screaming matches that you’ve initiated almost every weekend, it’s safe to say that you two need to be kept as far away from each other as possible.

your friends have never understood the feud. they’ve always described george as one of the nicest guys they’ve ever met. he takes their coats at the door of every pike party to hide in his room to keep them safe from the drunk kleptomaniacs or vomit that inevitably spews from the mouth of a freshman girl. he’s always kept an eye out for your friends, but when it comes to you he swears if murder was legal you’d be six feet under by now.

as you and your friends got ready in your shared apartment for the night ahead of you, the annual pike’s peak ski themed party, you loathe the fact that you’ll be forced to see him again. you wish more than anything that he wasn’t so close with your friends, but alas, he is.

“y/n, can you please promise me something?” Angelina pleads, making you pause your makeup routine to look at her as if to say ‘go on.’ “no fighting with george tonight, we all need one night when the two of you aren’t at each other’s throats.”

if only it were that easy. there have been times in the past when angie and katie have convinced you to play nice with the boy, but he always ends up starting some type of fight with you.

“angie i’ve told you, i have no problem ignoring him for the good of the group,” you reiterate the countless times you’ve tried to prove to the girls that you’re the bigger person. “it’s him you should be talking to, he always starts it.”

katie sighs, already imagining the screaming match that will ensue tonight. “well if he starts something just walk away, easy as that.”

you mull it over for a minute. as much as ignoring him will make it seem like you’ve run out of insults, your vocal chords could use the rest this weekend. you agree to try and keep your mouth shut around george.

the three of you zip up your obnoxiously bright ski jackets over the black sports bras and jeans you’re wearing. you loved pikes peak, you could put in virtually no effort and still look like you spent hours getting ready.

the pike house is already buzzing with the bass of whatever mix oliver wood put together for the party. it’s not a pike party without ollie behind the dj booth. the high that you’re on as you walk past the pledges fades as your faced with george weasley.

just ignore him.

“look at my most beautiful groupies,” he says with a smile, scanning over angie and katie. “and...whatever that is.”

you can already feel your cheeks heat up with rage and your fists tighten. you take a deep breath and repeat katie’s words just an hour ago, ‘walk away.’ you roll your eyes at the boy and move your way through the party, eventually taking your spot next to ollie behind the dj stand.

“well hey there miss y/n,” ollie greets you, resting his headphone around his neck and pulling you into a hug. “half expected you to be beating weasley to a pulp by now.”

you laugh at his honesty, everyone expects some huge blow up between you and george within the first few minutes of a party. “trying something new, ignoring him for the night. can’t tire myself too much.”

ollie just smiles and goes back to the music. you’re adding songs to the queue and laughing along with him. you almost forgot how much you missed spending time with him, most of your interactions with the boy group ending with a fight with weasley without even being able to talk with the other boys.

across the room, george is watching you actually enjoy yourself and is fuming. he’s so used to being able to get under your skin, so you blowing him off was a major knock to his ego. he thrives on your reactions to his teasing, feeling like he doesn’t even have a purpose at this party now that you’re ignoring him.

you eventually leave oliver behind the booth and find angelina and katie, luckily they’re now where near george, rather dancing with his twin. you’ve always liked fred, but your constant arguing with his brother makes it hard for you to have any sort of friendship with him. this is the first pike party you’ve been to all year that you’re genuinely enjoying yourself. dancing with your friends, drinking without a care. the night is actually starting to look up.

you tell angie and katie that you’re off to the bathroom, the beers and seltzers finally catching up to your bladder. as you make your way through the crowd of people, you finally make it to the bathroom which is in the furthest corner of the house. before you can reach for the handle, someone is grabbing at your wrist.

“let’s go to my room.” the boy slurs, you turn to see a tall boy, far taller than you. you recognise his face but don’t know his name.

“no than-“

“i wasn’t asking,” he cuts you off and grabs your hip with his other hand. “come on i know you want to.”

“no just get off of me!” you yell trying to push his hands away from you but his death grin on your body doesn’t seem to be loosening. using your free hand you start beating the boys chest and that seems to just make him angrier. “you’re hurting me! just get off, i’m not coming to your room!”

even though you feel like your screaming the loud music seems to drown out the noise from anyone who could come and help you. even though the boy is obviously stronger than you, that doesn’t stop you from continuing to hit him in the hopes that his drunken state will take him off of you. your efforts are to no avail as his mouth connects with your neck, sucking harshly, making you scream out again. your head is thrashing, continuing to attempt to free yourself from his grasp.

“no! stop get off of me, please!” you shriek, tears beginning to stream down your cheeks. before you can realize what’s going on the boy is ripped from you and pinned up against the wall. you don’t even look to see what’s happening, just trying the catch your breath.

“she said no!” you immediately recognize the voice. george weasley. he fist connects with the boys jaw, almost knocking him unconscious as he’s still pushed against the wall. “what the fuck is wrong with you pucey! don’t you ever fucking touch her again!”

george still screaming as the boy you know realize is adrian pucey, is wailing in pain as george’s fists continue to meet his body. you don’t want to watch this anymore so you grab george’s hand before he can hit adrian again.

“stop, please.” it’s softer than you wanted it to come out but george still hears you. he drops adrian to the ground and takes a hold of your shoulders. even in the dark he’s examining your face for any sign of adrian’s abuse, his eyes land on the growing bruise on your neck and his fingers lightly trace over the mark. his other hands goes to your face, using his thumb to wipe the stream of tears.

“are you okay?” he asks quietly, eyes still trained on the hickey adrian unconsensually left on your neck. “i would’ve killed him.”

“why are you doing this, weasley?” you step back from him, crossing yours arms over your chest. “go on and tell everyone how you had to pull pucey off of me. how i was crying like a little baby. how helpless i was, i know that why you’re here.”

a flash a hurt crosses his face, he shakes his head. “is that really what you think of me?”

“of course it is, you’ve never given me a reason to think anything else,” you reply, wiping the remaining tears from your cheeks. “just leave weasley, i can’t take whatever’s going to come out of your mouth, not tonight okay? i could’ve handled this myself.”

“yeah you were doing a great job of handling it before i came it,” he scoffs and goes to walk away, kicking pucey one last time for good measure, but stops himself. “would you just stop arguing and follow me?”

you go to protest but figure you’re not in any mood to argue with him. he reaches his hand out to guide you through the sea of people but your arms stay folded against your chest. he rolls his eyes and leads you up the stairs and into a bedroom. you’d never been in his bedroom before. he goes into his closet to pull out a sweatshirt and tosses it your way.

“i’m not wearing this,” you tell him, throwing it back at him and he groans at your stubborn attitude. “why am i in your room, weasley?”

“does the word thank you not exist in your vocabulary?” he asks with a bitter tone. “i don’t care if you wear it, i’m leaving.”

he slams the door behind him and leaves you by yourself again. you look in the mirror on his wall at the disheveled sight looking back at you. your mascara collected under your eyes from your tears, the dark hickey from pucey on your cheek, bruises forming on your wrist and hip. you thought you had cried all the tears out before but seeing the damage he had done pulls sobs from your lips. you’re shaking at the memory of what happened, the thought of what could have happened. you collapse on george’s floor.

almost immediately the door swings open. you’re hoping maybe george told angie or katie and they were coming to take you home but it’s just george standing there. he never left his door, seeing pucey attack you like that made him fear that it might happen to you again. he quickly shuts the door behind him and crouches next to you as you struggle to catch your breath.

“hey, hey what’s going on you were fine a few second ago,” he tries to read your face but it’s hidden in your hands. “look at me, y/n, please.”

you lift your face to look him in the eyes. your puffy eyes and red cheeks make his heart sink. this is the first time he’s looked at you and felt something other than utter annoyance. you look so sad.

“i-i’m so s-scared,” you stutter through your speech. “if you hadn’t come he could’ve, it would have turned into -”

“don’t talk like that,” he begs you, still staying a bit of a distance from you. “i was there, i stopped it. you’re safe now.”

once you calm down he pleads for you to lay down and get some rest. you finally take the sweatshirt from him and wrap it around your body. he leans down to crouch in front of you, your eyes still welled with tears. he pats your head and goes to leave. in reality he would be posted outside the door for the rest of the night, but he’d never tell you that. As he shuts off the lights and opens the door, you squeak out a plea, “can you stay? please.”

george hesitates, he knows showing any kind of compassion for you in this moment will inevitably put a rift in your strict enemies only relationship. the one he’s been so set on keeping since he started developing feelings for you last semester. the only way he could keep you close while also concealing his feelings was to pick those fights with you every weekend. this would change everything.

however, seeing you curled up in his bed, shaking under his blankets, your eyes wide with fear broke something in him. he let out a deep sigh before closing his door again and locking it behind him. he stands in place for a minute, unsure of what to do from here.

“george,” you call out, voice cracking. you hadn’t called him by his first name in months. “thank you.”

“you haven’t called me george in a while.”

