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ghost-proofbaby · 9 months

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twenty four hours (modern!eddie munson x fem!reader)

HOUR TWENTY THREE

in which you never make it past the stairs.

→ tropes: enemies to lovers, forced proximity, slow burn

→ warnings: strong language, single use of 'Y/N', upside down does not exist, minors dni

→ wc: 5.4k+

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23:00 ──────────────ㅇ─ 24:00

“Be honest with me, Eddie. Do you like her?”

Eddie feels pathetic when all he can do is hum in response to Nancy’s voice over the line, mind moving in slow motion as looks down at you. You’re here, in his apartment and curled up on his couch. You’re here, and you’re his for twenty four hours, if he can just stop fucking it all up.

He should have known the hum wouldn’t satisfy his best friend.

“No. I want a real answer,” she scolds, and he can imagine her frustrated scowl she wears as he gives her nothing. But he just feels defeated – he’s at a loss for words right now, “Don’t over think it – do you really like her?”

No. No, I do not just like her. I fucking love her. And I really shouldn’t, but I do, and I can’t change that.

“I… I think I do.”

“I just said to not think about it. It’s a yes or no question, Munson. Don’t… Fine, don’t be honest with me. Be honest with yourself. So I’m going to ask you one last time, and I recommend you don’t think about it, because every time you do, it seems like all you do is push her further away. Do you, Edward Munson, like Y/N?”

“I do. I really fuckin’ do.”

More than Nancy could understand. More than even he understands. He likes you, more than just in the sense of what Nancy was referring to. He likes you as a person. He likes the way you challenge him, that you won’t take his shit. He likes the way you keep up with him even if you are motivated by a fire of hatred he’d built with his own two hands. He likes the way you clearly care about people, evident with how you treat everyone else. He likes the way you never cease to surprise him. He just… likes everything about you. Every single part of you he has been gifted with witnessing even when he’s undeserving, he fucking adores.

He never stood a chance. From the moment he first met you in that bar, it was always going to end this way for Eddie. All you had to do was lay your eyes on him, and his fate was sealed.

So, yeah. Eddie Munson likes you. Eddie Munson loves you.

—

HOUR TWENTY THREE - 3:00 PM

You don’t even make it outside the apartment building.

You make it down the hallway, sniffling the entire way and ignoring the curious glances from the neighbor that walks past you. Clearly, the entire building must have heard your fight with Eddie. They probably even heard the debauchery you two had taken part in on his balcony beforehand.

They probably think you’re insane. You don’t really care.

Once you enter the stairwell, it all becomes a bit too much. Your head is spinning as you take a few of the steps before you give up, dropping down to sit on one and succumbing to the dizzying feeling with your head between your knees. It’s a lot – Eddie has given you a plethora of information, too much to be able to stomach all in one go but necessary to offer you all at once.

He always loved you. He’d felt it too, that first night. All your blooms and all your vines hadn’t been what gave you away, but instead his own garden that had begun. And instead of tending to it as you had been prepared to with your own, he’d gone and drowned it. He’d taken away any glimpse of sunshine and cut off all nutrients, tried to starve the thing inside of him away and burn it with unnecessary hatred.

It was all so unnecessary. So, so unnecessary.

The girl you once were isn’t something of the past. You were foolish to believe there was any separation – between who you were the first night and now, between who Eddie was that night and who he was as you left him behind. You’re both still the same people, still in the same position.

You never stopped looking for Eddie in every room you entered. You never stopped biting your tongue at the thought of starting a conversation with him, never stopped aching to reach out for him even as he filled the ocean between you two. Every single date you’d gone on after meeting him had been a flurry of excuses.

No, not excuses. Comparisons.

Every single person that had shown you interest in the last year had been subjected to a side by side comparison to the man you couldn’t have. To the man you thought you’d held in the palms of your hands for a night, only to have it all taken away so suddenly. None of them drank whiskey and coke. None of them wore rings on their knuckles that they would fidget with when nervous. None of them reacted when you’d stumble beside them, none of them ever offered to foot the bills of the dates they took you on. And every time you noticed these insignificant details, you’d only think of moments with a certain long-haired metalhead.

You’d spent a year convincing yourself that there was only bad. Spent a year ignoring that nagging in the back of your head, when Eddie had been the worst fucking actor you’d ever met. He was right – his affection had seeped out time and time again, had reached out and wrapped around you like a warm blanket. Most of the time, it was your irritation that led to any arguments turning into true fights.

You weren’t innocent in this. The blame is shared. You’d both been victims, time and time again, of absolute self-destruction.

When your phone rings, you indulge yourself in the hope that it’s Eddie.

It’s Steve.

“Hello-”

“What the fuck happened?” Steve cuts right to the chase, ignoring your greeting, “What the fuck does Eddie mean the bet is off?”

He’d called Steve. Obviously.

“It means the bet is off,” you feel a fresh wave of tears choke you up, “We didn’t last the full twenty four hours. We lost.”

Steve’s scoff echoes over the line, “You’re telling me that with not even two hours to spare, the two of you now find it to be a bit much? It’s been twenty two hours, nearly twenty three, what harm is there in a few mo-”

“A lot of harm, actually,” you cut him off this time, in no mood to be scolded like a child. None of them knew what had happened. None of them knew how everything had changed so drastically between you and Eddie, “I- I called it off. It was me. I’ll come up with the money for you guys, just give me a few weeks.”

Do they know about Eddie’s feelings? Had you been the only one so oblivious to being caught up in a lie?

“Hold on, hold on,” Steve tries to soothe you, but it does nothing. When a sob escapes you, the dam finally breaking through, he grows even more panicked, “What the actual fuck happened?”

You don’t answer the question. “Can you come pick me up?”

“I- Excuse me?”

“I need a ride,” you gasp out, swiping rapidly at your face to hide the evidence of your breakdown as you can hear someone walking up the stairs, “Can you- Christ, Harrington, can you just come pick me up?”

More neighbors. More nosey glances. Fuck them.

“No.”

You almost think you heard Steve wrong. “What?”

“No, I will not be coming to pick you up.”

“Why?”

Your chest is aching with every sob you withhold. Trying to cling to composure, trying to cling to the fact that the worst was over. The wound could heal. The wound had to heal.

“Tell me what happened,” Steve demands, “Tell me what the fuck has happened over the last twenty something hours, and I’ll come pick you up. But if you don’t tell me, I’m tossing my fucking keys in the canal and you can be stuck with him for the rest of your life for all I care.”

And therein lies the issue. You don’t want to tell him. Suddenly, you’re something animalistic, the memories of the last twenty three hours becoming something of such substance to you that you wouldn’t dare to part with them. You want to hold each moment, each stepping stone along this rocky path, close to your chest and swipe out at anyone who gets too close. You need to cradle them with care and dissect each one for your own sanity, picking apart all the times you were too blind to see the truth.

You make your decision. The animal inside of you, hiding amongst vines of affection and blooms of hope, decides. “I can’t.”

“You can’t, or you won’t?”

You both know the clear distinction, and you can’t be bothered to care as your breathing finally evens, the sobs settling themselves down.

“I won’t.”

It’s quiet for a while until you hear Steve finally laugh in disbelief. A sharp breath out at first, that grows more into a chuckle that you know pairs with him shaking his head.

“Jesus,” he whispers, “I… okay. I get it. I don’t know what the Hell went down, and I won’t force you to give me a play by play,” he pauses, and you can hear the but before he even says it. It stretches over that pregnant pause, silence only broken up by static from the phone line until he speaks again, “But you’ve got to give me something to work with here. Eddie randomly texts me that the bet is off and to tell the others, and then I call you just for you to start sobbing-“

“He only texted you?” you interrupt the plea, brows furrowing, “He just… He texted you and no one else? Did he call Nancy?”

“What? No. I’m the only one who’s heard anything from him.”

You stare at the wall across from you, gaze digging right into one of the cracks filled with dust.

Fuck it.

“He told me he loves me, Steve,” you begin to open up, prying that memory from the claws of the animal. It doesn’t go down without a fight, screeching as you say the words, protesting offering even the smallest of breadcrumbs to your friend. You don’t have to tell Steve everything — but you can tell him this. “He said he never really hated me, and that he loves me.”

There’s nothing for Steve to say. You don’t know if it’s because they all really did know, saw what you couldn’t, or maybe if Eddie had already admitted this to the others. But in his honesty, he’d only mentioned Nancy knowing. And you’d seen the twist of his lips, the pinch of his eyes during that recount; you doubt anyone else knows.

He’d been prepared to take this secret to the grave. To keep it, even from you.

“I liked him,” you admit in that quiet stairwell, almost forgetting Steve was on the other end of the line, “God, I- I just liked him so much that first night. I wanted to waste all my time getting to know him. I know you all saw it after he went cold.”

How I searched for him in every room. How I’d always ask if he would be at functions. How I’d gravitate straight to him on the rare occasions he was there.

You continue on, your animal within finally stopping its petulant protests. It seems to understand; there’s a balance to be found. Admitting this doesn’t mean losing Eddie. It could mean more, “Even when he started being a fucking asshole, I wanted him. I always thought I’d just get him out of my system one of these days, but I didn’t. Not even after tonight. I… I like him.”

It’s not love. Not quite what Eddie had felt, because his plan had worked to some extent. You’d been held at an arm's length for so long, the like never had the chance to grow into love.

“So go get him.”

It’s the last thing you expected from Steve. “What?”

“You like him. Present tense,” he parrots your words back to you with emphasis, “So go get him. You said he loves you, kid. And sure, there’s a lot to work through there, but the bet isn’t off yet. Texts can be deleted. I can take a few hours to come get you. Just…” you listen to his deep breath over the phone, letting his words settle within you, “What’s the worst that can happen? You guys hate each other? I think we’re a little past that now.”

“Yeah,” you find yourself laughing, only half amused, “We are kind of past that.”

What is the worst that can happen?

“At the very least, tell him how you feel,” Steve continues on in such a calming tone, your chest clenches, “Because I’m sensing that you haven’t. Or else you wouldn’t be sitting on the phone crying to me, and Munson wouldn’t be impulsively texting me.”

“It wasn’t that impulsive,” you hum, leaning your cheek against the cool railing beside you, still mulling over your options. Really, option. Singular. “I made it very clear that it was over.”

Steve lets out a groan, and you smile despite yourself, “You sound like you just broke up with the poor dude without ever even dating.”

“I kind of did.”

“Then go fix it!” Steve’s exclamation makes you lift your head again, “He’s an asshole, okay? We can agree on that. He’s fucking dumb, and he’s an asshole, and he definitely isn’t some dreamboat in my opinion-“

“You know, I have a bone to pick with you there,” you’re already standing up, heading inclined towards the door you had just burst through, feet heavy as you try to dig within yourself for just a little bit of bravery, “Why the fuck would you say what you did that night? When I met him. You told him I’d never go for him.”

“I didn’t think you would. I mean, you didn’t jump my bones when you met me, and I am a goddamn dream boat.”

“Steve Harrington,” you take the first step, suddenly determined, “You’re a fucking idiot. I kind of hate you right now.”

“More than you hate Eddie?”

“So much more.”

“Then go tell him that,” Steve instructs as you take a few more steps, back up on the platform for Eddie’s floor already, “Make me the bad guy, I don’t care. Tell him he even gets a free punch.”

“I get a free punch first,” your free hand reaches out to grab the door, gripping but not pulling. Not yet, “We’ll see if you’re still such a dreamboat with a broken nose.”

It’s all teasing, but Steve can tell your anger beneath it all is very real. It isn’t something all consuming or dangerous, but it is well deserved for what he’d put you and Eddie through. All with one little throwaway comment.

“I deserve that,” he affirms, “I really, really deserve that. Scout’s honor that you’ll get your punch when I pick you up in… say, an hour?”

You nod, and start to pull on the door, “See you in an hour, Harrington.”

You hang up before he can say another word. There’ll be time for more scolding later, for more genuine conversation at the hand everyone had in all that went wrong. But for now, you only have one boy on your mind.

And apparently, he’s in love with you. Has been for a long time.

You race down that hallway faster than you had when you’d left, determination throwing you forward with each step as you grow closer to apartment 2C. You raise your fist when you come face to face with Eddie’s front door, still terribly insistent and strangely brave, when suddenly — it opens up.

“I-“ you squeak out, fist still frozen and poised in the air.

Eddie has never looked more frazzled. He’d been clearly running his hands through his curls, frizzing them up nearly comically. His eyes are red from tears, and if you look close enough, you can see an indent in his bottom lip from his teeth digging in.

Your eyes meet his, and all he can do is sigh your name.

You take a few steps back, and he follows. You tell yourself you need the distance, because without it, you might throw caution to the wind and just kiss him again. That’s not what you came here to do – before you can ever kiss him again, before you can put not only yourself but him through that, you need to tell him.

Your heart is ready to burst out of your chest, and you repeat Steve’s words over and over in your mind.

So go get him.

What’s the worst that can happen?

“I thought you were leaving.”

His voice is a broken whisper, gravely from the tears he’s no doubt been succumbing to since your exit. You search his face for any sign that he might still be far away from you, still in his head, but all you can see is that he’s here.

He’s here, with you, in this moment.

“I never made it down the stairs,” your voice cracks terribly, croaky and shaking until you clear your throat, “I- Steve called me.”

“I texted him. To let him know the bet is off.”

“I know.”

It’s awkward, but without ice. It’d be impossible not to be, even when every glance into his eyes just fills you with warmth.

There will be time to be angry later. With Steve, and with Eddie. One day, you’ll spare the time to mull over the way he continued to treat you even after his own personal revelation of how he loved you. You should pay more attention to it now, but every time your mind tries to go there, it just becomes overcast with what’s happened on this night.

You can’t erase the past. Good or bad. Both exist, and both fuel you as you take one more step back and support yourself against the wall across from his door, just as you had when you’d first arrived twenty three hours before.

Eddie takes several deep breaths before he follows you. You don’t have to say a word out loud; he’s completely in tune with you as he leaves his front door wide open and walks to stand beside you. Only then, when you’re both on the same side of the hallway, do you both slide down to sit on the floor.

“We need to talk,” you sigh, watching the way your knee knocks into his. Gentle brushes, soft touches. There’s no room for any thorns here. Your vines have wrapped their way around not just you, but him as well, and there’s far too many flowers thriving along them to even think of such dangerous pricks to linger, “I know what I said. I know that I left. But…” But I can’t stay gone. I can’t let it end like this. I can’t do it, not like this. “I never made it past the stairs.”

His shoulder bumps yours, forces you to look at him as he offers a sad smile. He can tell you're nervous, can tell that you’re the one who’s slipping away into their mind now.

“Hey,” he says softly, “It’s just you and me. Just two people who hate each other’s guts, remember?”

“Except we never did,” you remind him, finally looking down to pick at the frays of your jeans, “We never hated each other’s guts. And that’s… the issue? Maybe not issue. It’s not a problem to be solved. But, you were honest with me, and I think I need to be honest back.”

I need to say more than just no.

“I like you, Eddie,” you finally spit out, craving relief from the admission. But it won’t come, not quite yet. Not until he hears your full truth, “I liked you from that very first night. I just- when I was in this room full of people I didn’t know, not well enough at least, you took one look at me and decided that you’d sit by my side. You’d be my friend. I don’t care how the night ended and I don’t care that you went back on your gut reaction,” you take a sharp breath, and finally relief finds you as you whisper, “You chose me. That very first night, you chose me. And I want to figure out how to get back to that, not pretending to hate each other.”

You hold no expectations for how Eddie will react, especially given that your confession was seemingly less monumental than his, but his hand coming down on your knee surprises you all the same.

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes, and you believe it. There’s no hesitation in your belief this time. It goes without saying that you know he’ll probably spend the rest of his life sorry, trying to make up for the last year.

You decide to put your hand over his, let your palm press into those knuckles before you move to slip your fingers between his, “I don’t want things to go back to normal. I just want us to be able to start over.”

You catch his smile out the corner of your eye, “Yeah? That’d be pretty nice. Maybe this time I won’t be such a dick.”

“And maybe this time I won’t throw a glass at your head,” you add, leaning into him a little, feeling his grip on your knee tighten with affection.

He shakes his head briefly before throwing it back against the wall, “I deserved that. When I deserve it, you are always welcome to throw a glass at my head.”

“That’s an expensive way to deal with things.”

“We’ll get the glasses from Goodwill.”

Both of you are softly laughing when your head meets his shoulder. You should probably be talking more properly, but you don’t. You decide to just enjoy this time with him. You have an hour left.

When the door to the right of Eddie’s opens up, you both straighten up a bit, and you watch in real time as the embarrassed blush lights up across Eddie’s cheeks at the sight of his neighbor — Mr. Jenkins.

He pauses, and God you wish he hadn’t, because now your insides are turning with your own self-consciousness. He takes in the sight of you two, sitting out in the apartment building hallway, hands entertained and heads leaning on one another, and then he chuckles.

“Good. Glad you two kids figured it out. Now please, for the love of God, keep those activities private. Indoors. No more balconies.”

Eddie has burned past pink, now a brilliant red. You’re surprised when a soft giggle escapes you, the ridiculousness of everything that has happened finally hitting you. Eddie turns his head to look at you with wild eyes, a silent scream of traitor before he faces the elderly man again.

He clears his throat, “Right. Uh, of course. Sorry, Mr. Jenkins.”

He grumbles a bit as he turns away from you two, still smiling as you can hear the faint “Yeah, yeah,” of his words.

The moment you two are alone again, you can’t help it — you burst into laughter.

Genuine and much needed laughter fills your lungs, expanding them beyond capacity as you finally let yourself just let go of the night. All the fights, all the stress, all the misunderstandings, and all the honesty seem to melt like butter from you, the tension leaving your soldiers for the first time in what feels like hours. You like him, you like him, you like him. No matter what happens after this, you like him. Just as you had that first night. Nothing can really take that from you; all the miniscule details can be worked out later. Any arguments and any fights that need to be had can be handled tomorrow. For today, you like Eddie Munson, and that’s enough.

“It’s not funny!”

“Oh, it’s fucking hilarious,” you gasp out as Eddie gently slaps your shoulder, “That poor old man fully saw your dick.”

“I’ll never be able to face him again,” Eddie deadpans. You don’t catch his adoring smile as you only laugh harder, “I’ll never be able to know peace in these halls again.”

You quiet down your giggles, taking your hand from his to swipe at the tears of joy that had gathered. Your stomach aches in the best way, finally, “Should’ve kept it in your pants, Munson.”

“Says the minx.”

It’s nice. Just as you had thought — there would be a time to laugh about it. And now, as your temple falls back against Eddie’s t-shirt and he snakes an arm around your back, is the best moment you can think of.

The two of you let silence settle again. All you can hear is the other’s breathing, deep and calm and assured breaths that don’t whisper of any secrets or any panic. It’s peaceful; it’s absolute bliss.

“God, I need a nap,” Eddie mumbles as he trails a finger in an insistent circle over your shoulder. Gentle and feathery light, repetitive enough to almost lull you to sleep, “How do other people do this shit?”

“I don’t know, but a nap sounds heavenly,” you nearly moan. You can picture it now, wrapping up in your usually mediocre comforter back in your dorm room, and your uncomfortable mattress has never been more romanticized.

Eddie stares at his open door for a second, thinking, “Is, uh, Harrington coming to get you?”

You only nod against his shoulder.

“Did he tell the others that the bet is- or was- or-“

“No,” you laugh as he fumbles over the specifics, “He never told the others. As far as they know… We made it.”

Eddie sighs in relief, “Oh, thank God. I did not want to have to pay any of those fuckers.”

“They never would have let us live that down.”

“Never.”

Another lapse of silence. There’s times where you think Eddie might get up, might hold out his hand for you to take and drag you into his apartment again. Maybe try and let you two squeeze one last nap in, considering the way you’re already half unconscious on his shoulder. But he never does. The two of you sit in the comforting silence of that hallway, backs pressed to the wall and bodies leaning into each other’s gravitational pull.

Getting him was never really about having another hard conversation. Just making sure he knew that his feelings were returned, to remind him of the change that had happened within you over these last twenty three hours, was plenty enough for you.

“Hey,” Eddie whispers. Neither of you have a clock, but you can both feel the time running out, “I, uh, want to say one last thing before this is all… over.”

“What’s up?” you mumble into the material of his t-shirt. The one that your nose nearly turns and buries into, trying to enjoy that last bit of boy that has lingered after him since the beginning of the night.

“I need you to know I didn’t tell you everything just for this to happen,” he begins to explain, “Like, I never loved you with the intent of being loved. I actually love you without ever expecting you to reciprocate, whether it’s embarrassingly admitting you have a crush on me-” one of your hands limply comes up to hit at his chest in a pathetic lack of strength, which makes him pause to chuckle, “-or if you came back here and said that you were… like, wildly in love with me. Or you could have even said you never really want to see me again. That was never the point.”

