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kpopfanfictrash · 3 years

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Raise the Barre (Ch. 10)

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Pairing: Jimin / Reader

Rating: 18+ (Eventual Smut)

Genre: Enemies to Lovers / Dance Academy!AU

Warnings: the angst continues, but this time there are glimmers of progress

Word Count: 7,221

Summary: You and Park Jimin have been rivals for as long as you’ve known one another; ever since he tripped you in the front row of your first dance convention. When you graduate from high school and enter Russet Ballet Academy, you tell yourself you’re leaving all past quarrels behind. The main problem with this though, is that your past seems determined not to leave you alone.

Worse still, the obstacles you face while out in the real world might prove more challenging than anything your enemy has to offer.

For the first time all year, Jimin didn’t show up at class the next day.

You’d been dreading seeing him, unable to sleep all night as the kiss replayed itself in your mind. You’d told Jimin you needed to think and now, one day later, you still had no idea what to say.

You’d fucked up – big time.

Cheater had never been a label you would’ve applied to yourself; but here you were, scarlet letter on your chest. Yesterday seemed fuzzy whenever you remembered it, as though it had happened to you, as opposed to being something you’d done. Each time you recalled the moment, the kiss, your heart threatened to burst in your chest. You weren’t sure if this was because of Jimin or Finn.

Finn still hadn’t texted or called you since the fight. Maybe fight wasn’t the right word to describe the knock-down, blowout match you’d had in the library. You and Finn had never fought like that before. You’d had disagreements of course but had always managed to work things out. This was the first time you’d left an argument and found yourself at a loss.

Finn wanted a more available girlfriend and you wanted to dance.

Deep down, you knew this was an unsolvable problem, but the idea just seemed so unfathomable. The idea that this would be the thing to break you up. It hadn’t been a problem back in high school. Maybe Finn hadn’t always come to your dance competitions, but he’d attended recitals and brought you flowers at nearby performances. He’d always seemed to enjoy your dancing, even if he hadn’t fully understood it.

It made your heart ache to imagine that deep down, Finn thought your decisions were foolish. When you awoke Thursday morning, you saw Finn hadn’t called and nearly dialed his number, but then you looked at the clock and swore. Ballet began in an hour.

This conversation wasn’t one to do over the phone. Talking to Finn would have to wait, so you scrambled out of bed and threw on your clothes. Noelle had comforted you the best she could the night prior, but she still didn’t know the extent of what’d happened. All you’d said was you had a fight with Finn.

Saying it out loud felt like admitting defeat. Admitting what you’d done meant you’d have to see Noelle’s expression when you explained – when you told her you’d kissed Jimin while still dating Finn. You didn’t want to see her face when she learned the truth; you were having enough difficulty confronting it yourself.

Pushing this from mind, you focused on today as you entered the classroom. You would be forced to see Jimin this morning. You’d been so worried about talking to Finn, you’d nearly forgotten about the other piece of the equation.

You had kissed Jimin, and then you’d run away.

As you entered, you scanned the room and frowned when you didn’t immediately see him. Jimin usually arrived before you and Noelle. Setting your bag down, you began to warm up and continued to glance at the clock. At one minute until the hour, you began to grow nervous. If Jimin didn’t arrive in the next thirty seconds, the door to the room would shut and that would be that.

Watching the second hand tick, your stomach twisted as the unthinkable happened. Jimin didn’t show up. Ballet on Thursdays was taught by Mr. Vlad, who was notoriously punctual and at exactly 9:00 AM, he shut the door.

You had the sudden urge to check your phone for missed texts, but there was no time. Instead, you were forced to stand at the barre as you began pliés. You knew the second you started today would be a lost cause but could do nothing about it. Your relationship with Finn was in shambles, Jimin was clearly avoiding you but still, you needed to dance.

After class, you called Finn and went again to voicemail. Standing alone in your dorm room, you swallowed and tossed your phone on the bed. Fine – if he wouldn’t answer, you’d go and see him.

Stripping out of your leotard, you tossed this in the laundry to pull on new clothes. Jeans, sweater, coat – slamming a hat on your head, you shoved both hands in mittens and threw your bag over your shoulder. You were halfway out the door when you came to a stop.

You had no idea what to say to Finn.

Shutting your eyes, you slowly exhaled. You were angry, that much was true. Furious, even – his words had been biting, you were still hurting but you also still loved him, as insane as that sounded. Opening your eyes, you glanced at your trembling hands.

You hated feeling this way – weak, irrational. You hated wanting Finn, loving him and being so hurt all at the same time. Worse still, you hated the guilt clouding your judgement and lessening some of your anger. Finn had been wrong to say what he’d said, but you’d also been wrong to kiss Jimin.

For weeks now, you’d felt something for Jimin. Maybe months if you were being totally honest with yourself. Jimin had always consumed a larger amount of your waking hours than could be considered entirely normal for a supposed enemy.

Slowly, you turned and set down your keys. Removing your hat from your head, you stared at the door. Before you could talk yourself out of it, you sat at your desk and dialed Finn’s number.

It rang several times and then went to voicemail. This time, you didn’t hang up.

“Hey. It’s me.” You paused. “Finn, listen, I… we need to talk. Things have gotten so messed up lately. So… fucked up, right? I’m pissed, Finn. I’m really mad at you, but that’s not the only reason we need to talk. I – just call me back. Okay?”

You hesitated, wanting to tell him I love you, but forced yourself to hang up instead. Lowering your phone to your lap, you released a sigh. You supposed for all your avoidance of Finn, you deserved to give him a little more time to think.

Even though sitting here not doing anything was killing you.

As stupid as it sounded, you couldn’t bring yourself to break up over the phone. That would be considered the lowest of low. If you even wanted to break up, that is. It had been less than a week since you’d first had the thought in the cab – maybe you and Finn didn’t belong together. It seemed like a foreign concept still, as nonsense to you as chopping off your own hand.

But you couldn’t ignore things any longer. Something was obviously wrong between you. You needed to talk, you needed to lay all cards on the table and decide where you’d go next.

Closing your eyes, you leaned back in the chair. Without quite meaning to, your thoughts wandered to Jimin.

This seemed to happen more and more lately. You weren’t sure when he started vying for Finn’s place in your mind. The shift had been subtle, a change you’d barely noticed at first. But no – that wasn’t entirely true. It wasn’t as though Jimin had taken Finn’s place, but rather forged an entirely new one.

What you felt for Jimin was different from how you felt for Finn. With Finn, things between you were comfortable, things – had – felt supportive and strong. Now, Finn was none of those things to you, but he still didn’t compare to how you felt for Jimin.

Jimin was like a breath of fresh air after being inside for too long. He was something you hadn’t even realized you missed until you went out. You wouldn’t feel like this for Jimin unless something were wrong with the room you were currently in.

Suddenly, you felt very tired.

You’d always prided yourself on your ability to persevere, on your talent for overcoming by simply pushing on. This though wasn’t something you could solve through sheer force of will. The mess you’d created was only made worse by your infernal stubbornness.

Opening your phone, you flipped to the thread between you and Jimin. The last text he’d sent you had been a TikTok before the night of the kiss. True to his word, Jimin had pretended to forget all about the club and instead, simply returned to being your friend. Rereading your texts, you felt your chest tighten.

It wasn’t as though Jimin had been entirely innocent.

He’d known you had a boyfriend, but you’d never done anything to push him away. You’d been the one to move closer in the club. You had been the one to kiss him first. Jimin didn’t deserve to be treated this way and slowly, you lowered your head to your hands.

It was too much. By all rights, several people should hate you right now and you had no idea how to fix any of it.

Looking up, you set your jaw and sent Jimin a text.

Y/N: you weren’t in ballet class today. Is everything okay? [3:14 PM]

It took Jimin a while to respond. While you waited, you stared at the ceiling, then the floor until you saw ellipses typing. Jimin paused, then stopped and started again. After several long minutes, you got a new text.

Jimin: was sick, sorry [3:22 PM]

Y/N: that sucks :/ [3:22 PM]

Jimin: Y/N. What do you want? [3:23 PM]

Swallowing hard, you sat back. You had no idea what you wanted, and therein lay the problem. Belatedly, you realized you couldn’t have this conversation before you talked to Finn. You couldn’t know what you were apologizing for until you knew where you stood with your current relationship.

You needed more time, which was what you had told Jimin yesterday – and then proceeded to ignore, texting him now.

Y/N: nothing. I’m sorry. I just… wanted to make sure you were okay [3:25 PM]

He started typing again, then stopped. This happened a few more times and you imagined Jimin rewriting whatever it was he wanted to tell you. Finally, he sent his text and you felt your heart sink.

Jimin: yeah. I’m fine. [3:27 PM]

Y/N: okay [3:28 PM]

Placing your phone to the side, you fought back the tears which now threatened to fall.

You’d never imagined yourself an emotional person, so you couldn’t imagine where all this was coming from. Some long-lost, pent-up part of yourself which throbbed and whispered how stupid you were. Stupid to have fought with Finn, stupid to have pushed Jimin away, stupid to have kissed him and hurt everyone in the process.

Climbing into your bed, you curled into a ball and let the tears fall until you had nothing left.

The next morning, you walked into ballet class with red-rimmed eyes. Noelle had returned yesterday afternoon, taken one look at your face and transitioned to mom mode. She thought your breakdown was all about Finn and you hadn’t bothered to correct her. In a way, it all was.

He still hadn’t called. When you woke, you battled again whether to go to Redfield and confront him in person. That hadn’t worked out so well the last time, but it was driving you crazy to exist in this state of not knowing.

When you entered class Friday morning, you saw an unfamiliar woman at the front and felt your heart sink. In the chaos of this past week, you’d nearly forgotten about today’s master class.

Maisie Vern was a renowned choreographer of classical ballet. She’d choreographed for some of the most well-known ballets all over the world, with her pas de deux choreography receiving comparisons to Balanchine originals.

You’d completely forgotten she was teaching today. Starting to panic, you forced yourself to stay calm. Just because your private life was falling to pieces didn’t mean this needed to manifest in your dancing. You could do this.

And then Jimin walked into the room and you realized you couldn’t.

He looked as tired as you felt, dark circles shadowed beneath his eyes. He hardly glanced your way as he entered, crossing to the other side to set down his things. Following him with your gaze, you watched Jimin begin to stretch at the barre. Dark hair fell over his forehead, hiding his face from view.

Forcing yourself not to look, you noticed Seokjin standing at the front. Seeing him beside Miss Vern made your stomach sink. Seokjin was in high demand as a teacher’s assistant; the only reason he’d be here was if he were assisting Miss Vern. And if he were assisting Miss Vern, this meant today’s combination must be a pas de deux.

Confirming your growing dread, Miss Vern clapped both her hands. She was dressed in a slouchy sweater, wispy bun and flat canvas ballet shoes. Effortlessly standing in first position, she glanced around the room.

“Hello,” she said. “For those of you who don’t know me, I’m Maisie Vern. We have a long class today, so make sure your water bottles are full. For the first hour we’ll warm up at the barre, then we’ll move to center and learn some choreography. I will warn you,” she said, raising her brow. “This pas de deux is from a ballet I’m choreographing for the San Francisco ballet, so it has never been performed live before. Therefore! A certain amount of professionalism and confidentiality is expected.”

Whispers swept the room, everyone eager for the opportunity to prove their worth. Even you found yourself awed by the moment – it was a privilege to dance in the same room as Maisie Vern, let alone learn choreography she’d yet to reveal to the public.

“Now.” Miss Vern gestured to Seokjin. “Some of you might know Kim Seokjin, my assistant for the day. He comes to me highly recommended and will help demonstrate some of the more complicated lifts. Today’s pas de deux is less about the choreography though, and more about the emotion.”

Hearing this, you froze at the barre.

“The ballet is a modern-day retelling of the Odyssey epic. Our hero, Odysseus, has just returned home and is reunited with his love, Penelope. He suspects her of cheating in his absence, so he disguises himself as someone else to test her. Penelope realizes who he is and is furious at her husband for his lack of faith.”

Your gaze darted to Jimin. He stared ahead at Miss Vern, but you could see his jaw tense from all the way across the room.

“This pas de deux is all about tension! Two people in love but pushed beyond their limits. Time and distrust have come between them. This,” Miss Vern announced, “will be the goal of you ballerinas and danseurs to convey.”

All around, a few people nodded, but most of the class seemed unnerved by the prospect. Thus far, your classes at Russet had mainly focused on technique. Even in weekly variations class, the emphasis had been on learning the choreography, rather than on how to tell a story.

This was the hallmark of a great dancer, though. Being able to act as you moved, telling a story which the audience could understand.

“It will be a challenge,” Miss Vern said. “However, I think you will find it to be enjoyable. With that said, let’s start at the barre. Pliés!”

Everyone scrambled to stand, including you and Noelle. Pressing play on the music, Miss Vern demonstrated the combination before you began. Barre passed quickly, possibly because you were dreading center so much. All too soon, the hour was up, and Miss Vern instructed the class to find their partners.

Warily, you crossed the room and came to a stop beside Jimin. He looked up as you approached but kept his face carefully neutral. You couldn’t tell what he was thinking and for a moment, felt a glimmer of resentment.

It had taken two people to kiss in that practice room.

Jimin had known you were taken, just as much as you’d known you were dating Finn. Even if you’d started the kiss, Jimin hadn’t stopped it – if anything, he’d kissed you back.

The moment you thought this, some of your anger drained away. Jimin had wanted to talk, but you hadn’t let him. Maybe you’d realized you felt something for him since then, but Jimin had never said anything similar to you.

For all you knew, he’d simply been caught in the moment. It wasn’t as though Jimin had ever said anything about wanting to be more than friends.

“Alright!” Miss Vern clapped her hands. “Ballerinas, you’ll start offstage. We begin at the end of the male solo. By this point in the choreography, Penelope and Odysseus have reunited. In her solo, we realize she knows who he is. In his solo, he’s angry to hear she’s entertained other suitors. They reunite for the coda!”

Glancing again at Jimin, he immediately looked down. The kernel of anger returned and this time, it grew larger. Although yes, you’d initially run away, you had at least tried to reach out to him yesterday. Jimin had been the one to skip class and shut you down.

It wasn’t fair for him to expect you to have all the answers. You had a boyfriend and you’d kissed. Clearly, you had a few things to work through.

Jaw tense, you separated from Jimin and went to stand on the sidelines. Miss Vern began teaching the danseurs the end of their solo, instructing the men to spread out on the floor. Unscrewing the cap of your water bottle, you took a large, angry sip.

As the music began, the male dancers followed suit while you watched from the side.

“Y/N?”

Turning your head, you found Sabrina before you.

She was dressed in her usual ballet clothes, but there was something about her which seemed different today. Maybe it was the hesitancy in her expression.