“shut up, weasley,” you immediately reply, making george chuckle. he decides to sit on the edge of his bad facing you, watching you continue to shake as sporadic sobs come from your frail frame. it’s breaking his heart. He eventually comes up to lay beside you, careful not to touch you. partly due to the fact that he knows you’re probably traumatised by pucey’s attack on you and also partly due to him knowing he may not be able to control himself from taking you in arms until you stop your terrible shaking.

it wasn’t george that first moved closer, it was you. you weren’t sure if it was the fact that he just saved you from a potentially life shattering situation or the fact that his room felt like subzero but you wanted to be close to him.

“why is your room so cold?” you ask with a shiver. “i feel like i’m in the arctic.”

“don’t be such a baby it’s not that cold,” he scoffs, giving you the same tone he always has. something in you is disappointed, partly hoping that maybe this changed something. maybe you were overthinking him being so doting on you tonight. of course things wouldn’t be different. why would you want them to be? what he did tonight he would do for any girl in thai party. while you don’t get to see that side of him, angie and katie have always talked about how protective he is, you just never thought it would extend to you.

“why’d you help me?” you ask, staring at him dead in the eyes. his breath hitches, he’s not sure why. he would do it for anyone, no questions asked. he’s never been the guy to look the other way when a girl is hurting, but what was he doing all of this for you. surely he wouldn’t bring just anyone up to his room, he wouldn’t stay if they asked.

“i wasn’t going to let pucey hurt you like that, i wouldn’t let him do it to anyone,” he replies, hoping you’ll be off the topic from now on.

“you would’ve killed him if i hadn’t stopped you.” george thinks back to the moment. how angelina had pleaded for him to find you after you’d been gone for so long. how he heard your cries over the music, you screaming no. how pucey had himself attached to you and the rage bubbled over in him.

“would you come off of it?” he asked sternly, fearing if this conversation moved any further he would be confessing that he’s never actually hated you. “i forgot how annoying you were for a second there, i’m getting out of here.”

your heart sinks at his words. you were already in shambles and he decided to be his same old asshole self. it hurt. you immediately sat up and watched as he grasped the door handle but didn’t turn it.

“classic, something gets hard and you’re running away,” you spit at him. you needed someone there, you needed him there, and he was running off. “go on weasley, be the little bitch you are, run off and tell everyone how big bad george weasley beat up pucey just to leave me up in your room where he could for sure do it again.”

“you just love running that fucking mouth of yours don’t you?” george snaps, his face beginning to heat up. this is always how it starts. his tone is playfully arrogant until it switches completely. “you think i would just leave you in here where anyone could come in? are you really that stupid? i would’ve staid outside the fucking door all night if that’s what it took for you to sleep after ehat happened, i just can’t be in this fucking room with you.”

you roll your eyes at how dramatic he is. as if staying in a room with you for one night would kill him. in his mind, however, it might. seeing you curled up in his bed, in his clothes, begging for him to stay, it’s all too much for him to handle.

“yeah sure you would. you wouldn’t go chasing after your brother the second he called that some girl was asking for you. this is all for show, you’re trying to make me seem like the one you can’t coexist with you,” you shout. “then everyone can blame me for this stupid fucking fight we’ve been having for an entire year. you can be the innocent one, that’s it isn’t it?”

george can’t believe how blind you are. how you’ve failed to notice that every time you get up in his face to yell at him he loses his breath. that you can’t see that teasing you is his only way to keep you coming back to pike. that he almost killed pucey because he likes you. he so painfully likes you.

“you’re an idiot you know that?” he yells, taking his hand off the doorknob. “seriously how dumb can you be? you really think i’m doing all of this for my image?”

“then answer my fucking question, weasley,” you spit at him, becoming angrier every minute that he won’t admit his own obsession with how everyone perceives him. “why. are. you. helping. me.”

every word comes out dripping with the venom of your rage. getting george to admit he’s a self centered, self serving asshole will give you all the evidence you need to show katie and angie that this feud is his fault, not yours. he begins to pace around the room, hands going to his hair as he looks deep in thought. your eyes never leave him, watching as he slowly unwinds in front of you. it’s happening, he’s going to admit it.

“you want to know why? you really want to know why i’m doing all this? why i dedicate my fucking saturday nights to fighting with you? that’s what you really want?”

“that’s what i asked isn’t it?”

“because i fucking like you, okay?” he shouts, making your heart stop. your jaw is practically on the floor, this is not the confession you were expecting. his face softens along with his tone, “i like you.”

he’s quiet, almost inaudible over the muffled bass of the music coming from downstairs. you face hasn’t changed, your brain is empty. your completely unable to move. you begin to shake your head after a minute, repeating the words ‘no’ and ‘you’re lying.’

“fuck this,” george finally speaks up, going back to reach for the door. “have a nice life, y/n, don’t bother coming back here after tonight.”

“george stop!” you yell which makes him stop in his tracks. his first name again. it makes his heart ache. he can’t get involved, he can’t fall into your trap. he continues to make his way to get as far from you as he possibly can. “george i mean it! stop running away from me.”

you’re now off the bed, following close behind him. you’re swimming in his sweatshirt, the material falling just below your knees. you don’t know why you suddenly have the urge to touch him, to be with him but it’s there. him threatening you to never come back made your chest tighten, not because you’ll be missing parties, but you’ll be missing him. memories of your screaming matches flood your brain, the absolute high you’re on as you’re staring up at him after shouting something offensive his way. the way you can never seem to catch your breath when he’s around you. the fact that you continue coming back, knowing he’s going to hurt your feelings in some way or another, because it means you’ll be with him. as toxic and backwards as it seems, you’ve never hated george. you were utterly obsessed with him. when you finally reach him, grabbing his hand to stop him fleeing, his whole body snaps to turn toward you. he looks wild.

“what could you possibly have to say to me?” he shouts, making you step back. his words are fueled by anger and hatred. when he sees you back away from him, he immediately regrets his tone. “come to gloat? to make fun of me? save it, y/n. i don’t want to hear it.”

you don’t say a word. on the crowded staircase of your drunk classmates you do the last thing you could have ever imagined doing with george weasley. you kiss him.

he’s completely taken aback, freezing in his place as soon as he feels your soft lips against his. one hand is wrapped around the back of his neck and the other is holding his cheek. eventually, reality hits the boy and he’s pulling you into him by your hips. you wince in pain from the tender bruise aching on your hip from pucey’s hands and george immediately pulls away to see if you’re alright.

“god, i’m sorry, i’m so sorry. i didn’t realize he hurt you so bad,” he starts to ramble on, keeping his hands off of you to keep from hurting you. “y/n, i’m — i just — i don’t know what to say.”

your hand is still on his face, your thumb stroking over his cheek bone. you can’t believe you had just kissed the boy you had sworn to hate for the rest of your life. pulling your hands away from your body you take a hold of his that are hovering inches away from your hips. you move they to lay against your waist and move yours to return to his face. you lean yourself back up toward him again, capturing his lips for the second time tonight. he didn’t hesitate this time, pulling you closer to him.

as soon as you pull away from each other, you’re soon walking back to his room hand in hand. he closes the door and flicks on the lights. being with him now feels astronomically different. the tension that once plagued any room you two shared has melted away.

“i didn’t want to pressure you into doing that,” he says softly, his palm resting on your cheek as the two of you sit only inches from each other on his bed. “especially after what pucey did to you, i’m sorry. i shouldn’t have been so harsh.”

you stop him from spiraling any further into a pit of blame. “i feel safe with you georgie, i wouldn’t have stayed in here with you, kissed you, if i didn’t. you know i’d be the last to admit this, but you saved me, i owe you one.”

a small smile tugs on his lips. he can’t help but feel his heart hammering against his ribs like it’s going a thousand miles and hour. “consider the debt repaid,” he replies, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. “i don’t think i would’ve ever been able to face you after tonight if you hadn’t come running after me.”

your smile mirrors his, unable to contain the butterflies in the pit of your stomach. the two of you just stare at each other for a while, trying to imprint this moment in your memory forever.

“can i kiss you again?” he asks, his lips so close that you can feel his breath against yours. you nod against his forehead, silently begging to feel his warmth again.

kissing george is like nothing you’d ever felt before. you spent your entire life kissing boys that meant nothing to you, this feels like home. his tongue slips into your mouth, exploring every inch of you, memorising how you feel as if you’ll be stolen from him at any second. he’s thought of this exact moment for months, every time you fought, every time he spoke to you, he imagined what it would feel like to have you like this.

“still feels like a tundra in here,” you tell him after you pull away. he takes you by your good wrist and urges you to lay next to him, his arms wrapping tightly around your body wishing he would never have to let go.

“better?”

“better.” you reply, letting you hand rest against his chest, feeling his heart beat. “this is not how i imagined this night going.”

“neither,” he says, running his fingers up and down your side. “never thought i’d get to hold you like this.”

your cheeks heat up, not from your usual rage but from the sudden rush on nerves. you don’t know how to act around him when you’re not about to beat his face in. he gently pulls your face from where it’s hiding in his chest to admire you. he presses his lips softly against yours, then moves to either cheek, then to your forehead.