“What if I came back just to say I forgot something? Like, ‘oh, hey, I just forgot my chapstick’?” you’re nearly slurring your words in fatigue, but still smile at the thought of doing that just to fuck with him.

“I’d probably lie and say that there’s not a single tube of chapstick in that apartment,” he admits, his palm now just cupping your shoulder, drinking in the privilege of touching and holding you this way as he gives it a squeeze, “And then I would have shut the door, and started searching like a mad man for that fucking chapstick, and never would have told you once I found it.”

You snort, “Keeping my chapstick? Pervert.”

You shift your head to just barely peer up at him, and you see those fucking dimples. You can’t believe there was a time where you didn’t notice those.

“I’m serious, though,” he lets his smile falter just a bit, but those innocent indents don’t, “You could still say the word, tell me you don’t mean it and you don’t even like me in the slightest, and it’d be fine. No hard feelings, truly.”

He’d just succumb to the terrible fight he’d been running from this entire time. From the moment he had met you. He’d succumb to his worst fear and let himself burn for you, even if you didn’t burn with him.

“Eddie.”

“Hm?”

“Stop being such a fucking idiot,” you chastize as you lift your head from his should. His arm remains around you, not even slipping, “Stop trying to talk me out of liking you. It’s done – I like you. End of story.”

His smile turns into something sad for a second, something almost sour, before it really does fall completely. Only the ghosts of those dimples remain for a moment in your memory. Suddenly, you get what he means. He isn’t trying to deter you, only remind you of what you need to consider.

It’s not just another moment of insecurity.

You probably should be putting up more of a fight. All the damage done, both tonight and in the last year, can’t really be erased in the matter of an hour. It’s a whisper of it’s okay to take time to heal, a true white flag of surrender being waved from across his ocean.

Vines, oceans, fires, glass walls – all of the metaphors have finally turned trivial.

“I might need time,” you give in just a little bit, knowing it’s for the best, “I… I mean, everything can’t really change so quickly. Maybe we give it a few days. A few weeks, if we have to. We…”

“Just spent twenty four hours together, and could use the time apart?” he ends your sentence for you in a joking tone, but you both know it’s true.

The time apart would not only do you well, but answer the burning question on both your minds – does this last past tonight?

Right now, you’re sure it does. But it’s possible you’ll return to your dorm room, that Eddie will spend some time in his apartment without you hovering around every corner, and that it could change. That is entirely possible.

It’s something you almost need to mentally prepare yourself for.

“Yeah,” you rasp out, almost choked back up at the reality of it all. You blame it on the lack of sleep, “Yeah, we could probably use some time apart.”

Saying it out loud goes against every gut instinct you have.

“Yep,” Eddie almost seems to also be gritting those words out, tongue almost more stubborn than yours, “Time apart. Just to think. Not… uh, not forever. Not unless we decide it needs to be.”

You sound like you just broke up with the poor dude without ever even dating.

How many couples have had this exact conversation? How many have promised temporary time apart, only to never see each other again?

It strikes a little bit of childish fear in you, but Eddie’s arm is still warm and heavy around your back, his palm rubbing up and down along your bicep as if he can sense all that doubt that you battle with.

It’s okay. Leaving for now is not leaving forever. Besides, you once lived a life without Eddie Munson in it. You can live that once more, if needed.

You like him. You liked him that first night, and you like him now. You like to enter rooms and know his eyes seek you out, you like to know that every time he crosses your mind that there’s a possibility that you’re also plaguing his thoughts. Time, distance, and hatred have never been able to change that.

“I-” you start to say, more vulnerability metallic on your tongue and more honesty poised for his taking, when you’re both cut off by a familiar figure coming down the hallway.

It’s not a neighbor, not another set of judgmental eyes.

“Hey there, love birds. Glad to see you didn’t kill each other.”

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#my writing #twenty four hours #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #if it's bad don't tell me wah

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sokoviansimp · 1 month

Text

Control

✒ Pairings: dom!wanda x subAgent!femreader, bestfriend!Nat x bestfriend!reader

✒ Summary: New experiences provide clarity and confusion as you begin your training with Wanda.

✒ Tags and Warnings: 18+! Mature themes, mind control, early dom/sub dynamics, enemies to lovers, slow burn

✒ Author's Note: sorry this took so long, I'm a slow writer and I was really sick for two weeks.

✒ Word Count: 8973

✒ Read Time: 20 minutes

Masterlist : Socials : Series Masterlist

After weeks of recovery, you were finally allowed to sleep in your own room. Though, to your surprise, all of your belongings were moved from your room at the SHIELD base to one inside the compound. The thought of being in another foreign place instead of the comfort of your familiar bedroom was almost as bad as knowing a team of agents had gone through all of your private things.

You were brought up to a room on the third floor. It wasn’t completely on purpose, but it had just so worked out that floor two housed the males on the team, and floor three had the females, which was just Wanda and Natasha, and now you. Nat wanted to keep you close during your recovery and introduction to the team. She also felt it was fitting for you to be close to Wanda if she was meant to be your mentor.

Nat made sure to show you around the entire floor as she introduced you to your new room, “I’m sure you’re tired so I won’t stay, but if you need anything I’m right down the hall, and Wanda is right next door,” she assured.

“Thanks, Nat,” you said genuinely, thankful for everything she’s done for you throughout this experience. She was the best friend you had and she always earned that position with the way she cared for you. The two of you were soulmates in a way that sometimes, only friends can be.

Once you were left alone in your room, you quickly realized how tired you truly were. It was late in the afternoon by this point and you had a long day as doctors came in and out to give you dismissal plans and best practices. While it wasn’t your typical bedtime yet, you decided that you’d rather get rest now so that you could have a full day back to the real world tomorrow.

As you moved around the room to get ready for bed, you appreciated the effort of whoever transported your things. It was clear that they attempted to put everything as closely as possible back to the way it was in your previous living arrangements. The room was a different layout so it was impossible to be exact, but you could tell that they put care in settling you in.

Even in the new environment, it felt nice to go through your nightly routine again. It really made the moment when you finally sunk down into the fresh sheets that much cozier. You put on some sitcoms from the 2000s, but you knew you’d fall asleep before it was over. The television was loud enough to understand with captions and soft enough to allow you to drift off to sleep as you wished.

About a week goes by as Nat familiarizes you with all of the amenities and protocols to get you adjusted as a permanent resident of the compound, and when she’s busy, she has Wanda take over. You notice that your tiredness isn’t improving at all. You’ve always been known for being chill and easygoing, and you always felt tired in some way, that was just normal for you. Since the incident, though, your exhaustion has felt like it’s grown tenfold. The doctors expected that you’d be nearing full recovery by 2 weeks, but you felt something must be off track.

By the end of the week; you’re getting sick of being babied, and even though you haven't fully recovered you think you might just go crazy without some fresh air. You didn’t make your way down to the kitchen for breakfast until almost 11:30am, where Wanda was already preparing lunch.

“Got a full night’s sleep?” Wanda sarcastically pondered aloud as you tiredly shuffled through the cabinets for some ceral.

“Doesn’t feel like it,” you grogily answered as you added milk to your frosted flakes.

“Maybe you should go back to bed then,” Wanda suggested

As if the suggestion alone gave you a burst of energy, you sprung back, “Oh no. I am done laying around like a potato! I am not spending a single solitary second in my room until I get outside for some fresh air.” there was a beat of silence once you finished your short rant, as if Wanda felt like you needed a breather after your small outburst.

“Alright- Well we can go out back and work on controlling your powers,” she offered once the silence ran its course.

“Yes! Perfect!” you confirmed as you took the first bite of your cereal.

Once Wanda finished up her lunch, she sat across from you to eat in mostly silence. It was a comfortable silence though, the crunch of your cereal breaking it ever so slightly. The two of you sat there and scrolled on your phones until your food was finished. You thoroughly cleaned your plate while you waited for Wanda to finish up her meal.

Even though you were quite familiar with the compound, visiting Nat often. You had no idea what surrounded the area. Adversely, Wanda spent a lot of time exploring the terrain that the compound sat within, especially when she was first adjusting to her new home. She explored to take her mind off of the events that led her to reside at the compound and forget about the clinical aesthetic that lacked any personality or comfort. It gave her an outlet that felt like an escape from reality.

“Where are we going?” You felt like she was leading you to some secret secluded area where no one could hear you scream, and in a way, she was.

“To work on your control,” that wasn’t the answer you were looking for. So you did what you do best, offer a snarky response.

You huffed, “That’s exactly what someone would say before leading me to certain torture, where no one can hear me scream,” you said with a dramatic undertone.

She looked back at you, slightly chuckling, “If I wanted to torture you, I wouldn’t drag you all the way out here to do it,” she bit back confidently with a sly smile creeping up, giving you a shiver down your spine that you blamed on the wind.

The spot that she settled at overlooked a mountain in the distance with a river flowing between the perch where the two of you stood. By the lookout, there was a long log makeshift to act as a bench, which Wanda frequently used to sit and ponder her thoughts and feelings. No one else really knew this spot existed other than her, she never spoke about it or showed anyone else until now. She wasn’t too keen on showing you her sacred getaway spot, but it was the safest place she could think of to practice your powers.

You gushed over the gorgeous area as soon as the overlook became clear and revealed its true beauty. The trees became more sparse as you walked, and the view opened up for you showcasing the natural landscape, “Wow, this is- it’s beautiful out here. I never knew this spot existed.”

“Yeah, no one does and I’d like to keep it that way,” Wanda said pointedly, ensuring that you weren’t going to start blabbing about it to the entire compound. If Tony got wind of it, surely he’d start building infrastructure around it and Wanda would lose her favorite spot.

Your hands shot up in defense, “Of course, I won’t tell a soul,” you confirmed.

Wanda, with an unamused look in your direction, “Not even Natasha.”

“Oh. Yeah, uh. Well, glad you clarified. Not even Natasha. Where should we tell them we are?” You asked, trying to come up with a story now because you aren’t very good at lying or even withholding information from your best friend, especially if you have to think it up on the spot.

“They won’t ask.”

Unfortunately for you, even if she doesn't ask, chances are high that you’d offer up the information accidentally anyway. You needed to come up with a cover story now to get it out of the way so that you dont have to come up with an explanation on the spot, “Well, what if they do? I just feel like we should be on the same page here.” you pushed.

“Y/N, it’s not that deep. Just say that we went to the other side of the compound grounds. See the river here?” you nodded, shifting your focus to the flowing water, “It spills into a massive lake on the other side of the compound.”

You acknowledged her explanation and with that, you were able to carry on with whatever Wanda had planned for you. She didn't have a particularly thought-out plan in place, but she had an outline of the steps she figured you would need to go through to grasp control of your abilities.

In order to help you, she needed to know what she was working with and how much power you truly wielded. After plenty of hesitation from you and coaxing from her, you outstretched your arm toward the mountain, “Go on, give it everything you’ve got,” Wanda encouraged.

Try as you might, nothing happened. Your muscles tensed as you attempted to make something happen, but you were stood there looking like a fool, “It’s- nothing’s happening!” you grunted as you let your arm fall back down to your side in frustration.

Wanda couldn’t help but chuckle, “Wow, finally something you’re not perfect at on the first try.” she claimed.

This hit a bit of a soft spot for you, “Contrary to popular belief, Maximoff, I’m rarely good at anything on my first try. I spent countless hours of practice and training to be where I am today.”

“Try again then” Wanda responded plainly, not fully convinced of the pity card you were playing.

You outstretched your arm again, trying to make something happen, but nothing did. Frustration began taking over and you tried again, with all your might you were trying to make something, anything, happen.

Wanda saw the way you became aggravated and quickly put a stop to it when she noticed your face getting red. Even though she enjoyed watching you struggle, she was nervous the effort you were putting in could become a hazard if you suddenly released the right type of energy.

“Ok, that’s enough. Take a breather,” she said as she reached out to put your hand back at your side and gently rubbed your arm in a soothing motion to calm you down. You took a breath, gathering yourself back together.

“Let’s try this,” Wanda started as she captured your gaze, “Close your eyes,” she waited for you to follow suit, but you hesitated, afraid of the vulnerability, “come on. Just do it,” she pushed, and you starkly fell into line. Wanda couldn’t help but smile at the way you jolted to follow her command.

“Good,” she approved, which brought that same tingle to your body from earlier. You’re not sure that you’ve ever heard praise leave her mouth directed your way. The redhead reached out with a featherlike touch and glided her pointer finger along your arm, “Now take a deep breath and focus on this feeling,” she moved from your left arm to the top of your neck, dragging down the middle of your back. It felt like your skin was on fire at this point, every small touch reverberating 10-fold across your body. “Feel how the energy in your body moves.” She practically whispered in a hushed tone.

You could feel it, everything was so sensitive. You weren’t sure if it was because you were actually paying attention to the way the air met your skin, or because of the way Wanda was gliding her fingers across, “Do you feel that?” Wanda questioned, barely audible so as to not break your concentration, causing you to slowly nod in confirmation as you continued to breathe slowly.

Removing her fingers from your skin, Wanda took a step back from you, “Now keep that same focus and raise your left arm out in front of you.” You did as you were told, slowly raising your arm and letting it hang until she gave further instruction, “Perfect, now shift that focus to your left hand. Don’t pay attention to anything else,” she stated firmly, “just my words and the feeling of energy flowing to your hand”

She could tell you were concentrating hard by the way your brow furrowed ever so slightly. “Now, imagine the energy flowing from the tips of your fingers. Concentrate everything to your hand and imagine it pushing out.”

You did as she said, and you were so focused on the feeling in your hand that any minuscule movement felt similar to a creaky floorboard. Soon enough, your hand started to tingle and you even felt the temperature begin to rise.

“That’s it, now push it through, get rid of it.” Wanda guided. You could feel the energy slowly reverberating from your hand in waves, it was slow at first but once it was out you quickly ramped up to a more sizable wave of low-frequency acoustic energy.

You were quickly losing control of it as the seismic waves grew quicker than you anticipated. Without even knowing what happened, you felt a comforting fog take over your mind, and your arm quickly dropped to your side. You stood there in complete bliss until the fog faded fully from your mind, “Y/N?” Wanda interrupted, “How are you feeling?”

You turned around to face her, “Tired,” you said with hooded eyes. Using your powers took a lot out of you, especially when you were already tired to begin with, “-but, that felt amazing!”

Wanda smiled in return, “I know, getting a hang of your powers is a really good feeling, I remember when I-”

“No, the feeling that came after, it was like my brain shifted and went into a different state. It was so relaxing. Does that happen to you when you use your powers too?”

That wasn’t the answer Wanda was expecting, “Oh, no Y/N. What you felt was me, using my powers on you. I noticed you were having trouble keeping pace with the volume of waves, so I stepped in to break off the outburst,” she explained.

“Oh.” that made sense, you weren’t sure how you were able to stop so easily when moments before it felt like you were losing control. That feeling though, god it felt amazing. Part of you craved it as if everything fell into place in that moment. “Can we go back now? I’m so tired,” you asked as a yawn escaped like a bookend to your query.

“Already? We just got here.” Wanda teased before she remembered you’re still in recovery mode. “Yeah, I’m really tired,” you slurred as fatigue slammed into you similar to the force of a freight train and you visibly stumbled trying to keep upright. Wanda quickly caught you and guided you over to the nearby rock to sit for a moment, “I-I’m sorry, I just-” you started to apologize but Wanda cut you off, “Y/N stop, you don’t need to apologize.” she reassured you, and when you looked up to meet her gaze you were surprised to see the complete absence of anger or disgust, something you weren't used to.

Once you got ahold of your bearings, the two of you headed straight to the compound. Upon entering, you immediately plopped onto the nearest thing available to sleep on, which just happened to be the couch in the common room, not even bothering to make the trek upstairs to your bedroom.

“Y/N, I think we should go to the med bay and get you checked out,” Wanda stated trying to urge you off of the couch.

“Mmm, later,” you responded groggily as if you were half asleep already.

“Come on, surely your bed is cozier than this,” Wanda persisted, but there was no response this time. She stood there for a couple of seconds longer, staring at your form and waiting to see your chest rise and fall a couple of times before heading off to the medbay to get Bruce’s opinion. She didn’t want to make a big deal out of nothing, and she would surely never admit it, but she cared about your well-being.

Bruce assured Wanda that she was right in bringing this to his attention, while not urgent, it would be best to get you checked out. You should be recovered enough by this point that extreme exhaustion shouldn’t come so easily.

You woke up a few hours later and after pouring yourself a bowl of cereal, you headed up to your room. Hearing the movement, and soft noise of the TV turning on through the walls of your room, the woman next door made her way over to knock on your door.

“Come in!” you called from the bed, as you kept your attention on the TV knowing it was only Nat coming in to hang out.

“How are you feeling?”

Taken off guard by a different voice, you did a double take, “Wanda? Sorry I was expecting Nat. You just caught me off guard. I’m feeling better, just needed a nap.” you explained, trying to straighten your posture and appear like you’ve miraculously healed with that short nap.

“That’s good! I spoke to Bruce and-” Wanda began, before you cut in, “Spoke to Bruce? What? Why? I’m fine!” you blurted out, hating the thought of being brought back to medbay for further testing, you’ve always hated doctors, and especially hospitals. With how much time you’ve spent in a hospital the last month, if you never went back, it’d be too soon.

“He said you shouldn’t be tired anymore, and it’d be good to get checked out.” She explained.

You shook your head, “I’m fine Wanda. This is nothing new for me, being tired is my normal. Now, if you’ll excuse me, the best part is coming up.” You say motioning to the sitcom you had playing on the tv.

“When Clair tells Phil that she was too lazy to wait in line for his iPad?” Wanda challenged knowing exactly what episode you were watching, figuring you were just trying to get rid of her.

“No. Well, kind of I guess, but after that Phil goes to the batting cages as a coping mechanism.” you clarified.

“How is that the best part?” Wanda pushed for a more in depth explanation.

Part of you felt like you shouldn’t have to explain yourself, but another deeper part of you almost wanted to open up and let Wanda into all the details of your life, “Softball was a big part of my childhood, so it always felt like the batting cages were a safe place for me too, a place to stop overthinking and just focus on things like my stance or the angles I caught the ball at.”

It’s not the answer Wanda expected, but it made a lot of sense now, “You crash birthdays there too, or is that just a Phil thing?”

You both let out a laugh, “No, no. Phil takes the cake on that one.”

“Mind if I join?” she phrased it as a question, but she closed the door and moved to sit next to you on your bed before receiving an answer, and treating it more as a statement.

Not knowing how to decline at that point, or if you even wanted to you just kind of shook your head awkwardly and turned the volume up. The two of you sat in silence, other than the crunch of your cereal and the laughter you shared at the funny parts.

Together you watched about 2.5 episodes before the cozy atmosphere lulled you into a peaceful slumber. Wanda hadn’t even noticed you were sleeping until she glanced over because you weren’t laughing anymore. She couldn’t help but take note of your contorted position, clearly uncomfortable.

Concern etched subtly across her features, Wanda gently shook your shoulder, trying to rouse you from your deep sleep. "Hey, Y/N," she whispered softly, "you're sleeping in a pretty awkward position. You should move."

Y/N stirred, emitting a soft whine in response, but made no effort to adjust her position. Wanda sighed softly, realizing that coaxing Y/N awake might prove to be a challenge. With a gentle touch, she brushed a strand of hair away from Y/N's face, a fond smile tugging at her lips.

"You're stubborn, you know that?" Wanda murmured affectionately, her fingers tracing your cheek. "Fine, I guess I'll take care of you then."

With careful hands, Wanda eased you into a more comfortable position, tucking a pillow under your head and arranging the blankets around you. As she watched you settle into a deeper sleep, a warmth that she hadn’t expected filled Wanda's heart.

With that realization, she hurried out of your room as quickly as she could without disturbing you and pushing any positive feeling she suddenly felt toward you as far away as she could. God, she couldn’t stand you. Once she got back to her own quarters she asked F.R.I.D.A.Y to send both you and Bruce a reminder to look into your exhaustion so that she wouldn’t have to bring it up with you again.

Your footsteps quickened as you rounded the corner, hoping to evade Bruce's watchful gaze. The prospect of returning to the medbay filled you with a sense of unease, a heavy feeling you couldn't quite shake.

Bruce, Wanda, and now even Natasha had all been insistent on your follow-up examination, but you continued to make excuses and delay the inevitable. The sterile scent of antiseptic and the cold, clinical atmosphere of the medbay sent shivers down your spine, stirring up memories you'd rather forget.

With each passing moment, your anxiety mounted, a knot tightening in your stomach at the mere thought of facing medical procedures and probing questions. You knew Bruce and Nat meant well, you were still on guard with Wanda, but the fear of hospitals and medical procedures was deeply ingrained within you. Years spent avidly making sure no one else was privy to this fear because being a SHIELD agent requires bravery and courage, so how could you be a good agent and simultaneously be afraid of the doctor? You couldn’t. No one could know.