Looking at her in surprise, you wondered what she had to say. The fight you’d had on Halloween night seemed so far away but had barely been a week ago.

“Yeah?” you said as you set down your water.

Sabrina hesitated, seeming at war with herself. “Hey. So, I was wondering…”

Miss Vern yelled a correction at the group. Gaze darting sideways, you attempted to see who it had been directed to. After a moment, you returned to Sabrina.

“Wondering what?” you said, arching a brow.

“I was just… wondering if we could talk,” Sabrina finished lamely.

You blinked and stared at her in surprise. Out of everything, this was quite possibly the last thing you’d suspected would happen today. Before you could respond though, Miss Vern called for ballerinas to enter.

“Ballerinas!” She motioned you forward. “Your entrance will come from the top right wing. Run through the center and find your partner.”

“I – okay,” you said, realizing Sabrina waited for an answer. “Later.”

Sabrina frowned, about to respond but Miss Vern clapped her hands again, forcing you to move. Hurrying past, you hastily positioned yourself in the back of the room. With everything else that was happening, you didn’t really have time to worry about another enemy.

Speaking of whom – Jimin’s gaze hardened when you approached and in response to this, anger flared in your belly.

You’d asked him to give you time and he had agreed. It seemed this was no longer the case.

Woodenly, Jimin held out his hand. Staying carefully neutral, you took this as Miss Vern began to teach you the steps. She hadn’t been lying when she’d called the pas de deux difficult. By necessity, some of your anger disappeared as you focused on learning.

Jimin seemed equally concentrated, barely looking your way while he practiced. It took nearly forty-five minutes to learn the entire coda, with Miss Vern stopping partway for a water break. By the time you knew the choreography, both of you were sweating.

Miss Vern had also been right to call the pas de deux one about tension. At the start, Jimin’s character was testing Penelope. This involved him pulling you towards him, turning you and making you chase him – until halfway through the coda, when Penelope snapped. Choreography shifting, you began to chase him, revealing you knew who he was.

The choreography was intricate, necessitating trust between partners. Despite everything, you were relieved to find this still existed between you. When you jumped, you knew Jimin would catch you. When you fell, you knew his hands would find your waist.

Still, this didn’t mean things had returned normal. As you practiced a fouetté, turning quickly to face him, Jimin gripped your wrist harder than usual. Wincing, you pushed on towards the next jump.

The combination involved several lifts, one of which was the most psychologically taxing. It involved Jimin lifting you overhead with your front leg extended, holding only your waist. While not the most difficult move technically, it required a certain fortitude of mind to dangle, upside-down from his arms.

This certainly wasn’t helped by the fact that Jimin kept grunting.

“Will you stop doing that?” you hissed as he set you back down.

A muscle in Jimin’s jaw ticked.

“Stop doing what?”

“Grunting. I keep thinking you’re about to drop me.”

Jimin gave you a look, chest heaving for breath. “Well, it’s hard.”

“Our job is to make it look easy.”

“Yeah, look easy,” he argued. “That doesn’t mean it actually is.”

“Well –”

“Let’s just try it again,” Jimin said, cutting you off.

After a moment, you nodded and returned to your position. As you began to practice with music, you felt a familiar sinking feeling in your stomach. It seemed you’d taken several steps backwards since the start of the year. Instead of continuing to grow as partners, you and Jimin had returned to the start.

As you repeated the steps, you felt his grip on you tighten, but Jimin lifted you overhead with nary a grunt. He set you back down, your leg extended in arabesque.

“Good!” said Miss Vern as she walked past. “Try to support her lower back more, though, Jimin. She shouldn’t be falling that far behind.”

As she walked away, Jimin nodded and exhaled a breath. Once she was gone, he turned sideways to face you. Again, his gaze was unfamiliar and cold.

“Alright,” Jimin said. “Again?”

“From where?”

“Middle of the partner section?”

You nodded, taking a step backwards to catch your breath. The break in the partner section began with you running towards him, Jimin catching you around the waist to sweep you into a fish lift.

As you ran through the steps, you tried to concentrate on the choreography. Not on your partner, nor on the uncertainties which roared through your mind. Jimin certainly didn’t seem to have the same qualms you did. By all accounts, Jimin was a sharp, perfunctory, and timely dance partner.

You found this to be maddening.

Just when you’d forgotten how strained things had become, he’d grip your hand a little too tightly, or turn you a little too sharply and your eyes would narrow. After another ten minutes of practice, Miss Vern called your attention by the stereo.

“Let’s try it full out,” she suggested. “I won’t hold the first time against you, but please do your best to execute every lift.”

The class grunted in agreement; wiping sweat from their brows, they retreated to their starting positions.

Glancing at Jimin, you said, “Full out?”

He nodded. “If you want.”

Turning on his heel, he walked across the room. You watched him go, your blood beginning to reach a boiling point. Jimin was acting like a petulant child. This was how he used to be in high school, back when he was your enemy and everything had been simpler, but you didn’t want that anymore.

Now that you knew who Jimin was, you couldn’t possibly go back to hating him. The very idea made your heart hurt.

Possibly you were being unfair, or naïve. Clearly, you’d hurt Jimin, but there wasn’t time to fix things between you before the end of class. You needed to be professional, you needed to pull your shit together and you needed Jimin to do the same. Turning around, you crossed the room and reached your starting spot.

Taking a deep breath, you waited for your cue.

When Miss Vern signaled the ballerinas to enter, you ran – and felt Jimin catch you by the wrist. He wasn’t gentle, pivoting you to a penché and waiting for you to rise. When you did, he crushed you to his chest and caught your knee in posse.

Teeth gritted, you kept your gaze on him while extending á la second. Hand finding your calf, Jimin raised your leg higher. His grip was rougher than usual, making you shiver as his hand slid to your ankle.

Gaze lidded, Jimin bent you in cambré. When he pulled you upwards to face him, your noses practically touched. Your frustration, previously under control, began to unwind.

“Why weren’t you in class yesterday?” you whispered.

Jimin’s eyes flashed, as though in warning. When you turned around, he caught you deftly around the waist. Pulling you to him, Jimin’s breath ghosted your neck.

“I told you,” he murmured. “I was sick.”

“Bullshit,” you said, breaking free of his hold.

Jimin followed close behind, his feet skimming the floor. As you piqued to arabesque, he caught up and pulled you against him.

“You’re avoiding me,” you accused.

“I’m not. And it’s not bullshit,” he added. Turning you around, Jimin dipped you, only to catch you before you hit the floor. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

The next part required more footwork, both of you circling the other. Your breathing was heavier the next time you were close enough to speak.

“You’ve barely spoken to me today,” you hissed.

A mirthless laugh left his lips. Spinning you sideways, Jimin caught you against his chest, your bodies pressed together in heated silence.

“I thought you told me not to say anything?” he said sweetly.

The next move tore you apart, your feet skimming the floor before Jimin caught up and lifted you high overhead. You saw the ground for a moment, heartbeat hammering your ribs before he set you back down. Chasséing forward, you battemented and were again caught by Jimin at the ankle.

Dragging you closer, his hand found your waist.

Stubbornly, you met his gaze. “I needed time to think.”

“Oh, did you?”

Releasing your leg, he lowered you to a penché. As you rose, you managed to say, “I did. And now, I think we should talk.”

Jimin snorted. “What’s there to talk about?”

Your next battement nearly hit him in the head. Jimin’s eyes widened, but it was all part of the choreography. Timed to a change in tempo, the choreography shifted to you as the pursuer.

On pointe, you ran forward, leaping into his arms at the last second. Fish dives were difficult, since they required complete trust of your partner, but Jimin caught you easily, cradling you close to his chest.

Lips brushing your ear, he set you back down. “Are you still with him?” he asked, chest heaving behind you. “Your boyfriend?”

Meeting his gaze in the mirror, you hesitated. “Yes.”

His gaze hardened. “Then, there’s nothing to talk about.”

There was no time to respond since the next sequence involved Jimin chasséing away into a tour jeté. You followed with chainés, head whipping around to spot him every time. As soon as you were within speaking distance, you caught him by the arm again.

“I say there is,” you insisted. “Why are you making this so difficult?”

“Me?” Jimin barked a laugh as he turned. “You’re the one driving me crazy. Like you always do.”

“What the hell does that mean?” you said to him, baffled.

Jimin’s gaze cut to yours.

For the briefest of moments, you saw his façade break. All of his pain, all of his hurt and frustration shone through and you felt yourself falter. Staring at him, you couldn’t form a response.

Not that there was time. The dance hadn’t ended and class hadn’t stopped. Taking a slow step towards you, Jimin tenderly caught your attitude effacé and extended your leg. Dragging you forward, he pulled you across the floor.

As he came to a stop, Jimin swept your body to his as your fingers curled in his hair. In the choreography, the moment was one of near reconciliation between Penelope and Odysseus, a breather before their intense ending sequence. Jimin’s chest was concave with your breath, his gaze dark and lidded when he pulled back to see you.

You swallowed, disentangling yourself as you bourreéd away.

Heart pounding, you skimmed the floor with glissades, crossing the room with Jimin close behind. The final sequence was the grand reveal, with Penelope exposing Odysseus for who he is and forgiving his mistrust.

You could relate to the sequence.

Not all of it – had you been Penelope, you might have cheated while Odysseus had been away. You might have fallen for someone else; one of the suitors, perhaps. When you looked at Jimin now, you saw that clearly. There were feelings here which extended beyond a normal crush.

Still, you could relate to the dance. You could relate to Penelope’s frustration at Odysseus for being gone for so long. For leaving in the first place, for forcing her to withstand all her burdens alone. She’d been faithful to him and all he’d done was accuse her of cheating. You remembered Finn’s words to you in the library and felt your heart sink, since you’d ended up proving him right after all.

You’d also hurt Jimin though, which you hadn’t intended. Of course, he was angry – you’d repeatedly led him on, not pushing him away when you should have. And when things between you had finally snapped, you hadn’t let him speak. You’d run away.

Executing a double pirouette, you extended in attitude for a quick promenade. Shutting down your mind, you allowed yourself to be swept away by the music. Swept away by the characters, the dance and its emotions. The choreography became less important as the story came alive. Jimin’s hands were as familiar to you as your own, lifting you easily and setting you back on the ground.

Your heart ached with each step, wanting to be closer, wanting to be nearer to him than you were. As the steps slowed, you found yourself softening. Jimin’s hand slid to your thigh, settling you against his chest in a move reminiscent of the first time you’d felt a spark. Locking gazes with him, you inhaled and lifted your hand to rest on his cheek.

Time seemed to slow; you both felt and saw a muscle tick in his jaw. Jimin roughly exhaled, his chest pressed to yours as his gaze dropped to your lips.

“Bravo! Brava!”

Startled, both of you looked up.

Dazedly, you remembered you weren’t alone. You were in Miss Vern’s ballet class, most of whom had stopped dancing midway to watch. Placing you down on the ground, Jimin took a step backwards. Lacing both hands before him, he refused to meet your gaze, choosing instead to focus on Miss Vern.

“Beautifully done!” Crossing the floor, Miss Vern stopped before you. “The passion you showed! Such emotion, such artistry. My own principals couldn’t have done any better.”

Eyes widening, your lips parted. A flutter of incredulity went through you. It was unthinkable to receive such a high compliment from a teacher at Russet, let alone a choreographer as famed as Maisie Vern.

If you’d been looking for a sign to continue, this had to be it. One of the top choreographers in the world, commending your talent and somehow, her words didn’t feel nearly as good as when Jimin had said them.

Glancing at him, you found Jimin looking as stunned as you felt. The ache within you sharpened to a point, realizing how much he meant to you. How much you wanted his success, regardless of your own.

In that moment, you knew it had never been about anyone else’s perception of you as a dancer.

You knew you could do this. You knew you could make it at Russet, could make it as a dancer. Deep down, you’d always known this, despite your moments of doubt. Jimin had been right. You wanted to dance, you loved to dance and you would continue down this path regardless of what anyone else said.

That hadn’t been what crushed you about Finn’s words.

It had crushed you that after all this time, he still didn’t seem to know who you were. The fact that he could throw out those words so casually, as though you might simply stop dancing meant he didn’t see you. He might as well have asked you to stop breathing.

Jimin, though – Jimin understood. Jimin knew who you were. He’d been a part of your life for so long, he got what made you tick. He’d seen you at your worst, as your most bitter enemy and then again, as your most trusted partner.

It was part of why he meant so much to you.

You understood all this in the blink of an eye, then realized you hadn’t responded to Miss Vern’s praise.

“Oh,” you said, fighting to catch your breath. “I – thank you so much, Miss Vern. I honestly don’t know what to say.”

Miss Vern nodded, as though she were used to such a response. Beside you, Jimin was still breathing hard, but he nodded.

“Yes,” he said. “Thank you so much.”

She nodded, not choosing to linger as she faced the room. “Use them as an example!” she said, striding towards the stereo. “Seokjin and I will demonstrate, but that is the level of performance you should aim for. Again!”

The rest of the class passed in a blur, some of the fight dissipated between you and Jimin. He was still quiet, but you didn’t push him again to speak. You’d done enough for now.

As the class came to an end, Miss Vern gathered you round to give a short speech. She thanked everyone for the pleasure of teaching and, once you were dismissed, turned towards the barre.

Jimin left before you could, throwing his things in his bag as he rushed from the room. You followed him with your eyes, knowing he was avoiding you, but not blaming him in the slightest.

Sabrina wasn’t far behind and your gaze lingered on her, remembering the attempted conversation during class. You still had no idea what she’d wanted to say but honestly, Sabrina was the least of your problems right now.

Exhaling, you stood from the ground and checked your phone. Still no word from Finn.

You were trying desperately to understand, trying to give him time to think, but after your fight on Wednesday, you honestly weren’t sure if you still had a boyfriend. Finn’s radio silence didn’t seem to indicate anything positive, but you refused to let this be the way things ended between you. He owed you that much, at least.

Returning to your dorm, the knot tightened further as you imagined what he might say. Both of you had said hurtful things and now, you needed to tell him something which would change your relationship forever.

You needed advice. You needed to talk to Fin. You needed to apologize, you needed–

Plopping down on your bed, you dialed the only number you could think of to call. Noelle had graciously left to stay at Irene’s, giving you the room to yourself.

Your mom answered on the first ring.

“Y/N? Hello?”

“Mom?” you said, your voice suddenly tight.

“Oh, honey” she said, hearing your shift. You heard a soft click, as though she’d entered the next room. “What’s going on?”

“I – nothing.”

Closing your eyes, you fought to control your breathing.

“Nothing, hm?” Your mom made a gentle noise. “You’re still coming home for the holidays, aren’t you? That’s not what this is about? Your dad won’t stop talking about plans for when you get here. He just goes on and on! You’d think he didn’t have a wife.”