“what happens now?” you ask, suddenly hit with the realization that you can’t go on with the feud that’s been bubbling between the two of you for the past year. you’ll have to tell your friends that you don’t hate each other anymore, that you did the unthinkable and kissed george weasley.

“i don’t care,” he says simply. “we could continue fighting until my dying breath, i just don’t want to be without you. ever.”

“what a little sap-fest you’ve become,” you tease holding yourself up on your elbows to get a good look at the boy. “who knew the george weasley could be so sentimental.”

“oh shut up,” he nudges your shoulder, pulling his arms from around you to rest behind his head. “you’re the one who kissed me, y/n, you started this.”

you let out a giggle, resting your head against his chest. you talk for hours about everything and nothing at all. eventually you hear the music die from downstairs, your phone buzzing with texts from angie and katie worried sick about where you ran off to. you tell them you’re fine and you’ll explain tomorrow. it’s an unspoken assumption that after all these months of fighting, you’ll be sleeping in george’s bed, cuddled up to him like you have been for the last few hours. you turn from your phone to see him stripping his shirt from his body, going to pull his khakis from his body and your heart stops.

“george i-” you start, not being able to form a coherent sentence. “i’m sorry but i can’t do anything like that, not tonight, not after what happened.”

his face turns down in worry, swiftly pulling a pair of sweats from his drawer to cover his bare legs. “oh my god, no y/n that’s not where i thought this was going at all. i usually sleep without a shirt on but it that makes you uncomfortable i can put one on. i’m so sorry i wasn’t even thinking.”

you sigh in relief, of course he wasn’t going to ask you to do anything like that after what he saw. you can’t believe you assumed that of him.

“no, no i’m sorry i know you would never,” you reply, rubbing your face between your palms. “i’m just on edge.”

he sits next to you, already holding a pair of boxers for you to wear and places them in front of you. he runs his hands up your arms. “don’t apologize to me, you’re allowed to be on edge after that. i should’ve been more conscious of that. i can go to the bathroom while you change if you want, unless you want to stay in your jeans.”

you shake your head, pulling the denim off your legs and replacing them with george’s boxers. you’re safe with him, you remind yourself.

“thank you, george,” you say quietly. “for everything.”

“i’d do it again, a hundred times over if i had to,” he tells you, pulling you into his arms to hold you. “do you want to talk about it?”

you shake your head no and he nods. he lays the two of you back and pulls his blankets other you. your head lays against his bare chest, feeling the most secure you have in your life. george’s breath eventually steadies as he slips into a deep sleep. it’s the easiest he’s ever been able to fall asleep, feeling completely comfortable with you in his arms. you fall asleep soon after him, the arms of george weasley and the walls of pi kappa alpha lulling you into the sweetest dreams.

#george weasley #george weasley imagine #frat boy george weasley #george weasley modern #weasley twins #weasley twins imagine #george weasley x reader #george weasley x you #harry potter imagine

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becca-e-barnes · 3 years

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becca you're philosophical genius always gives me the best ideas ever??

like picture your first fight with ransom. you're pretty chill and passive in general so je kinda just expects you to submit to him you know ?? but you stay silent the whole time he'd screaming and throwing accusations. when he's done you look at him in the eyes and walk up to him with the most control he's ever seen in someone after he just screamed.

you grab him by the jaw and force him to bend to you face and you smile :

'listen to me and listen to me well. i don't know who the fuck raised you hugh. but I'm not the one. you have issues and you want to talk ? then talk like the grown fucking man you're supposed to be. but don't ever try and think you can yell at me like that ever again. im not one of your fucking fake ass friends who submit to your every fucking word and if you want this relationship to work you're gonna need to fix your communication problems. if you wanna be a petty bitch then fine. but don't expect me to calm running to you and rub your ego after you try this type of bullshit. is that clear ??'

and the way he's stunned and genuinely speechless?? he nods in silence and watches you walk up to your room and fuck, he's so hard right now and so proud too ?? he genuinely cannot express how fucking horny you made him. he wants you to boss him around some more cause he found a new kink of his.

you take a shower and he slips in with you to hug you from the back.

'im sorry...'

you're caught off guard but you keep your composure.

'do you mean it or are you being nice because you have a boner ?'

you turn around and the way you look at him makes him want to get on his knees and fuck that's new and kinda scary but he wants more.

he shakes his head and apologizes again and you find him so cute and you kinda feel guilty but now you just wanna fuck him.

the make out session is out if this world because the boy is being loud and receptive and needy and you just wanna confort his adorable wounded soul ???

when you end up in bed he'd have you on top of him riding him and you're kissing his neck and forehead and it looks so fucking cute but you also have your hand around his throat because he's a little shit and you wanna strangle him :)

bonus point : he asks you if he's being good and if you love him and he discovers his own praise kink :)

(he's a little bit ike the needy! bucky thing i sent you yesterday ?? like usually very dominant but then the either fuck up or really miss you and they turn into needy messes :))

- 🍡 anon

PLEASE OH MY GOD bc I love that kind of quiet, logical, measured anger vs ransom’s shouting and ranting 😩 and if it shuts him up and turns him on, I’m in love

Id love to put a man like Ransom in his place and watch him go all subby like that oh wow help

God I can’t stop thinking about riding him, one hand in his hair, the other wrapped around his neck, pressing him to the bed and he’s so so gone

His pretty eyes are squeezed shut, lips all pink and bitten raw, the prettiest groans pouring out of him and it’s taking everything in him not to cum. He’s fisting up the bedsheets because you told him not to touch you and he needs to do something with his hands or he’s going to go insane

“Oh Hugh, you feel so good. Look so pretty too. No idea how much nicer it is to hear you like this instead of running your mouth. My good boy.” All the praise you’re giving him is just overwhelming but then you lean forward, putting more weight on his throat and your bare breasts are in his face all of a sudden and his mouth waters as he leans forward, sucking one of your nipples into his mouth.

His eyes are big and wide and shining, waiting for punishment but it never comes. Instead, he swears he feels you get wetter, your nails digging into his throat harder while you bounce on him.

And you can hardly even control yourself anymore, his whines slipping out against your breast, his tongue flicking over your nipple in a way that has you seeing stars.

“Oh Hugh, you’re such a good boy aren’t you. Looks like we found an even better use for your mouth.”

#asks answered <3 #🍡 anon #becca writes spice #bc I dated one of those entitled rich boys for 2 years #and they’re SO used to getting their own way it hurts #and I certainly don’t shy away from confrontation #we were toxic as hell #and I nearly miss that bc holy shit it was hot #((they all have mummy issues I swear to god))#but I feel like Ransom would be into being called Hugh in bed?#just a thought idk

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lubdubsworld · 3 years

Text

Falling for you( Falling from grace) Jungkook

Falling for you ( Falling from grace) Jungkook

Read Chapter 1 here

Read Chapter 2 here

Read Chapter 3 here

Rated : 18 +

Warning : . Fuck buddies? Or rather enemies that have sex. They just really hate each other but also can’t keep their hands off each other. Fair warning this has no plot. its just them being idiots .

Chapter warning : a little bit of plot just to keep things interesting yeah?

Chapter 4

The washroom on the seventeenth floor was the unofficial gossip hub and normally I would steer clear of that place but desperate times called for desperate measures. I was pretty sure I looked like I’d been dragged backwards through a hedgerow and I had to get it fixed before I got written up .

Willing myself not to openly flinch with every step, I tried to curb the trembling in my thighs, almost painfully sensitive to how wet and messy my lower half as. What the fuck had I been thinking.

When I entered the restroom, I moved to the huge ornate mirror in the center and took a nice long look at myself.

I felt my throat seize up in shock.

Good God.

I looked ten times worse than I felt. The hair in the back of my head was sticking up , four even gaps from where he’d gripped my hair too tight. Yelping, I pulled on the dozen hairpins holding my hair up in a messy bun, letting my hair fall around my shoulders. Panicking , I threaded my fingers through the strands, wincing when I touched my jaw. What the fuck...

I leaned closer, peering at the small abrasion near my chin. It was a bruise, shaped exactly like Jungkook’s thumb. And it was already turning into an ugly shade of puce.

Slightly hysterical because, Hoseok was so incredibly unbending when it came to office etiquette and I did not want to get fired, I flipped at the fancy taps, sticking my hand underneath the cold water and splashing it all over my face.

The door opened behind me and I flinched.

“Oh, hey Areum....” Three of my colleagues walked in . I recognized two of them , Jieun and Hana . The third one looked new.

“Hey...” I croaked out, trying hard not to look like I’d just been fucked to an inch of my life in a supply closet by the boss’ son.

Oh fuck, what the hell was I thinking?

The girls moved to the mirror , spreading out across the long counter and pulling out their compacts and lipsticks . I kept my head down, still trying to calm my pounding heart.