As you ducked into a nearby corridor looking over your shoulder, you were relieved to find Bruce's figure out of sight. But the guilt gnawed at you, knowing you were avoiding someone who was only trying to help for the sake of your own discomfort.

Yet, the fear of hospitals felt overwhelming, you felt a sort of primal instinct that seemed to grip you tighter with each step. You couldn't bring yourself to face it head-on, not yet anyway.

With a heavy sigh, you resolved to ignore the issue until it went away. For now, you’d continue to dodge Bruce's attempts at persuasion.

Days passed with you mostly keeping to yourself, Nat was away on a mission for a few days so that made things a bit easier. When you did venture out of your room for things like food and drinks, you made sure to scout out the area before entering to ensure you wouldn’t run into anyone.

As Wanda busies herself in the kitchen, the air is infused with an enticing medley of aromas that dance and mingle, creating a sensory symphony.

The rich, savory scent of sautéed onions fills the air, their sweet fragrance wafting from the skillet as Wanda expertly caramelizes them to perfection. The gentle sizzle of the onions echoes through the kitchen, a comforting sound that signals the beginning of a culinary masterpiece.

Next comes the earthy aroma of garlic, its pungent essence mingling with the sweetness of the onions to create a harmonious blend of flavors. As Wanda minces the garlic cloves with practiced precision, the kitchen is enveloped in the warm embrace of this aromatic duo.

“Hey Wanda, Have you seen Y/N?” Bruce asks, entering the kitchen and immediately bing hit with the aroma of Wanda’s Solyanka dish, “Mmm, smells good in here!” he added

Wanda smiled at the compliment as she turned to Bruce, “Not in a couple of days, how’d her check-in go?” she asked while continuing to stir the dish.

“It hasn’t, I think she may be avoiding me.” He deadpanned

“What makes you think that?”

“Well, when I first mentioned a follow-up examination to her. She very suddenly had a bunch of things to do and ran off, and I haven't seen her since. This was 4 days ago.” Bruce explained as he rummaged through the fridge for a drink.

Wanda nodded as the gears began to turn in her brain, she let out a hum, “Interesting. F.R.I.D.A.Y where is Y/N now?” she spoke aloud to the artificial assistant.

“Y/N is currently practicing archery in the training sector,” F.R.I.D.A.Y informed.

“Well, at least she’s not in bed,” Wanda dryly chuckled, adding the last bits of tomato to the pot.

Bruce nodded, “Yea, I’d still like to get that follow-up in though. I have a meeting in about 10 minutes, do you think you could talk to her?”

“What, why me?” she practically whined.

Bruce smiled, almost devilish, and simply said “You’re her mentor.” before leaving the room with his glass of mango juice.

Wanda rolled her eyes as she turned back to the pot on the stove, it was almost done. She just needed to put it on low to simmer for a bit. Though, as she made her way out of the kitchen, she almost felt a sense of excitement. Must’ve been because her dish was coming along so nicely, because there’s no way she would ever be excited to see you. Right?

As Wanda made her way to the training sector, her steps purposeful and determined, she couldn't shake the nagging worry that had been gnawing at her since Bruce had mentioned your unscheduled appointments in the medbay.

Spotting you across the training room, Wanda approached with a gentle smile, hoping to broach the subject delicately. But as she drew nearer, she noticed the tension in your posture, the furrow of your brow, and the restless energy that seemed to radiate from your figure.

"Hey, Y/N," Wanda greeted softly, her tone gentle as she approached, "I was looking for you. Bruce mentioned you haven't been to see him yet. Is everything okay?"

Your reaction was immediate, a defensive edge creeping into your voice as you shrugged off Wanda's concern. "Yeah, everything's fine. Just been busy with training, you know how it is."

Wanda wasn't convinced. She could see through the facade, recognizing the telltale signs of agitation and avoidance. Something was clearly bothering you, and she could see it was something you weren't ready to share.

"Wanda, I'm fine," you insisted, your voice tinged with frustration. "I don't need to see Bruce. It's not a big deal. I’m not even tired anymore, I’m literally shooting arrows right now. Would a tired person be doing that?" you reasoned in a rambling fashion.

But Wanda could sense the underlying fear in your words, the unspoken truth you were trying so hard to conceal. She also knew better than to push, because she knew better than anyone that some wounds ran deeper than others and required patience and understanding to heal.

With a reassuring smile, Wanda reached out to gently squeeze your shoulder and before she could even filter her words, her mouth started spewing, "Okay, Y/N. Just know that if you ever need someone to talk to, I'm here for you. No judgments, I promise."

Your tense expression softened, a flicker of gratitude in your eyes before confusion came crashing in, “Uh- are you feeling ok?” not only was that possibly the nicest thing anyone had ever said, but you were pretty sure it was also the only nice thing Wanda has ever said to you.

Trying to build back her stone-cold composure against you, Wanda snapped back, “What? Have you never had someone see that you’re hurting and be nice to you? God Y/L/N, don’t read too much into it.” she scoffed and turned to leave the training gym, “Class at 6:30 tomorrow morning, don’t be late!” she yelled out on her way to the door, without even turning back around to face you, “OH! And meet up with Bruce!”

“I AM FINE!” you shouted back.

You made sure to go to bed early that night so that you’d be able to get up early enough to make your meeting with Wanda without some sarcastic comment about your tardiness. It was still difficult but you needed to be on time to help prove your point that you don’t need Bruce, and you don’t need a follow-up exam.

The spot was a lot chillier than the last time you were there, you could still see the morning dew on the grass as the wind softly whipped through the clearing with crisp morning air.

Wanda was already there when you arrived, it was still dark but you could see her scarlet magic carrying her through the air as she set up targets across the way.

“Oh good, you’re finally here,” Wanda commented as she landed back on the ground on your side of the clearing.

“Hey, I was ON TIME. You can’t complain about that.” you defended.

She looked at you with a devilish grin and smugly claimed, “Does S.H.I.E.L.D. teach their agents anything anymore? On-time is late and 10 minutes early is on time.”

You just rolled your eyes in response as you changed the subject to ask about the new additions to the terrain, “What are those for?” you said pointing across the river.

“Something for you to aim at. Come, follow me.” she gestured as she began scaling a nearby boulder. It was easy enough to climb up the side of, almost like nature created it’s own version of stairs. The top provided an even better view of the clearing and a clear visual of where the sky hangs over the mountain.

Wanda made herself comfortable sitting at the top, leaving enough room for you to sit next to her as she patted the ground gesturing for you to join her, “What are we doing up here?” you asked, cautious of what she had planned for you.

“Gosh, what’s with all the questions Y/L/N? Why don’t you just go with the flow for once in your life”

“Fine.” you agreed as you took the spot next to her.

A couple of beats of silence pass as you both stare into the darkness that still covers the sky when Wanda finally turns to you, “Mornings are my favorite time to be out here.” she admitted.

“Why? It’s cold.”

Instead of immediately addressing your question, she turned back to the sky and took a deep breath. As if on queue, the sun slowly started to peek out from behind the mountain and paint the sky with warm hues like a work of art, “That’s why.”

“Wow,” you took it all in as you sat there in awe. The two of you shared a comfortable silence until the sun had completed its ascent over the mountain line.

As you struggled to harness your newfound powers, frustration simmered beneath the surface. Despite Wanda's surprisingly patient guidance, controlling the unpredictable energy coursing through your veins proved to be a daunting task.

With each failed attempt, your frustration mounted, a knot tightening in your stomach as you grappled with the overwhelming force of your abilities. But amidst the chaos, there was a flicker of something else—a thrill that coursed through your veins whenever Wanda intervened to take control.

Wanda watched you closely, her brow furrowed in concentration as she assessed the situation. She could sense your struggle when the raw power of your abilities threatened to spiral out of control. With a steady hand, Wanda reached out, her telekinetic powers weaving through the air as she penetrated your mind, guiding her movements with a gentle yet firm touch.

As Wanda assumed control, a wave of relief washed over you, a sensation that was both exhilarating and disconcerting. You surrendered to Wanda's influence, relinquishing control with a sense of surrender that both frightened and intrigued you.

But beneath the surface, there was a secret you dared not admit—a part of you relished in the feeling of giving up control, the intimacy of connection ignited a fire within you that couldn't quite be extinguished. It was a forbidden thrill, tainted by your tumultuous history and the unspoken tension that lingered between the two of you.

As the training session continued and you started to get the hang of it a bit more, there were a few times that you feigned a lack of restraint, the occasional slip-up, a deliberate ploy to elicit Wanda's intervention once more. To relish in the feeling of her control. You were ashamed of the forbidden desires that stirred deep down whenever Wanda's telekinetic touch enveloped your mind, binding the two of you together in ways you couldn't even begin to understand.

Wanda was quite literally inside of your mind, she knew what you were doing, and still, she played along. She recognized the subtle cues in your behavior. She understood the unspoken desire that lingered beneath the surface, mirrored in her own developing longing for intimacy.

Instead of reprimanding you for your deliberate slip-ups, Wanda chose to covertly lean into the unspoken tension that crackled between you. With a subtle flick of her wrist, she amplified her telekinetic influence. Your mind clouded with a thick fog, nearly impossible to see through, keeping your thoughts tame as you subconsciously followed Wanda’s lead.

Loving the feeling of having a complete hold on your mind, she reveled in not only the way that you hung on her every command, but also in the way you enjoyed it. She was going to have fun with this, give you small tastes until you’re begging for more.

Slowly, she released the hold she had taken over your mind. As the fog started the thin out, the first thing you heard was Wanda calling out your name with an artificial tinge of worry, “Y/N?” You blinked rapidly a few times before fully coming back to your senses, “are you ok?” her words were soft and endearing.

“Yea, uh,” As if the world instantly got the right prescription, everything cleared right up, “Think we can call it? I need to go lie down,” you admitted. Wanda wanted to decline your request, she was actually really enjoying herself, “Yea, of course.”

You had been laying in your bed for 20 minutes now, unable to rest because your mind kept replaying the events of your training session with Wanda. You weren’t sure if it felt so good for her to take over your mind like that because it was something you craved or because it was her. It could’ve been both, but surely she doesn’t feel the same about you. In fact, with the way you constantly get underneath each other’s skin, surely she despised you.

It wasn’t fair to her, for once she tried being helpful and you’re practically drooling over the thought of more. You had to remove yourself from the situation before it became too much and you made a complete fool of yourself. Getting up from your bed, you decided the only thing that could get you out of your mentorship with Wanda would be found in Tony’s lab.

“Tony!” with his back to the door, you noticed the slight startle in his figure, he wasn’t expecting anyone, “How’s the device thing coming along for my powers?” you asked, taking the seat across from him.

Once you were seated across from him, he raised his gaze from the object in his hands to meet your eyes, “The inhibitor?” you nodded, “yea, that.”

“I thought Wanda was teaching you how to use your powers? I stopped working on it because I figured you didn't need it,” this was the last thing you wanted to hear, this was your way out. You needed this thing as quickly as possible.

“Oh, Wanda agreed that it would be good for me to have it. That it would actually help me to learn how to tame them.” you lied through your straight-ass teeth but Tony believed you. While someone like Natasha would’ve seen right through that charade, Tony sure as hell wasn’t an Avenger because he was a super spy, intelligence can only get you so far in the detective game.

“Ok, i’ll have it to you in the next couple of days. I’ll just need to run some tests on your blood to callibrate it correctly, can you go down to the med lab today?”

Oh here we go, you’ll either have to face your fear of medical or keep hiding your budding feelings for Wanda. Surprisingly this is exactly what it took for you to get your follow up exam and run even more tests.

Bruce was surprised to see you, and even though your attempt at convincing him you werent avoiding him fell short, he decided not to pry. He was just happy you were here now.

The follow up exam wasn’t nearly as bad as you had built it up in your head. They just asked a few questions, took some tests and sent you on your way. That’s how it always is though, and next time it’ll be the same way. You conjure these irrational thoughts and then it builds and builds.

As Natasha returned to the compound , you could hardly contain your excitement. You missed her presence, and you were looking forwards to hearing all about her mission.

"Nat!" you exclaimed as you spotted Natasha entering the common area, a grin spreading across your face. "You're back!"

Natasha's lips curved into a warm smile as she greeted you with a hug. "Hey, Y/N. It's good to see you too," she said, returning the embrace.

The two of you settled onto the couch together, the familiar comfort of your friendship easing the tension of Natasha's recent mission. As you caught up on each other's lives, swapping stories and sharing laughs, you couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude that your friend was back.

"So, how was the mission?" you asked, leaning in with genuine curiosity.

Natasha's expression softened, a hint of weariness shadowing her features. "It was… intense," she admitted, her voice tinged with exhaustion. "But we got the job done."

“Intense, how?”

Natasha settled back into the couch, her gaze distant as she recounted the events of her mission. "We were sent to extract a high-value target from a hostile territory," she began, her voice tinged with a mixture of seriousness and intensity.

"It started off smoothly enough," she continued, her words measured. "But things quickly escalated. We encountered heavy resistance from enemy forces, and what was supposed to be a simple extraction turned into a full-blown firefight."

You listened intently, as your expression reflected the gravity of Natasha's words. Flashbacks of your recent mission sitting at the forefront of your mind as she recounted the events. You knew firsthand the dangers of fieldwork, but hearing Natasha's account reminded you of the risks she faced on a daily basis.

"We managed to secure the target, but not without casualties," Natasha said quietly, her gaze turning inward as she remembered the sacrifices made during the mission.

You reached out, offering Natasha a reassuring squeeze of your hand. "I'm sorry, Nat. That’s never easy," you said softly, voice filled with empathy.

She offered a grateful smile, appreciating your insight. "Yea," she admitted, her tone somber. "But we did what we had to do. That's the job."

As you sat together in the quiet of the room, the weight of Natasha's mission hung in the air. But amidst the shadows of uncertainty, there was also a glimmer of resilience, “So, what’d I miss around here?”

“Oh, nothing really,” you shrugged, “Same old things.”

“Oh yea? How’s your mentorship with Wanda going?” she pried.

Your cheeks flushed at the mention of her name, and of course the super spy sitting next to you noticed, “oh that? It’s coming to an end.” you responded vaguely.

“-an end? Why? What happened?” Natasha pushed for more information.

Avoiding eye contact, you explained, “Nothing happened. I don’t need her help anymore,”

Acting impressed, Natasha had a feeling there was more to the story, “Well, you got a handle on your powers pretty quickly then, huh?”

With a satisfied grin, acting as if you outsmarted some all knowing system, “Oh I don’t need to. Tony is fixing them.” you bragged as you removed yourself from the couch beside Nat to enter the kitchen which was still in clear view from where Natasha was seated on the couch, “you want a drink or anything? You must be exhausted.”

Nat stayed put on the couch, letting her brain catch up with what you just said, she was tired but that could wait, “Sorry, can we circle back for a sec? Tony is fixing your powers? How exactly?” she pressed, not letting you move on from the topic as she followed you off the couch and into the kitchen.

Using the refrigerator as an excuse to not meet her eyes, you pretending to weigh your options even though you knew exactly what you were after as soon as you left couch, “well, i dont know the technicalities of it, Nat, but he’s got gadgets for everything. Oh! And I had my follow-up with Bruce. He said that he’ll need to wait for the tests to come back but everything seems in order.”

Natasha hummed in response as she took a sip of the water bottle you slid over to her, “We’ll talk about this more later, movie night tonight? I’ve got to go take a shower.”

You nodded in response, “Oh, so that’s what that smell was!” you called out as she left you behind in the kitchen. She couldnt help but checkle slightly in response, “Oh shut it, Y/L/N!”

You were looking forward to a proper movie night with Natasha, it had been too long for your liking since the two of you got to have time to yourselves and relax together like this. You even made sure to run to the store and grab lots of snacks in preparation.

You werent good at cooking by any stretch, but popcorn, you could handle. You got a bowl ready, and made sure to season it with the butter powder that Natasha loves as you put all the other junk and drinks onto a tray so you could carry it easily into the theatre room. To your surprise, Natasha wasn’t the only one there waiting for you.

“Surprise!” Nat haphazardly yelled once you noticed that Wanda was sitting beside her. Against your own will, your eyes widened as your cheeks flooded a light pink. You didnt want her here, “Why is she here?” you asked, speaking to Nat as if Wanda wasnt sitting right there to hear.

“Natasha invited me,” Wanda stepped in and explained for herself. It was difficult to hide your disgust at the situation, you were looking forward to having a cozy evening alone with Nat.

“Why?” You kept your eyes on Natasha, not paying Wanda any attention, she was intruding on your plans, and you hated the fact that you’d have to sit through an entire movie with her, an entire movie being distracted, trying to push away the thoughts that keep plaguing your mind.

Natasha knew that there was tension between you and Wanda that likely should be addressed, and who better to be a mediator than your best friend herself? After thinking over your approach to dampen your powers instead of learning to wield them properly, she believed that spending time together in a relaxed setting like a movie night could help you work through your differences and potentially mend whatever set you off from training.

Additionally, Natasha valued both you and Wanda as friends and continually tried anything to see you get along better. She hoped that by bringing you together in a more casual and friendly environment, you could find some common ground, “Oh stop complaining Y/N, come sit!” Nat patted the seat next to her. Wanda wasnt phased by your display, in fact, she somewhat expected it.

You reluctantly sat without complaining further, “What movie have you two decided on then?” you shot off, acting as if having Wanda there excluded you in some way.

Nat ignored the attitude in your tone, “We havent decided yet, I was thinking a comedy though,” she answered.

You and Wanda both decided against anything either of you chose, so eventually you landed on a movie that Nat suggested. As the movie played on the screen, you held back your laughter, a subtle attempt to maintain a sense of composure in front of Wanda. Feeling somewhat guarded in Wanda's presence, hesitant to show vulnerability or let your guard down completely.

But as the movie reached a particularly funny scene, you couldn't help but crack a smile, the laughter bubbling up from deep within. Natasha, sitting beside you, let out a hearty laugh, her amusement contagious as it spread to both you and Wanda.

Despite your initial reservations, the three of you were soon found laughing uproariously, the tension of the evening melting away in the shared joy of the moment. You felt a sense of relief wash over you, making a conscious decision to let go of your hesitations and embrace the joy of the movie. Letting your guard down, to laugh freely and openly.

Once the movie came to and end, the next suggested option was “Modern Family” and without a second thought you clicked play. Nat slowly got up from her spot in the middle of you and Wanda, claiming she was exhausted and going to head to bed. You and Wanda stayed seated as the show began to play. You’re not sure exactly when it happened but at some point, Wanda took over Nat’s seat beside you, “So, how did your follow up go with Bruce?”

You sighed, “It went well I guess, they uh- they found in my bloodwork that I have this disease called chronic fatigue syndrome, which explains why I’m always tired and stuff,” you explained.

Wanda tilted her head slightly as she took in the information, “Well, surely you already knew that from the tests SHIELD did on you to pass academy.” She questioned, thinking back to her internal reasoning as to why you knew that you’d be able to survive the chemical at the Hydra plant.

You’re not sure where her thought process was, or what made her come to that conclusion, “What? No, I never got to see the results of any of those tests, it was all confidential.” you explained, “It was just a pass or fail result at the end of the graduate year.”

As if all the walls that Wanda built between you came crashing down, realization flooded in. She had constructed this idea of you in her head, an idea that you always had some sort of ulterior motive and nothing you ever did was out of any sort of kindness or altruism, “Wait, so how did you know that you’d survive the chemical agent that we were sent to retrieve at the Hydra base?”

“I didn’t.” you stated as if it were obvious. Perhaps it was to everyone else. “Oh! Speaking of that, I have some good news!” you transitioned to the new topic, tone laced with mischief, “You won’t need to mentor me anymore,”

Wanda arched an eyebrow, her expression guarded knowing that you surely didnt have a complete grasp on your powers yet, she hummed, “Why’s that?”

You shrugged nonchalantly, a smirk playing at the corner of your lips, “Tony’s making me an inhibitor,” you nearly bragged, “I don’t need to bother with them now, and we can go back to hating each other, no need to keep up with this charade anymore. Just like old times.”

There was a sharpness to your words, a cutting edge that sliced through the tension. You knew that your relationship with Wanda had always been fraught with animosity, a constant battle of wills and egos.

But as you watched Wanda's reaction, a flicker of something crossed her features—was it disappointment? Relief? Sadness? You couldn't quite decipher it, but deep down, you couldn't shake the feeling that you were doing Wanda a favor by removing yourself from her life.

Wanda's response was measured, her gaze steady as she met your eyes. "Oh, this thing?” she said as she held out her hand, the inhibitor that Tony built for you appearing out of thin air, surrounded by red tendrils of magic. Your eyes widened, “I was wondering when you were going to tell me. Imagine my surprise when he told me it was my idea.” she glared, expecting an explanation.