“No, no,” you said, opening your eyes. “I just… missed you. That’s all.”

“Well, then call more!”

When you tried to laugh, the sound came out weaker than usual.

Your mom fell quiet for a moment. “That’s not all, is it?”

“… No.”

“Tell me,” she prodded.

So, you did.

Once you started talking, you found you couldn’t stop. Everything came pouring out. The difficulties you’d had at Russet, the need for private lessons, the injury to your ankle and everything going on with Finn. The time he missed brunch, the gradual growing apart, the night he left you at the club – your mom had some choice words at this point – and your growing feelings for Jimin.

Everything had changed when you’d gone to Russet, and you’d always assumed Finn would stay the same but now, even he was crumbling into pieces.

When you were done, your mom was silent a moment, then sighed. You could picture her so clearly in your mind’s eye, seated in your dad’s office chair. This was likely where she’d gone when you heard the door click. The image made you so homesick, it physically pained you.

“Life isn’t ever as neat as we wish it would be,” your mom said at last. “People make mistakes, Y/N. People change. Sometimes the things we thought were permanent turn out not to be.”

“I know. And I know Finn and I are young, but –”

“It’s not that,” your mom said, cutting you off. “Some people meet the person they want to be with early on. That happens. Some people know who they are from the minute they’re born, but other people change and want different things.”

“I – I know. Objectively, I know but… it’s so hard to do something I don’t want to do. And I… I don’t want to break up with Finn.”

“Why not?” your mom said gently.

Biting down on your lower lip, you felt tears fill your eyes. Your answer was stupid – you knew it was. Partly, this was why you kept running away. You knew the answer wasn’t enough, which was why you didn’t want to say it.

“We’ve just been together so long,” you said, closing your eyes. “We’ve gone through rough patches before. Why is now any different?”

“I don’t know. Why is it?”

Swallowing hard, you whispered, “Because this time, I have no idea how to fix things. I think we’ve hurt each other too much, mom. I don’t know… I don’t see a way back to how we were.”

Hearing the words said out loud, you opened your eyes.

There it was. The thing you’d known for weeks but had been unwilling to say. So long as you kept it bottled in, pushed down, you didn’t have to acknowledge its presence or pain.

In truth, your fights with Finn had become so commonplace, you could no longer point to ‘the big one.’ The fight about spending time together had mutated, becoming a multi-headed dragon of differing life goals, de-prioritization and feelings for others.

Whenever you and Finn were happy these days, you found yourself holding your breath. You were waiting for said happiness to dissolve into pain. You had no clue when a relationship was supposed to end but had to imagine this wasn’t a good sign.

“I don’t think there are any easy answers, Y/N,” said your mom. “This is something you need to decide for yourself.”

“Shouldn’t it be easy, though?” you demanded, grip tightening on your phone. “When I list out everything that’s happened, I know things are bad. I haven’t been telling you things because deep down, I don’t want you saying what I already know.”

“Which is?”

“We… that we should break up.”

Your mom was quiet a moment. “It’s never easy to give up something you love.”

You wanted to respond but found you couldn’t, simply nodding even though she couldn’t see. On some level, she was your mom and she understood.

“What about the other boy you mentioned?” she said, sounding curious. “The one you’re having feelings for. Is this the same Jimin as high school?”

“Yes,” you whispered, the white-hot shame of your kiss burning you from the inside.

That was something you couldn’t tell your mom. Not now, at least. Maybe sometime in the future but for now, you couldn’t bear the shame of admitting what you’d done. You never should have let things get to this point.

“Hm.” She made a thoughtful sound. “You know, I’m not surprised to hear you’re getting along. He always seemed like a nice boy, despite how you treated him.”

“Mom!” you blurted. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”

“I am, honey.”

“Jimin used to bet I’d lose against him in competitions.”

“Mhm. And who started those bets?”

Although you huffed, you didn’t respond because your mom was right. Your bet senior year had been Jimin’s idea, but you’d been the one to start them before.

“It’s not even about Jimin,” you said, quieting somewhat. “It’s more… nothing in my life is solid anymore. I had a plan, mom. I knew exactly what I wanted and now that I’m here, nothing’s how I imagined.”

Softly, your mom chuckled. “Welcome to your twenties.”

“Mom!”

“You’re right, I’m sorry. Welcome to adulthood.”

“You’re not helping.”

“Sorry, sorry.” Her voice grew softer. “I wish I was there, so I could give you a hug. You’ve always been the type of person who needed a plan. But there’s more than one way to be happy, Y/N. What is it you really want?”

Her words were so reminiscent of Jimin that for a moment, you could only pause. What you wanted was dance, but you knew acknowledging this meant giving up Finn.

“I don’t know,” you whispered.

“Well, then. That’s probably the first thing you should figure out.”

Closing your eyes, you nodded. You stayed on the phone with her a while longer, talking about nothing and slowly calming down. When you finally hung up, you promised to call more and confirmed your plans to come home for the holidays.

Lowering your phone to the bed, heavy realization settled over you. You’d reached your lowest moment. If you sunk any further, there’d be no salvaging anything.

What else could happen? You barely had a relationship with Finn to speak of, had hurt Jimin’s friendship in the process and were so distracted, so tired, you were in danger of jeopardizing your future at Russet.

Somewhere along the line, everything had become twisted. You had too many problems to ignore any longer. Sitting up straighter in bed, you wiped tears away with your palm. All you could do was move forward – starting with Finn.

Satisfied by this, you rolled over in bed and closed your eyes. It had been a long time since you’d slept; you figured you could try and nap before you called. Finn wouldn’t be out of his classes for a few hours yet.

For the first time in a week, you managed to fall asleep before your mind could talk yourself out of rest.

Author’s Note: Thank you for reading 😊 ONE MORE CHAPTER LEFT! (and then the epilogue, but you know) New chapters of Raise the Barre will be posted weekly; dates are listed on the series Master List. Requests for updates will be deleted.

RAISE THE BARRE MASTERLIST

#bangtanarmynet #btsbookclub #jimin fanfic #bts fanfic #jimin writing #jimin au #jimin dance au #jimin series #bts writing #bts au #bts dance au #bts series

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daughterofluthien · 4 years

Text

Fictober - Day 8

Prompt number: 8. “I’m not doing that again” Fandom: Teen Wolf Rating: T Characters/Relationships: Scott McCall, Stiles Stilinski Word Count: 2531 Warnings/Tags: discussion of canon-typical violence, angst A/N: Scott POV in the aftermath of 2x10 Fury.

When he woke up the morning after the attack, his bullet wound was completely healed.

Scott ran his hand over the place where the hole in his gut should’ve been, and wondered briefly if the bullet was still inside. He stretched from side to side experimentally, but it didn’t hurt — nothing felt wrong or out of place. At least not physically.

Then he remembered the full events of the previous night, and a slow dread trickled in, filling the place where he imagined the bullet ought to be.

Last night, everything unraveled, and he didn’t know how he was supposed to pull it all back together.

He scrambled for his phone, expecting a barrage of missed texts or calls. Stiles had stayed behind at the station to take care of his dad, and he didn’t really have a chance to talk to him after—

Just after.

He thumbed the phone on, and took him a good couple seconds to realize that he didn’t have any messages. No one had texted, no one had called.

Nothing.

A brief flash of panic seized him, because he shouldn’t have left. He had listened to Gerard, of all people, and he had left to find his mom. There had been so many hunters in the building, all of whom knew he was, so he hadn’t thought there had been anything he could do. But he had left, and anything could’ve happened.

Gerard could’ve killed Matt and Jackson, Matt and Jackson could’ve come back and killed… Well, everyone. The hunters, Sheriff Stilinski, Allison, Stiles—

Stiles.

He types out a quick text: ‘hey, you and your dad okay? anything else happen last night?’

Stiles usually responded to texts almost immediately, no matter what else he was doing at the time. When a couple minutes passed without any reply, Scott started to feel the worry build in his chest again. He threw on a shirt and pants, and determined to go all the way back to the Sheriff’s Station if he needed to. Because the last time he had seen Stiles, his best friend had been lying paralyzed on the floor, and he shouldn’t have left.

He was halfway down the stairs, backpack dangling off of one shoulder, when his phone buzzed.

One (1) New Message - From: Stiles Stilinski

‘We’re alive.’

Scott stopped in his tracks and closed his eyes out of sheer relief. He quickly tapped back a reply. ‘I shouldn’t have left, I’m sorry. the hunters…’

Send.

He paused, then selected new message again.

‘Sorry’

Once again, he waited for several minutes before a reply came.

‘whatever’

He shoved his phone back into his pocket.

Scott was halfway out the door when he heard a sound upstairs, from his mom’s room. Not very long or very loud, just soft footsteps and a door creaking open. He stood stock still, and waited to see if she was going to come downstairs.

The sounds from upstairs stilled as well, and for a brief moment he thought about calling out to her, even just something like have a good day or love you—

—But they hadn’t really spoken last night. After.

Well, that wasn’t entirely true, they had technically had a conversation but it wasn’t— It wasn’t the same. Now that his secret was out, there was a separation between them; an invisible barrier that he couldn’t cross. Like someone had laid down a line of mountain ash between worlds of the natural and the supernatural, and he and his mom were on opposite sides.

He wasn’t sure he could cross it.

Though, he supposed any conversation would be better had when he wasn’t about five minutes away from being late for class. He left without saying anything.

He didn’t hear any more movement from upstairs until after he closed the front door behind him.

-----------------------

He slipped into his desk in front of Stiles about a minute after the bell rang. The teacher gave him a look but didn’t call him on it, which he was grateful for. The last thing he needed was even more people looking at him like he was a freak.

Though, he was honestly a little bit puzzled as to why he was late at all. He generally had a pretty good grasp on how fast he could pedal his bike, etc, these days — barring any unexpected and aggression-induced bursts of speed, of course. And he should’ve been able to make it to school on time.

It wasn’t his injury, because he was almost positive that was completely healed.

While the teacher’s attention was focused on writing the outline for the day’s lesson on the board, Scott leaned back to talk to Stiles. Stiles only glanced up briefly before going back to staring intently at the notes Scott was sure he wasn’t actually taking.

After trying to get his best friend’s attention twice to no success, Scott decided to go the verbal route. “Hey, did something else happen? Are you mad at me?”

He’d understand if he was —last night, Scott couldn’t stop Matt and Jackson, and people died. Lots of people. Even more had almost died, and Stiles had been one of them. Scott vidily remembered a foot pressing down on his best friend’s chest, restricting his breathing. Stiles paralyzed, and both of them unable to do anything except let it happen—

Scott had dragged him into this — him and his dad — so of course Stiles was upset. He had every right to be.

Instead, Stiles just shook his head. “No, it’s not your fault, I’m not—” he sighed. “Look, can we talk about this after class?”

The churning in his stomach hadn’t stopped, but Scott nodded. “Yeah, of course.”

He readjusted himself in his seat and tried to focus on whatever it was the teacher was saying. It didn’t work, and he gave up trying to take notes about ten minutes in. He’d get the notes later from—

He glanced over at Allison, who was in turns looking straight ahead at the teacher, then writing in her notebook with determined, angry precision. At Lydia, who stared past everyone with a haunted look in her eyes when she thought no one was paying attention.

He’d get the notes from someone else.

Halfway through the period, Allison excused herself and walked out. He wasn’t consciously trying to do it, but he found himself listening for her. Following her with his senses.

Only a few weeks ago, he had told her that he would always be able to hear her. That he would find her, no matter what. And a few weeks ago that had been true, he’d known it. Felt it like— like an instinct.

Now, her quick footsteps trailed off into nothing, and he lost track of her before she even left the building.

He closed his eyes and concentrated, but he couldn’t find her — her voice, her scent, the particular sound of her footsteps and the length of her stride. He didn’t panic about that. He wasn’t—

He couldn’t.

He focused on his breathing instead, counting the space between each breath. Didn’t think about a crossbow pointed at his chest. The anger and hurt surrounding Allison like a cloud, obscuring everything else.

After long, interminable moments, his heart rate slowed. Fists that he didn’t realize had been clenched slowly uncurled, though to his relief there was no blood.

Once he was sure he could breathe normally — something he learned to be a good judge of, back in the days when an asthma attack was the worst thing he had to worry about —he pulled out a sheet of paper and started to jot down a quick note. Allison might not want anything to do with him right now, but he had to try.

Allison didn’t come back to class for the rest of the period. Scott dropped the note in her backpack on the way out, and hoped no one saw.

---------------------------

He and Stiles didn’t get a chance to talk after class. Or after the next one. And he was pretty sure Stiles was avoiding him at lunch.

Lacrosse practice was after school, and Scott wasn’t really planning on attending, as he had bigger things to worry about, but he knew Stiles would be there. Stiles glanced up as he entered, but if he wondered why Scott hadn’t changed into his gear, he didn’t say anything. He glanced at the last of the players as they headed out the door leading to the field.

“Look, you may be skipping today, but some of us actually need to practice, so—” He jerked his hand toward the door and turned to leave, but Scott grabbed his arm. Tried to catch his eyes.

“Stiles, please. We need to talk.”

The air around his best friend was thick with something that Scott couldn’t fully put a name to. But the words that came to mind were fear and despair. Worry quickly chased away his desperation. “Hey, are you okay?”

They were alone in the locker room now. Scott could hear the players on the field starting their drills, but noises coming from outside were faint. The silence inside echoed louder.

A long moment passed, and for a brief, panicked second Scott thought that Stiles might just leave. Shut down the conversation. If he did that, did Scott have a right to try to talk to him again at some point? If Stiles wanted to be left alone, then that’s what he should do, wait for him to initiate first, but Stiles was afraid—

Stiles sat down on one of the benches in the locker room, and Scott let go of a breath he didn’t know he had been holding. He sat down beside him. “Did something else—”

Stiles interrupted him. “Matt’s dead.”

It wasn’t what he expected, and it took Scott a moment to process the statement. The familiar feeling of dread returned to the pit of his stomach, and this time it was joined by guilt. “Wait, what?”

Stiles turned a glove over in his hands, repeatedly, and he didn’t meet Scott’s eyes. “Yeah, they uh. They found him early this morning, Floating in the river.”

“He drowned?” All Scott could think about was Gerard, all condescension and fake concern, telling Scott he’d take care of it. He felt sick. “But he was terrified of the water, he would never—”

“Yeah, you know that, and I know that. But I think everyone else just wants this case over with so.” He tapped his finger against the glove before setting it aside, all nervous energy. “They’re not exactly gonna look into it too closely.”

Scott shook his head. “Stiles, this was murder. Gerard knew about Matt’s background, he used it against him, and then he killed him. And he’s gonna do the same thing to Jackson unless we—”

“Unless what?” Stiles was looking at him now, and for the moment frustration had won out over fear. “What the hell are we supposed to do about it?”