“So let me get this straight, he called you at eleven in the night yesterday and wanted to meet you ? At your apartment?” Hana was saying.

The new girl was blushing as red as a tomato.

“Yeah...he uh... he told me he was just returning from his training. He’s a boxer.” There’s a shy sort of admiration in her voice and I felt an odd sense of foreboding.

“Booty call.... He wanted to fuck you for sure.” Jieun said firmly. “ You’re a lucky bitch, Sana... ”

Sana.....

My fingers started trembling when I heard the familiar name. I tried to calm myself down but it was impossible . A red hot sort of rage began licking its way up my spine. It wasn’t new. I knew he fucked other people. We both did.

but I’d never stood within two feet of one of his conquests.

“ Yeah...but then he called me like an hour later and said he wasn’t coming around.” Her voice was tinged with disappointment and I felt a sick sort of satisfaction.

Jungkook had cancelled because of the pic I’d sent him.

“Maybe he thought he wanted more.... like you told me he asked you to come meet him at practice tomorrow right? To get coffee afterwards... ? Maybe he wants to do this properly....take you out on dates...get to know you....”

I couldn’t stay there a second longer.

“Ladies...” I bowed quickly and they offered me cheerful smiles. I all but ran out of the restroom, hating the sharp sting of tears somewhere near my lashes.

I stumbled to the back stairwell, which was mostly unused and usually deserted. Gripping the walls, I slid down to sit on the floor, drawing my knees up to bury my face in.

There was a reason I didn’t do public sex, I thought, shaking. Despite the way I mouthed off at Jungkook, sex with him always took a toll and I had always, always made sure I had space and time to recover from it. Gripping my thighs and trying to fight the urge to whine, I fumbled with my phone.

“Areum?”

“Can I have the day off?” I whispered, shaking a little.

“You alright?” Hoseok’s voice sounded genuinely worried and I hummed.

“ Got my period.” I said blankly.

“ Gotchu. I’ll fill up the form and get one of the interns to pack your stuff up. You need to get some meds or something? Need a ride home?”

I felt warmth bloom in my chest. This is why Hoseok was such a great HR manager. He genuinely cared.

“ I don’t need a ride. Or anything else.” I said quickly, “I’ll take a cab...”

There was a slight shuffling and then, an altogether familiar and unwelcome voice in the background went.

“Who’s that?”

Oh fuck. What the hell was he doing there?

“Areum...hang on, Jungkook’s here....he wants to talk to you...” Hoseok said quickly and before I could protest , I heard Jungkook’s low raspy exhale against my ears.

“Where are you?” He said shortly.

I considered protesting but remembered that Hoseok was still there.

“ The back stairwell... I... I’ll come there , I...”

“Stay right there. I’ll come get you.”

Before I could respond, he had hung up. I stayed on the floor, staring stright at the opposite wall. I forced myself not to think, trying to take deep breaths. The truth was I was exhausted. Physically and otherwise.

Letting my head fall back against the wall, I closed my eyes, trying not to think about what Id’ heard in the restroom. Was Jungkook interested in Sana? Meeting him at practice? Coffee?

That just screamed dating to me. I’d always assumed that Jungkook wasn’t into dating. That he just enjoyed quick fucks because that’s all he had ever offered me. So maybe, it wasn’t because Jungkook didn’t want to date. It was because Jungkook didn’t want to date me.

Which was fine. I didn’t want to date him either. I really didn’t .

“Hey....you okay?”

I had to inhale shakily, just to bring myself to look at him. I felt my heart ache something fierce because he was kneeling in front of me, strands of hair falling into doe back eyes. Eyes that fairly glistened with genuine concern. There was no infuriating smirk or haughty smile....instead his lips were parted in genuine concern, eyebrows furrowed in worry and one hand resting on my knee , fingers just so unfamiliarly gentle.

I stared at him for another second and smiled evenly.

“Guess I’m gonna be needing that wheelchair after all.” I quipped.

He stared at me for a second before his face split in a wide grin, a genuine bark of laughter spilling out of him. He looked so carefree and unabashed that I bit my lips, staring at him some more.

“Let’s get you home , yeah?”

I nodded, letting him grip my arm to help me up.

“It’s okay. I can walk... “ I said softly and he hummed, but still kept an arm around me and I noticed that he had my handbag slung on the other shoulder.

We reached the elevator and rode down in silence .

I followed him to the basement parking and he fumbled with the smart key to his car , pointing in the direction of the multitude of cars and I watched one of the flashy red ones blink.

“Let’s go to my place...., yeah?” He said casually and I groaned.

“Jungkook, I know this going to make your ego swell but I’m not joking when I say that I cannot physically take your dick at least for another couple of days.”

He rolled his eyes.

“I don’t want to fuck you, God. I’m working on a project for the Art Fest down at the Museum and I’m staying home. You can rest there....” He said casually, moving to put his seat belt on. He fixed the mirrors by prodding a few buttons and I watched the tattoos on his arm flex as he gripped the steering wheel, one arm coming around the headrest of my seat so he could turn and back out of the lot carefully.

I frowned at the broad shoulders near my face. .

“Why would I rest there? I have a home....” I protested , watching him hold the door open for me.

“Because I know for a fact that , it being Monday, both your sister and your mother are supposed to be coming over today to cook and clean for you because you have no life skills, “ He grinned and I glared at him, “ . They’ll probably notice the limp and I just thought I’d spare you the humiliation.”

I didn’t respond because he was right. My mom and sister were home and it would be impossible to get any rest with them around. The fact that Jungkook somehow knew this made me feel jittery and nervous though.

“You have a fight this weekend?” I blurted out before I could stop myself.

He kept his eyes on the road, sparing me just one questioning glance.

“How’d you know?” He asked curiously and I bit my lips.

I’ve been following your boxing career for a three years.

“ Just heard someone say something at the office...” I said vaguely.

“You aren’t invited.” He said sharply and I gripped the seats, annoyed.

“I don’t want to be there anyway.” I snapped back.

He huffed.

“I’m serious about what I do Areum... I don’t want you interfering in that part of my life, alright? We’ve been through this before.”

I sneered at that.

“I know....isn’t that why you literally banned me from your gym. “

He didn’t reply and I stared at my hands.

He had invited that girl, though, my mind supplied helpfully.

He invited her not only to the gym, to watch him practice, but also for coffee afterwards...you know...to get to know her better....probably because she’s not the kind of girl who would spread her legs as easily as you do.....

I stared out of the window, remembering how pretty and put together Sana had looked. The dainty walk, the perfect make up and the long hair, styled perfectly.

I was beautiful too. Of course I was and I knew it.

Men like Jungkook didn’t go for unattractive women even if it was for a quick lay. But, there’s beauty and then there’s actual charm? I wasn’t charming in any sense of the word. But then, did I have to be charming and attractive and perfect to go see him fight?

Why?

What about the other people there? If literally anyone could go watch him fight, why wasn’t I allowed?

“I want to come watch you train....” I said impulsively, my anger getting the better of me.

Jungkook turned to give me a shocked stare.

“What? Why?” His eyes narrowed in suspicion and I shrugged.

“No reason.” I said shortly. I could physically feel his irritation build.

“Areum....” He began , voice holding a note of warning but I refused to back down.

“Literally anyone can visit your gym. You own the thing and you love offering discounts to everyone you meet...and yet somehow, I’m ‘ banned’. Why?” I demanded.

“Because I don’t want you there...That’s a good enough reason for me.” He snapped back and I clenched my fists harder.

“Well, sucks for you. I’m gonna be there. On the front row. Let me see what’s so great about Jeon Jungkook in the ring that drives women wild...” I scoffed.

He stared at me for a second and then chuckled.

“Ahh..... so you just wanna watch me get wet and sweaty.... ? Understandable.”

I sneered.

“You have been wet and sweaty on top of me enough times and trust me the novelty has long worn off.”

He groaned.

“It genuinely feels like anytime I try to be halfway decent human being to you, you repay me by being as annoying as you can....” He said thoughtfully and I couldn’t say anything to that.

i flinched when his hand reached out, moving to my knees and squeezing /lightly.

“What are you doing?” I frowned slapping at his fingers and he merely moved his hand higher up my thigh. I flinched when he squeezed again.

“The only time you’re remotely bearable is when I’m touching you....So I’m gonna keep my hand here...” He gave me a smug grin, eyes practically dancing with mirth and I grimaced.

“I’m still going to come. I want to.” I said firmly.

He didn’t argue further.

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

Much to my surprise , I slept away the better part of the day, buried in Jungkook’s soft white sheets , head pillowed in the dozen fluffy throws he kept around. It was vaguely arousing that someone so intensely masculine like Jungkook preferred a comfortable , soft toned bedroom. The sheets smelled exactly like him, a fresh citrusy scent that managed to be soothing and sweet and yet somehow seductively warm as well.

I woke up to fingers in my hair, lightly stroking. The room was dim, a little bit of light from the streets spilling in through the gaps between the curtains.