You swallowed hard before explaining yourself, “Yea, well- I. I figured that this will make things easier for both of us. Things can go back to the way they used to be.” you stressed, avoiding eye contact with the girl beside you in favor of quite literally anything else in the room.

Your words carried a weight, so much had changed in the last month. Was anything really better off before any of this? “You want to go back to the way things used to be between us?” she clarified.

Of course you didn’t want that, but it’s what you convinced yourself that she wanted, “I- I don’t know,” you muttered as the wheels spun in your head, “No?”

Wanda couldn’t help but smile slightly at the state you were in, she found it cute. So indecisive and unsure, no trace of the snarky confidence you used to hold. Instead, you were shrunken in on yourself, merely a shell in her presence, “Then what made you lie to Tony for this?” she pushed for an explanation, as she gestured to the inhibitor she was still holding.

You were feeling overwhelmed now, not knowing the right thing to say. The last thing you wanted was Wanda upset with you. Your breathing began to pick up ever so slightly, something Wanda took notice of, “I- I’m sorry, I thought you’d like it better this way. Without me.” you admitted.

Spinning in her seat so that her entire body faced you instead of the tv, the device in Wanda’s hand vanished as she moved it to rest on your leg for comfort, “Y/N, Why would you think that?”

Your body tensed at the contact of her hand on your thigh, keeping your eyeline low like you were a child being scolded, “Well, it’s just- I feel like i’ve become this responsibility for you, and you shouldn’t have to. I know you hate me, and that’s ok. I deserve it, but it’s not fair for you.” you tried to find the right words to explain your thought process, you werent even sure if it made sense at this point.

Suddenly you felt Wanda’s fingers pulling your chin to force you to meet her gaze, “Hey. I don’t hate you.” she clarified, “Sure we bicker, and get under each other’s skin, but I thought things were getting better.” she affirmed, and you nodded gently in response, “Good girl,” she whispered almost inaudibly, sending a shiver down your spine noticing the hold she had on you without even using her magic, “Regardless, it’s the least I could do, the only reason you even have these powers in the first place is because you saved me.” she admitted.

You didn’t have a response, staring back at her with doe wide eyes waiting for her to make the next move. She removed her grip from your chin and lifted the barrier from between your seats, “Come here,” she patted as she lifted her arm for you to scootch closer. You did as she said, nuzzling into the space she provided. Your shared focus shifted back to the sitcom on the tv as you relaxed into her embrace, “Wanda.” you muttered softly as exhaustion began weighing heavily on your features, and she hummed in response, “I never hated you either.” you admitted.

“I know.”

Taglist: @marvelogic @esposadejoyhuerta @ju-maxi89 @gingiesworld @simpforlizzie @bigbattygyal585 @cakechan123 @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @newyork1432 @automaticdinosaurtaco @yellowthingsstuff @marvelwomen-simp @supercorpstan97 @justabrokensunshine @tigerlillyruiz @mythixmagic @paaandiculations @bananasplits-world

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oddinary4bts · 1 year

Text

The Forgotten Spaces | teaser (jjk)

☆summary: you've been dancing on the same dance crew since your teenage years, and you finally have an important role in it. It feels like life is taunting you when your rival comes back after disappearing for a year, ready to tease you every chance he gets. Will the teasing turn into more, or are you going to take him down with you?

☆pairing: photographer and dancer!Jungkook x dancer!reader

☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI, there will be mature content in later chapters)

☆genre: slow (SLOW) burn enemies to lovers, college!au, slice of life!au, angst (oop), smut and fluff

☆warnings: I will be posting individual warnings for each chapter so look out for that! In this teaser: swearing, alcohol, frat party

☆word count: a big fat 145.6K (slow slow burn I said)

☆series masterpost

☆a/n: THE BIG BOY IS READY!!! After two months and a half of work, I can proudly say that I have finished writing the longest fic/book/story I've ever written in my life. The fic will upate every Friday starting from this Friday, April 7 2023, unless I specify that it doesn't (I do have other upcoming projects lol). Once again, I have @moonleeai to thank for beta-ing like the queen she is! You are the best <3

☆Read What Was Hidden by @daechwitatamic, the fic that inspired this big boy! It follows the story of Taehyung and Jo (who's the reader in that fic). Jo, words can't describe how thankful I feel for you writing What Was Hidden. It was a masterpiece from start to finish, and look where it brought us? The Forgotten Spaces wouldn't exist without you, and I thank you with every beat of my heart for giving me this opportunity. Thank you for reading every chapter, for screaming and crying and laughing with me during this whole process. You are amazing and I love you <3

☆☆☆☆☆

For this meeting of our end of the world

It's with you that I want to sing

On the threshold of the memories the dead of today

Them that breathe for us

The forgotten spaces

Je t'écris - Gaston Miron (rough translation by me)

☆☆☆☆☆

You turn around to make your way through the crowd. Jungkook’s lips stretch into a smirk as you move closer, and he cocks an eyebrow once you stop in front of him.

“Missing me?”

You roll your eyes. “Why are you fucking staring at me, Jeon?”

For a second, darkness overcomes Jungkook’s gaze, but he blinks and it’s gone. “I’m just chilling here, I wasn’t looking at you.”

You say nothing, raising your eyebrows as you fold your arms on your chest. He scoffs, glancing away from you.

There’s a moment where you both don’t speak, and you realize you have nothing else to tell him. You’ve never been friends, and you’ve never wanted to be friends with him. You’re about to turn on your heels to head back to the dancefloor when a question pops into your mind.

“Did you leave because of me?” you ask.

His eyes widen and his mouth falls open. You rarely see him expressing something other than contempt when it comes to you, and it makes you want to disappear.

“Is that what you all think?”

You scoff. “What else do you think they believe?”

He doesn’t know what to say. He just shrugs his shoulders, looking anywhere but at your face. You even notice his eyes dipping to your cleavage, but he’s quick to recover and look at a spot on your shoulder instead.

“Seriously, Jeon, why did you fucking leave?”

“I told you earlier, it’s none of your business.” He runs a hand through his hair, which makes it fall in front of his eyes a little. You only then notice his hair is longer, fluffier than what it was last year. “And no, it’s not because of you. Though I’m pretty sure you like me being gone, huh? Hoba told me you took my place.”

"Someone had to," you mutter.

In fact, yes, you like being second in command. You and Jungkook had fought for the spot a few years ago, when the last leader had to leave the group because his girlfriend was pregnant. Hobi, who had been second then, became the leader, and it had taken him forever to choose who would replace him.

The only reason why he had chosen Jungkook was because Jungkook was his friend. Yet, Jungkook had never let you live it down, had always felt the need to remind you of it. Even today, when he’s been gone for over a year.

“Are your choreographies any good?” Jungkook asks. It’s a little condescending because he knows damn well you’ve never been good with coming up with a choreography. One of your many shortcomings when it comes to dance. “Wait, have you even created one?”

You see red again. "Fuck you", you say through gritted teeth.

“That’s what I thought.” You want to punch him, to curse him for giving up on the group and then making you feel like you shouldn’t be second. But Jungkook’s not done yet. “The crew’s not going to last long, is it?”

“Maybe if you didn’t fucking abandon everyone out of the blue we wouldn’t be in this position.” You shake your head. “But no, you’ve always been so important uh, you think the world revolves around you and you don’t care that your actions have consequences.”

Jungkook wasn’t really angry before. He was mostly trying to get on your nerves because it’s always been his favourite activity. But now, his face flushes red, and a vein pops on his neck as he stares you down. “You have no fucking idea why I left. I had no fucking choice.”

“You could have told us.”

You’re almost screaming now. But you’re alone where you stand, and you wonder if the crowd has moved to give you space on purpose, sensing the storm that is coming.

"I had nothing to tell you guys," Jungkook says.

You shut your eyes, taking a deep breath before looking at him again. “You know what, I don’t even fucking care anymore. We don’t need you on the crew.”

He chuckles, bitterly. “Oh you don’t? I recall you fucking up on live TV last year.”

Because Scottie had to take his place in the choreography. A choreography you had been working on for years, gone to waste because Jungkook had disappeared.

“You watched us?” It’s your turn to let out a bitter chuckle. “You missed us too much? Couldn’t stay gone?”

“You’re a fucking bitch when you want to, uh?”

It takes you by surprise, not expecting him to straight up insult you. “Excuse me?”

“No, but you really are.” He looks around, before settling his big eyes back on you. “I had my reasons. You getting angry at me about it won’t change anything.”

Chapter one

☆☆☆☆☆

SO ARE WE EXCITED?? Bc I sure am! Let me know what you think!!!

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ofstoriesandstardust · 2 years

Text

same mistakes pt. i (bradley “rooster” bradshaw)

a/n: @roosterbrdshaw made a post about a enemies-to-lovers, maverick’s daughter fic and this was born. i rewatched the movie last weekend and got a new idea, so i scrapped everything i had already written and started over. and then... it got out of hand.... so i’m breaking it up into a least three parts. uhm, kylie, write a slow-burn??? where are we??

title comes from one direction’s “same mistakes” don’t come for me

summary: (enemies-to-lovers, maverick’s daughter!reader) you and Bradley used to be best friends. key word: used to. as in, over, in the past, never gonna happen again. the sight of the pilot makes your skin crawl, disgust and anger curdling in your stomach. it definitely has nothing to do with the unspoken feelings leftover from your teen years. not at all. furthermore, being put together on a suicide mission is not your idea of a good time. no matter what, you and Rooster seemed to be doomed to make the same mistakes over and over again.

callsign: rebel

main masterlist | top gun: maverick masterlist | pt. ii | pt. iii

warnings: my shitty military knowledge, i swore, no the movie didn’t tell us what squadron Coyote originally flew with so i made it up, I am actually from San Diego so some of my personal experience is filtered in here sue me, okay really it’s just my love of burritos, i don’t know jackshit about flying a plane and it’s obvious, i tweaked some of the movie dialogue for plot reasons, justice for Coyote, Maverick’s a supportive Dad no matter how much his daughter fucks up (this will become apparent in the upcoming parts but we get hints here and there in this part)

word count: 5,126

Maverick took a deep breath, eyes flitting over the board of twelve students recalled for this special mission. “Is there a problem, Captain?” Cyclone’s voice called.

“You know there is.”

You walked into the Hard Deck behind Coyote, welcoming the familiar sounds of music and patrons talking amongst themselves at the bar. You breathed in a comfortable sigh, Coyote looking at you with a smirk. “Good to be home.” You said, seeing your Dad sat at the bar talking to Penny. Coyote laughed, moving towards the back where a tall, handsome blond was sat next to the pool table.

“You spend twelve weeks here for TOPGUN training and suddenly this is home?”

“Born and raised here, baby.” You said, pushing your trademark aviators to sit atop your head. You waved to your Dad as you followed behind Coyote. Penny turned, seeing you and giving you her signature smirk with a wave of her fingers. You weren’t sure what your Dad was doing back in Fightertown but you had a suspicion he’d gone and pissed off the Admiral overseeing his project in the Mojave Desert. The blond shot up out of his seat, pulling Coyote over into a hug.

“Machado, man, what’re you doing out here?”

“Got re-called from the Green Vipers for a special mission. You?”

“Same thing. Wondering what kind of mission they’re asking us to fly for. Who's your friend?” Coyote opened his mouth, presumably to introduce you when the man’s attention shifted to a group of three nearing the table. Your eyes locked on a tall man sitting in the corner, who was quietly observing and eating peanuts. You lifted a hand from where your arms were crossed to wave at him and he gave you a shy smile back, waving in return.

“Fellows, this here’s Bagman.” You hear the woman say, attention shifting back to the group.

“Hangman.” The blond said, shooting the girl a bright smile. Her eyes locked over towards you, clearly getting ready to ask about you. You noted her pin said Trace and you realized who were standing in front of. Few pilots made names for themselves like Natasha “Phoenix” Trace, so yeah, you’d heard of her.

“Whatever.”

“Who's your friends?”

“Payback.”

“Fanboy.” Hangman’s eyes slid over to a brunette approaching to the table and you could’ve vomited at the sight of him. Of all the goddamn pilots...

“Bradshaw, as I live and breathe.” Rooster took off his aviators, squinting at the sight of you next to Hangman.

“Hangman.” He responded, giving the man a curt nod. “Rebel.”

“Rooster.” You responded, and the table’s interest piqued.

“Two of you know each other?” Phoenix asked.

“Our old man’s used to fly together. Let’s just say that I’m not a fan.”

“Coincidentally, neither am I.” He sneered at you in response and you returned the look.

“Your old man a pilot, Rebel? I didn’t know that.” Coyote said, turning to you. You shrugged.

“There’s lots you don’t know about me, Machado. I’m a woman full of secrets.” You taunted, a sly smile on your face. Coyote opened his mouth to respond but then the bell rang as the bar went up in cheers and you looked over to see your Dad groaning. Typical Maverick. Hangman turned towards the bar to get another round and Coyote looked down at you with a questioning look. As Phoenix talked to Rooster, you leaned over as Coyote whispered in your ear.

“The hell was that?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Look, there’s Yale, Harvard, Omaha, Fritz, even Halo. What kind of hell mission is this?” Someone asked as you pulled away from Coyote shrugging.

“That’s not the question. Everyone here is the best of the best. The question we should be asking is who the hell are they going to get to teach us?” Phoenix responded. Your eyes flickered over to your Dad who was still chatting with Penny. Nobody better than Maverick...

The bell rang again, pulling your from your thoughts. The bar began to chant “overboard, overboard” as Coyote and Hangman moved towards the bar. Towards your Dad specifically. You rolled your eyes, smiling as they picked him up. He winked at you as he was not-so-gracefully tossed out of the bar by the pair. The bar cheered again as notes on the piano began to play. Your stomach soured as you realized who was singing. You caught a glimpse of your Dad outside the bar, stone-faced. You looked over at Coyote, who was staring at you long before you made eye contact. As the bar sang along to Rooster’s song, you screwed your eyes shut and willed yourself to not think of old memories that were better off locked deep down. Fuzzy memories of growing up with Goose and Maverick singing to you both at the piano. Memories of Rooster singing around the house as Carole made him clean, long before Rooster was Rooster and was only just Bradley. Memories of Bradley teaching you how to play piano when you were 13. Memories of Bradley singing softly the night your heart had got broken for the first time when you were 16. Memories of yelling to ABBA in the car on summer road trips as a teen with him.

As the bar began to chant Rooster’s name, you bit down the nausea that was surfacing. You wanted out. As the group that had surrounded the piano moved their way back towards the pool table, you pulled out your phone, shooting your Dad a quick text, asking if he wanted to get burritos and catch up. You bit your lip as he typed back, confirming he’d get them and meet you at the house. You shut the phone and looked up, making brief eye contact with Bradley. You sighed, rolled back your shoulders, and told yourself to shake it off.

“Alright, I’m headed out.” You said, slipping the phone into your jacket pocket.

“We just got here like two hours ago. Why do you want to go back to base already?” You rolled your eyes and laughed at Coyote, walking away from him backwards.

“Back to base? No, no, me live here. Me go get dinner and then me go sleep in my own bed.” You said, mocking Coyote. Not that base, or even temporary, housing from the military was bad but getting to sleep in your own space was a comfort and privilege one was not often allotted in this line of work. He flipped you off as you cackled, pushing your way through Phoenix and Rooster. The brief contact with him made your skin burn and you tried not think about it too much. You waved goodbye to Penny as you called an Uber back to your place. Your car lived at the house, with one of your neighbors taking it out every once in a while to make sure it didn’t die. The place was technically your Dad’s but with him being gone so often, it had sort of, unofficially, kind of become yours. You thanked the woman who dropped you off as you noted your Dad’s motorcycle was already sitting out front. You unlocked the door, peeking your head around. “Dad?” You called, kicking off your shoes.

“Kitchen.” You heard and you moved towards there. He must’ve just gotten back, with the way the burritos weren’t even out of the bag yet. He smiled at you, pulling you into a hug the moment you entered the small kitchen. “Mmm, it’s good to see you kiddo.” He said, pulling away. You laughed as you opened the fridge and got out two beers.

“You too, Dad.” He pulled the burritos out and sat at the table and you exchanged your respective goods. “So, what Admiral did you piss off now?” You asked as you popped the cap on your beer. He chuckled.

“Cain.”

“The old one?” You asked, wrinkling your nose.

“Sweetie, they’re all old. I’m old.” You shrugged.

“Whatever.”

“So who was the kid you were with today?”

“Coyote? He’s my wingman back at the Green Vipers. You wouldn’t happen to know what we got recalled for, do you?” You asked, narrowing your eyes slightly. Your Dad sighed and took a well-timed sip of his beer.

“You’ll find out tomorrow.” You sighed, leaning back in your chair.

“It was weird to see Rooster today.” Your Dad nodded, clearing his throat.

“Yeah.” He agreed quietly. “The two of you still not talking?”

“You’d know it if we were.” He sighed.

“Hate that the two of you are like this now. You guys used to be such good friends. I mean, maybe even more...” He prompted, a teasing smile on his face. You groaned.

“That’s gross, I never had a thing for Bradley.”

“Mhmm.” He responded, taking another bite of his food with that all-knowing grin. You tossed your beer cap at him.

“Stop, I didn’t!” He chuckled as you pouted. “Even if I did, it wouldn't matter now.” He sighed.

“I know.” A solemn air took over the room. It was times like this that made you miss the little happy family you’d before Carole had died and Rooster had cut you off. You sighed.

“I miss Carole.”

“I miss her too.” Your Dads respond, looking at the counter, clearly somewhere far away. A silence passed between the two of you, which was finally broken by your Dad, as he seemed to return to the present. “So, Coyote, huh? Anything going on there that I should know about?”

“Dad, no.” He laughed as you stuck out your tongue.

“Hey, I’m just saying. I’m getting old, I want grandkids sooner rather than later.”

“Dad!”

You zipped up your jacket as you made your way to the classroom, greeting an awaiting Coyote, and unfortunately, an awaiting Hangman. You rolled your eyes as you pushed past him, heading towards the classroom. You pushed the classroom door open, where Bradley was sat at the front. Payback, Phoenix, Fanboy, and the tall man from last night, whose name you noted as Bob from his patch, were stood in pairs on either side of the aisle. “C’mon, you’ve known me for less than 24 hours, how can you hate me already Rebel?” Hangman asked from behind you.

“I don’t have to know you for any longer to know that you’re a pilot who thinks they’re better than they are, and have an obnoxious ego the size of Texas.” You snarked back. TOPGUN pilots like Hangman were a dime a dozen. Cocky, arrogant, competitive, assholes.

“C’mon, Rebel. Hangman’s rough around the edges but he’s solid once you get to know him.” Coyote defends, slapping his friend on the back. Phoenix barked out a laugh as the three of you stopped in front of them.

“Yeah, no, don’t take Coyote’s word for it Rebel. Hangman’s not someone you want to get stuck with as your wingman.”

“Harsh, Nix. I’m the best wingman there is.” You laughed, not missing the way Rooster’s head turned at the sound.

“No, Bagman, I think that’s me.” Phoenix snickered at your response. “But quite frankly, if I had a choice I wouldn’t pick any one of you to be my wingman with the exception of Coyote.” He fist-bumped you as Payback groaned.

“C’mon now, that’s no way to make friends.” Payback stated and you rolled your eyes, moving towards the empty seat next to Rooster.

“Respectfully, I’m not here to make friends. I’m here to fly a mission.”

“Touche.” Phoenix responded from behind you as you slid easily into the seat next to Rooster. He looked at you briefly and then looked away. You heard the sound of the classroom door opening somewhere from behind you as you settled in.

“Bradshaw.”

“Mitchell.”

“That hasn’t been my last name in a long time and you know it.” Mitchell never had been your last name to start with. Your Mom’s maiden name was on the birth certificate despite the fact that she’d taken off not long before Goose died. Your Mom and Maverick were never married either, so there was no reason for Mitchell to be your last name legally. Still, most people knew you as Pete Mitchell’s daughter, something you and your Dad quickly made a secret once you joined the Navy. He had a reputation and he didn’t want your career to be tainted before it ever had a chance to start. It wasn’t even really a secret, but rather something that just wasn’t talked about.

“C’mon, you don’t even get along with Rooster man, and you’d rather sit with him than your wingman?” Coyote’s voice called from behind you and both you and Rooster turned.

“I’d rather not sit in a 5 mile radius of Hangman anyhow, much less in the seat next to him.” Rooster quietly laughed and you smiled. Maybe this time you guys could get things right. All thoughts of reconciling were vanished however, when two officials walked into the room, one of them calling you to attention. The class quickly stood up, as your eyes flickered over them. They introduced themselves, Cyclone and Warlock, and and began to explain the seriousness of the mission you’d been called back to fly. Then they introduced your teacher as...