“I don’t know… Something!” He tried to think of a plan, anything that would stop more people from dying. “Maybe—”

“Scott, three deputies are dead. I knew them — hell, I’ve had dinner with their families. One of them, Johnson, he’s got a kid just a couple years younger than us. And now her dad’s just gone.” He chewed on his lip and stared off at what seemed to be nothing. “And I can’t help but think, what if that was me.”

Fear permeated the air again and Scott felt it like it was his own. “Stiles…”

Stiles laughed, but there was no humor in it. “And still, despite all of the—” he mimed claws tearing into flesh, “—you’re still gonna try, aren’t you? People have literally died, and you’re still gonna get involved.”

“I have to because of all the people who’ve died.” Scott tried to catch Stiles eyes again, but the other boy wouldn’t look at him. “I have… absolutely no idea what to do. But I have to do something.”

“Well, I can’t.” Stiles’ statement had a finality to it, like it was a declaration. But Scott thought that his friend still just sounded lost. “I’m just— I’m not doing that again. I understand you have to go off and be the hero but— I can’t.”

Scott nodded. Tried to ignore his heart dropping into his stomach at the thought of facing off against Gerard alone. “It’s okay, I get it.” He stood up and smiled, hoping it reached his eyes. “Have a good practice.”

As he left the locker room, he thought the world seemed dimmer. Muted.

He couldn’t quite put his finger on why.

------------------------------------

That night, Scott waited at his and Allison’s spot on Lookout Point. He had asked her to meet him here in his note, as well as left her a message in the usual way.

He had been waiting for nearly an hour, but he was still here because he kept hoping that he’d hear her behind him. That she’d come back.

Part of him knew that she wouldn’t. He waited anyway.

Even though spring had already started to set in, he shivered against the breeze breaking against the side of the cliff. First from the cold, and then from the emptiness.

Scott was puzzled by this, and for a moment he was distracted from the ache in his chest where Allison should’ve been. Because ‘empty’ wasn’t a word that he thought much these days —at least not since he was bitten. A breeze wasn’t just a breeze: it was scents whisked up from the valley, and sounds from the city below funneled and directed by the rocks and mountains. It might not always be pleasant or make sense, but it was vibrant and alive.

And— He concentrated. No, it wasn’t gone. All the scents and sounds were still there.

That meant the difference was him.

He took a quick inventory. He wasn’t sick or injured, not anymore, and he was still a werewolf. He extended his claws experimentally, to prove it to himself, and he shifted as easily as he always had since he learned control.

He was fine.

Except his senses of smell and hearing weren’t the first thing he noticed: he had also tired more easily on his way to the point. Out of breath after biking up steep mountain hills. And now that he was sitting on the cliff, the only thing he could hear was his own loneliness echoed back at him.

...Maybe that was the difference.

The lone wolf doesn’t survive, but ever since he was bitten, he had never really been alone. He had Stiles. Allison. Lydia, even. But now they all had their own concerns and fears, and ghosts that wouldn’t let them be, and that— Well, it wasn’t fine, and every instinct he had wanted to make it right, but he understood it.

He also understood that now, for the first time, he was truly an Omega.

There was strength in numbers, in community, and all this time he had benefited from that. He had a pack. Used to have a pack.

And now they were gone.

#fictober20 #teen wolf #scott mccall #stiles stilinski #the strength of the wolf is in the pack and also i am sAD #why do i write so much angst #someone make me stop

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master-sass-blast · 5 years

Text

Planning Pains

Whoooo boy. Gonna have to slap a big ol’ trigger warning on this one.

Summary: You attempt to start planning your upcoming wedding with Piotr --and run into a major emotional wall instead.

Rating: T for adult language, past child abuse, mentions of abuse, trauma from said abuse, and just a lot of anger, angst, and emotional pain.

Set after ‘Questions and Answers’ and before ‘The Literal Crack Fic.’

Also

TRIGGER WARNING: If you’ve got any hang ups on your ability to be loved or be in a relationship (which I absolutely understand and am not judging anyone for because I went through the same stuff as a teenager), this may not be the fic for you! This fic deals extensively with being led to believe that you (as the character of the Reader, not you irl obvs) weren’t worthy of being loved and the trauma that extended from that, and even if you haven’t suffered the abuse and gaslighting that I’ve detailed for the CHC, it’s heavy.

Obviously, y’all are fully capable of making your own grown-ass decisions, but I wanted to put it out there. Just in case.

Taglist: @marvel-is-perfection, @chromecutie, @super-darkcloudstudent, @girl-obsessed-with-things, @starman-thorsus-canos-jock

(Want to be added to the taglist? Send me a DM! Seriously, DM me, I don’t trust Tumblr’s ask box system or reblog notification system to catch everything lol.)

You should be able to do this. You’re smart. You’re capable. You help herd around a bunch of malcontent mutant teenagers and take down various groups of mutant criminals or groups planning to enact crimes against mutants –and the former is arguably more dangerous than either of the latter. You can make pancakes without burning down the kitchen –and have an edible product by the end of it (though the overall “pancake” appearance is largely questionable)!

You can fucking fly, for fuck’s sake. Know how many people can do that? A significantly small number, and they need planes or fancy equipment to do it, the chumps.

(Alright, that last point may be a little moot due to your mutation set, but still.)

Point stands: you are a confident, competent, capable adult, who is capable of accomplishing many different things with varying but usually large amounts of success.

So, why is it you can’t plan your own wedding?

You’re staring down at one of the tables in the library; you’d opted to set up in there for the sake of space, so you could spread everything out and get a good look at all of it, but now you’re thinking that was a mistake because the sheer amount of everything only makes it that much clearer that you don’t know what you’re doing.

Venues. Catering options. Invitations. Cake. Flowers. Wedding dress. Bridesmaids dresses. More cake. Music. Groom’s suit and groomsmen’s suits. Cake again. Rings, vows, honeymoon reservations, wedding party details, finding a minister, finding a house, or maybe an apartment, legal name changes—

It’s all too much. Even something simple, like picking what flowers you like, is impossible because…

Because you never even thought someone would want to marry you. For nearly your entire life, you were told that you were a monster, whole-heartedly undesirable, and because of that you never even dreamed about what a wedding for you might look like. Not even once.

And, as a result, you’ve got absolutely nothing in mind for what you might even want.

And it’s making you furious.

Because you should’ve been able to dream about your wedding –or even if in some alternate timeline, you never wanted one, you shouldn’t have been so beaten down that you couldn’t even fathom someone finding you desirable, let alone worthy of committing to.

You’re shaking in your seat, hands trembling as rage courses through you. The longer you stare at everything in front of you, the more helpless you feel, and the angrier you get.

Fuck your parents. Fuck them, fuck them, fuck them, fuck them fuck them fuck themfuckthemfuckthem—

“Hey, Y/N.” Russell grabs your shoulder gently. “Are you okay?”

You realize that you’re basically angry-sobbing in your seat, glaring at all the wedding planning materials while you tremble all over.

Yukio materializes on your other side and hugs you gently. “It’s okay. Everything’s okay.”

“No, it isn’t!” Russell protests. “She’s crying over a picture of shoes!”

“A lot of women do that.”

“Should we get Piotr?” Ellie asks, ever the voice of reason.

You nod, largely beyond words at this point as you try to wipe off your face and reign yourself in a little now that there are people in the room with you.

Ellie and Yukio head off to track down your fiancé, but Russell stays behind, sitting next to you and gently holding your hand while you –unsuccessfully—try to calm down.

“It’s okay,” he says softly. “It’s gonna be okay. Colossus’ll be here soon.”

You nod, trying to soothe him more than you are yourself at this point, because –honestly—you’re just so angry. It’s like a wound you never realized you had is now ripping open, deeper and deeper, tearing through you until you can’t breathe and all you can do is bleed and rage—

How dare they.

Betrayal. Pure and simple. Betrayed by your parents, betrayed by the town you grew up in, betrayed by the members of the church you were dragged to every Sunday and Wednesday…

Week after week, a community of adults bore witness –to the anti-mutant sermons you were forced to listen to, to the times were the kids in the middle school and high school youth groups would bully you even though you were barely out of first grade yet, to the growing fear with which you reacted to your parents, to the times where you were dragged back to your home by men toting rifles after you’d tried to run away, to the bruises that covered your arms from your father’s abuse, to the bags under your eyes from constantly being afraid and upset, to how you retreated further and further inside yourself as your parents bore down harder and harder on you…

And they did nothing. No one, not once, ever looked at you and decided that you deserved protecting because you were just a kid and couldn’t control your genetic make-up.

How fucking dare they.

You didn’t deserve to hate yourself, you didn’t deserve to feel worthless, you didn’t deserve to believe that you were so unlovable that you’re completely lost at sea in the face of planning your own fucking wedding—

And then Piotr’s kneeling next to you and drawing you into his arms. He’s in his uniform and armored up –he must’ve been overseeing training sessions, and now you feel bad for having inadvertently interrupted him.

“Tische, myshka.” He gently lifts you into his arms, then says something to Ellie before carrying you out of the library.

You wind your arms around his neck and bury your face in the shoulder piece of his uniform. You’re still shaking, borderline hyperventilating as you try to cope with the sheer level of wrath coursing through you. How dare they, how fucking dare they; I was a kid!

And then you’re in the bedroom you share with Piotr.

You’re vaguely aware that the teens have followed you and that they’re setting the wedding stuff on the desks, and then they’re leaving and closing the door behind them—

And then it’s just you and Piotr.

“What’s wrong, myshka?” Piotr murmurs. He armors down before sitting on the bed, carefully settling you in his lap so he can nestle you in his arms. “What has you upset?”

What you want to say is that you’re upset and enraged over the mistreatment you suffered as a child, and that it still extends so far into your life that you’re finding yourself unable to help plan your own wedding because you literally have zero ideas on what you want due to being abused for so long.

What comes out, however…

“I hate them,” you seethe as you sit back. “I hate them so fucking much. I was just a kid, I didn’t fucking deserve to be their punching bag—”

Fortunately, Piotr knows you well enough –and the tragic story of your upbringing—that he can decipher from your rambling that you’re upset about your family. He frowns, sad and concerned, and tucks a stray lock of hair behind your ear. “I am so sorry, moya dusha.”

“I didn’t deserve it,” you insist, almost frantically, as tears sting your eyes. “I didn’t deserve it, I didn’t deserve it, I didn’t fucking deserve it—”

“Konecho net. Never.” He draws you back into his arms, kissing the top of your head and rubbing your back and generally doing whatever he can to soothe you. “You never deserved how they treated you. You never could, and you never will.”

You sob brokenly against your fiancé’s chest. “I can’t even plan my own wedding, Piotr! I don’t even know what I want it to look like!”

And then it all comes pouring out –the panic you’d felt in the library, how it’d morphed into fury as you realized what was causing your utter lack of ideas for your upcoming wedding, how the teens had found you in there, borderline hyperventilating as you’d stared at all the wedding stuff.

Piotr, for his part, just holds you and kisses the top of your head over and over again. “I am so sorry, moya lyubov’. Had I known you would have felt this kind of distress, I would have not left you to work on our wedding details alone.”

“But aren’t most brides supposed to plan the wedding?” you ask as you sniff inelegantly.

“I do not think ‘supposed to’ is right word. I think most brides wind up planning weddings because they have more aesthetic preferences,” Piotr explains. “However, I think it might be better if we work together for most of it. If only so you do not have to deal with your pain alone.”

“But you’ve got job stuff to do,” you whine. “And X-Men stuff, and teacher stuff, and this is gonna take a lot of time—”

“And you are my fiancée and love of my life and future wife and we will find way to make this work,” he insists as he presses his lips against your forehead. “Your well-being is more important than easy schedule.”

You let out a shaky breath. “I just don’t want you to wind up hating me by all the end of this.”

Piotr just holds you tighter and kisses your temple. “Impossible.”

It’s not going to be easy. Even the thought of trying to work on wedding stuff makes your stomach churn with anxiety and unreleased rage.

Nothing in life comes easy, though. And with Piotr by your side –and your friends and newfound family—you know you’ll get through it just fine.

#sass writes #piotr rasputin x reader #colossus x reader #so much angst #tw: abuse #tw: trauma #tw: gaslighting #x men fanfiction #deadpool fanfiction

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all-things-fic · 5 years

Note

7, 43, 45, 59 and 70 (you don't have to use all)

7 - I’ll keep you warm43 - you have no idea how much I want you right now45 - I can’t imagine this world without you59 - is this okay?70 - after everything we’ve been through, you still don’t think that I love you?

Hope I did the prompts justice. Thanks for being patient with me! x

***

Your eyes were trained on the flamesof the fire pit in front of you. The warm embers glowing, mesmerising you whilekeeping your skin warm even if it was June and not necessarily the coldest.

The sound of a sliding patio door washeard behind you but that didn’t deter your eyes away from the orange glow. Hisfeet, bare of socks and shoes, pattered across the paving slabs, carrying himto you as you dithered underneath the blanket that Harry had passed you theminute you got outside.

He cleared his throat when he gotcloser, walking towards the seats and choosing to sit next to you, a differencefrom where he had previously sat across from you before following through withhis suggestion of getting a bottle of wine for the two of you to share.

“Hope white is okay,” he said, voicea bit strained as he reached forward and quickly started to pour the wine. Youhummed in response, white was more than okay.

Without turning to face you, he helda glass out to you to take off his hands as he poured his own glass. Leaningforward you cupped the glass with both your hands and thanked him.

“S’no problem,” he lightly yawned, asyou fell back into the garden furniture, an upgrade from when you’d lastproperly been in this garden as a teenager.

Today had been tough on Harry, thewhole week had in fact. Two years on and it didn’t get easier. There was stillthe occasional tip-toeing around Anne. The over compensation of showering herwith love, affection and more importantly his time and presence during thisparticular date frame. She too was still trying to navigate her way around ahouse that was filled with so many memories and find her own path once more.One that made her feel like a whole person again rather than someone who hadlost her other half that made her whole.

That was why you and your mother hadturned up to tag team against both Anne and Harry earlier on that evening. Yourmother whisked Anne away to a fancy restaurant somewhere in Middlewich, arecommendation from mutual friends, and you stayed in Holmes Chapel with Harry.The two of you choosing to reminisce on simpler times when the two of you wereat school, both of you opting for a much bigger life in London as you grew. Inhis case a much, much bigger life with Los Angeles, New York and basically therest of the world thrown in there too.

“If he could see me now, sat herewith you like this he’d be laughing,” Harry started, as he sunk back into thecouch and turned to rest his body to the side. With his chin resting on hishand, arm leaning on the back of the couch, he continued, “He would’ve told meto not have given you tha’ blanket and when you’d undoubtedly moan about beingcold to use some shit like “I’ll keepyou warm” as a way to satiate you.”