“Areum.... It’s almost eight.... I’m gonna order us something for dinner... You wanna wake up now?”

His voice. Fuck.

I rolled over , groggy and disoriented. My eyes took in the splendor that was Jeon Jungkook, taking in the fact that he was only wearing grey sweatpants . I stared at the smooth expanse of his chest, feeling arousal bloom , slow and steady all over me.

“I wanna suck you off...” I croaked out before I could fully filter my own thoughts.

Jungkook chuckled a bit at that.

“I’m not gonna say no to that, but why don’t you take a shower and wake up fully.

I shook my head.

“ Let’s get messy first..... we can shower later...” I whined, still blinking and he groaned, slipping into the bed with me, under the covers, grabbing me by the waist and lifting me up till I was on him, my chin resting on his chest as I stared at his beautiful face.

What am I doing here? Where is this leading?

“I’ve never seen you like this. “ He commented mildly.

“Like what?”

“Sleepy and horny....Usually you‘re just angry and horny.”

I shook my head.

“I should go.” I said hesitantly.. Jungkook didn’t respond for a few seconds, merely staring at me with a blank look on his face. Then he gave me a slight squeeze around my waist and moved out from under me. .

“I can call you a cab...” He said simply, moving to get up off the bed again. I felt something jump in my throat . It was unlike him to acquiesce so fast, and it was unlike us to just.... hang out without mutual orgasms thrown in the mix and somehow that felt like a change I wasn’t ready for. A bit of panic flashed through and I reached out blindly when he stood up, grabbing his waist and yanking him closer.

I looked up at him, scooting to the edge of the bed and kneeling till I was right in front of him.

Eager to get things back to normal, I smiled and casually, pressed both my hands behind my back, looping my fingers together at the base of my spine.

“Get those handcuffs.”

Jungkook’s dick literally twitched in his pants and he swore.

“Fuck baby....” He grabbed my face roughly, crashing his lips over mine. I kissed back, almost desperate, trying to remember all the reasons why he annoyed me, why this was all we were to each other. A quick fuck, a quick lay, fuck buddies. that's what we were......

“Stay here. Stay right here...Don’t fucking move.” He pulled back and dove for his bed stand. I watched as he pulled out a silky black tie.

I grinned when he nearly fell, scrambling up on the bed and pushing up behind me. He grabbed the hem of my blouse, yanking it up over my head before grabbing my wrists together again , tying them swiftly behind me.

“Only you...” He whispered against the back of my neck. “ Only you can do this to me. Drive me wild with want just by fucking existing....”

And then he was lying down near me, grabbing my waist and jostling me around till I was straddling his waist. It took me a second to orient myself I managed to steady myself, staring down at him in surprise.

“ Seeing as you said you needed a break from my dick, how about you come sit on my face, today?” He smirked.

I tested the give on my hands, before carefully leaning down to him

“Sure you have the lung capacity for this , Jeon?” I whispered, lips brushing his as I spoke.

He responded by gripping my waist hard, easily lifting me up till i was straddling his shoulders.

“I’m ready to drown in that sweet sweet honeypot, baby...” He winked and it was such a ridiculously bad joke that the laughter got wrenched out of me.

And just like that , we were back to being us again. Or at least, that's what I convinced myself of.

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

AUTHOR’S NOTE : TELL ME WHAT YOU GUYS THOUGHT ....I WANTED THIS TO BE JUST PORN BUT APPARTENTLY I CANT WRITE ANYTHING WITHOUT ANGST FML.

Also requests open :)

#bts fanfics #bts smut #bts #jungkook #bts fics #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook #jungkook fics

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anothertimdrakestan · 4 years

Note

Could you write a hc about watching a scary movie with the batboys(including terry and duke!)?

Watching Scary Movies W/ The Batboys HC

ahhh this is so cute! i'm such a scaredy cat too lmao so i made this extra soft and fluffy 🥰 thank you!

Damian Wayne:

- he'd be completely unaware anything was wrong until he turned to complain to you about the cringeworthy acting and saw you flinching into the sofa

- to try to comfort you in his own damian way he'd point out all the flaws in the movie with you, eventually you were both too busy complaining about the poor camera angles and idiocy of the murderer to be scared

- for one certain jump scare damian flinched, immidiently reaching for your hand, and you continued to clench his for the rest of the film

- as you both whispered about the murderer being a complete dumbass for not grabbing the biggest knife he was softly rubbing circles on the back of your hand because as much as he could distract you, he never wanted you to feel scared, ever.

- you never enjoyed scary movies until damian made them fun, and damian never enjoyed fun until he was having it with you

Duke Thomas:

- i strongly believe duke doesn't like them either and you can fight me on this

- you'd watch them together in broad daylight to get over your shared fear, taking turns hyping each other up while the other was buried in someone's lap

- "WHO ARE WE?" "BADASSES" "WHAT ARE WE SCARED OF?" "NOTHING" "NOTHINGGGG LETS GOOO"

five minutes later (sponge bob voice)

- "wait babe hold me i'm scared" (you can decide who said this ;)

- steph coming up behind you both and giving you the jumpscare of your lives just when duke was finally getting confident

- "AHHH- III EEEEYEEE WILL ALWAYS LOVE YOUUUU OH I WILL ALWAYS LOVEEE YOUUU Y/NNNN" "d you jumped off the couch" "i wanted to serenade y/n shut up"

- definitely giving up half way in and making empty promises to come back next time, the fam always teases duke for being a badass in every other way but crying at a single horror movie but youre quick to defend your favorite batboy to anyone who challenges him

Tim Drake:

- tim thinks horror movies are stupid, hes seen more horror than anyone needs but he's never one to miss family movie night when you're over

- surrounded by dick, who is always excited, bruce, who is probably half asleep, and damian, who is practically chained to the couch- family movie night is truly something else but tim loves it when he's with you

- whenever it's dick's turn to choose a movie (or jason's if he ever shows up) he's picking horror and tim secretly likes it because it's an excuse to cuddle you and make damian sick to his stomach

- usually you'll end up clutching on to his hoodie while he sweetly combs his fingers through your hair and whispers whatever's happening in the movie to you

- "okay babe now stupid blonde girl is going upsta- uh!" "oh my god tim what happened" "er- shh it's okay! it's okay! just a little scare, now she's uh- dead but it's fine! now the big y'all jock guy is next youve gotta watch it'll be funny!"

- damian might actively gag when tim peppers your face in kisses while you giggle through the movie but it makes movie night all the more memorable, plus tim loves seeing you surrounded by his family, nothing makes him happier than being close to those he loves

Jason Todd:

- jason adores watching horror movies with you, the gore never bothered him but he likes to have you sit in his lap wrapped in his arms and a blanket while he cooes in your ear during the movie

- "angel cmon it's not even scary! it's sooo predictable!" "babe you have to look at least a little bit! i'm right here y/n!"

- he sometimes tries to distract you by trailing kisses from your cheek to the edge of your shoulder while you squirm, eventually lolling your head to the side, eyes fluttering closed why he focuses on that perfect spot on your neck

- it's quite frequent that horror movies transition to the both of you having a little more fun and it's rare that you genuinely finish the movie, either falling asleep in jason's lap or being carried to your bedroom in fits of laughter, jason makes your life fun and passionate and movie nights are never any different with the love of your life

Terry McGinnis:

- horror movies with terry usually happen after you lose a bet, terry loves an excuse to cuddle you and enjoys a good scare

- he likes to pretend to be big and tough but at jump scares he'll jolt, reaching quickly to wrap his arms around you. it makes your heart melt because it means when he's scared the first thing he reaches for is you

- you'll catch him nervously biting his lip during stressful scenes and the teasing is on

- "T you scared?" "babe no, no i'm not, but look at your! you're clutching on to me like a freaking koala" "you like it scaredy cat" "maybe but at least i'm not a scaredy koala" "you're favorite koala" "of course you are lovebug"

- when the credits roll terry will latch around you and bring you in for cuddles while he lazily runs his hands up and down your back, talking about the movie and how he totally didn't get scared at all, all sarcasm of course

- "id protect you from a murderer" "ha bitch id be the murderer youd be my sidekick" "i'd make a pretty sexy sidekick" "sHuT uP and kiss me you dork"

Dick Grayson:

- dick has probably seen most horror movies, i feel like he thought they were cool when he was robin so now he just wants to show you all his favorites

- telling you to close your eyes during a scary part or explaining what will happen so you're prepared

- he would actually get you kind of into horror movies, teaching you all the lore of horror shows and the two of you end up making it a weekly thing to sit down and hold each other through a scary show or movie

- each of his family members will occasionally join you, but dick gets jealous when you explain that damian cuddles hit different during scary movies or that cass braiding your hair is peak comfort, this always leads to him scooping you up no matter where you are and smothering you on the couch while you jokingly try to push the big oaf off of you

- the best days are when you and dick eventually get surrounded by the whole family, all piled into your laps like a bat-dog-pile. resting your head on dicks shoulder while you give tim back scratches and dick holds a sleepy damian close to his side, surrounded by your favorite people, closest to your favorite boy, absolutely smothered in love :)

hey i hope you enjoyed! who wants to watch a scary movie with me??? hehehe tbh i'd be crying but it's okay 😂😂😂

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unholyobsessions · 3 years

Text

Little Miss Perfect

Chapter One

Pairing: Reggie x fem!Reader

Description: According to everyone around you, you’re perfect. When that perfection is threatened by a failing grade, your teacher assigns a once familiar person to tutor you. (1990s fic)

Warnings: cussing

Word Count: 1.7k

Masterlist

: Next Part>>

You have a reputation to uphold, have had to do so since you were a child. Your family is old money, traditional and proper in all aspects of life, and there is a certain way you were taught to act.