“Captain Pete Mitchell, callsign: Maverick.” You weren’t sure if you wanted to laugh or cry at the prospect of your Dad being your teacher. Maybe you would settle for throwing up, as you suddenly felt nauseous. Rooster’s eyes hardened and you felt his gaze for a brief second before looking away. You had suspected it sure, but actually knowing... why was this suddenly so much more daunting than the dangerous mission now being explained to you? You sighed and took a deep breath before straightening up. Your Dad’s eyes flickered over you and Bradley briefly before he began to explain to parameter for training for the day. He listed out the groups. You’d conveniently go last with Rooster. You moved down to the airstrip, where you noticed your Dad calling after Rooster. Apparently, Hangman and Phoenix noticed too and the three of you shared a look.

Eventually, you moved back to the waiting room as the rest of the pilots listened in to those up in the sky. You giggled probably a little too much for Coyote’s liking after Hangman got his ass handed to him, but other than that, no one came close to beating your Dad. If you looked out in the window, you could see the pilots doing their 200 pushups with Hondo. Damn Payback and damn TOPGUN pilots and their egos. Eventually though, it was the last round of the day, and you and Rooster made your way out of the room and towards the airstrip. The two of you clambered into your planes and finished off the last-minute checks. Before you knew it, the two of you were up in the air.

“You see him?” You asked Rooster, and there was silence. “Great, don’t help me.” You muttered.

“Saved the best for last didn’t we?” Maverick’s voice came over the comms.

“Don’t let Hangman hear that, his ego will be hurt.” You knew full well hangman could hear you. You accelerated a little bit, moving up in the air to try and spot your Dad, and then... there. “Hey Rooster, look out.” You called, moving up more to get out of Maverick’s way.

“Don’t need your help.” He started and you sighed.

“Damn, okay.” You muttered. You watched from above as Maverick got Rooster out and you head a “Shit” along with a dial tone.

“Alright Rebel, your turn. Where are you?” You were seated just above Maverick, just far enough out of eye sight, but definitely too far away to get a hit. You moved downwards, praying to God your Dad didn’t spot you. And he did, just not in time. “Shit, kid.” He said, moving his plane forward, trying to get out of your target range. He was too slow, however, as a dial tone sounded through the comms.

“That’s a kill. You’re dead, Mav.” He groaned. “Go see Hondo about your push-ups.” You said, imagining the laughter back on base. You moved your plane back down towards base and it wasn’t long before your Dad caught up too. He pounded on the glass, catching your attention as you neared base. You looked over and he nodded, smiling and giving you a thumbs up. You laughed quietly to yourself as the two of you settled and landed. Rooster was already well into his pushups, but Hondo laughed at Mav nonetheless as he climbed out of his plane. You saluted Hondo as you pulled your helmet off and made your way towards the locker room. You by-passed Phoenix on her way out, presumably to go see Rooster.

“Hey, nice work today.” She said.

“Oh, thanks. You too. Sorry about y’all getting out.” She shrugged.

“Hangman leave you hanging. What can you do?” You laughed quietly. “Hey, we’re all gonna go get some drinks at the Hard Deck tonight, if you wanted to join us.” Despite your comment earlier in the day about not being there to make friends, you’d like for this group of people to like you, at the very least respect you, especially considering most of them had known each other since their TOPGUN days.

“Yeah, yeah that sounds great. Yeah, I’ll be there.” She nodded.

“I’m gonna go check on Rooster.” She said, nodding her head back towards the tarmac. “I’ll see you there.” You nodded and the door to the locker room shut behind her. You sighed out a deep breath, feeling a little tension from the day release.

You wandered into the Hard Deck, seeing Coyote and Hangman by the dartboard. While there were a few people at the bar, it wasn’t overly busy and no one else from the squadron was there yet. “Hey boys.” You called and they both turned to you. “Can I play?” Hangman smirked, handing you a dart as you approached.

“Show us what you got, Rebel.” The rest of the team slowly filtered in and eventually Payback and Fanboy walked in, getting beer from Penny and coming to stand next to the dartboard. As you threw another dart, narrowly missing a bullseye, Fanboy decided to break his silence.

“So Rebel, do share about how you managed to be the only person to get Maverick out.”

You laughed as Hangman took his turn, also missing another bullseye. “A magician never reveals her secrets.” You said, taking a sip of your beer. Out of the corner of your eye, you noted that Phoenix and Rooster had joined the crew in the bar and were headed towards you.

“No, actually I want to know how you did it.” Rooster said, coming to stand shoulder to shoulder with you. You tried not to shudder as he came into such close proximity of you. The last two days were the closest you’d been to Rooster in years, ever since he cut you off for a reason you’d yet to know. You shrugged, turning your attention back to the bar.

“Tell you what, I’ll tell whoever buys me the next round.” Fanboy and Payback groaned. “Hey, I’ve got to be adequately compensated for sharing my knowledge.” Fanboy laughed at that but then Hangman was shoving another beer into your hand and sitting down.

“Spill.” He demanded. You shrugged again.

“Pure luck. I happened to be out of Maverick’s eye sight and took advantage of the fact that he was distracted with getting Rooster out.” Hangman scoffed. “I’m serious! Most of my career is reckless flying and luck.” Not quite unlike your father...

“So why the callsign Rebel then? Why not Lucky or something?” Payback asked. A ghost of a smile flickered over your face.

“I have tendency to break Navy regulations that are small enough that the Navy can’t discharge me for because my skills as a pilot outweigh the rules I break.”Coyote snickered at this, causing Hangman to raise an eyebrow.

“You have experience with this?” Hangman asked and Coyote nodded.

“Our last CO at the Green Vipers wanted to chuck her out of the squadron at least once a month but he wasn’t allowed to.”

“What’d you do?” Phoenix asked, the curiosity raising in her voice. You shrugged, fiddling with a dart. “I’ll wear my hair in braids instead of a bun. Not when I’m flying of course, but any other time. I paint my nails ridiculous colors. Sometimes I don’t make my bed, other times my uniform won’t be just right. Always small shit, always just enough to get on officials nerves. I won’t do it here because Cyclone and Warlock scare the shit out of me and I fully believe they’d dishonorably discharge me but everyone who’s tried before has been told no because getting rid of one of the Navy’s top pilots for an unmade bed seems ridiculous to higher-ups.”

“You mad woman? Are you trying to get discharged?” Payback asked incredulously. You shook your head.

“No, but I hate rules that feel sexist and outdated. And who the fuck cares if my bed’s made anyways?”

“The Navy.” Rooster responded and you laughed.

“Apparently.” He smiled at you and for the second time that day, you wondered if maybe this would be the time the two of you could get things right. You felt Hangman’s eyes flit between you and Rooster and you felt your stomach sink. A smirk began to appear on the blondes face and quite frankly, you wanted to smack it right off.

“You know, I just can’t help but feel like Rooster and Rebel here know more about each other than they’re willing to let on.” Rooster shot Hangman a glare as you bit your lip nervously. You didn’t care if Rooster told these people about your past but you didn’t want him revealing who your Dad was. You wanted them to respect you and you don’t want to blow your chances of getting selected for this mission.

“Fuck off Hangman, you know nothing.” Rooster said. Fanboy snorted.

“Bradshaw, man, don’t think we all haven’t seen the little side glances you take at her.” You groaned.

“Oh fuck off with that, would you?” Fanboy looked a little taken aback by your response.

“So there’s no secret thing you’re hiding from us?” Coyote said firmly. You shook your head.

“There’s no secret thing.” You confirmed.

“Okay, no secret thing, but any secrets you’re keeping from us?” Hangman said, looking between the two of you. Rooster scoffed and you shook your head.

“Grow up and stop being a nosy asshole Hangman. You’re not entitled to my life story or my secrets.” You said, grabbing your beer and moving towards Halo, Omaha and Fritz, who were over at the pool table.

“You say that like there is a secret.” He taunted and you turned slightly, just enough for him to see you flipping him off. You’d tell these people anything they wanted, but they couldn’t know about your relationship to Maverick. It would fuck everything up.

The next week of training was grueling. You knew this mission was going to push you to your limits mentally and physically but holy shit. Despite your initial success and luck on Day 1, no one had successfully completed the course since. As your squadron sat in the debriefing room discussing the day’s activities, a heated argument broke out between Rooster and Hangman. You’d unfortunately got stuck sitting next to Hangman and you wanted to, not for the first time, lean over and smack him. Hangman was getting closer and closer to pushing Rooster over the edge. “Stop being a goddamn asshole.” You snapped, turning to him. He raised his eyebrows.

“Oh shut the fuck up, Rebel. Stop trying to come to my defense like we’re fucking friends.” Rooster shot at you from a row behind you. Maverick looked bewildered at the commotion, unsure how to stop it.

“What the fuck did I ever do to you?” Rooster’s eyes narrowed as you fully faced him.

“You really want to get into it right now?” You shook your head and huffed, turning back around. Your ears were ringing with anger. Rooster cut you off with no warning or explanation as to why and he wanted sit here in front of everyone and act like it was your fault? Asshole. Suddenly, Hangman was making a comment about Goose and your Dad and Rooster was launching up across the row to Hangman. You pushed Hangman back as Coyote grabbed him, pulling backwards. Bob and Phoenix pulled Rooster away as Maverick moved in between the group. Your heart was pounding against your ribs as you and Rooster locked eyes.

“Holy shit, your Mav’s daughter. This is why the two of you don’t get along.” Hangman was saying and you whipped back to Hangman as the attention shifted. His eyes shot over to Rooster. “It’s true, isn’t it Bradshaw?”

“You finally got something right Bagman.” Rooster snarled, chest still heaving. Before you knew it, you were launching at Rooster yourself, but your Dad had been quicker, pulling you back away from the group and into his chest.

“To the grave, Bradshaw, that was supposed to go to the goddamn grave.” The venom in your voice transforming into hurt. You might’ve been able to get by it, deny it to the squadron, but Rooster had just confirmed it in front of everyone. Your Dad still had you by the arms as he dismissed everyone.

“You stay here.” He said to you, pulling you further back from the group. Hangman and Coyote went first, Coyote shooting you a look as he walked out the door that screamed we need to talk. Rooster followed with the rest of the squadron going after him. You didn’t miss the dirty looks and death glares that got sent your way. After the door clicked shut behind the last team member, your Dad’s grip loosened and you turned around to face him. He sighed, moving to sit down in one of the chairs but you stayed upright, chest still having as your ears slowly stopped ringing.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to- You know I’m not-” He waved you off, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m not sorry to be a Mitchell, and I knew it was going to come out eventually, but it shouldn't have come out like that and he knows it.” Your Dad shrugged, looking at you. “Why does he hate me?” You asked. You knew your Dad wouldn't have the answer, never had had the answer, but it was a question that had bothered you for years.

“Because he hates me, and you’re an extension of me. He’s never going to forgive me for what I did.” Your Dad finally answered and you cocked your head in confusion. In all the years that you’d mourned your friendship with Rooster and then grown to hate him yourself, this was the first time your question had never been followed with an “I don’t know.”

“What’d you do?” He sighed, clearly debating on telling you.

“I pulled Bradley’s application to the Naval Academy.” You stumbled backwards, reeling.

“You what? Why- why would you do that? Why didn’t you tell me?” He sighed, looking away from you.

“I figured the less you knew, the better. That way, Rooster would still have you, wouldn’t let it affect his friendship with you. But that’s clearly not what happened and I- I didn’t know how to fix it.” Your mind reeled as you took in this information. You shook your head, finally finding your voice.

“I’m going for a drive.” You finally stated, heading for the door.

“(Y/N)-”

“I’ll see you for training tomorrow Mav.” You called. You knew the usage of his callsign stung and it was meant to. But you needed a moment to process what the hell had just happened and what the hell you had just found out.

You shut the door to your car in the parking lot of the Hard Deck as you grumbled. Why the fuck your Dad had called you all out here today was beyond you. You squinted as you saw the figures of Fanboy, Payback, Phoenix, Rooster, and Bob gathered at the edge of the beach. You debated making a run for it before they spotted you, but you didn’t get a choice as Coyote’s arm clapped down on to your shoulders. You startled, looking up at him, and unfortunately, Hangman who was next to him. You rolled your eyes and pushed his arm off, moving towards the group at the edge of the beach. “Oh, sweetheart, c’mon. Why do you always run away from me?” He called as the pair followed after you.

“Because you’re a dick.” You shot back, officially catching the attention of the group. “Didn’t your Mom ever tell you it’s not cool to insult someone’s dead parents?” Phoenix scoffed as you arrived in front of them.

“You’re one to talk. You’ve been keeping the secret that you’re the instructors daughter since Day 1.” Your eyes narrowed.

“Would you have respected me if you’d known?” You challenged. “Look, enough military officials who know his reputation give me enough shit. I’m not going to let this squadron, or any other, do the same. I’ve earned a right to build a name and career for myself separate of Maverick. The least you could do is give me enough grace to do so.” You noticed Payback and Fanboy’s stature soften as Bob shot you a small smile. Rooster was pointedly not making eye contact with you, but honestly, you couldn’t care less considering you still wanted to punch him in the nose. Phoenix opened her mouth to respond but then Maverick was calling for you, motioning you all down to the beach.

“Why in the hell does he have two footballs?” Hangman muttered as the group moved through the sand towards him.

“Fuck if I know.” You responded, causing Coyote to laugh. The group stopped in front of Maverick, where the rest of your squadron awaited.

“Today, we’re gonna play dogfight football. Offense and defense at the same time.” You blinked at your Dad who chuckled at your response. Where did he get these ideas...

As Maverick split you all up into teams, Fanboy grabbed your arm. You stopped, looking at him. He offered out his fist. “May the best pilot win.” He said, looking at you expectantly. You chuckled, fist-bumping him.

“Oh, I intend to.” He laughed and followed Payback over to their side as Hondo explained the rules. You smiled, following Coyote to your area. You knew what the gesture had been indicative of. A truce.

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All I Ever Knew, Only You 13: Benchwarmers

Chapter Thirteen.

Say what you want, but say it like you mean it, With your fists for once, A long cold war, with your kids at the front, Just give it one more day, then you're done, I do what I want, crying in the bleachers, And I said it was fun, I don't need anything from anyone, It's just not my year, But I'm all good out here

Summary: Hawkins was your typical quaint, mid-western town where nothing ever happened. People were born here, lived their entire lives within the town limits, and eventually died here, peacefully in their sleep. But one cold November evening in 1983 would change everything.

Despite a child with psychokinetic abilities and ravenous monsters that lacked faces, stranger things had definitely happened in the small town in Indiana. One of them being your reluctant and slightly imposed friendship with Hawkins High’s own King Bee, Steve Harrington.

Characters: Steve Harrington x Non-descriptive F!Reader (eventual)

Words: 6,098

Chapter Warnings: Explicit language, physical violence, Steve gets his ass beat but good God did he try, forced drug use (kinda. If you've seen the episode then I'm sure you understand)

Series Warnings: Strong language, mentions of underage drinking, mentions of drug use, canon-typical violence, mentions of alcohol abuse, mentions of possible mental health disorders, child abuse, slow burn, kinda enemies-to-friends-to-lovers, I like to call it ‘two idiots who begrudgingly befriend each other only to realize… ‘wait a damn minute…’, eventual sexual content, no use of y/n, canon-typical time-period bullshit. 18+. Minors DNI.

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Chapter Thirteen: Benchwarmers

“Are you okay? When you weren’t at the cabin I… I thought you’d gone to find Mike, and then he was with Will and… I thought you left. I thought you were in danger-”

“I’m okay,” the girl tried to reassure you as you held her face between your palms, eyes watery as she tried her best not to cry.

Once you had double-checked her for injuries and wiped her nose with the sleeve of your jacket, you pulled her tight against you once more, “Don’t ever run off like that again, okay? Promise me, El.”

The girl nodded, a quiet ‘I promise’ falling from her mouth as you finally pulled away. Her eyes wandered around the group, falling on the boy she’d been desperate to see for almost a year.

“Eleven?”

“Mike,” This time, the tears fell from the young girl as she tightly gripped the boy. This was all she had wanted for three hundred and fifty-three days.

Hopper placed an arm across your shoulders, pulling you close once you’d moved back next to him, a relieved expression on his features, despite feeling dubious about the sight in front of him. The whole reason he had kept Eleven’s survival shrouded in secrecy was to protect her. To protect all of you, really. And now, the cat was out of the bag. Yet without her, you’d all most likely be Demo-dog food right now.

“That’s her? The girl with the…” Steve wiggled his fingers around slightly, “magic?”

Unable to pull your eyes away from El, thankful that she was here and safe, you simply nodded.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were there? That you were okay?”

“Because I wouldn’t let her.” Hopper intervened, causing Mike to turn, a glare settling on his dark brows as the man walked between the two and turned his attention to the girl, “The hell is this? Where have you been?”

“Hop-” you sighed, head already pounding, you refused to witness another fight.

“Where have you been?” El answered back, big brown eyes still brimming with tears. Hopper didn’t reply, and instead pulled her toward him, pressing a soft kiss to the top of her head.

As if the clogs in Mike’s brain finally began to turn, connecting pieces of a puzzle previously hidden from him, he realized that Eleven had been here all along. And both yourself and Hopper knew about it.

“You’ve been hiding her. You’ve been hiding her this whole time!”

Mike shoved Hopper’s back, and despite the man barely moving, you still stepped in, placing a hand on Mike’s arm, only for the boy to shrug it off as he turned back to you, “You too! You were both hiding her, letting us think she was dead… or trapped in the Upside Down. But you knew. This whole time, you knew.”

“Hey,” Hopper grabbed a hold of Mike’s shirt, tugging him down the corridor, “Let’s talk. Alone.”

Your leg bounced as you leaned against the arm of the couch, the sounds of Mike’s pained and frustrated shouts heard from the living room, and despite the boys surrounding El and pulling her into a group hug, you felt several pairs of eyes fall on you.

Your eyes caught with Joyce’s just as she pulled the girl into her own hug, a gentle kiss placed against El’s gelled hair — a personal choice of hers that you'd decided you wouldn’t comment on — before you turned your gaze elsewhere, the older woman leading El through the house to see Will.

“You knew where she was this whole time?” Max asked, a little perplexed by El’s apparent coldness toward her, despite this being their first time meeting.

“Look, Hopper was protecting her. I wasn’t gonna go against that. It was in everyone’s best interest.”

Inhaling deeply, Max shrugged before standing with you, looking around at the drawings that covered the walls, “So this is all real? Not some stupid joke to pull on the new girl?”

A small laugh fell from your lips as you shook your head, “I wish it was joke, but no. All this shit… It’s happened before. Kind of, anyway. I just… I thought it was over with. I’m sorry you’ve been dragged along in this. I shouldn’t have ever told you to-”

“I’d rather know about the Demo-dogs that wanna eat me,” Max’s mouth pulled up in a half-smirk, despite her eyes still holding fear.

Sure, Eleven was here now, which significantly raised your chances of helping Will. But as you learned from last year, someone always gets hurt. Bob was dead and those… things were roaming around in the tunnels under the city, growing by the minute.

“Do you think if we got you back there, you could close it?”

Joyce’s question pulled your attention away from the small redhead, who followed you as you made your way toward where the older woman and Eleven now stood.

“Yes,” El all but whispered, dark eyes full of certainty, “I can close it.”

Standing next to El, her hand clinging to your own, you sighed as the group discussed their choices.

“The place is crawling with those dogs.”

“Demo-dogs,” Dustin interrupted, much to Hopper’s dismay, “Like Demogorgon and dogs… You put them together, it sounds pretty badass-”

“How is this important right now?"

“It’s not. I’m sorry.” The boy sighed, returning his attention to the table you were all standing around, a map of the tunnels spread out.

“I can do it,” El said, no hesitation in her voice at all.

“You’re not hearing me,” Hopper sighed with exasperation, arms folded over his chest.

But El pressed, “I’m hearing you. I can do it.”

“Even if El can, there’s still another problem.” Mike interrupted before the two could begin another argument, “If the brain dies, the body dies.”

“I thought that was the whole point,” Max questioned, confusion lining her brow.

Your head snapped round toward Mike, eyes slightly wider as you sharply inhaled. The boy — who had barely sent you a second look since coming back from his talk with Hopper — watched you across the table, dark eyes peering into yours as you caught on, asking quietly,

“If El closes the gate and kills the mind flayer’s army… What happens to Will?”

“Will’s a part of that army…” Lucas sighed, connecting the dots.

“Closing the gate will kill him,” Mike confirmed, causing everyone’s eyes to fall on Joyce as she pushed her dining chair backward and rushed into Will's room.

The group followed Joyce, eyes peering over Will as he led, still unconscious in bed. Joyce looked around the room, brows pulled together as she racked her brain for answers. Anything that could save Will, whilst still closing the gate.