You felt a fond smile fall upon yourlips as he spoke about Robin. The ways in which the two of them used to fallinto a pattern of pissing about with each other. A step-father and son,bouncing back and forth over Harry’s sometimes lack of confidence with girls heliked and Robin wanting to push H out of his comfort-zone in that dad-likecheesy way.

“Probably would’ve satiated me,” youstarted, watching his eyes fall from the flames and onto you. “I remember youalways being like a furnace-“

“Hasn’t changed,” he cut in, makingyou bring your eyes back to him.

Sometimes you looked at him and youcouldn’t see the teenager you’d grown up with and then other times he was therein abundance. Like tonight, eyes sparkling in that certain way, top of hischeeks tinted with a pink that was more than likely from the heat radiating offthe fire, but part of you hoped was from the lack of still not knowing how hewas ever going to get you to fully commit to the idea of more than just adrunken kiss with him. Cause you’d certainly had a few of them in your time inknowing him.

“Doesn’t mean I don’t get coldthough,” he reached for your calf, lightly tugging. “Get over here and stophogging all the blanket to y’self.”

“Not very gentlemanly of you is it,”you started, “basically admitted to only giving me the blanket for your owngain.”

He playfully scoffed, taking a sip ofhis wine.

“And now you suspiciously want mecloser,” you squinted over at him.

He mirrored your facial expression,squinting too, before he couldn’t hold the laugh that spluttered out from hislips that were being held together so tightly.

“So suspicious,” he joked into thetop of your head, as you felt yourself give in and curl up next to him, lightlyshaking your head against his chest, where it rested.

There’s a silence between you thatwhile it was content there was also a nervous energy skirting around the edges.He still was as incredibly soft as you remembered him to be, left handsmoothing up and down your arm that stuck out from underneath the blanket,holding your wine glass. It being rubbed to make sure it didn’t feel the coldair.

“I’ve contemplated calling you somany times since I got home last week,” he admitted. “There’s a comfort inknowing that your mobile number is still the same as what it was when you wereseventeen,” he mumbled.

You rested your chin upon his chestto look at him, his eyes trained onto the flames as he spoke, and you watchedthe way this orange glow opened up his expression to you.

He can feel your eyes on him, but hedid it anyway, he quickly rattled off your mobile phone number without as muchof a blink of an eye. You found yourself stilling as he did so, a sense ofemotion overcoming you that you couldn’t quite label.

“The last time I rang that numberfrom memory I was expecting it to be disconnected. However at a time when Ineeded it to work the most, you still picked up-“

That time had been two yearsprevious. When he’d phoned you as he sat at the bottom of his childhood bed,head in his hands and a closed chest that would reveal his upset to you if hedidn’t fight the burning sensation that sat heavily there.

You could almost still hear thechoked sob as he said you name, gruffly and somewhat pleading for you to justgive him five minutes of your time in your memory as if you were back there.

“Even though I didn’t recognise thenumber on the other end of the call-“

His lips twitched, “Know how much youhate that.”

“You do nothing for my anxiety, H,”you admitted, light-heartedly. It wasn’t his fault that he had to change hisphone so much because numbers leaked. The one of many downsides of fame often rearingits head in the most inconvenient ways.

“Selfishly, you do everything formine,” he admitted. He turned to look at you, as you kept your chin resting onhis chest. “I’m so selfish-“

You shook your head. “You’re seekingcomfort from a friend-“

He blinked, his expression solemn. Eyestaking you in in a way that you’d found him doing more so that day than ever. “Aftereverything we’ve been through, you still don’t think that I love you?”

You didn’t want to be this close tohim and have this conversation. Usually when this kind of thing came up youwere sitting across the table from each other, far less coherent than you werenow, and definitely more than a glass of wine deep each.

With his hand now lightly pressed tothe top of your back you knew that you weren’t able to go anywhere. Not thatyou wouldn’t be able to press against his hand and him freely let you moveaway, he wasn’t like that, but just the sheer weight of it against you skin, soothingover your shoulder blades, almost made you want to stay anchored to him as youspoke.

“Loving someone and being in lovewith someone are two completely different things.”

You watched his lips downturn as youspoke. You voice heavy - almost as heavy as your eyes - resigned to the factthat this conversation was a non-starter.

“I’ve seen you in love-“

“Have yer?” You saw the way hisnostrils flared, his tone just that little bit harsher and more clipped. Hehated how assumptive and offhand you were being just as much as you did. Yet,you couldn’t help yourself.

He’d dated, a lot, sincethe two of you had drunkenly fumbled around that one Christmas and New Year’sbreak in 2014. A hidden couple of days that only the two of you knew about.Sneaking into Anne and Robins garden in the early hours, after walking homefrom the pub together, into the very same garden you were sat in now andkissing against the outside wall of his parents’ house around sheepish smilesand drunken giggles. Wandering hands that got you in a lot of trouble thatnight and a couple of scratches to your skin thanks to the friction of the wallbehind you.

Feeling young. Something that neitherof you had felt for a while, simply due to the way that London had chewed youup and spat you out, just in different extremes.

“Love looks different on differentpeople,” he was clipped as he spoke.

“Does it?”

He cut his eyes to you. They wereharsh, out of defence. His guard just as high as yours.

“I think that we find comfort in eachother that can sometimes be mistaken for love-“

“Please don’t cheapen it,” he pleaded,feebly, eyes close for a short second as he spoke.

“I don’t mean-“ you felt yourself getchoked. That was never the intention. Nothing about the two of you was cheap.“If you think I’m doing that then I’m sorry.”

He lolled his head to the side tolook at you. Eyes returning to a soft stare. “You don’t need to apologise,we’re both on the defence.”

He sighed, “I haven’t, just so youknow-“ he shuffled underneath you causing you to jolt around with him. “Been inlove. Like, I’ve-“ he coughed “got to a point where I’ve thought I could be butI’ve closed m’self off to it ‘n walked away.”

A long pause. He wanted to know if you had. Been in love, that is. Hadsomeone managed to get there before him. He knew they had but for his own self-deprecationhe needed to know.Wanted you to offer that information up by yourself, which he knew youwouldn’t.

“Have you?”

“H-“

He sighed this heavy sigh. Headfalling backwards to dig into the couch beneath him and look up towards thenight’s sky. Of course you’d been in love. You’d moved in with someone lastyear, some banker who wore suits all the time and those nice overcoats thatrivalled his. You’d thrown dinner parties together and invited friends, himbeing one of them. He’d always let you down last minute though, wanted you tofeel an ounce of that disappointment and sadness he felt for just a splitsecond with his rejection of an invite. He knew this cause when it had all gonetits up, he was the one loading up his Range Rover and driving you to Hampsteadto stay in his house while he went off to Los Angeles to record a possiblealbum track and audition for some new television pilot.

“Why are you doing this to yourself?”You asked him, noticing the way his eyes scanned above him quickly. Moving toand fro in the way that they did when he was trying to process something buthad no idea where to begin.

“Because,” he started, voice deep, “I can’t imagine this world - my world -without you in it and the thought ofsomeone else having all of you, just because I’m too much of a coward-“

Reaching for his face, you drew itdown to look at you, “Stop-“

“I am though,” he swallowed, histhroat thick as he spoke. “I can’t find the words to say what I mean, how youmake me feel-“

“You’re being way too hard onyourself during a time when you’re already having to process loads of thingsand be everything to everyone.”

He blew out a heavy sigh, a frownforming between his eyebrows.

“Stop it-“ you were harsh as youspoke, his lips twitching lightly. “Why are you smiling now?”

“Starting to sound like you’retelling me off, darlin’-“

“I bloody well am!” You were agitatedwith him now and the way he looked at you from the corner of his eye, boyishsmile on his lips.

“Need a right tellin’ off, don’t I?”He tried to pull you to him, but he’d got you to a point of annoyance that youstruggled to fall against him again. “Hey,” he coaxed “Don’t be liketha’-“

“You’re the absolute worst, d’ya knowthat?”

“Fine line, innit?” He confirmed whenhe felt you fall against him, head dropping to his chest as a bubble of a laughleft you. He chuckled too. “Love it when we bicker.”

“Thought you were more of a loverthan a fighter,” you rolled your eyes as you felt him pull you closer to hisbody, your one leg hanging in-between his as his body slouched done the back ofthe couch.

“You’d know all about tha’,” hisvoice took on a deep, suggestive tone. One that warmed you all the way through.“Wouldn’t you,” he hummed, “eh?”

He pulled you closer to him, lipsresting against your temple. “‘S’almost like we’re back there- just that littlebit older, that much more experienced.”

You smiled against his neck as hespoke, “Who’s told you that you’re any good now?”

“You did three weeks ago when youwere shaking around me after I did that thing you like regardless of us nolonger being twenty-“ you felt yourself freeze. “Is this okay? Can I go there?”

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot #prompts #my writing

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artificialqueens · 5 years

Text

Preacher’s Daughter Chapter One(Rujubee) - OtterInYourWater

A/N: Hello! This is actually my first post to AQ, though not my first fic, so I hope any other fellow Rujubee shippers enjoy this(‘cause the sheer lack of this adorable ship anywhere is honestly disgraceful).

Peace, pride, and happy reading, Loves!

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Raven

Raven distractedly navigated the barren halls of the massive school, trying to wrap her head around everything that had happened in just the past few hours, as well as try to find her destination. She nervously fiddled with the silver band around her index finger, twisting it in different directions and running her fingers over the cool sapphire gem there.

It almost seemed as if her feet were on autopilot while her mind raced ahead in every direction possible.

Once to her destination, she opened the opened the door apprehensively. Peeking her head in slightly, she emerged fully once she saw that only one person was in there, and he was staring directly at her.

“Hello, Raven,” He spoke in a deep, rumbling tone.

She didn’t say a word in reply, only challenging him with a glare.

The man stood, walking over to the blonde in purposeful steps. She bit the inside of her cheek, his presence sent a chill up her spine.

“If you don’t know already, I’m the head of this school and my name is Pastor Inthyrath. I’d like to discuss a few things with you. So, please, take a seat,” The teen complied, sitting in the lone wooden chair as he sat behind his desk.

“Alright, so not to cost you or me much time, I’ll be running through this somewhat quickly. This,” he handed her a small, white pamphlet that had materialized from his desk, “is your school schedule. You are required to attend these classes as well as Sunday mass.”

“Last but not least,” he handed the blonde an, at least, quarter of an inch thick little booklet. “Your rules. I, as well as every other staff member who works here, expects all of these to be followed at all times,” Raven nodded her head along mindlessly, many of his words just sounded like white-noise.

The two stayed silent, only staring at each other, trying to make the other break.

“Now, I just want you to keep a few things…in mind whilst you are staying here,” The man arose from his position at that and began to circle around the room, around Raven.

“One, if I’m to call you to my office, you will not speak of anything that goes on. Not to your father, not that he actually cares about you,” The teen winced slightly when he uttered those words, “not to any person at this school.”

“Two, you are not to discuss your ‘Psycho Corrective’ class with anyone other than those who are in your class. Understood?” She didn’t understand what a 'psycho corrective’ class was, but based on the dangerous look in his eyes, it wasn’t a 'happy’ class. His eyes held the look of a lit match, as he placed an enrapturing hand on her shoulder.

Tears almost brimmed in her eyes, his grip was unforgiving and painful. It hurt. A handprint would most likely mar the skin there with an angry bruise. The feeling was all-too-familiar to Raven.

“Now, go on your way,” he finally let go after a few, mind-numbing minutes. Raven almost wanted to run away from him as far as possible.

Gripping onto the items in her hand, she all but scurried out of the room, jogging back to the sanctuary of hers and Jujubee’s room.

'All I’ve got to do now is find room 162.’ She rolled the number around in her head, eyes flitting around the halls to see the silver-plated numbered plaques on the doors.

Raven turned the doorknob, unsurprised to find it unlocked and strode in. Until she heard a scream, one akin to that of a horror movie banshee. She barely saw a glimpse of the nude back of her new roommate before she scrambled to close the door.

“S-Sorry!” She could barely stutter out before she slammed the door shut, the sound reverberating through the hall. Leaning against the dark wood, she slowly slid down, pulling her knees up to her chest in an effort to conceal the blood-red blush painting itself across her cheeks, the tips of her ears, and down the colomn of her neck.

The blonde’s heart had skipped a few beats and her breathing was slightly uneven. 'I’ll never live this down,’ Raven thought solemnly as she rocked from side-to-side lightly.

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Meanwhile…

Jujubee

Jujubee nervously bit at her lip, pacing around the room. She knew how confusing the labyrinth of a school could be and worried that Raven was somehow lost in her haste to escape.

Just as the brunette was about to slip past the door, she heard a knock, sharp and insistent. She opened the door, staring up as she saw the tell-tale signs of her new roommate; the permeating smoke scent, leather, and a scowl. Jujubee flashed her wide smile, only receiving a look of annoyance before feeling a gentle push on her shoulder.

Her face fell slightly, watching as Raven kneeled on the floor, rifling through her suitcase and unpacking. The tension was palpable, the only sounds being the faint sounds of breathing and distant voices of giggling girls. The brunette pursed her lips as she stared at the methodical movements of Raven’s hands, placing neatly folded clothes in separate piles to be hung.

She watched as the light just caught on a ring at the right moment; a gleaming blue sapphire gem on a silver band. Jujubee was mesmerized by the sheer beauty and craftsmanship on the ring, realizing that the blonde must have payed a pretty penny for such a gem.

“Where’d you buy that ring? It’s gorgeous,” The words tumbled from her lips without hesitation. She held her breath as the movements stopped, and the ring disappeared for a moment.

“It was a gift,” The voice was quiet, and almost choked. The brunette noticed how Raven kept her words short and minced, something had to be significant of the ring.

“It’s very beautiful…do you know why it was given to you?” Jujubee treaded lightly; she knew that she could be working in sensitive territory.

(She never received an answer…)

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Raven

Raven pulled at the plain covers of her new bed, trying to feel comfortable as she faced the wall. She didn’t want to see Jujubee, even in the darkness where everything was muted and unrecognizable.

She listened as the other teen’s breathing evened out and she heard slight snores. Her ears honed in on the sounds, making sure that enough time had passed before the blonde made her journey outside.

'Thank you, dear Jujubee, for giving me the complete tour of this hellhole. Now I know where I can escape,’ She thought as a devilish smirk crept onto her face.

Careful not to make loud noises, Raven swung her long legs across the bed and padded over to her suitcase, easily finding the cleverly stashed cigarettes as well as her phone. She opted to grab her leather jacket, knowing how biting the autumn cold could be in Ohio.

Swiftly and noiselessly, she made her way through the door, disappearing into the complete darkness of the hallway.