Always stand up straight. Never let anyone see you fumble. Walk with confidence. Always wear a smile. Dress properly, there’s always someone watching.

Be perfect.

And you are. Captain of the Cheerleading team, Junior Prom Queen, Straight As, loved by anyone and everyone. Guys want to date you and girls want to be you. You’ve never had to work for anything in your life.

Well, that last one is a lie.

Nobody knows what happens behind a closed door. No one knows the countless hours spent sitting on your desk, dozens of textbooks open around you and tears streaming down your face as you try to comprehend even the slightest bit of information. The ridiculously long amount of time spent in your dance studio choreographing and perfecting every cheer routine. The numerous weekends spent inside your bathroom learning how to get the perfect wing to your eyeliner and the perfectly natural shade of blush.

Having to keep up your reputation is hard, but you’ve never known anything else.

The sound of your heels clicking against the tile floor echoes throughout the school, announcing your presence to everyone in the vicinity. When you walk down the hallway, the crowd of people parts and a shimmer of guilt tugs at your heartstrings. You make it to your locker with no faults and a relieved sigh escapes your lips. You subtly tug down your skirt, feeling the hundreds of eyes on you. You fight to keep a natural smile on your face as you turn the combination of your locker. It doesn’t matter that your head is hidden by the locker door, the smile has to stay on or you would never hear the end of it from your parents.

The sound of your name being called snaps you out of your daze and you look up to see your best friend or well, whatever she was.

You grew up with Jane but you never really hung out with her until high school. Your parents are business partners so she made an acceptable presence by your side in the eyes of your parents. You don’t agree, she’s a bitch, but you still hang out with her because you’re told to do so. She’s perfectly perfect just like you, the only difference is that she actually enjoys the little bubble your families keep you in.

You roll your eyes as she immediately launches into a whispered rant about whoever dared look her in the eyes that morning. You grab your science textbook, enjoying the familiar weight that settles in your hands. Gripping the book tightly, you gently close the locker door, a large contrast from your peers, who slam it shut with their arm or shoulder absentmindedly.

You haven’t spoken a single word and Jane seems to either not notice or not care. As soon as you turn to her though, she shuts up. It confuses you a little, sure her parents were new money but that didn’t mean that you were above her. She acts sort of like a minion and you absolutely despise it but you go through with it blindly, as you do with everything.

You start walking to your class nodding your head at Jane, a signal to remind her to smile. She does and you hope yours does not look as forced as hers does.

The day goes by smoothly, lunch having been spent with the cheer squad. The smile is genuine but you only nod along to their conversation and give short replies. It’s not a rare occurrence for you to get quiet every once in a while. And when the bell rings and they all go back to class, you meet Jane by the cafeteria doors. You go your separate ways when you get to her classroom, AP Biology, and you keep walking until you reach yours, AP Calculus.

You sit stiff on the uncomfortable desk, a pencil gripped tightly in your hand. Your teacher starts the class by passing out the tests you took yesterday. You take a deep breath, hoping that the horrible feeling you had after you turned it in was wrong and that you actually did extremely well. After what feels like an eternity she finally gets to your row and sets the test down on your desk.

Your eyes widen at the paper in front of you. This can’t be right. You don’t fail, you can’t. You know math is not your strong suit and you have been struggling the past few lessons (derivatives are hard to understand, okay?) but you never expected to see the bright red F on the corner of the page. The teacher gives you a look and you know exactly what is means. Meet me after class.

At the sound of the bell, everyone rushes to get their stuff together but you take your time, waiting for everyone to exit the classroom before making your way to your teacher’s desk. You stare at the floor, unable to make eye contact with her.

“This isn’t the first time you’ve struggled in my class y/n,” you flinch at the disappointed tone, blinking away the tears welling up in your eyes. The voice of your mom echoes in your head, Don’t show weakness.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, finally looking up. “It won’t happen again.”

“You said that last time.” When you refuse to answer she sighs. “Look I know what you go through to keep an A in this class but it’s okay to need a little help sometimes.”

This time you do answer. “I don’t need help, I never have. I’ll study more and do better next time.”

“Actually I’ve already recruited a student to help you.” Your eyes widen and your start to shake your head. “He’s one of my best students and he has agreed to tutor you a few times a week.”

“Who?” As if you invoked him by asking, the door opens. You look to your side and your breath hitches when you see who it is.

The Sinclairs are old money, go farther back than your family if you’re correct. Growing up, Reginald and you were thick as thieves. You took the same etiquette classes, had the same music instructor, had to follow the same set of rules. It was comforting, having someone who knew exactly what it’s like to live your life. But the guy standing in front of you is only a shadow of the boy you once knew.

This isn’t Reginald who would come to your parent’s fancy rich people parties, wearing an uncomfortable looking suit. Reginald who drank tea at twelve and never slouched. Reginald who is classically trained in music and would never be caught dead in anything other than black polished oxfords and a crisp button down tucked neatly into a pair of slacks.

This is Reggie who wears thrifted flannels, leather jackets, torn black jeans and worn out vans. Reggie who was kicked out and disowned for playing bass and joining a rock band. Reggie who owns a fake ID and spends his weekends playing clubs. Reggie who you haven’t spoken to since the summer before high school, when it became dangerous to associate with the likes of him.

But apparently Reggie is just as smart as Reginald and is still a math genius. Maybe shadow is not the correct word. Because Reggie shines brighter than he ever did before.

You gape at him and he looks just as surprised. Most likely not expecting you to be the person he is assigned to tutor.

“Reggie, perfect timing. I assume you know miss l/n,” your teacher breaks the silence.

Not looking away from you, Reggie answers, “Vaguely.”

You gulp and look away from him, opting to stare at the wall.

Sensing the tension the teacher clears her throat. “Well I’ll leave you guys to set up a schedule, I have a meeting to get to.”

Neither of you move as she gathers her stuff and leaves the classroom. The room is filled with an uncomfortable silence as soon as the door shuts leaving you both staring awkwardly at each other.

“You don’t have to tutor me. It’s fine really,” you say, fiddling with the rings around your fingers, a nervous habit you’ve never been able to break.

“Don’t be dumb l/n. It’s no trouble.” The words leave Reggie’s lips effortlessly, not worried about saying the wrong thing, not even thinking before speaking and it’s hard to ignore the small strike of jealousy. “How about we meet Mondays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays at three?”

“I can’t Mondays and Wednesdays. I have cheer practice,” You say, confidence making its way back to your voice, his relaxed composure and vaguely familiar presence easing your nerves.

Reggie shrugs. “Miss it.”

“I can’t miss it Reginald, I’m captain.” You deadpan, already tired of this conversation. If it were anyone else, you would have fought to keep a smile on your face, to sound as polite as you possibly could, but being in Reggie’s presence made your walls shake, even if it was just a little bit.

“First off, it’s Reggie. Second those are the only days I can meet.” He sticks his hands in his pockets and leans back against the wall.

“Can we meet at four thirty?” You try to negotiate.

“I have band practice.”

“Miss it.” You don’t know what takes over you causing you to say something like that. You’re not sarcastic, you’re polite. You’re not sassy, you’re proper. Reggie raises his eyebrows and it looks like he’s trying not to laugh. You can practically feel the glare your parents would have given you and it terrifies you, causing you to rush out an apology. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to come off as rude. I’ll move cheer practice to four thirty. We can meet at three.” You stand up straighter and your nails dig into your palms, the slight pain serving as a small punishment for your ludicrous behavior.

The amusement leaves Reggie’s eyes and he nods his head, eyes glancing down at your hands. If you didn’t know better, you would have thought there was worry in his gaze. “Cool. Meet me at the library tomorrow. I would say don’t be late but I know you’re physically incapable of it.”

And just like that, he leaves. You stand there for a minute, shocked, confused, and slightly dazed. Taking a moment to process the interaction you realize, your parents can never find out about this.