Your eyes fell from the boy, to the walls where even more papers were taped to the wall. Clogs in your brain turning, you blinked a few times before speaking up.

“You said it’s like a virus, right?”

“That’s what Dr. Owens said, why?” Joyce questioned, her doe eyes turning toward you, almost begging for a solution.

“When you told me he was sick, you said… You said that he liked it cold, right? Will didn't mean himself, did he?”

Joyce’s eyes widened as she darted further into the room, shutting the open window, “We keep giving it what it wants.”

“If this is a virus, and Will’s the host then…” Nancy began, glancing toward you,

“Then we need to make the host inhabitable.” Jonathan finished for her.

“So if he likes it cold…”

“What are you talking about?” Hopper questioned, brow furrowed as he looked around the room.

Sighing, you turned your attention back toward Joyce, the poor woman tearing at her bottom lip with her teeth, “Then we need to burn that motherfucker out of him.”

Hopper had carried Will out toward his car, giving Jonathan directions toward his cabin as Joyce followed behind whilst Steve and Nancy made their way toward the garden to collect anything that would emit heat. You’d told them you’d thrown a decent heater out there whilst clearing the shed, so the two decided to start there.

“You should go with him,” Steve spoke quietly, sifting through the pile of junk.

“What?”

“With Jonathan.”

Nancy scoffed, digging around the other side of the pile, “No, I’m… I’m not just gonna leave Mike.”

Steve’s eyes turned toward the kitchen window as he placed down a ball of tangled Christmas lights, attempting to swallow down the mild dread that still settled in his stomach a year later.

He caught sight of you, standing with your hip against the sink as you spoke to Mike and the others. He could tell by how you struggled to swallow that you were most likely explaining your reasoning for keeping El’s whereabouts hidden. When Mike finally returned your glance, saying something Steve couldn’t make out before nodding, his face softening when you placed an apprehensive hand on his shoulder and pulled the begrudging boy into a half hug. Regardless of the fact he was sure it felt as awkward as it looked, he couldn’t help the small, upward tug of his lips.

“No one’s leaving anyone,” Steve continued, eyes darting toward the large fan that Nancy had lifted when he realized the girl was watching him, “I may be a pretty shitty boyfriend, but… turns out I’m actually a pretty damn good babysitter.”

Steve pulled out the small heater, handing it to Nancy who remained silent for a moment, a look of guilt and understanding written across her soft features when she finally looked toward him, “Steve…”

“It’s okay, Nance… It’s okay.

“If I thought for a second it wouldn’t keep you safe… wouldn’t keep El safe too, then I would’ve fought harder to tell you all, I promise.”

Mike sighed, eyebrows still furrowed together as he kept his eyes on his sneakers, “I thought I’d never see her again.”

“I just… I wanted to protect you. All of you.” You sighed as your fingers pulled at the skin around your nails.

“She’s done more than enough to prove that,” Lucas sent you a small smile across the kitchen, perched at the dining table, and you sent him a tight-lipped smile back, forcing down the bile that threatened to crawl its way up your throat whenever you thought of last year. Of what you did.

“We forgive her, right?” Dustin shrugged.

Lucas nodded in agreement, “Yeah. We get it.”

“I really am sorry, Mike.” You sighed, somehow feeling like a weight had lifted from your shoulders, only to be placed on your chest as you awaited the boy’s response.

“It’s okay,” Mike sighed, before sending you a small nod, “I forgive you, too.”

Placing a hand on the boy’s shoulder, you pulled him reluctantly toward you, and despite the scoff that fell from his lips and the eye roll he had most likely sent to the rest of the group, you could feel the smile pull at his cheek.

Looking out the kitchen window, you observed Steve and Nancy awkwardly sifting through the pile of junk you and Hopper had haphazardly thrown outside. Nancy was holding up a large fan that would be useful in the summer months, and you watched as Steve approached her slowly, the former glancing up at him with her large blue eyes.

Frowning, you could only be grateful you had remained inside with the kids and not stuck in the middle of whatever that was. Pushing yourself from the sink, you made your way outside to where El stood.

“Are you sure about this?” You asked quietly, watching as Hopper loaded Will into Jonathan’s car.

“I can do this,” she began, sighing slightly.

Turning toward her, you grabbed one of her hands, “That’s not what I asked. You have a choice in this, no matter what the outcome might be without you. So, are you sure?”

Eleven’s gaze mapped out your face, eyes softening almost instantly, “I’m sure.”

Nodding, you blinked in an attempt to clear your vision from the tears that threatened to fall, “Then you better stay safe, alright? Don’t do anything that you don’t absolutely need to.”

The girl sent you her own nod before her eyes caught something behind you, causing her to inhale deeply. Turning, you watched over your shoulder as Mike slowly approached and decided to head over toward Hopper to give the two some semblance of privacy.

“That goes for you, too.” You sighed, crossing your arms over your chest. You knew that Hopper had most likely been listening to your conversation, just as he now had to pretend that he wasn’t eavesdropping on the one El was having with Mike.

“I think you need to be looking in a mirror, Kid.”

“I’m not joking, Hop. Just… Make sure you both come back.”

Hopper’s full attention was now on you as his brow furrowed. Instead of reassuring words, the man simply stepped forward, pulling you into a strong embrace, and if the situation wasn’t as dire as it seemed, you would’ve complained about his bear-like strength and knocked his hat from where it perched on his head.

Instead, you felt your tense shoulders relax slightly as the man pressed his lips against the top of your head, mumbling as he promised you a safe return, quietly pleading with you to remain in the house and stay safe, to keep the kids safe.

Once you’d separated, the man pulled a cigarette from his pack, a sharp glare sent in your direction as you swiftly grabbed one too, but his attention was quickly stolen by the two young teenagers standing suspiciously close together.

“El… Come on, let’s go. It’s time.”

His large hand gripped your shoulder reassuringly one last time before you made your way toward the porch, watching as Hopper and El clambered into the former’s car, Nancy, Jonathan, and Joyce behind in the eldest Byers siblings vehicle, Will’s head resting against Joyce’s lap.

As they drove down the long, winding dirt drive, you stood next to Steve, the gang of teens surrounding you as you watched them all leave, the feeling of helplessness weighing heavily on you all.

Everyone had returned inside, leaving you alone on the porch to stew in your feelings. You’d barely been in the house a minute after everyone left, lighting your stolen cigarette on Joyce’s stove before strolling back out and settling down on the hardwood.

As you ran a hand over your face you felt the exhaustion finally settle deep in your bones. Despite feeling useless, you couldn’t help but be glad you were left here to look after the kids. God knows you wouldn’t be of any help in this state.

Head bent backward, you blew up a cloud of smoke, watching as it danced around in the cold November air and clouded the stars above you for just a moment before you inhaled another deep breath, eyes falling closed as you held your breath, the smoke gradually burning your lungs.

“Heard that’s bad for your health.”

The sudden interruption of silence caused your body to jerk, the smoke finally escaping you as you spluttered, feeling like you were hacking up a lung.

Steve settled beside you on the porch step, a dish towel thrown over his shoulder as he waited for you to either stop coughing or keel over and die. He hadn’t meant to scare you half to death, but a smirk pulled at his mouth regardless when you finally turned to him with a glare,

“You are bad for my health, Harrington.”

Taking a second to consider what you’d said, his smirk only grew, “Thank you.”

“It wasn’t a compliment,” you huffed before offering him the cigarette.

He contemplated it for a moment before declining with a shake of his head, “After surviving Demo-dogs, you think I’m gonna let these things take me out?”

“I’m going to take you out in a minute if you don’t shut up,” you grumbled, stubbing out the half-smoked cigarette.

“Didn’t realize I was your type,” the boy quipped, “I’m a fan of Enzo’s, they have unlimited breadsticks. Not too sure it’s in your budget, though.”

Your glare was much more intense as you stared him down, “You’re not, and God… Why do you always have to be such an ass?”

Steve nudged your shoulder with his own before leaning his arms onto his long, slender legs that were bent awkwardly in front of him, “If you think I’m an ass, you should see what Henderson’s done.”

“What do you mean?” You questioned suspiciously.

“Let's just say,” Steve rubbed a hand through his hair, causing it to look wilder than normal “If Mrs. Byers invites you round for dinner, I'd pass.”

“In the fridge?” You all but screeched, pushing the front door open, eyes darting around for the curly-haired kid, “You put that goddamn dog in Mrs. Byers's fridge?”

“Demo-dog,” you heard Dustin call from the kitchen, making his appearance, “And yes, obviously. As a woman of science, I thought you'd-”

Your nose scrunched up as you shook your head, “No. No, don’t call me that ever again.”

“But I thought-”

“Look, whatever little science fair project you plan on doing with it, fine. Whatever. That’s your business. But you’re cleaning that mess up, and you can explain to Mrs. Byers why there’s a monster in her fridge-”

“Demo-dog,” Dustin stressed again, exasperated.

Rolling your eyes, you turned away from the boy who quickly made his way back to the kitchen and began picking up the abandoned refrigerated food, throwing it straight into the bin.

“Mike, would you stop already?” Lucas sighed, hands holding the dustpan as Max swept up the remaining glass that littered the floor from the Demo-dog's grand entrance.

“You weren’t in there, okay, Lucas?” Mike glared, finally stopping his pacing, “That lab is swarming with hundreds of those dogs.”

“Demo-dogs!” Dustin hollered, clearly annoyed with everyone’s lack of detail.

“The Chief will take care of her,” Lucas tried to reassure the boy, but Mike only rolled his eyes, Max scoffing that the girl clearly didn’t need protection.

Steve made his way toward Mike, trying his best to keep the peace, “Listen, dude, a coach calls a play in a game, bottom line, you execute it. All right?”

“Okay, first of all, this isn’t some stupid sports game. And second, we’re not even in the game. We’re on the bench.”

“Right, so, my point is…” Steve stammered, glancing toward you as five pairs of eyes settled on him, “A little help here?”

You merely shrugged, picking at your cuticle, “Oh, I don’t do sports analogies.”

His mouth opened and closed several times as he sent you an exasperated glare, “…Right. Yeah, we’re on the bench, so, uh… there’s nothing we can do.”

“That’s not entirely true,” Dustin spoke up, causing Steve to peer at him over his shoulder, “I mean, these Demo-dogs… They have a hive mind. When they ran away from the bus, they were called away.”

“So if we get their attention…”

“Maybe we can draw them from the lab.” Max finished Lucas’s thought aloud.

“And clear a path to the gate.”

You could almost smell the gears in their head begin to spin.

“Yeah, and then we all die,” Steve chided, his hands falling to his narrow hips and you noticed the dish towel still slung over his shoulder, like an irritated mother.

“That’s one point of view,” Dustin shrugged.

“No, that’s not a point of view, man. That’s a fact.”

“I got it,” Mike pushed through the two, leading you all toward one of the drawings that hung on the wall, “This is where the Chief dug his hole. This is our way into the tunnel. So…”

Moving back toward the living room, he stood on top of where some drawings were taped together on the floor, all tunnels seemingly leading to that point, “So, you got all the tunnels feeding in here. Maybe if we set this on fire…”

“Oh, yeah? That’s a no.” Steve interrupted, unamused and unwilling to hear the boy out, but the gang was already considering it.

“The Mind Flayer would call away his army.”

“They’d all come to stop us.”

“Hey… Guys.” Steve tried to interrupt once again, his patience well and truly leaving the building as they continued to talk over him, “Hey, hey, hey!”

Everyone turned their attention toward the boy as he lowered his voice, “This is not happening.”

“But-”

“No, no, no, no, no. No buts. We promised that we’d keep you shitheads safe, and that’s exactly what I plan on doing, right?”

Realizing Steve was now looking to you for backup, your mouth opened and closed a few times, much like a goldfish aimlessly swimming around a too-small bowl. Your eyes darted between the kids almost pleading looks, and Steve’s stern stare. Sighing, you closed your mouth and shrugged, silently agreeing with the older teen, even if the plan seemed… workable.

“We’re staying here, on the bench, and we’re waiting for the starting team to do their job. Does everybody understand?”

“This isn’t a stupid sports game, ”Mike tried to argue one last time, but it fell on deaf ears.

Pulling the towel from his shoulder and using it to point at the group, Steve repeated himself, “I said does everybody understand that? I need a yes.”

Before any of the kids could agree, the sound of an engine revving outside pulled everyone’s attention away. It was way too early for anyone to be back, plus, the only one of you who could afford a car that made that kind of noise was standing opposite you.

Max, clearly recognizing the sound, dashed toward the window, Lucas next to her as they watched the familiar blue Camero drive up the path, headlights blinding as he drove a little too fast.

“It’s my brother,” Max sighed, “He can’t know I’m here. He’ll kill me. He’ll kill us.”

The sound of screeching tires caused your feet to move toward the door before your brain could calculate a plan. Steve, however, caught hold of your elbow, brows almost pinching together as he shook his head,

“Where are you going?”

“He’s not gonna just go away. He knows someone is home, it wouldn’t be weird for me to be here.”

“And what exactly are you gonna say to him?”

“Oh, I don’t know, I thought maybe I’d ask him on a coffee date. What the hell do you think I’m gonna say.”

Steve scoffed, his hand falling from your elbow as he crossed his arms over his chest, “I’m not… I’m not gonna let you go out there after what happened. He said-”

“I don’t care what he said, Harrington. He isn’t going to just leave.”

“I’ll go-”

“Oh, please. He’s been gunning for you all week.”

Grabbing the towel from his shoulder, Steve pushed it into your hands, a serious expression falling over his features, “Stay here with them. I got this, alright?”

Leaning against the closed door, you could barely hear the boy’s conversation but you knew damn well that Steve, in fact, did not have this. Your eyes were closed as you concentrated on the mumbled words spoken between the two outside.

The younger teens suddenly fell onto the sofa underneath them, eyes wide with panic.

“Shit, did he see us?” Dustin questioned, causing you to straighten up.

Sending them an incredulous glare, you pushed away from the door slightly, “Oh my God, get away from the window!”

The sound of a body hitting the ground, quickly followed by a second grunt caused you to try and peer through the frosted glass of the door, unsure as to whether it was Harrington, or Hargrove who was now making their way up the porch.

You barely had enough time to dodge out of the way as the door swung open and bumped harshly against your shoulder, the momentum causing you to stumble to the floor as Billy stepped foot in the Byers home.

His cruel eyes darted between where you were sprawled out on the floor, and Max as she stood surrounded by the boys, face remaining stoic as he slammed the door shut behind him, blocking your view of Steve, who was taking a moment to recover out on the driveway, “Well, well, well…”

Stepping over you, Billy’s eyes now focused on his primary target, “Lucas Sinclair. What a surprise.”

Your brows furrowed together as you pushed yourself to your feet, ignoring the ache in your arm as your eyes bore into the back of Billy’s head as he approached his step-sister, “I thought I told you to stay away from him, Max.”

“Billy, go away.” Max’s voice shook, but she stood her ground.

“Hargrove, c’mon…” You stepped forward, heart thumping against your rib cage in what seemed like a great escape.

“You disobeyed me,” the older teen said, low and gruff, using his height to leer over the girl, “And you know what happens when you disobey me… I break things.”

Billy moved quickly, and before you had a chance to stop him, he grabbed Lucas by the collar of his jacket, dragging him across the kitchen and slamming him into the small shelving unit.

The kids yelled for him to stop as you launched yourself across the room, “Hargrove! Get off of him!”

Your hand made contact with Billy’s burgundy shirt, attempting to tug him off the younger boy, but he was much stronger than you. His right arm shot out, knocking you away from him and causing your head to hit the corner of the cabinet behind you on your way to the floor, unable to catch yourself.

Billy leaned in close, threatening Lucas once more, but you could barely hear him, the whooshing sound that reverberated between your ears taking front and center of your attention as your hand reluctantly touched the crown of your head, causing you to flinch and pull your now blood-stained fingers away quickly.

Before you knew what had happened, Billy was forced away from him, Lucas’s foot connecting with a much more sensitive body part of the older boys.

Billy merely took seconds to recover, his eyes now full of fire, “You’re so dead, Sinclair! You’re dead.”

“No,” a strained voice came from behind, forcing the older boy away and allowing you to see Steve who had finally made his way off the floor outside, “No. You are.”

Steve’s fist flew, connecting with Billy’s nose and causing the boy to spin, but not quite fall, his sneakers barely missing your fingers that were staining the linoleum.

Steve’s eyes glanced over at your huddled frame as he shook out his fist before they found Lucas — who was now the center of a group hug before Billy’s loud, mocking laughter caught his attention,

“Looks like you got some fire in you after all, huh?” Billy practically shouted, blood slowly trickling from his nose, “I’ve been waiting to meet this King Steve everybody’s been telling me so much about.”

Steve remained stoic as Billy approached him, a firm hand against his chest as he pushed the boy away slightly, “Get out.”

But Billy wasn’t leaving without a fight.

Steve managed to duck, avoiding Billy’s initial attack, and land his own punch against the boy’s cheek causing him to bump into the table. Pulling himself back up quickly, Billy continued to taunt Steve as he laughed out loud, even when Steve hit him again and again, pushing the boy past you, and into the kitchen sink.

The kids yelled for Steve, cheering him on, and you were genuinely impressed. Either Steve had been practicing since last year, or Billy was a much better fighter with his words and not his fists.

That thought, however, quickly changed when Billy lifted a clean plate from the draining board next to the sink, smashing it over Steve’s head and causing the boy to lose his bearing. Which made the next punch all too easy.

“Hargrove, stop!” You tried to yell, attempting to push yourself upright, but your sneaker slipped on a small piece of china, causing you to crash back down, your vision dotted.

With a swift headbutt, Billy continued his relentless attack, even once Steve was on the floor and unable to fight back. A dirty fighter, that made much more sense.

Billy crowded over Steve, his fists flying as he took out a wave of anger that seemed far too exorbitant to be over a step-sister he claimed he really didn’t like.

Finally managing to steady your footing, you used the cabinet to pull yourself up, smearing bits of blood over the counter as you stumbled over toward the sink, looking for something, anything to stop Billy’s attack.

Your fingers found the glass you’d been drinking out of earlier — the one you’d originally poured for Steve — and cursed slightly as it fumbled from your grasp. Once you were sure your grip was tight enough, you raised your arm, throwing the glass directly at Billy. Whether it hit his head or his back, you couldn’t quite make out, but when he halted his vicious attack on Steve and slowly peered over his shoulder at you, your hands grasped onto another plate that had been draining on the side.

Billy’s mouth pulled up into a sardonic smirk, goading you as if you hadn't already thrown a glass at him. His smile dropped quickly, however, when he found himself having to raise an arm to block the plate as you threw it like a frisbee, this time purposely aiming for his head.

You couldn’t tell whether it was through your fear or your potential concussion, but it felt like everything was moving in slow motion. Billy pushed himself up, chest heaving with hostility as he approached you, and it felt like you were underwater, unable to move quick enough to escape his wrath.

“People like you never learn, do you? What did I tell you last time?” Billy didn’t give you a chance to answer as he — almost tauntingly — made his way toward you with slow, steady steps as he licked his lips, “I said, I wouldn’t be so nice about you hitting me again.”

Thankfully, Max had already darted into action. Grabbing the spare needle from the side, Max dashed toward Billy, injecting him in the neck from behind before he could reach you.

You saw the confusion fall over Billy’s face as he turned slightly, eyes meeting the enraged stare of his step-sister. The room remained quiet, everyone watching with bated breath as Billy tried to step forward but his wobbling legs were unable to hold him up properly, the sedative already working its way through his body.

“What the hell is this?” Billy’s bloodied hands fumbled with the syringe, finally managing to pull it out of his neck before he fell to his knees, “You little shit, what did you do?”

Max sidestepped him easily, the boy’s body seemingly turning boneless as he fell from his knees, flat out onto his back. Still, he continued to jeeringly laugh.

Grabbing the nailed bat and raising it high, Max made her way toward Billy, “From here on out, you leave me and my friends alone. Do you understand?”

“Screw you,” Billy practically babbled, his eyes trying to focus on the redhead.

The bat swung down harshly, right between the boy's legs, causing him to peer down, shock evident on his face.

Ripping the bat from where it stuck into the floor, Max raised it again, “Say you understand! Say it!”

“I understand,” Billy mumbled, his vision tunneling as his fight to remain conscious became a losing battle.

Once it was clear Billy was not waking up any time soon, you all began to move. Dustin and Mike made their way over to Steve, both fussing before Mike rushed off to get a wet cloth in an attempt to wipe off some of the blood, whilst Lucas wrapped an arm around your waist, helping you toward where Steve lay, sprawled across the floor.