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Raven navigated the labyrinth fairly easily considering the short amount of time she’d been there; only one day, but it already felt like twenty.

Cautiously, she tried opening a smaller than normal door that, she hoped, led to the flat roof of the school.

The blonde swore under her breath when the lock didn’t budge. She pulled out her phone and turned on the flashlight, swearing again once she saw that there were two locks.

She bit her lip in thought, inhaling sharply once she remembered the couple of bobby-pins that she kept in the pocket of her jacket.

The teen held two of the pins between pursed lips, the other being twisted and manipulated by nimble fingers.

Raven’s eyes lit up once she heard the soft click of the padlock opening, finally gaining access to the roof.

As she stepped onto the concrete, the hair on her arms and the back of her neck stood up in response to the bone-chilling wind. Her feet shifted, trying desperately to find warmth. She tucked her arms against her body in hopes of stopping the shaking.

Slowly, the blonde walked towards the edge of the roof. She leaned down, letting her upper body rest on the small railing. She allowed her head to fall, the strands that had escaped from her ponytail falling with.

The pants she’d chosen hung low on her hips, even with the drawstring pulled tight and the tank top was incredibly thin, allowing the hardened peaks on her breasts to be noticeable.

With numb fingers, she pulled out the carton of cigarettes along with her lighter. She cupped her hands around the small stick as the lighter flickered, trying to keep the flame ablaze in the wind. The cigarette burned bright against the dull sky.

Raven inhaled deeply, feeling the worries disappear with every second that passed by. She turned her head to the moon as she exhaled the smoke out of her mouth, watching as it twisted and turned. The blonde had tried to ween herself off of the hazardous sticks for a few days, but to no avail. She just wasn’t emotionally strong enough.

She tried to savor the taste of nicotine on her tongue, know that she couldn’t just go out into town and buy another pack; she’d have to make do with only having one every once in a while.

With only a few more drags, the stick had been burned into a small stub and was useless. The blonde tossed it to the ground, out of sight.

Raven tilted her head towards the sky, watching as more stars slowly appeared in the vast darkness, twinkling brightly. She didn’t know the names or shapes of the constellations, but she made her own. She saw a heart and clutched at her own.

Her mind went back to Jujubee’s and her earlier conversation, even if she tried to suppress it.

“Where’d you buy that ring? It’s gorgeous.”

“It was a gift,” Her voice had unintentionally choked up as her mind tried to will the memory away.

“It’s very beautiful…do you know why it was given to you?”

Raven never answered; she couldn’t. It was still too painful, like a wound that hadn’t healed and never would. Like a forest fire, the damage already done. Like a fight, the cuts and bruises scarred over and forgotten but the venom-laced, scathing insults fresh as daisies.

'I wanna see her again, just one more time to even hear her voice would be enough.’

The blonde gripped her phone tightly, staring at the blank screen as she contemplated. Shakily, she started typing in her mother’s last-known phone number. It was ludicrous; it wouldn’t work. But, some part of her just wanted to try, some part of her just didn’t want to accept the truth. The truth hurt too much.

She paused after each number, even going as far as to hover over the last digit for several minutes before clearing it completely. What was she trying to do to herself? What was she trying to prove that she didn’t already know?

Again, she repeated the number sequence, still pausing before the last digit could be entered.

“Fuck it,” Raven said aloud, voice raspy and hoarse. She tapped, feather-light and hesitant, on the final number and brought her phone close to her ear, hearing the repeating rings.

She paced lethargically, feet dragging against the cold concrete with an arm curled under her breasts and wrapped around to hold her side. She felt as though she would collapse and completely fall apart if she didn’t do so.

The ringing was sharp and piercing, too long. Raven kept repeating the word no over and over again in her thoughts; all she wanted was to hear her mother’s voice, even if it were just through a voicemail message, that would be enough.

The voice never came, not even a voice message, and it took every fiber of her being to not physically collapse, cry, scream, break her phone and curse it for not providing an answer.

Raven no longer cared in that moment, she only stared with glazed eyes at the moon, wishing that she could just take everything and one that she loved there and be happy, free, in the know.

A/N: I just wanted to say, I do not claim for any of this to replicate any school or these characters real lives. Anything that that happens to correlate with you personally or something popular is purely coincidental. Have an amazing day/afternoon/night, and stay outta trouble, Loves!

#rpdr fanfiction #raven #jujubee #rujubee #cisgirl au #fluff #catholocism #high school au #lesbian au #preachers daughter #otterinyourwater #concrit welcome

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elejah-wonderland · 5 years

Text

Love Hurts/6

Fanfiction

Part 6

Elijah Mikaelson x reader

Summary: Y/N receives a letter from a lawyer from New Orleans that she has inherited a part of an Estate. She will go down to NOLA to find out what it was about and there she will meet two brothers, Elijah and Klaus Mikaelson, who also part own the property.

a/n: thanks for reading, liking, reblogging. This means so much xoxo

tags @rissyrapp20 @dendrite-lover @elejahforever @goddessofthunder112 @captainshurley

______

"I love you, too, Y/N"- Elijah said lovingly as they pulled out of the most sublime kiss.

"You do?"- Y/N said still breathless looking at him with her eyes glistening with sheer happiness.

"I do."- Elijah replied lost in her eyes.

Y/N now kissed him even more zealously than before and Elijah responded in equal measure. All what they held back now burst like a dam, them now completely letting their feelings take over, losing themselves in the set of kisses flowing now like an untamed river.

Unbuttoning his shirt, sliding it down and from his shoulder, Y/N now pressed her hot searing lips on it, trailing them up to his neck as he tugged his hands into her skirt, helping her shimmy out of it. Drawing her to him, he kissed her long and deep. Pulling out of it for some air, he picked her up, and she now wrapped her legs around his waste.He walked them to the sofa, laying her gently on it. Working out of the rest of their clothes, he looked at her with eyes glowing with love, passion, need to make love to her, to taste her, feel her melt into him. Breathing erratically, Y/N now sat up crushing her lips on his anew, straddling him as she pushed him softly to sit on the sofa. Not able to sustain the fire in her, she now lowered herself on him, making him groan against her mouth. His strong hands brushed down her back coaxing additional shivers, as she leant against him, now moaning his name into his ear, moving in sync, fully inthralled in one another. Trailing fiery kisses down her neck, his lips land on her breast, brushing over her nipple, making her let out a hoarse moan, burying her hands in his hair, gasping for more air, now everything in her quivering delightfully. Feeling her walls clench around him, he knew she was nearly there, same as him. Enveloping her in his arms, he shifted them. She now lay underneath him, drawing his lips to hers again. Sheathed with feverish haze, their both bodies shuddered with a ripple of the ecstatic orgasm washing over them. Coming down from the highest high, he rolled aside, now sliding his arm around her, bringing her close to him.

Cuddling now as they were getting some breath back, Elijah whispered dearly to Y/N as she rested her head at the crook of his neck placing a little peck on it-

"Love you"

"I love you, too."- she said dearly

"You are so wonderful, so special. I can’t remember feeling this way - ever"

“Me, too” - Y/N smiled beaming her eyes now at him.

He now cupped her face pulling her into a set of more loving kisses.

________

Elsewhere

Bonnie and Damon sat down on the riverbank.

"You know- Y/N is maybe not coming back to Mystic Falls."- Bonnie said to her boyfriend.

"Well, she has always wanted something different, she always spoke about adventure. And this looks like the adventure. She hated the mapped out life."- Damon reminded his girlfriend.

"I am so going to miss her. We've been besties since pre-school and- it's going to be so - Huh- but I guess things just don't go as you dream it. You get some you lose some nothing is ever completely perfect."-she looked lovingly at Damon, who now pulled her into a kiss.

At the house

Pulling out of another set of sweet kisses, Elijah brushed his fingers gently over Y/N’s face gazing into her eyes he said-

"I want this - you -me and you- I will tell Camille tonight that I am breaking that sham of engagement.”

His words now brought Y/N back to the harsh reality and moving a little out of his embrace she said- "Oh, I - she will be so hurt - I never wanted to hurt anyone - “

"Yes, I know"- Elijah sighed-"But I cannot continue lying to myself or her. And the engagement- it was a way to speed up the custody case. It was wrong to do it that way- but I was at the end of my tether with the case, and- please don't think less of me- I know it appears like I was using Camille, but she is a good woman and I just- we would give Marcel Jr a good home. I care about her. But I love you. I will have to find another way to win the custody case."

"We will find another way"- Y/N said kissing him now, and then jumped up as she thought she heard a car pull up in the drive way- placing a little quick peck on his lips- "I am gonna shower"- and picking up her clothes ran out of the Salon. Elijah quickly got dressed and as he went to the front door opening it - there was Mary, all flustered-

"What's happened?"

"Andrea came by the house. And- well- Jackson just drove off. What shall I tell you."- Mary replied getting into the house.

"The party crushed!"- Elijah stated following her in.

"I had a feeling something like that would happen. I never thought it would hit him so hard seeing her again."

"He never stopped loving her- and if things didn't happen the way they did with Hayley- they would have been married."- Elijah said.

"Yes, they would have"- Mary took a deep breath and shook her head-"I need to - start the Jambalaya"- she went to the kitchen.

Whenever Mary was upset she would find consolation in cooking. Elijah let her be and as Y/N now appeared downstairs again, he briefly told her what went off and then went to shower and change, but not without first placing a sweet peck on her lips.

Y/N looked at him as he walked off. A big smiled spread over her face and her heart pumped with happiness.

Not long after, Bonnie and Damon returned from their walk, and Y/N directed them to the back porch saying-

"I'll get us some iced-tea. I need to see Mary for a second."

Bonnie gave her friend a look with question marks in her eyes, as she saw her friend positively glowing. Y/N gestured with her mouth- later. And Bonnie understood there were developments of some kind.

In the kitchen, Y/N asked Mary if she was all right.

"I am, thank you."- Mary replied and helpful as she was she now went to assist Y/N with the glasses and some fruit to take to her friends. It was hard to persuade Mary that she can prepare the fruit herself, and she let her.

"I am going to arrange the table outside, on the porch, is it ok?"

"Of course, it is. Whatever you wish. I will lay the table in a minute as the Jambalya is on."- Mary said.

"I will lay the table. It is really not a problem at all. I am not a princess."- Y/N said.

Mary nodded in ok.

"And you will sit with us tonight, please."- Y/N said dearly to the housekeeper, who was not accustomed to sit with any of the members of the family.

"Thank you, but I don't think it is appropriate."

"Oh, I think it is very appropriate. And I am not taking a no for an answer. Look at it this way, new mistress in the house, new rules. I think Ms Dahlia and Ms Esther would approve."- Y/N joked a little.

"As you say Miss Y/N"- Mary now accepted the joke.

Y/N smiled a little at the housekeeper and took the tray with the refreshments to her friends.

Elijah now came down to the porch greeting them and asked how their walk was. As Damon and Bonnie explained how far the got, Y/N and Elijah exchanged secretive happy looks with one another also taking part in the conversation. But Y/N excused herself as she now went to get the table ready for the supper. As happy as she was for, she also felt a knot forming in her stomach thinking about Camille and the way this will affect Marcel Jr as well.

Bonnie now followed her friend wanting to know what was going on as she didn't miss Y/N and Elijah exchanging dreamy looks.

"I can't tell you now"- Y/N whispered to her friend as they walked to the kitchen.

"Tell me - did you kiss?"- Bonnie replied in the same whispering tone.

"More"- Y/N said now her eyes twinkling what more was.

"When we- how- I mean- and-"

"Later"- Y/N said in he same hushed tone. Bonnie was like all right and the women proceeded to the kitchen.

In the mean time, Klaus got back with Hope and the supper was ready and so all of them sat down together. At the end of the supper, Y/N stood up for a moment taking her glass of wine-

"Ok, I am not going to do any speeches. But, now that my closest friends are here, and you, Elijah, Klaus, Hope and Mary - my - new friends- family, sort of, I want to say something. I've been here like, two and a half months now, I think, and this time has been really amazing in a lot of ways. You made me so welcome here and this place really feels like home, like I've always been here. When I received the letter, I thought it was a mistake, but it turned out to be the best thing that has ever happened to me. And just so you- ok- I am not going to cry- but - Bonnie and Damon, please don't think that I will ever forget you two- especially you, Bonnie, because you have been with me through thick and thin and you are always welcome here, and New Orleans. Thank you all- thanks so much!"

Everyone present cheered and clinked their glasses together. Mary now stood up asking if anyone wanted her heavenly banana pudding. Everyone present was up for it, especially Hope. It was her favourite.

Elijah excused himself for a moment and went looking for his phone. Seeing it was nearly ten o'clock he wanted to know if Camille would be coming that evening or not. He needed to speak to her as soon as possible. Finding his phone in the study, he dialed her number, and the person replying on the other side was not hers-

"Who is this?"- Elijah said.

"Aiden Legrand, EMS. You are?

”Right. Where is Camille? Is she hurt? I am - her fiance"- Elijah said feeling someone had punched him in the stomach as he heard she was with the paramedics."

"She has been in a crash on Highway 22. We are taking her to New Orleans St. Louis Hospital. We have stabilized her. That is all I can tell you at the moment."- Aiden replied.

Elijah now hung up and went to the porch where everyone was sitting. Seeing him all pale and serious, Y/N stood up asking what had happened.

"Camille was in a car crash. They are taking her to New Orleans- I have to go."- he replied, turning away from them and now walked back into the house. Upon the news, Klaus got up and went after his brother and Y/N followed him in. They both wanted to know what had happened exactly, and Elijah told him in a very zombie like mode that there was a crash on the Highway and that he will see them later.

"You can't drive. You had a couple of glasses of wine. I'll drive."- Klaus said taking the keys off of his brother. Y/N stood on the front porch, feeling like she walked in a twilight zone moment. Elijah glanced at her before he got in the passenger's seat. She stood there watching into the dusk as they drove off, her head going blank.

Bonnie and Damon now came up to their friend asking questions, and she answered them briefly. As she walked back into the house with them, she suddenly felt like she entered the darkest of nightmares.

That night she could not sleep at all. She tried to get some information, but Elijah was not answering. She called Klaus then and he said that Camille was operated on, but that she was still critical. Bonnie, who was with her friend just gave her friend a hug. Whatever she said could not take Y/N anxiety away. Waiting for the news about Camille's condition, Y/N told her friend what had happened between her and Elijah earlier that afternoon.

"I felt what it was like when you walk through the clouds. It was amazing. I never thought that I can get to be so happy. And- now I feel like I am selfish, that I just thought about myself- and now- I feel so shitty- I - huh. I need to go back into town."

"Ok. I'm gonna get Damon."- Bonnie said.

Mary, who didn't sleep much either that night saw them off.