This was supposed to go up later but i’m too impatient. Hope you like it and let me know if you want to get tagged on future chapters :))

#julie and the phantoms #julie and the phantoms fanfic #julie and the phantoms fanfiction #julie and the himbos #julie and the fat ones #jatp #jatp fanfiction #jatp fanfic #sunset curve #reggie x reader #reggie jatp #jatp reggie #reggie julie and the phantoms #reggie x y/n #reggie x oc #luke patterson #alex jatp #jatp bobby

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yutaya · 3 years

Text

Iron Fist Week Day 7: minor character/missing scene

Albert is a man. A man... with a van.

He's proud of his van. Sure it was a bitch and a half to get certified and sometimes trying to drive three freaking blocks in this city when he's having a bad enough day can threaten to put his blood pressure through the roof, but he's ground out an honest living for himself with it. That's no mean feat, in this neighborhood.

Plus, Al likes his job. It involves a lot of visiting every nook and cranny of the area, meeting loads of people at varying levels of talkative - it's a job that requires someone personable, and Al doesn't think it's too immodest to say that he fits the bill.

Staring down a fully loaded armoire, though, Al can admit to himself that there are times he's less fond of this job than others.

By the time he's got the thing down on the sidewalk, doors and drawers bound shut and with an initial layer of wrapping to protect it from pedestrian traffic while he sets up the loader, Al has mentally added two upticks to his pain-in-the-ass fee.

"Woah, can I help you with that?"

Al pauses in his transferring long enough to take a look at who's spoken. It's a white guy, 20s, a little scruffy but looks comfortable, and, most importantly, seems genuine.

Al smiles at him. "I appreciate the offer, but these need to be moved in a specific way to prevent scuffing."

"Oh." Al goes back to loading the armoire. "...Would you show me?" Al pauses again. Looks back at the guy. "I'm Danny, by the way," he adds, and smiles beatifically.

Al blinks up at the sky. Had the sun shone more brightly for a second, there? He turns back to wrapping the furniture with blankets and bungee cords. "You need to move a lot of furniture, Danny?" he asks while he works. Engaging in friendly conversation with strangers is second nature to him, at this point.

Danny, who has the courtesy to remain standing out on the street behind the van as they talk, bounces a little as he replies. "Yes, actually! My girlfriend and I have been redoing her apartment."

"Wow, big project. Hey, if you guys need stuff moved around, I've got you covered. Back and forth from the storage unit, delivering your new stuff from the store, bringing your old stuff wherever it's going... My rates are fair and, as you can see, I'd actually take care of your things." He pats the carefully cushioned furniture from his current job in indication.

Danny laughs a little, looking at it. "At least that isn't a piano, right?"

"Hey man, pianos have wheels. I can walk them right up the ramp."

Danny eyes the ramp Al uses with the handtrucks. "Isn't it too skinny?"

Al laughs again. "What kind of piano are you picturing, a grand?" As if anyone who owned one of those would be hiring Al to move it. As if anyone who owned one of those would be living in this area at all.

Danny shrugs, unbothered. "I haven't seen one since I was a kid. Maybe it seemed bigger back then." A beat passes, and then Danny continues talking, the oversharing sort of babble symptomatic of the sleep-deprived. "Anyway, we'll definitely call you for help with our stuff. And you can show me all the right ways to handle everything! I'm probably going to be doing a lot of rearranging furniture and stuff since Colleen is out at Bayard all the time now; she keeps talking about helping the community during the daytime - Colleen's my girlfriend, she's the best - and, I mean, she's right, of course, plus, we just got back to the city and I am not used to not having to do something -" he cuts himself off, lighting up. "Hey, could I get a job with you?"

Al startles. He can usually recognize when someone's coming at that angle. Granted, they usually don't seem to stumble into it by mistake.

"The shop down the street is hiring," he offers. "On the corner."

"Thanks! I'd like to work for this business, though."

Al pauses. Revaluates "Danny". There are only so many reasons someone would be looking for a moving job specifically, and in this neighborhood, the most likely scenario is one that Al has been very carefully steering clear of for 30 years.

"I appreciate the interest," he repeats cautiously, "but we're a small business. I'm afraid we don't really have the means to hire right now." It's a bit of a risk, revealing a vulnerability like that. Luckily, Albert is overstating it a bit; it won't be that easy for any of the triads to put financial pressure on him, and, well. He's stubborn. He swore a long time ago that he wouldn't go there.

"Oh, that's not a problem!" Danny says brightly. "You wouldn't need to pay me. I'm more looking for the experience, you know? I've never had a normal job, and Colleen thinks it'll be good for us to start over."

The alarm bell clanging in Al's head rises to a shriek, then falters. If this is a ploy, it is astoundingly poorly executed. If this guy is in with any sort of organized crime, he can't be more than a fledgling recruit. Al feels a moral obligation to try and steer him better, even if his self preservation instincts disagree.

"Look," Al says, watching Danny's face carefully. "I'm running an honest business, here. I'm not interested in having our name attached to anything. And, if I could offer you a word of advice?" Danny, who mostly just looks confused, nods. "Don't go saying that stuff about working for free. Depending who hears it, that's a good way to end up either severely taken advantage of, or in a coffin. Anyone you might be trying that hard to get a resource for won't be happy about you overplaying your hand."

Danny still looks confused. Al mimes swinging a hatchet. Danny's eyes go wide with clarity.

"I'm not with the triads," he says disconcertingly earnestly. "I'm the Iron Fist. I'm sworn to defend the city from people like them."

...Ok.

Well, at least this is an interesting conversation.

"If you're not with the triads, why do you want this job?"

"I guess I'm looking for something new. For fifteen years, I had one purpose. Now, it's done. Now, I need to build a new life, and..." His voice dips in a certain way with the next words, a way that makes Al's stomach sink with the familiarity of it. "...keep a promise to a friend."

Al looks at Danny, a pit in his stomach and memories in his heart. Resignation settles underneath his skin.

"You have a résumé?" he asks. At least Danny doesn't seem inclined to just throw things around, like some other shipping companies that Al could name. Royal Al Moving provides quality for its clients, thank you very much.

"I don't think so. What is that, equipment? I could buy some."

Al stares at him. He'd been expecting either an agreement to email or bring by a copy later, or a conversation along the lines of 'do I really need one?' followed by a verbal listing off of previous work or even just ability.

"Do you have any previous experience?" Al tries again. "Had any jobs before?"

"Yeah, I have," Danny says, and doesn't elaborate.

White people.

"What about ID?" Al asks, despite knowing full well he'll probably pretend not to notice if anything seems off about it.

Danny laughs a bit, seemingly unphased by his own complete lack of knowledge regarding ordinary job application/interview etiquette whatsoever. "Oh, I definitely have that. Had to fight really hard for it, too. It was almost all gone, but once everything got sorted out, we made, like, 10 new copies of everything." Danny pats around at his pockets, not appearing to notice Al's incredulous expression. "I don't have any of those with me right now, but... Ah ha!" He pulls something out triumphantly. "Business cards! I'm pretty sure my brother thought I was just going to destroy them, but my friend Jeri said it's important to always have one. It might have gone through the laundry, though, sorry."

Assuming this day can't get any weirder, like a fool, Al takes the card.

Even worn and slightly crumpled, the obnoxiously expensive quality of the original card is still clear. There's embossing and gold foil, for god's sake. The Rand Enterprises logo glints up at him almost mockingly even as the three dimensional lines of the border rise and fall under his thumb. Either seems unnecessary and frankly tone deaf for a Humanitarian Aid company, let alone both. Then again, maybe they reserve this version of the card for the executive level, those who hobnob among the elite, who need to make a certain type of impression on the too rich in order to convince them to donate well.

Because that's another thing this card reads, right there in plain English: a 9pt bold 'Daniel Rand', and under that, 'CEO'.

'What,' a little voice in Al's head wails semi-hysterically, 'the fuck?'

"Is this a joke?" Al asks out loud, vaguely surprised by how calm he sounds given the way the voice inside his head might be having a meltdown. "Am I on Candid Camera?"

But, no, wasn't he just thinking that this card is way too expensive - and thus definitely too expensive to be a prop?

"Hey, I know that one!" Danny Rand says cheerfully. "Joy and I used to watch it together!"

'Joy,' the voice in Al's head supplies. 'Joy Meachum.

'Well, at least this explains why he said he doesn't need money.

'Wait, why is he looking for a job in the first place? Is he not CEO? Did they kick him out or something? Did they disown him for wearing a hoodie with holes in it? Is that what he meant earlier when he said the thing he was doing before is over now?'

Al has never felt more rueful that he doesn't pay much attention to celebrity news.

"So," Al tries to find a way to word this that isn't 'have you been cut off or what?' "Why is Danny Rand looking for a job here?"

By "here", Al means a lot of things. This type of neighborhood, in general. Chinatown, out of all of them. At a low-wage position in a manual labor business with very little room for growth, if they're really getting into it.

"I like your name," Danny replies. It's far from the kind of answer that Al was expecting, but he finds himself unperturbed. Maybe he's hit a point where nothing is surprising anymore. "It reminds me of a friend. He was more of a Big Al than a Royal one, but I saw your logo and it seemed right."