“Holy shit,” you grumbled as you took in the boy's battered and bruised face as you rested on your knees next to him. Mike returned with the cloth, handing it to you as you tried your best to stop the blood from gushing out of Steve’s nose. You wouldn’t be shocked if it was broken, especially as one of his eyes was already beginning to blacken and swell.

“I found these,” Dustin huffed, pulling out a few decorated plasters from Mrs. Byers's first aid kit.

“I don’t think they’re gonna do much-”

“We need to get out of here. If we’re gonna do this, we need to leave now.”

“We can’t just leave him,” Dustin huffed. Steve had just almost kicked Billy’s ass for them, he wasn’t about to leave him here.

“Especially not with Billy. If he wakes up first, there’s no knowing what he’ll do.”

Mike’s head whipped around in your direction, “Then what do you suggest?”

Blinking a few times in an attempt to focus your slightly blurred vision, you released a sigh, “You can’t just go down into the tunnels.”

Lucas shook his head, “We can’t just stay here and do nothing, either.”

“I’m not… That’s not what I’m saying,” the group turned toward you, faces shrouded in confusion, “I’m just saying we can’t just go into the tunnels. We need to be able to get out of them, too. And we don’t know what’s down there, or how it affects us. We need supplies.”

Mike stepped forward, eyes watching you warily, “We’re gonna do this? You're in?”

“I thought it was a pretty decent plan, so yeah, I'm in… I'm all in.”

You had argued for a solid five minutes that you should be the one to drive Billy’s car, considering you were the only conscious person in the room old enough for a license. But as you stood to make your way toward Max, hand held out of the keys, your vision tunneled, causing you to stumble, swallowing down the wave of nausea that felt unrelenting.

So, somehow you ended up sitting next to Dustin in the back seat of the Camero, Steve’s head resting on your lap as you held an ice pack to his face, the other hand grasping the passenger seat’s headrest, cursing Max under your breath whenever she took a turn a little too sharply.

Too occupied with keeping yourself firmly in the car, you didn’t notice Steve wake up until he began to grumble, his eyes meeting yours as he gazed up at you. You caught his hand as he tried to rub at his bruised face when Max hit a pothole a little zealously, and placed it back over his chest, “It’s best if you don’t touch it.”

“Hey, buddy,” Dustin cooed, smiling down at Steve as the boy began to look around, unsure of where he was, or how he got there, “It’s okay, you put up a good fight. He kicked your ass, but you put up a fight.”

“Henderson, that’s not really helping.” You scolded the boy as you rearranged the ice pack when Steve tried to bat it away.

“Okay, you’re gonna keep straight for a half mile, then make a left on Mount Sinai.”

“What’s going on?” Steve grumbled, his words slurred slightly as he looked up at Max peering over the steering wheel. Then at you.

Then at Max again, because why the hell was a thirteen-year-old driving?

Adrenaline flooded Steve’s system, causing him to begin to panic, “Oh my god…”

The boy tried to sit up, despite laying across the entire back seat, and essentially over yourself, Dustin, and Mike. Pushing his shoulder, you tried soothing him, “Steve, it’s fine, alright? You just need to calm down-”

“What’s going on?!” He asked, his voice much higher than before as Max floored it. If Steve had panicked before, he was now well on his way to having a coronary, “Stop the car! Slow down!”

“I told you he’d freak out,” Mike glared toward Dustin as Steve continued to do just that, leading to Max screaming at them all to shut up and let her concentrate.

After a — once again — too-sharp left turn, you passed Mount Sinai, taking an all too innocent mailbox with you, your knuckles aching from how hard you clutched at the passenger seat, uncaring if you tore the leather.

That would be the least of Billy’s worries.

#steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington x reader #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington x you #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #steve harrington fic #steve harrington smut

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anki-of-beleriand · 1 year

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Bad Liar ch. 2

Summary: Life is about lessons, and Wanda has been learning some harsh facts that had define her life and taken her to a place in which she was given a second chance. Then, all of a sudden, she meets you, and she realizes why it's easier to lie to yourself than to accpet what's right in front of her.

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff/ Female!reader - America/Kate - Mentions of past Vision/Wanda - past Natasha/Reader - Some Female!Reader/Carol Danvers - Past Shuri/Female!Reader

Warnings: Slow burn - Enemies to friends to lovers - Mentions of abusive relationships - Toxic relationships - angst - drama - mentions of abuse - more tags as the story progress.

Author's note: This chapter was a little hard to write because I want to do an introduction to the situation each one of them is living. But I hope you guys like it, right now Wanda is going through a very difficult time, and Reader is as well though her best defense is to be a little bitchy to hot strangers because it is a nice protective mechanism. It seems everytime Reader meets with Wanda she can't be nice but...well, we will see.

Remember that English is not my mother tongue, so I apologise for any grammar, spelling or funny mistake. I hope you guys enjoy this!

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Chapter 9 - Chapter 10 - Chapter 11 - Chapter 12 - Chapter 13 - Chapter 14 - Chapter 15 - Chapter 16 - Chapter 17 - Chapter 18

Chapter 2 - New lives

Your eyes were still closed.

You could hear the muffled sound of music coming from the first floor, and the sound of America doing a mess on the kitchen. The light from the sun sneaking inside your room through the blinds until the soft hues of yellow light touched your face. Mornings had become harder ever since you lost your parents, the weight of responsibility settled right in as soon as you regained consciousness and your life choices started dancing right in front of you until you decided to stand up.

A heavy sigh left your lips, the mobile resting on your table was flashing with the couple of messages you were receiving already.

“Fuck.” The curse left your lips with a rusty tone, your hand grabbing the phone to see who wrote to you during the night and most of the morning.

After seeing at least four of them, you knew it would be one of those days.

With another sigh, you sat up ready to start the day.

“Fuck all of this.” You mumbled again before turning around and going to the bathroom.

*****

The taste of coffee on your lips was everything you needed to improve your morning.

That, and watching America danced around the kitchen while sorting the breakfast and her lunch for that school day. The both of you were completely different, yet you two were just the same; you father had married a young woman he met just after your mother died in a car accident. At first you were not so sure with the relationship, you were still a child and your mom was just gone and this woman was nothing like her.

Then, America was born, and you forgot everything about her not being your mom.

If America was your little Sister, then Elena could be her mother.

“So, I see that Carol texted you,” America started in a teasing tone, her eyes taking a good glance at you before going back to the pan on the counter, “are you two going out again?”

“You read the message Carol sent, you mean.” You replied rolling your eyes, America shrugged not really caring about the semantics in the conversation.

“I’m your little sister, and you’re not very good with passwords, I can do what I want.”

“You sounded like Loki.” You replied grimacing a little, America turned around arching a single eyebrow at you.

“You’re so not going to go out of this conversation.” America crossed her arms waiting, for a moment you played with the idea of just not saying anything at all, but America would not drop it and she would find out eventually.

“I am seeing her tonight.” You gave in, shrugging. “She has this thing back at the base and wants me there with her.”

“So, you two guys…” America made a gesture with her hands, you snorted shrugging again.

“No idea.” You played with the fruit on your plate furrowing your brows. “I’m not sure if I want to, you know?”

America softened at your confession, your last serious relationship had been Shuri and that didn't end well. Then you found yourself in several affairs that only bring distractions to your life but not real satisfaction, America glanced at the house that used to be the Romanoff household then she turned her attention back at you.

The last year and a half had not been easy, but whereas America had distracted herself with school and friends you had to take the mantle of big sister and heir to the small fortune left by your parents. She knew you had been under a lot of pressure and, any day now, you would explode under it.

Perhaps, going out with Carol Danvers was what you needed it, even though America herself was not so sure about the blond-haired woman.

"I think you deserve to have some fun, and go out for the time being before you decide to settle for something serious." America leaned against the counter offering you a rare smile, you smiled back at her shrugging again.

“We will see, little sister, we will see."

America winced throwing a towel at you, “don’t call me that. Aren’t you late for work?”

“Aren’t you late for school?” You replied back turning your wrist to see the hour.

“Nah, it’s still earlier, and I’m waiting for Kate.”

You nodded standing up and drinking the last of your coffee, the atmosphere change for a moment and you had to wonder if perhaps you were missing something. There was dust of pink on America’s checks, but otherwise nothing seemed amiss.

“Today I have a meeting about dad’s will, and the succession process.” You said softly, this was something you already discussed with America but the subject was still sore for the both of you. “I think we will need to talk about everything, but how about we do it during lunch tomorrow?”

America swallowed her questions; she nodded offering you a weak smile.

“So, you gonna be late today?” She asked and this time around you caught the tone she used.

“No parties, and certainly no sex in the house, is that understood?”

America almost fell down, her face this time around was completely red with her mouth hanging open. You couldn’t help the laugh leaving your lips at her expression, she was looking flustered and indignant.

“I’m not going to have sex!” America almost yelled, and soon she covered her mouth while glaring at you. “What’s wrong with you?”

“With me? What’s wrong with you? You’re going to have the house for yourself and you’re not going to bring Kate…”

“She is a friend!!”

The way America turned red, and how was tapping on the table told you otherwise. You arched your brow, though decided against any further comment seeing as whatever was happening between Kate and America had not been consolidate. Yet.

“Of course, your friend.” You pressed your lips together holding back your laughter, America pressed a hand on her face trying to hide away her embarrassment.

The vibration from your phone broke the moment, you made a face glancing at the name gleaming through the screen. America leaned in, her brows coming together in a familiar gesture that reminded you of Elena. Your face softened grabbing the phone and putting it away, your arms wrapping around the teen before placing a soft kiss on her head.

“Don’t worry about it, Tony is just…being Tony, and I bet this was actually Pepper messaging me from his phone since I didn’t answer her message of this morning.” You stepped aside grabbing your car keys. “Please, be careful and write me if you need anything, okay?”

“Yeah, don’t worry, I’ll be good, I won’t make any parties and…I won’t do anything you wouldn’t do.”

You chuckled shaking your head, if America did half the things you did at her age you would be in great trouble.

The morning was cold, but the sun was just sneaking around the heavy clouds gliding right above the suburbs. The music started inside your car, your mind already on the million things you would need to face once you get to the Stark Tower; a lot of things had to be sorted out and you knew the conversation you had pending with America needed to happen on that very weekend.

If you had been paying attention to your surroundings, you would have noticed the garage door of the house next door opening, and the red car coming out of the garage with a ruckus happening right in the back seat. But as fate might had wanted it, you were just as distracted as the other woman and, by the time you both realized was happening it was late.

The sound of metal hitting metal was quite evident, your eyes opened wide and you stopped just on time before the hit could be worse than it already was.

“Fuck, what the hell?”

The sound had been an exageration of what actually happened. The woman in the red car had hit the metal bin right sepparating your driveway to the one from your neighbour. In all reality, the hit had been worse for her that had a scratch on the back of her car whereas you almost ran the metal bin with yours.

Still, this only meant another delay and the fact that now you had an idiot for a neighbour. You made a face rolling your eyes when you caught the sound of a door closing and footsteps apporaching.

Nothing could have prepared you for the sight in front of you.

Last night, the woman had been a vision, and an afterthought. You never dreamt of meeting her again, and after being an asshole with her and what she needed it you wished you would never see her again.

Yet, her she was.

This time around she looked different.

Her suit was professional looking, and the light makeup with her hairstyle made her look beautiful. There was still a trace of something in her eyes, a lack of light and heavy bags under her eyes but otherwise she was looking so much different to the mess of a woman you had seen the night before.

The worry in her features soon changed to one of annoyance, and this time around her green eyes gleamed with animosity when they too recognized you.

“You!” She spat with old anger she held from your last encounter, you raised an eyebrow and the annoyance you felt at the moment rose inside your chest making you draw a smile that Wanda found equally annoying to the one you wore the night before.

“Damn, you decided to take revenge for the yogurt yesterday?” You let out a half smile, your phone at the ready taking the pictures. “Do you know this is my part of the street, so in theory is your fault?”

“Excuse me?” Wanda couldn’t believe what she was hearing, she stood there for a moment trying to gather her courage after the impact. "What the hell is your malfunction?"

She was still trembling, the cries from the twins resounding in her head and the bad night sleep taking its toll on her. You opened your mouth to speak when your phone started ringing, this time around Pepper was the one calling.

“Look, as interesting as this could turn out to be, I have cameras and everything to proof you fucked up.” You said walking backwards to your car. “Let’s not make a big deal of this, afterall I did not suffer any damage...but I can always point you over to a good driving instructor so this won't happen again? I would hate for next time you hitting my car in the safety of our driveways."

You glanced at your phone, then at your watch and without looking back to a dumbstruck Wanda you waved good-bye.

"Have a good day, Lady!"

Wanda was still trembling when you drove down the street, your mouth opening and closing while discussing with someone over the phone. Wanda clenched her eyes shut, her trembling hand resting on the side of the car while she repeated the same mantra inside her head over and over again.

It wasn’t him; it wasn’t him…it wasn’t him. He doesn’t know you’re here.

The muffled sound of crying made her stirred into action, opening the door she accommodated herself to calm down Billy while Tommy grabbed his favorite blanket closer to his chest. The tears were rolling down her face, she whispered sweet things to Billy while offering a shaky smile until the boy sniffed grabbing Wanda’s hand in his.

Wanda knew she would be late that day, her morning had not been better than her night but at least this time around there was no one around to scream at her, to drag her back into the house for her stupidity and her distracted nature. The car could survive, and she would certainly send the other woman to hell for being a complete asshole but for now the important thing was that she and the kids were safe.

What were the odds that the same stupid woman from the day before was the same one living next door?

Wanda shook her head making sure Billy and Tommy were fine, before going to the front and making her way to the school. That day, her new life would start and she wouldn’t let anyone, specially someone as incredible stupid as the woman next door to mess with her humour, or the new life she was trying to build.

*****

The nursery was filled with children form the faculty, as well as some of the younger siblings of the students going to the Elementary and the High School right next door. The institution was actually one of the few prestigious schools in the country, it had been built for the students with great minds but probably without the resources to afford the best education the country could offer. It had been stablished in the early 50´s and the school board was led by one of the most important women in the educational system in the country.

Natasha Romanoff wrapped her arms tightly around Wanda, the young woman dropped her shoulders and allowed the comfort this gesture brough to her soul. They had met almost a year ago, the last time Wanda had been at the hospital with a broken arm and a knife wound; that day Natasha had offered a way out and Wanda had taken it without any hesitation.

“How are you doing? How was the trip? The house, was of your liking?”

Natasha was beautiful, with a light makeup and red lips matching her hair many confused her beauty for stupidity or even for her being an easy piece of ass. On the contrary, Natasha was a shark amongst a world govern by men, her inner circle was made of great men and women that had been trying to build a better society in the midst of politics and difficulties. She was smart, and assertive with great ideas as how the things at school should be done and her side job had been of great help to women and men around the country that suffered the horrors of violence in their households.

Wanda offered a shaky smile, her eyes dancing around the small room before they settled on the twins.

“It has been…hard.” She replied in a soft voice, “last night I couldn’t help but look at the clock on the wall and…”

Natasha softened nodding; her hand placed on the woman’s arm before she too went to look at the twins that were playing together in a corner.

“It takes time, Wanda, don’t rush yourself.” Natasha then nodded at the twins. “They will get there, and you too.”

“Thank you for everything, the house was…it was amazing.” She then made a face, she wasn’t sure if she should mention the fact her neighbour was a bitch, Natasha noticed her expression and squeezed her arm softly.

“What is it?”

“Oh, nothing just…I have an encounter with this woman, she was a total bitch and…I think that’s the only bad thing that happen to me since getting here, you know?”

Natasha chuckled shaking her head, “well, I’m glad that’s the only bad thing so far, bitchy people are all around the world you just have to ignore them.”

Wanda shrugged nodding, she hesitated for a moment before following Natasha out of the nursery and down a long hall connecting to the main building.

“You will be with the seniors class, they are…special.” Natasha hesitated for a moment before laughing at Wanda’s expression. “Special as in they are in advanced levels but on different fields, not as in troublemakers.”

Wanda made a face shaking her head apologetically, “I didn’t mean…I mean, all children deserve a fair treatment, and being difficult is just part of their grow process or…”

“Oh, don’t misunderstand me, every single student in this place is a troublemaker.” Natasha commented, her lips never loosen up the smile adorning her features. “I think that’s the best part of this job.”

Natasha made a brief description of the building and the students, Wanda was listening attentively admiring everything around her. The students would come in greeting Natasha and herself before running down the halls or screaming or laughing, Wanda couldn’t help the smile adorning her features at the familiarity of it all. She remembered still the day she graduated from University and went right ahead to look for a job, weeks after having married Vis; her life had been amazing up until Vis stated he didn’t like her going out so much and always being late or working at home and much less being around so many kids and their parents.

Wanda’s dream of being a teacher soon came crashing down after a school meeting, it had been innocent enough but that day Wanda learned the true nature of her husband and weeks later she quit.

“This is amazing.” Wanda finally commented with a smile, Natasha nodded signalling the black door down the hall. “This will be your classroom, I know your specialty was English and Spanish, but I also know you have some knowledge of Cultural Studies and literature, that’s what I want you to do with them.”

Wanda nodded enthusiastically, she had received the lesson plan for the semester and the study plan for the whole year. These kids were really high advanced in everything they did and her classes would be a way to help them develop critical thinking and argumentation skills during debates; at least that was what Wanda would like to teach them.

“No one knows about your past, Wanda.” Natasha finally said opening the door and handing the key to Wanda, she walked towards the desk were she had organized the files the young woman would need. “You are here with your maiden name, and with a nice backstory, remember that.”

“I will, Natasha. I don’t know…I really don’t know how to thank you for everything you have done for me.” Wanda finally stated turning to the woman, her eyes gleaming with unshed tears. “I will do my best, I…thank you.”

“Don’t need to thank me, Wanda.” Natasha offered another hug to the woman. “That’s what we’re here for, remember that part of the process is talking about it and you have a meeting with Hope tomorrow.”

“I know, I will be there.” Wanda then leaned back chewing on her lip with uncertainty, Natasha furrowed her brow tilting her head.

“What is it?”

“The twins, I mean…I can’t take them with me but…”

Natasha nodded understanding what Wanda meant, she pointed with her head to the classroom chuckling.

“You have at least twenty teens in this place, you can ask one of them to babysit for you.” Natasha shook her head before Wanda could reply. “You will need a babysitter either way, you can ask around and if you’re still unsure, come over later on and I will help you with that.”

Once Natasha left, Wanda was left alone in the classroom.

This place was like nothing she had seen before, the desks and the walls, the windows and the general decoration was relaxing and actually quite homey. Wanda sat on her desk, the laptop resting there had her name already and the password ended up being her employee ID. She started looking around the different files, the names of her students and what each one of them had been doing up until that point. Natasha was not kidding when she said all of them were gifted in some way.

It wasn’t only about Academy, most of them were either good at sports or arts, some of them were pretty good at politics and science. The good and the bad was included in the files, and Wanda realized that even if everything was looking pretty and organise there were internal problems that sometimes affected the overall performance.

Wanda learned that one of her students was a loner, not a single friend and with absent parents. Another one lost her parents in a car accident and her big sister ended up taken care of her. One of the kids was living with his uncles, and another one found recently he was adopted with a real father that almost killed him when he went to confront him.

Wanda jumped on her chair when the door of the classroom open and a group of girls came right in, all of them talking loudly until they realized the room was not empty.

“Oh, sorry I…we didn’t know there was someone in here already…” America hesitated for a moment, her eyes wide open observing the woman sitting at the professor’s desk.

“Oh, please!” Wanda stood up smiling tentatively at the group. “Come on in, we’re about to start.”

“What’s the delay, Chavez? Move it!” Yelena went right in pushing through the group until she stopped dead on her tracks, scowling openly at the woman standing in the room. “Who the hell are you?”

“Yelena!” Kate and America exclaimed at the same time, Wanda opened her eyes surprised, she took a breath trying to calm down her beating heart.

“I’m Wanda Maximoff, the new teacher.”

______________________________________________________________

Rain had started falling again.

This time around, it was a mild drizzle with low temperatures and strong winds. Wanda sighed looking at the time on her watch walking down the halls leading to the nursery. Even with the bad weather, and with the tiredness of the day, Wanda couldn’t wipe the smile from her face. She was back in the classroom, and she had enjoyed the class itself too much. Her students were smart, they would participate in every activity she proposed and in general the different classes she had given that day had been a success.

It was as if she was recovering a small part of her life she lost all those years ago.

With her body almost giving up, she turned around the corner noticing at that moment the loud conversation at the other end of the hall.

Loki crossed his arms glaring at the five year old boy that was glaring at him equally annoyed, America and Kate both hid their smiles behind their hands while Yelena and Kamala were just waiting exasperated.

“Now!” Loki barked to which the boy shook his head stomping his feet on the ground.

“No!”

Inside the room, Billy and Tommy were watching wide eye the scene, their eyes lit up as soon as they saw the familiar form of their mother coming to the room.