"Call me when you find out something more, please."- Mary said before they got into the car.

"I definitely will."- Y/N said.

Y/N went to the hospital, together with her friends. Klaus met them and had nothing good to report.

"Nothing changed. She is still critical."- he said.

"Elijah?"- Y/N asked.

"He has gone to talk to the surgeon. I will tell him that you came. You don't have to stay. I am also going home to get some change of clothes for him."

Y/N wanted so much to be there for Elijah, but somehow she felt that maybe it was not an appropriate moment. And so decided to go back to the house.

And the hours waiting for any good news were like walking through Hell. Bonnie and Damon extended their stay, not wanting to leave their friend.

____

Sometime the next day, late in the afternoon, as Bonnie and Damon went out, Elijah got home. As he walked in, Y/N, who was in the kitchen, now met him in the hallway.

After exchanging a small hey, they went into a hug. The way he held her so close to him, she knew that things were not good. He then moved out of the hug and they walked into the living room.

"How is - please tell me- how is Camille?"

"She is - in a coma now- and- everything - they said that she might not walk again"

"Oh, Elijah- I am sorry. I just- "- Y/N now felt his pain and tears welled up in her eyes and not long after tears were streaming down her face.

"I just- I can't think- I can't- everything is- huh-"- he didn't have to say anything, Y/N understood his position and the way things stood for them.

He looked at her broken, tearful and Y/N now voiced what he couldn't-

"I understand."- it meant that they had to give up on each other. She knew that Elijah would never leave a woman, who might stay an invalid all her life.

Elijah looked at her and then swayed the look away, feeling his heart would explode.

_______

#Elijah Mikaelson #Elijah Mikaelson x reader #tvd fanfiction #Fanfiction

17 notes · View notes

straightoutabusan · 7 years

Text

A Chronic Love

Reader x Yoongi

Fluff-ish, Implications of Smut, Maybe a Second of Angst

Words: 6,544

Request: Could I request a scenario where Yoongi and the reader hate eachother, but one day in college they're paired up for a group project, and then when they go to Yoongi's house something happens? I'd prefer a lot of fluff and if you want you can do smut at the end or something. Thank you !! I never get over cliche fanfictions <3

High school was hell. Everywhere you went, you couldn’t escape your nuisance of a neighbor Min Yoongi. It was bad enough that every night, that should have been silent, was filled with the rap music that floated from his open window into your tightly shut window, but your time at school was also disturbed by his treacherous presence.

Everyday was the same. You woke up to some classical music coming from Yoongi’s house, which was arguably the best part of your day, and began to make your way to school. At school, without fail, you would be in the middle of second period when Yoongi would laze his way through the unlocked classroom door and take a seat right behind you, reminding you of the day when you were in third grade when Yoongi cut a chunk of your hair off. It was safe to say every time he sat behind you, you felt a shiver go down your back.

Somehow, probably by the counselor, she never liked you, you had nearly every class with Mr. I Don’t Care himself. The majority of your life was spent with the bane of your existence, so naturally when you were accepted into your dream college, very far from home, you were excited to finally leave this part of your life behind you. Unfortunately, dreams rarely come true.

The fall semester of your senior year at your self-proclaimed University of Paradise was about to begin. Your life was finally turning out like you had always wanted it to. It was peaceful, you had actual friends and you could truly focus on your studies, something that would have been far-fetched back home.

Today was especially beautiful, the crisp air blowing through your hair and your favorite sweater adorning your figure. All that was on your mind was how amazing you had to make your last year of college. Everyone who passed you was sure to feel the joy that was being emitted by your entire body as you made your way to class with a slight skip in your step. You rounded corners and took secret, vacant hallways and other shortcuts you had discovered during you time at the university until you came to the room you were looking for.

You gripped the straps of your bag while taking in a deep breath, the weight of the importance of the year finally settling down on you, and as you found yourself walking through the open door of the lecture hall, you were surprised to see just how many students had found their way out of their beds and into one of the many chairs of the room. So many students in fact that it was hard to find a seat at all and as you shuffled around the aisles looking for an empty spot that wasn’t being saved, your eyes went wide at the sight of one completely open chair. It was as if God had answered your prayers, but moments after you sat down you remembered that God did in fact not favor you, at all. It took but mere seconds for the best day of your life to come crashing down.

It had been years since you’d seen that face, but you hadn’t forgotten it. The dark eyes and sharp jaw were all your mind focused on as you stared horrified at his profile. Min Yoongi. The name repeated itself over and over in your mind, taunting you. He glanced over at you briefly causing you to whip your head down not wanting to make eye contact, but you soon discovered he had looked away just as quickly as though he didn’t remember you. You were slightly hurt to think so, but you also knew it wasn’t far-fetched. You had lost weight, and you dyed your hair, and you had started wearing more makeup, in fact maybe you looked nothing like you had in high school., nevertheless it still stung a little.

Soon, your professor was walking through the door and dropping his bag on the table, snapping you out of your Yoongi-filled thoughts, and soon after that he was talking, a welcome distraction from your not-so-friendly seat neighbor. His words came out blindingly fast and you would be lying if you said you could recite what the teacher had just said, but before you could ask someone what was going on, your heard names being called out, grouped together in fours or fives. “-Jessy Kim, Lee Jaehyun, Y/F/N, Kang Jinho, and Min Yoongi.”

You all but choked when the names that rolled of the professor’s tongue made their way to your ears. Your face was probably a few shades paler, and you could already feel his eyes burning into your skull and it was then that you realized that your professor hated you as well.

After all the groups had been announced, everyone in the room moved to sit next to their fellow group mates… for the remainder of the year. There would be absolutely no switching as made clear by the professor multiple times.

When you made a motion to move, Yoongi grabbed your arm and pulled you back into your seat before motioning for the other three who had already sat down to come to him. Unsurprisingly, they did.

Silence settled around the five of you and you had the brief thought that you were definitely going to fail, but surprisingly the man next to you opened his mouth to say something that was only half horrible. “Look I’m not going to lie to you all, I’m not going to do much, but I will sacrifice my apartment for this damned project because I will not enter any of your disgraceful dorms and there’s no way in hell that we are going to do it in public. Also, I would like to volunteer Y/N, as the person with the final say because I have no doubt that she is the smartest person in this room and I fully trust her to use the bossiness that she has cultivated over the many years I’ve known her to keep you all in line.”

When Yoongi was done speaking you didn’t even have time to feel flattered, which you were. Yoongi had said you were smart after all and everyone’s jaws were slack, their eyes boring into you, but their attention was taken when a piece of paper fluttered onto your desk. Written on the torn notebook paper was Yoongi’s phone number and address which you promptly added to your phone before passing it to others. When you glanced over at Yoongi he had earphones in and his eyes were shut as if he were asleep, but you knew him well enough that you knew he could hear what was going on and was in fact awake because Yoongi’s music was always audible and every time someone opened their mouth you could see his eyes roll beneath his thin lids. You chuckled slightly and smiled before bringing your attention back to the project and the others who were currently drawing up plans as per your request.

Class ended before you were ready to leave. Honestly, you had enjoyed working with your group members, they were intelligent and determined and restored your faith in the year, but right now there was a mess all over the floor and you could see how frantic they were to get to their next class. You didn’t have another class for a few hours, so you let them go, telling them you would handle it. You waved at them as they left before bending down to organize the scattered papers littering the ground all the while fully aware of Yoongi’s eyes staring at your back, and though you would never admit to it, you kind of liked having his attention.

You stood up slowly, making sure you had everything securely before turning around to grab your bag, but instead you ran straight into a chest, knocking the top of your head into his chin. He let out a groan at the same time you let out an “Oh!” and took a step back while rubbing his stubbly jaw before refocusing on you. You stared down at your fingers as they picked at the nail polish on your nails, a nervous habit. You regained a more confident stance and looked Yoongi in the eyes, but they still held the same cold intensity that still sent a shiver down your spine.

You had thought that the black-haired man had wanted to say something, but he only stared at you, like he was memorizing your features. If anyone had seen the two of you, it would have looked like a pair of reunited lovers, but you were far from that. As more time passed, it started to get awkward and just as you were moving to pick up your bag again, he stopped you. You stood up straight and opened your mouth to scold him for wasting your time when you felt his fingers brush your cheek and then curl behind your ear as he pushed your fallen hair out of you face effectively shutting you up.

“So this is where you’ve been as this time…” His voice was so soft and low that you weren’t sure he actually said it. However, when the next words slipped past his lips you were left even more confused than before.

“I missed you.”

Yoongi had left first. He had told you he missed you with that voice, and he looked at you with those eyes, and then he left you to stand there, your brain going to mush with the sheer confusion leaking from every crevice of your mind. You physically shook your head in an effort to remove the thoughts from your head, but it had little success. Somehow you managed to collect enough sanity to grab your bag and shuffle out of the classroom and into the barren hall. You felt as if you were being suffocated. Everything around you, the patterned tiles, the doors with their small windows, they all brought you back to high school.

When you had first moved, nothing felt the same. It was so unfamiliar, and it felt nothing like home, but you had grown accustomed to the differences. Min Yoongi’s presence however, had ruined that. He had single-handedly shaken up everything you had thought you felt about this new city and handed it to you rearranged in a way that looked just like the street where your houses sat side-by-side, your window so close to his that you could reach out and brush your fingertips against the cool glass.

Many thoughts from the past flooded in with your memories. It was all too much at once, so many suppressed feelings making their way to the surface, fighting for the spotlight. You could feel the way your feet were moving, one foot in front of the other, tripping yourself in your memory-drunk state. You saw the stares, the stares that screamed at you to get a grip, as it was barely noon and you knew you looked like a wasted day drinker. You however, continued walking, all the way until blinding rays of sun attacked your eyes instead of the artificial lights of the building.

The air outside was sobering. It was cool and crisp, and you filled your lungs with the sweet oxygen until you couldn't hold anymore, then released it in a deep sigh. Finally, you gained control of your body.

You found a spot and lounged yourself in the grass shaded by the large oak tree, and permitted your body and mind to relax. You allowed yourself to succumb to the peaceful atmosphere and rid your mind of its stresses, but before you could close your eyes, someone had plopped their belongings down next to yours. A soft “Ah,” escaping their lips as they sunk their head into their bag, their hands rested on their stomach. You didn’t know why, but for some reason, you felt the urge to punch them… so you did.

She shot up with a loud shout, shaking some of the dead leaves off of the tree above you before turning to face you with the series of huffs and puffs, her exasperation evident in her features. “Why’d you do that?!” Her voice came out with a slight whine, bouncing faintly like a child about to throw a tantrum. You rolled your eyes at her antics.

“I don't know. I just felt like it.” You said with a shrug, eyeing your best friend, Jisoo, for a reaction. She just shrugged as well, laying back down on her bag and tapping the spot next to her. Understanding her message, you settled in beside her.

“So Y/N, anything new and exciting happen today?” She asked with a wiggle of her eyebrows. You didn't even have to think of response to her question, but you hesitated before speaking anyways.

“Actually… yes. I think something did happen today.” You started, not really knowing how to describe your experience perfectly, your mind struggling to stay focused. You tried to find the right words, but nothing came to mind. There was a dull pain radiating from your abdomen, but it didn’t take long to discover the culprit. Jisoo had elbowed you right below your ribs, not only to get you to continue, but as payback for earlier, it was all the same, you still got the hint. Your mouth fell open and words immediately started rolling off your tongue. It was surprisingly easy to talk about, seeing as nothing big had actually happened, but it had shaken your whole world.

Somewhere between explaining how your mind was betrayed by your memories, and sixth grade Min horrors, you realized you had started to ramble, yet when you looked over at Jisoo, she was patiently waiting. She’d always been the best listener. Unsuppressable giggles bubbled past your lips as your eyes followed a leaf as it floated to the ground. Jisoo’s eyes shot to yours, looking at you as if you were crazy, and right now you probably were. However, she couldn’t stay serious for long and soon joined in with your loud, body-shaking laughs.

Her voice cut through the spaced out, airy chuckles as you both came down from the high. “Y/N, seriously, finish explaining when you kissed Min Yoongi, because even though I can’t forgive you for never telling me in the six years I’ve known you, it was actually entertaining.” When her words hit your ears you went crazy, quickly sitting up and pounding your fist into the ground.

“IT WAS SIXTH GRADE! IT DOESN’T EVEN COUNT!” Your screamed words surely startled the other students in the courtyard, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Your friend looked at you judgingly before screaming as well and throwing you both into another laughing fit.

The little sit down you had with Jisoo had really given you time to contemplate how you were going to handle your situation, and you came to the conclusion that if Yoongi could let it go then you could at least try as well.

You thought that you were going to struggle through your remaining classes, but you were able to concentrate quite well. Surprising really, seeing as just an hour ago you were sure you were going to pass out from the sudden onslaught from the past. Maybe, just maybe that was due to the fact that your new mindset was functioning correctly.

It wasn’t.

Just as you were packing up to go home, you felt your phone buzz in your back pocket, effectively startling you. You pulled it from your pocket and read the tiny words printed on the screen, and suddenly the feelings you'd shoved down were back, raging, gnawing at your brain.

Yoongi: I want to see you.

Yoongi: Tonight.

The beating of your heart ceased. You were dead, and nothing was going to be able to revive you. That was until the next message came through some two minutes later.

Yoongi: For the project.

Even though you could feel your heart start its thump, thump, thump, pattern again, it was still at a much accelerated rate. Despite that, you managed to pull yourself together well enough to send back a reply.

To Yoongi:

Sure. When?

It seemed almost immediately that the next text came in, as if he was waiting, staring at his screen just as you were at yours, anticipating the words that would follow, already forming a reply.

Yoongi: “Whenever. I be home all night.”

You read the message, but didn’t bother sending a reply. With a heavy sigh you tucked your phone back in your pocket and decided to head to Yoongi’s apartment, hoping it would be easier to just get it over with.

When you arrived at Yoongi’s apartment complex you were annoyed by the presence of a locked door, and though you clicked the buzzer with the faint M.Y. scrawled on it, no answer came. You resorted to clicking all of the buzzers, but they only returned the same resolute silence. This led you to the conclusion that the whole system was broken, and though you had called Yoongi, there was no answer at the phone either. You tossed around the thought of just returning home and explaining the situation to him later when someone rattled the door handle and walked out of the building, glancing at you before sending you a slight smile and holding the door open for you. You quickly slipped through the door nodding at the polite stranger before scurrying up the stairs to the door with the numbers 202 nailed into its wooden surface.

You reached out towards the door, hesitating before rapping five times, an awkward number, but the same number of times you used to knock on his window what felt like so many years ago. There was a moment of silence before a series of curses slipped under the door. The door was thrown open to reveal a very wet Min Yoongi, a sight you were quite embarrassed to admit that you’d see on a small number of occasions before this particular one.