(Al still pays Danny, because he refuses to be a shady business and because if he's finally getting around to setting up an employee system, he's needs to make it one that will work for anyone he might hire in the future, too. They won't all be Danny Rand. Danny keeps finding ways to immediately give it back, because he's literally a billionaire.)

#here it is like an entire week late #it took so long to write and i still kind of hate it but whatever #ironfistweek #iron fist #danny rand #fanfic #?#my stuff #the immortal iron fist #the internet is for fanfiction #colleen and misty's days still to come #they're just gonna be gifsets tho so~

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jamaiskookie · 4 years

Text

bangtan headcanon: OT7 IN HIGH SCHOOL 📓✂️

☞ genre; fluff, crack

☞ warnings; excessively stupid

masterlist u wanna talk to highschool!bangtan?

《KIM SEOKJIN》

class clown

always manages to sneak kimbap in class, and stuffs his face despite being in the front row.

he’s alarmingly good at sneaking food into places.

cafeteria ladies love jin so much.

and every christmas he brings in his perfected sugar cookies and never shares them.

(he’s in the cooking club)

((he’s the only one in the cooking club))

will interrupt the teacher to make a bad joke.

“yes so helium is the fo- oh yes seokjin?“

“i was reading an excellent book about helium, i couldn’t put it down!! ahHAHAHHYUKHYUKAHHAHAHHA“

nobody’s?? really sure?? if he’s dating namjoon or not?? it’s the schools biggest mystery, there’s currently a betting pool going on worth about $500

likes to annoy namjoon and yoongi about holding bake sales.

is surprisingly good at planning parties?? but never hosts them?? hoseok always gets him to plan his parties and he even planned prom!!

he’s particularly proud with the theme he came up with.

‘zombie meets elegance‘

it was actually pretty nicely pulled off (much to the shock of the entire student body)

《MIN YOONGI》

student council president

takes his job very!! seriously!!

fights with the principal on funding daily.

doesn’t come to school without coffee and resting bitch face.

even the teachers are afraid of this short little emo boy.

is the only one who actually wears the school uniform properly with the little tie and jacket because that’s how you show school spirit.

definitely that closeted gay in high school who thinks nobody knows about his homosexuality when in fact, everyone knows.

(nobody has the guts to bring it up to him though)

“hyung why are you staring at jimin’s as-“

“-NO WHY GET BACK TO WORK”

actually enjoys doing morning announcements.

“make sure to check out jin’s dumb bake sale i think he’s selling brownies for some charitable reason anYWAYS time for min’s advice column!!“

min’s advice column is yoongi’s free therapy. namjoon suggested adding an advice column to the school paper so now yoongi just judges his classmates’s decisions gives subpar advice.

“i personally think you have no chance with this girl, but you’re clearly hell bent on asking her out. it’s a dumb choice. good luck.“

《JUNG HOSEOK》

fuckboy

throws obnoxious parties at his parent’s huge ass mansion.

somehow?? is?? the nicest? playboy??? evER??

will respect your girl’s boundaries but also would 300% hit on her when you’re not looking.

aftercare king wILL cuddle with you and help you clean up or whatever until jimin eventually comes in screaming.

his school id says “hobi 💦👅” ... noone knows how he managed to do it (taehyung thinks he seduced the secretary)

surprisingly good at romance even though he deTests dating

“it’s a waste of time, money, and ass.“ “- what?”

gives everyone dating advice whether they want it or nOt- he lives his *shhh very secret* romantic fantasies through his best friends.

once helped taehyung ask out his girlfriend... they’re still going strong!!

defo has daddy issues that he never talks about,, maybe if a girl finds it sexc™️ in that kind of messed-up-bad-boy-she-could-fix vibe he’ll bring it up

kinda failing science lmao he probably needs a tutor.. but will never admit he needs a tutor for sake of his pride.

most definitely has had sex in the janitor’s closet a couple times, up until yoongi caught him once, reported him to the school board and got him suspended... for a month.

(yoongi has no regrets, that was the best month of his life.)

《KIM NAMJOON》

student vice president

honestly would probably be the council president and is the most qualified for it but can’t be bothered.

plus he hates public speaking and the president has to speak at assemblies.

genuinely enjoys learning!! bUT HATES GROUP PROJECTS

because every single fucking time taehyung and jimin pester him about teaming up and he ends up doing like 75% of the work.

not because anyone forces him to or anything.

it’s because jimin and tae are such dumbasses every time they finish their work namjoon has a sudden uRGE TO REDO ALL OF IT BC THEY GOT IT WRONG.

tries to take all AP subjects.

gives up and drops half of them by the second semester.

great student but also will “no yoongi i don’t want to fucking play basketball i've been awake for thirty hours trying to finish this goddamn essay that’s due tomorrow. wHAT DO YOU MEAN WHY DIDN’T I DO IT EARLIER I WAS BUSY TAKING CARE OF MY BONSAI TREES.“

started the school paper!! it’s called “persona post”

writes about actual relevant things like political events and global problems, but everyone else just writes about school gossip *sigh*

although that one column examining hobi’s sex and dating life was a pretty fun piece of writing to read through.

he sits in the back of the classroom and never raises his hand even though he knows the answer like 95% of the time.

definitely has a crush on seokjin

《PARK JIMIN》

the one everyone has a crush on

and when i say everyone i mean everyone, even hoseok has had a crisis over park jimin.

(jungkook is definitely president of his fan club) ((in case it wasn’t clear, he’s dating jungkook))

school’s golden boy, basically gets away with everything with a bat of an eye... and the most infuriating thing is he doesn’t even realise it.

“omg jimin!! you’re so cute!! this shirt looks sO good on you, can i touCH?” “omg thank you i didn’t think it fit well because it’s my boyfriends but that’s so sweet!!” “boy... hm?”

mom friend: sweetest bitch alive and is always worrying about his friends but everyone knows he’s secretly really fucking kinky.

(again, jungkook has no comment)

the kind of person who celebrates christmas in june.

literally- he starts putting decorations in his locker and around the school mid june. by november, he’s wearing reindeer ears to school.

*lowkey kind of a nerd* genuinely enjoys studying with namjoon.

“well, studying with anybody else is just too stressful!! plus, namjoon’s so chill. he doesn’t look like it but he actually is super sweet and nice!!!“

“... please take those reindeer ears off, it’s embarrassing.“

half of the school would probably cut off an arm to sleep with him. seriously, he gets offers like everYDAY it’s kinda getting tiRING

is considering starting a youtube channel where he just takes videos of all the dogs and babies he meets throughout the day.

“idk i think vlogging would be fun“

《KIM TAEHYUNG》

art hoe

nEVER FUCKING STUDIES OR PAYS ATTENTION BUT GETS DECENT GRADES.

the definition of bisexual mess, WILL trip when he sees hot people.

exclusively wears wired gold glasses and soft neutral sweaters to school. if it’s a good day he’ll wear a beanie. on special occasions he’ll maybe throw in some fUN loafers.

dyes his hair to match ~the vibes~ of that season. the most recent wild hair colour is cool toned teal.

jungkook said he looks like leprechaun shit, but tae really likes it.

tried to go vegan countless times, failed each and every one when he passed by a mc donalds.

carries his sketchbook wherever he goes. he has that thing around 24/7, 100% would not be surprised if he slept with it under his pillow.

really quiet until he has a point to make;; like that time where he launched into a three hour screaming lecture on how phineas and ferb is an animated masterpiece.

drinks tea purely for the aesthetic of it.

goes to hipster coffee shops to pretend to study... ends up watching barbie movies and critiquing them on the writing blog that he thinks nobody knows about.

watches anime in class (he recently rewatched all of ATLA for the third time,, failed his econ class but worth it!!1!!1)

《JEON JUNGKOOK》

preppy jock

once again, everyone is attracted to him, but he’s so whipped for jimin everyone’s crush fades away once they talk to him because-

“oh it’s so cool that you have a dog!! you know, i think jimin kind of looks like a pomeranian sometimes it’s sO CUTE- hm? oh jimin’s my boyfriend.“

... it’s disgustingly adorable.

plays almost every sport and is somehow always the team captain. not out of obligation or with leadership skills or anything, everyone else just votes for him.

mess with his friends and he’ll put a stink bomb in your locker.

his nickname is “golden baby” because he’s good at everything, teachers love him so much.

grades? sTELLAR. sports? he’s done them ALL. creativity? pAINTED THE SCHOOL MURAL. service? volunteers at a pet shelter whenever he can (the bunnies love him for some reason)

everyone either is

a) in love w him, wants to fuck

b) jealous of him but is also secretly gay for him

pretends to not know how talented and cool he is and plays it off super cool

proceeds to fail, the only thing he’s bad at is humble bragging.

“wow omg lol i got a 100 on my bio test and yesterday i got a hole in one in golf, my first time playing it but it’s chill i guess hahhah day in my life amirite.“

**this headcanon is the start of the bangtan school series, stay tuned**

wanna be tagged in school series or my writing? here or send me an ask

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