You just couldn’t stop yourself, as you tried to divert your eyes from his pale chest you couldn’t help but allow yourself to watch a drop of water drip from the strands of his freshly washed hair and glide down the side of his neck until it pooled in the dip of his clavicle. You honestly didn’t know how long you would have stood there staring if he hadn’t made a noise while clearing his throat. In a beyond flustered state, you quickly whipped your eyes away. It was so far in fact, that you ended up turned 180 degrees around, face to face with the wall, the only witness to the grimace that graced your face before you were composed enough to turn around and face the instigator of this mess. However, there was only an open door to greet you when you turned back around.

You stuck your head past the threshold, just enough to cautiously eye the inside of the room before you stepped a single foot into the apartment. You threw a glance to your right, jumping back when your nose brushed Yoongi’s.

“What the hell, Yoongi!?” You shouted, thoroughly startled. He simply shrugged then crossed the room to sit on the couch, and from somewhere he had procured a shirt, from where, you had no idea, but it was something you were grateful for.

You roughly slammed the door shut before stomping to the seat as far away from Yoongi and throwing yourself into the surprisingly soft plushness of his beige couch.

You reached towards your bag, bringing out your notes and the sketches from class earlier, arranging them on the table so that Yoongi could easily reach them if he so wished to.

“Wow…” You glared at Yoongi, ready to be offended by whatever was about to leave his lips, but surprisingly his face was painted with a genuinely impressed expression. His eyes spoke out to you while he stared at you through an ear-shattering silence, spiking your heart rate. It seems like I feel this way around him constantly now. You thought, your hand coming up subconsciously to rub at your chest, He stared at you before speaking, diminishing only a fraction of the tension surrounding the pair of you. “I’m sorry Y/N, I just think your notes are beautiful.”

You knew what he was saying was not what he meant by his words when he looked into your eyes, looked deeper into you than anyone had ever before.

I think you look beautiful.

Somehow you hadn't noticed how close the two of you had become because you hadn't moved. You were still planted on the far cushion of the couch, but Yoongi must had taken the time you were distracted to inch closer to you, little by little so you wouldn't realize. It was startling, the feeling of his hands winding behind your back and pulling your body closer to his. The warm feeling budding inside of you became even more present when you felt his hot breath shudder out onto your neck, your name escaping from his lips in a airy whisper before you felt the slickness of his wet lips connect with the skin of your neck and move towards your throat.

“Yoongi…” his name left your mouth involuntarily and you sensed him hesitate, waiting for the end of your words to flow out. He didn't move his head, and you felt relieved because you were sure the battle your brain was having with your heart and body was evident on your face. You brain pleaded with you to tell him to stop, to end this right here before you got hurt, but your body betrayed you. You knew you were enjoying this, and so you let your heart speak for you. “Yoongi, it’s okay.”

At your words he pulled away, gazing into your eyes, probably wondering if you were being honest. He stayed that way for a while, cultivating the silence you’d grown accustomed to in his presence. You watched as his eyes fluttered shut, his deep, relieved sigh reverberating in your ears. His body relaxed, a small smile tugged on his lips, all the while his warm irises stayed hidden behind his pale lids.

“Y/N, I’m sorry for everything I’ve ever done to you.” His chocolaty orbs made an appearance again as he began speaking words that seemed to have been on his mind for a while.

“All those years, I made you hate me, and I annoyed you to no end. I was snarky and insincere and a pain in the ass, and I’m sorry.” You felt all the feeling you’ve ever felt in regards to Yoongi resurface, felt tears gather, blurring your vision, but you listened with no intentions of interrupting.

“I couldn’t ever bring myself to tell you the truth, to ruin any relationship I had with you, even if it was one based on lies.” His voice wavered with every word that left his lips, his resolve crumbling. “Y/N, I love you and I always have. All these years, I’ve looked at you, torturing myself because everything I did caused you to openly stare at me with distaste, and everything I did that pushed your buttons and drove you crazy was a product of my own selfishness. I couldn’t approach you genuinely because you’re too damn good for me, but I can’t stop myself from wanting your attention, so I used sarcasm to protect my heart because I felt that having you hate me was better than being invisible to you.”

His cheeks were wet by the time he finished bearing his heart to you, allowing you to pick him apart piece by piece as he sat before you, his eyes downcast in shame. Again silence pervaded the air that surrounded you, but this time you welcomed it, took it as an opportunity to surprise Yoongi the same way he had to you so many times.

You brought your hands up, your palms coming to sit atop the cool wetness left from his tears as your thumbs brushed under his eyes, stopping the salty drops from rolling over the swell of his cheeks. He flinched back when you touched him, and you don’t know if it was because he was startled by the action, or the sheer coolness of your nervous hands.

Gently, you angled his head upwards so that you could see his face, and more importantly, so he could see yours. You wanted him to see you accept him, for everything he was because somewhere in between the string of words Yoongi used to confess to you, you’d remembered every instance in which he’d looked at you with what you had thought was sheer contempt, and realized that you had seen it, the hesitation, the want, the love. This revelation made you see yourself as well… forced you to notice that the only reason you allowed Yoongi to get so deeply under your skin was because more than anything else you wanted him to be nice to you, not just nice, you wanted him to want you the same way you had wanted him since that kiss in sixth grade.

Never in your life had you been so intrigued by another person, so unable to keep your eyes off another. By now, all of Yoongi’s attention was invested in you and you took the opportunity to restate your earlier sentiment, “Yoongi, really, it’s okay.”

This time there was no hesitation. Yoongi spared no time in pressing his lips to yours. Every ounce of lust he bottled up came out at once, evident in the way he devoured your mouth. You let his hands roam, the tips of his fingers eliciting goosebumps wherever they touched. Your hands were in his hair, tugging gently on the strands. He groaned, pulling you towards him, tugging your legs around his waist. He buried his head in your neck, whispering praise as he stripped you and himself of your shirt and pants. He was gentle and caring, two words you'd never thought you would associate with the male, but here you were doing just that.

He kissed your swollen lips, nibbling at them before soothing the sting with his tongue. You were in complete bliss, too far gone in his sweet touches to comprehend anything but the sudden need you had to be inexplicably one with the man it seemed you’d always loved. You broke the connection of your lips in order to take in his current state, his skin dewy, pupils blown, lips swollen and red. You could see the worry wash over his face. He pulled his hands away from you, “Y/N, did I do something wrong? Do you want to stop?”

“No, no, I just… Yoongi… I think I love you.” His jaw went slack at your words and his eyes were shining, but the smile that slid its way across his face made your heart swell. He pushed you onto your back. Hovering over you, he ran his hands up and down the sides of your body until you got too impatient and tugged his hands to the clasp of your bra. He laughed, but pulled the constricting thing off of you anyway.

You felt his lips press against yours again before they began to wander downwards, and for a brief moment a thought crossed your mind, this was it, there wasn’t going to be anything to go back to, and you were shocked by just how excited the prospect made you.

It had been two weeks since you and Yoongi had confessed to each other and did some other things, but the only time you really got to see Yoongi was when you were working on the project, aka, when you were surrounded by other people. However, the project has since been turned in and returned with a dazzling A scrawled across the cover, and you were hoping to finally spend some time with him.

You were debating whether it would be better to send him a text, something short and to the point, or to call and be forced to talk to him.. You chose the latter believing that Yoongi would rather talk to you then have to stop what he was doing to type out a reply if he was busy.

Just as you finished hyping yourself up to call Yoongi, your phone buzzed in your hand. Glancing down to read the notification, you noticed it was just who you had been thinking of.

Yoongi: So… do you think you're going to be hungry at like 7??

A smile stretched across your face as your eyes ran over the words repeatedly.

To Yoongi:

I think that can be arranged.

So should I expect to see you at 7?

Yoongi: I’ll have someone pick you up. Dress nicer than usual please!! ;)

It seemed that Yoongi had been having the same thoughts as you. Somehow, everything was coming together just how you wanted it to.

You started getting ready at around 5, a time you thought was reasonable, but apparently you were mistaken because staring straight at you was your bedside clock blinking a very hostile 6:15. You had very meticulously planned your evening up until when you would probably be picked up in order to have dinner at 7. You assumed that time would be around 6:30, which meant you only had 15 minutes, and as you caught a glimpse of you appearance in the full length mirror hanging on the bathroom door you wanted to pull your hair out. The fluffy socks, the cotton shorts and ratty tee that you currently adorned was second only to the bird’s nest that was presently resting atop your head.

Where had all the time gone, you ask? Well your room spoke for that very clearly. Every item of clothing you own had been ripped from its hanger in search of the nicest dress you owned, the dress you’d bought especially for a moment like this. It was head and shoulder above the rest of your clothing, but it was nowhere, and so as time dwindled down, you picked a subpar dress and threw it on. You swiftly moved into the bathroom, muttering an impatient “Come on, come on!” as you waited for the hair straightener to heat up before quickly running it through your tangled mane. It actually came out pretty well. Your makeup wasn’t completely ruined, so you only touched it up, throwing on some blush that you didn’t usually wear to make it seem like a little more effort had been put into it. Just as you finished grabbing your bag and tugging your black pumps on, your phone rang signaling you to the arrival of the driver.

You gracefully stumbled down the stairs and into the open door of the sleek black town car that sat outside of the building. After you caught your breath, you were struck with an odd feeling that had your stomach doing flips. You checked the time on your phone before flipping it over in your lap then not even 10 seconds later checked the time again, continuously. You forced yourself to get a grip and so you closed your eyes, focusing on nothing but your own breathing until you felt the car come to a stop and wind gush across your face as the door was swung open.

You stepped out into the hazy glow of the city, the sun already setting behind the tall buildings that surrounded you. You hadn’t looked at the name of the building in front of you, but you walked in anyway. For a moment you thought you had the wrong place, because it seemed to you that you were in some sort of reception hall. However, your sights soon fell on one Min Yoongi, who far out-dressed you, and for one last time that night you cursed yourself for somehow misplacing that dress, but the smile never left you face as you walked up to him.

His eyes scanned over your figure before he pursed his lips and shook his head, “Y/N, I told you to dress up and this is what you decide to come in? Your face falls. It was just so hard to tell if he was being serious or not, and just as you were about to spill the evening’s occurrences as an excuse, he pulled something from behind his back. “You should have came in a dress like this.” He said with a smirk gracing his face.

You jaw was on the floor, “Yoongi, how did you get that?! I was looking for that for like an hour!”

“A little birdy named Jisoo brought it to me after I ran into her at the library and spilled the beans about my plans for the night.” His eyes were glowing, he was so happy. You couldn’t be mad looking at that, however you’d made a mental note to murder Jisoo for making you believe you’d lost the most expensive article of clothing you owned.

“What are the plans for tonight anyway?” You asked, hoping he would give you an answer.

“You’ll just have to find out as we go, won’t you? Now go change.” That smirk on his lips seemed to grow the longer you talked to him. You pursed your lips, but took the dress anyway, sure to let out a series of huffs and puffs on your way to the bathroom.

When you returned, Yoongi stood up from the table, smiling down at you. “Now this is what I’m talking about. You look beautiful.” All of a sudden you felt shy, a slight heat building in your cheeks, but you didn’t have to endure it for long because Yoongi was soon ushering you into the chair, lightly pushing you down into the wooden seat.

You picked up the menu in front of you and read through the options, settling on some chicken dish quickly, however, you kept the menu up and pretended like you were still reading it so you could steal glances at Yoongi, from behind the safety it provided.

When the waitress came to your table, Yoongi let you order first, his eyes burning your skin as he looked you, more specifically , your lips. The way they moved as you spoke to the young blonde server in front of you. When it was his turn, he cleared his throat and straightened his back, seeming far more composed than he was actually feeling..

Without the safety of you menu, you were left to awkwardly stare around the room, and it wasn’t until Yoongi cleared his throat that you made eye contact with him again. He took a moment before he spoke, and when he did it was quietly, low and soft, “Do you want to know why I brought you here?” You silently shook your head, honestly curious as there was no one else there dining with the exception of the two of you.

“Well, back in our last year of highschool, I spent about a week building up the courage to ask you to the dance, but when I got to school you weren’t there, and then the day after that you still weren’t and it was three days until I heard you were sick, I think Jisoo said, and I quote, “She’s dying! She really is. My best friend is dying and my mom made me come to school today as if this weren't her last hours. I should be at her deathbed!” And then she rambled on some more, but I walked away, but I did find out that you couldn’t have gone to the dance with me even if you had wanted to… I brought you here because it looks like how I imagined the place where the dance took place looked like so, yeah.”

It was your turn to smirk now, “Yoongi, did you do all of this just so you could live out a high school dream?” And as if on cue, the lights dimmed and a disco ball descended from the ceiling as music began to float and echo throughout the vast room.

Yoongi stood up and made his way to you, stretching out his hand. “Y/N, may I have this dance?” You placed your hand in his. He wasted no time in dragging you out into the middle of the room directly under the spinning, mirrored ball, and you couldn’t help but laugh at how wonderfully sweet and innocent the boy in front of you was.

Your head rested on Yoongi’s shoulder as you swayed back and forth to the music, and when he began to slow down you pulled back to look at him.

“What’s wrong?” You asked as he stared at you from above. He seemed suddenly quiet and it made you nervous.

“It’s nothing, I was just thinking about everything that’s happened up until now. It’s just so surreal, everything I’ve ever wanted is finally coming true… I’m here dancing with you, and I get to call you mine… What more could I ask for?” His voice was dripping with nostalgia, not at what was, but what could have been. “I just can’t explain how I feel, you know? Everything is just-”

“- perfect.” You said together. The words flowing from his mouth explained exactly what you were thinking too. You both let out a slight giggle before you eyes met again and everything went silent. You closed your eyes as Yoongi leaned towards you, and as your lips met in a slow kiss, you felt like you were eighteen again, a less guarded version of yourself, slightly more innocent. You felt the fireworks and the warmth, and in that moment nothing else mattered but you and Yoongi. When he pulled away, and the lights from the disco ball struck his wet lips, you were rendered speechless by his beauty.

You danced until dinner was served. Sitting across from each other, you shared laughs and joyful tears as you reminisced on your intertwined pasts.

The dark-haired man in front of you was utterly different from the boy you had grew up with, but at the same time so completely the same. He was now a flower in full bloom, showcasing his bright petals for the world to wonder at. No longer was he a tight bud hiding its beauty from the world. His smile out shined the sun and made your heart swell. He looked different, and he made you feel different, but in everything he did from the way he walked and talked, to the way he would jut his bottom lip out when he thought too much was the same, and it opened your eyes once again to what you’d always known: Min Yoongi had wiggled his way into your heart long before you entered his home mere weeks ago. You were, and for years had been, chronically in love with your greatest foe… and that was okay.

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