“MOM!” The group jumped at the exclamation; Wanda softened slightly kneeling down to receive the hugs from the twins.

“Professor Maximoff.” America turned slightly, softening under the scene. “Oh, we didn’t know you have children. Hey there, guys.”

America knelt down offering a half smile to the twins, the two boys glanced at her then back at Wanda that was smiling tiredly at everyone.

“Yes, they are Billy.” She said pointing to the boy wearing the green shirt. “And Tommy. Children, these are my students, America, Kate, Yelena, Kamala and Loki.”

Yelena crossed her arms, though she was impressed by the memory of the new teacher. Kate and Kamala did the same as America kneeling down to greet at the twins while Loki and the blond-haired kid were still in a glaring contest.

“Hi.” Tommy mumbled snuggling closer to Wanda, the young woman glanced at Loki then at the kid.

“Are you guys okay? You need any help?” She asked tentatively, America chuckled standing up while shaking her head.

“Nah, this is…like their bonding time, happens every time.”

“Balder refuses to use his jacket, Loki refuses to get him out of here without the jacket.” Continued Kate shrugging.

“And then, Loki would blackmail the kid, and everyone is happy.” Finished Yelena eyeing the woman in front of her.

Wanda lifted her eyebrows half amused and half confused by this, she glanced at Tommy and Billy both of them looking in disapproval.

“I see, guys go for your jackets, we’re leaving.” Wanda watched as Tommy grabbed Billy’s hand dragging him back inside the room.

“They’re so cute, Professor.” Kate offered shyly.

“Thank you, they can be a handful, though.” Wanda replied softening slightly. “Double the trouble, but quite worth it.”

America was about to speak when Loki huffed lifting his arms in defeat.

“Fine! One ice cream and one chocolate bar, nothing else.”

Balder smirked nodding stretching his little hand to him, before running back to the nursery. Loki shook his eyes glaring at everyone lifting a single finger.

“Not a word.” Loki straightened up directing his usual charming smile to the older woman. “Professor Maximoff, glad to see you around, I hope you have a wonderful day?”

Wanda opened her eyes slightly, her lips curling slightly at the over politeness from Loki.

“I did, thank you, Loki.”

America rolled her eyes, and Wanda realized this was really something that happened on a daily basis. She watched as her children came back in, for a brief moment she hesitated with her eyes dancing around the room then back to the twins.

“Mom, we’re ready!”

“I’m hungry.”

Wanda leaned in putting some strands of hair out of Billy’s face, “I know baby, we’re going home and making your favourite today.”

Billy’s eyes lit up nodding enthusiastically, Wanda straightened up ready to say good-bye when something else pushed inside her mind.

“Well, I think this is it for today,” she smiled at the teens grabbing the twins on each hand, she hesitated for a moment before speaking again, “I hope you kids have a great rest of the afternoon and a nice weekend.”

“Thank you, ma’am, I wish the same for you.” Loki replied bowing his head, Kamala hit him on his arm shaking her head exasperate.

“Stop the theatrics.” Kamala turned to the older woman waving slightly. “Bye, Professor, happy weekend.”

“I didn’t know she had children.” Yelena finally said once she was sure Wanda was out of earshot. “Actually, we don’t know much about her, don’t you think?”

Kamala shrugged writing over her phone, “so what? She deserves her privacy, and I think her class was pretty cool.”

“I’m not talking about that, I know it was cool.” Yelena scoffed crossing her arms. “I just…Natasha has been quite mysterious about this new teacher, and now that we met her well…she didn’t say much about herself when she introduced to us.”

“Don’t tell me you’re suspecting her of something, Yelena.” Kate shook her head bumping into the other woman. “I thought she was nice, and quite smart.”

“And beautiful.” Loki chimed in, his eyes glassing over dreamily. “Did you see her eyes? Her hair? Her face?”

America nodded standing beside Loki, Kate shot her a quick glance rolling her eyes.

“I have to agree with Loki, Professor Maximoff is quite beautiful”

“She is hot, I agree.” Yelena made a face when Kamala and Kate glanced at her. “I’m Ace not an idiot, I can say she is hot without wanting to jump her bones…I’m not like these two.”

America and Loki made a face quite offended.

“I don’t want to jump her bones!” America defended herself. “I just think she is hot!”

“I wouldn’t say know, she doesn’t look that old, but she has children, ergo she is married.” Loki replied shrugging.

“That and Sylvie probably kills him if she finds out.” Kamala mumbled chuckling, Loki flushed ready to reply until Balder grabbed his hand putting on him.

“Are we ready, Loki?”

“Let us not discuss this anymore.” Loki glared at Kamala who was about to reply with a teasing smile on her lips. “I don’t have more money to blackmail the brat over here.”

“I’m not a braaat!”

The discussion went on between Loki and Balder, America stood right beside Kate making sure Yelena dragged Kamala down the hall with the arguing from the brothers filling up the emptiness in the building. Kate turned to America, her smile growing big when she noticed the other woman looking at her with some nervousness noticeable in her posture.

“What is it?”

“Oh, no, I just…” America hesitated for a moment, she had the whole speech prepare until her eyes fell on a small lump on the ground. “What’s that?”

Kate sighed rolling her eyes, she turned to see America standing up with what look like a blue blanket with cars and football balls on it.

“I think that’s a blanket,” Kate said chuckling while looking around the place then back at America. “Do you think this belongs to one of the kids from Professor Maximoff?”

America shrugged turning around before grabbing Kate’s hand, “come, let’s see if she is still in the parking lot.”

Kate flushed nodding, her hand closing tightly around America’s one.

Wanda massaged the bridge of her nose, Tommy was complaining and she just noticed his favourite blanket was not with them. She was trying to think of a solution, she couldn’t go back to the building without putting the children out of the baby seats the rain was starting to fall harder and faster, and she was already soaking wet from the effort of putting them protectively in the car.

Thunder broke into the sky, Billy opened his eyes with tears forming in his eyes. Wanda was about to say something when her name being called made her look back. She could see America and Kate coming over, one of them holding a familiar sight.

“Oh, God, you found it!” The relief was quite evident in her face, America stood there breathing hard passing over the blanket with a smile.

“I think this is yours.”

“You don’t know how much I love you right now.” Wanda exclaimed going back in to hand the item over to Tommy.

America blushed lightly smiling sheepishly at her new teacher, Wanda was a mess at the moment but she smiled tiredly at both teens.

“Thank you, really, Tommy…he can’t sleep without that.” Wanda then opened her eyes wide looking around then pointing at her car. “Do you guys need a ride? You can’t go around with this weather…”

“Oh, no, no, don’t worry, Professor, we just thought we bring you this and then…we…go back…”

“Are you sure? I wouldn’t mind, and it’s the least I can do…” Wanda started but Kate shook her head smiling politely at her.

“Don’t worry, Professor, really, my car is down the other parking lot.”

America furrowed her brows, then she too nodded at Wanda who smile at them.

“Okay, then, go. This rain could be bad for you guys.”

Before Kate and America could walk away, Wanda straightened up loosing her nervousness and her inadequacy with the situation itself.

“Kate! America!” the teens stopped turning around with questioning glances on their faces. “By any chance, do you know anyone interested in a babysitter job?”

America blinked a couple of times at the question, she could see the question in Wanda’s eyes as well as the small hint of desperation in her green eyes. Without thinking too much, America nodded with her lips curled into a smile.

“I am.”

Kate opened her eyes for a moment before frowning slightly, Wanda’s expression lit up and relief was quite evident in her eyes.

“You do, really?”

“Yeah, sure, when do you need me to help?” America said letting go of Kate’s hand for a moment before putting her phone out.

“Oh, well, if it is not too short notice, tomorrow at around 2pm?”

Kate crossed her arms looking everywhere but at America or their new teacher, she tried to scare her thoughts away. She tried to convince herself this was America being America and always ready to help everyone; but she couldn’t help but remember the conversation they held in the nursery.

She is hot.

So what? Professor Maximoff was off limits, right? First, she was a teacher, and second you was an adult, probably the same age as America’s sister so…Anyway, why did it bother Kate so much? It wasn’t as if America and her…as if anything was happening…

“Hey, Kate, you okay?” Kate jumped shocked, America was standing in front of her with a creased of her brows.

“yeah, you…” Kate shook her head noticing they were alone in the parking lot, under the rain of mid-afternoon. “You ready?”

“Yeah, Professor Maximoff said she will text me later for the details.” America said smiling. “You know? I just thought, she needed help and…”

“Right, and America Chavez jumped right into the rescue. As always.” Kate huffed stepping back and giving her back to the young woman. “Never mind the woman is hot as hell, right?”

“What? What are you talking about?” America was confused, Kate shot her a glare before shaking her head.

“Never mind, come Loki and the others must be waiting for us.”

Kate walked away without looking back at America, and America felt something was amiss with the sudden change of attitude from Kate but, for her life, that she couldn’t pinpoint what it was.

On her car, driving down the streets through the rain and the babbling from the twins Wanda smiled in relief. She had solved the problem for the babysitter, and her appointment with Hope Pym could take place without any issue.

Finally, it seemed as if the world was smiling at her, and her life was going back to what it should have been.

The incident of that morning completely forgotten.

______________________________________________________________

#Wanda/Female!Reader #fanfic #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #imagine wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x female reader #wandaxreader #reader #female reader #personal #MCU AU #wanda maximoff x f!reader

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spaceyaceface · 10 months

Text

Anger - Safety Ch 5

Ominis Gaunt x f!Ravenclaw!Reader (Reader is not MC)

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: Fighting, angst

Summary: Y/N L/N had always despised Ominis Gaunt. He was everything she hated about her life. As the only daughter to a wealthy pure-blood family, she knew it was inevitable that she would someday find herself in an arranged marriage.

But why did it have to be him?

Or, a classic arranged marriage, enemies to lovers, slow burn.

Also available on AO3

Chapter One | Chapter Four

Ominis tapped his foot as he leaned against the common room wall, lost in thought at what he’d done not long before.

He’d shown her the Undercroft. It had taken him a good year or two before he’d even shown Anne and Sebastian—and yet, after no more than a few conversations, he’d brought her down there to bask in his safe haven.

And he hadn’t even stopped there; no, he’d gone on to tell her more secrets, giving them up before he had a chance to reconsider.

The strangest part of it all was that he couldn’t find it in himself to regret it.

Because she’d opened as well. In so few words, they came to the realization that they were both a bit broken, a bit bitter about the things that had been done to them. They’d admitted they still lived in fear of what could come next.

And in the end, she called him Ominis.

It was curious how impactful hearing his name from her lips was. Before, she’d only referred to him as Gaunt. Her switch, though there was likely no thought behind it, made a strange warmth blossom inside him. Perhaps she was finally seeing he was truly not like his family.

It was an odd bond they were forming—he knew that. They’d been pushed together by forces they hated, but found something… decent. Something worthwhile. She’d said it herself; if those same forces hadn’t put a wedge between them many years before, maybe they’d have had that bond—that friendship—earlier.

Friend. Ominis found himself smiling a bit at that as he walked up the stairs to his dorm room, the night having grown very late. He’d found refuge in Sebastian and Anne for so long, not feeling it was worth the risk to go beyond the careful world he’d built. But maybe it was finally time to open the door once more.

She tried to walk in quietly. The hour was late—or perhaps it was better to call it early at that point. She’d stayed in the Undercroft for quite some time, lost in her thoughts. It was soothing, being in a place where she knew no one would disturb her. In all honesty, she’d lost track of how long it had been, and rushed back up the Ravenclaw tower as soon as it hit her.

Unfortunately, the common room wasn’t as empty as she would have liked.

Constance sat on the couch, arms folded. Her face was mostly covered in shadow, the room dark, but Y/N could imagine the deep frown on her friend’s face.

“Are you aware it’s nearly three in the morning?” Constance said. Y/N winced.

“I am now. Honestly, I lost track of time,” she said honestly.

“Well I sure didn’t. It’s been nine hours since I saw you last, would you care to explain what on earth happened in that time?”

She sighed heavily, plopping down on the sofa next to her friend. “I’m sorry.”

Constance’s frown softened a bit. “I’ve just been worried about you.. You’ve been off for some time now, and then you get called into Black’s office… what’s going on?”

The truth burned in her throat. She wanted to tell her, confide in her. But… but how do you tell your best friend your life had all but ended, and there was nothing you could do about it?

Her blonde friend would do something stupid, she was sure of it. She’d write a letter to her parents herself, insist on making plans to run away, challenge her father to a duel… she just didn’t understand. Couldn’t understand.

So she decided to bend the truth. Just enough.

“My parents came to talk to me,” she said. Constance’s eyes widened. In their years of friendship, she’d never met her parents—she was very careful to avoid that, given they would have been extremely upset about Constance’s blood status.

“They were here? They came all the way to Hogwarts? What for?”

“They… they wanted to talk about my… future. My father doesn’t really want me to have a career or anything—”

Constance scoffed. “Doesn’t want you to have a career? With your skill? What’s he on about?”

“He just wants me to settle down with… with someone and produce an heir,” she said. “That’s how things are done in some pureblood families, like mine. He came to insist I stop arguing and follow the tradition.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Constance said. “You told him off, didn’t you?”

She stayed quiet for a moment. “I told him what I needed to.”

Her friend’s brows furrowed. “What’s that supposed to mean? Are you just going to roll over and play dead just because he tells you to?”

Y/N sighed. This was exactly why she couldn’t tell her everything. “It means it’s a lot more delicate that you realize, Constance. I’m doing what I can. Trust me.” Her voice was firm, but Constance only frowned deeper.

“And where were you after that?” Constance demanded.

“Taking some time to clear my head,” she said simply.

“Alone?”

“Yes.”

Constance stared her in the eyes, and she stared right back, hoping she couldn’t see any lie that might show itself there.

“And what does any of this have to do with Gaunt?”

She willed her face to remain straight. “Nothing.”

Constance didn’t believe her. It was obvious in the way she scrunched up her nose, the way her eyes narrowed. But Y/N held firm, making it clear she wasn’t going to give anything else up.

“Fine,” Constance said softly. “We should get to bed. It’s late.”

Without another word, Constance stood up and left for their dorm, and Y/N let her careful demeanor collapse. She’d get over this, she told herself. There were just some things she couldn’t understand. Things she didn’t ever want her friend to understand.

She got up and walked to her bed, collapsing onto it without bothering to change out of her robes.

It would be fine.

The next morning, though a little tense, passed without much incident. Constance was a bit short in her replies, but they still ate breakfast together and walked to class just as they normally did. Y/N was feeling much better about the two of them getting past this by the time the two separated for classes. She headed off to Ancient Runes, her favorite subject, while Constance went back to the common room for her free period.

After being given the task of writing a ten inch essay on a particular artifact, Y/N went back to her dorm to see Constance. She opened the door, knowing Constance was on the other side.

“Blimey, as much as I love Ancient Runes, it keeps me too busy. If I wasn’t going into the department of—”

She froze, taking in the hard expression on Constance’s face. She had a letter clutched tightly in her hand, and Y/N would recognize the wax seal anywhere, even after it had been broken

“Where… where did you get that?” she said softly, straightening.

“Your owl dropped it on your bed,” Constance answered, taking a step closer to her. “It’s from your parents.”

She ripped the letter from her friend’s hand, opening and unfolding it quickly. A quick scan over the words confirmed her worst fears—it was more threats from her father, reiterating his visit the day before and telling her that she should consider herself lucky a family like the Gaunts would allow her to join them.

“You stole it and read it?” she asked, looking back up to her friend, voice shaking with barely controlled anger.

“I knew you weren’t telling me everything,” Constance said.

“What gave you the right to—”

“I’ve been worried about you,” Constance interrupted. “You haven’t been yourself, and I knew it had something to do with Gaunt. Why on earth didn’t you tell me?”

“This is my problem,” she said, voice trembling. “I don’t need you fighting my battles for me.”

“The way that letter sounded, you’re not fighting at all.”

“You don’t—”

“It’s too bad your parents aren’t still here, I would’ve given them a piece of my mind just like I did Gaunt.”

It was like a bucket of ice water had been poured over her, a chill striking her body. “You… you talked to Ominis?”

Constance frowned. “What was I supposed to do? Let him stake his claim over my best friend with no consequences?”

“What did you say to him?” she demanded.

Constance narrowed her eyes. “Nothing you wouldn’t have said.”

Her heart dropped. The girl Constance knew would have said horrible things. Hurtful things. Things that weren’t true in the slightest. She’d fed her friend years and years worth of complaints and rumors, taking out the anger and resentment of the life she was forced to live on a boy she never even knew. She’d said enough of those things to his face already, but that had been just scratching the surface. If Constance had repeated a fraction of what she’d told her over the years…

She turned toward the door, determined to set things right as soon as possible. But a hard grip on her arm tugged her back, and she whipped back around to face Constance with a glare.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Constance asked.

“To apologize to Ominis.”

Her friend’s mouth fell open before contorting to an absolutely furious expression. “You’re apologizing to him? Isn’t it me you’ve been lying to this whole time?”

“You don’t understand!” she spat out, retching her arm free from the blonde’s hold. “Things are different. He’s different, I was wrong—”

“Does he have you under the Imperius Curse?” Constance said sharply. “Because last I checked, you hated him.”

Her jaw dropped at the accusation, but Constance kept going.

“Last I checked, you hated your parents and the things they stood for. Now here you are, off to marry Ominis Gaunt without a complaint, like the obedient daughter you used to despise.”

Constance didn’t know, she tried to remind herself. She didn’t know the first thing about playing with fire. Of walking on embers and trying not to be burned. She didn’t know how it felt to be backed into a corner when the world caught fire around her. She didn’t know a life of fear.

“You don’t know anything,” she hissed. She didn’t even catch a glimpse at the way Constance’s face fell as she turned heel and fled from the room.

The letter was still gripped in her hand, but she hardly noticed as she left the common room, her soul focus on finding the one soul that knew anything of burning houses and life breathing smoke.

She had to find him. Had to tell him what Constance said wasn’t true, that God, she was wrong, she was so wrong, please I need someone to burn with—

But finding him was proving to be much harder than she would have liked. It was possible that he was somewhere she couldn’t go—like the Slytherin common room. But she asked a few Slytherin students, who looked at her strangely as they heard the frantic tone of her voice, and confirmed that he hadn’t gone up there after class.

Just before dinner she realized what an idiot she’d been. The Undercoft, of course. As students rushed toward the Great Hall, she moved against the flow to the Defense Against the Dark Arts tower.

And finally, she spotted him.

“Ominis!” she called out, rushing to him. He hadn’t entered the Undercoft—not yet—but he had been heading towards it. He turned around, the wand in his hand glowing with it’s soft red light.

“Ominis, I’ve been trying to find, you I’m so—”

“Has it occurred to you I didn’t want to be found?” he spat out, his tone bitter.

She stopped in her tracks. “I… I needed to talk to you.”

“I think you’re friend did quite enough talking,” he seethed, turning toward the Undercroft once more.

She reached out, trying to grab his wrist, but he shook her off. His face was twisted in anger—in pain.

God, what had she done?

“What?” he growled out. “What more could you possibly have to add to her words?”

“Nothing,” she breathed out. “Do you think I asked her to say those things?”

“It seems you didn’t have to,” he said quietly.

Tears began to blur her vision. He was slipping away—there was nothing she could do. “Ominis,” she begged. “Ominis, please.”

“I shouldn’t have let you in,” he said softly, turning to leave once more. “I should never have let you in.”

And then he was gone, leaving her alone with tears streaming down her face.

She skipped dinner for the second night in a row. She felt like a ghost as she floated through the halls, trying to be numb to all that had happened. But it was impossible—it wasn’t long until it hit her full force and she had to stop walking, sitting on a bench in the courtyard she’d wandered into. The cool of the evening air helped her to breathe, but it still didn’t help much.

That’s when it occurred to her that she was completely and utterly on her own.

She hadn’t felt like this since she was a child, hiding away in the manor when Diane, the one servant who had ever treated her with kindness, left for a week’s time to help her dying mother. She remembered curling up against a wall, trying to blend in to the marble and telling herself that if she could just survive the week, she’d be alright.

But there was no end to the loneliness this time around. No one would be coming back. She’d ruined all of it.

It was amazing, really, how she had destroyed everything in one fell swoop. She should try to fix things with Constance, but she doubted an apology would settle this so easily. She’d made a choice when she chased after Ominis—one that surely let her friend assume where her loyalties lied. She’d chosen him, not her. Not her best friend who had sat by her side for nearly seven years.

Yet she couldn’t find it in herself to regret that choice. Not entirely.

The outcome had been her worst nightmare; but how could she have just let Ominis think a word of what was said was what she thought of him?

She buried her head in her hands as she thought about him, her heart aching. They had just become friends. Just barely started to build that trust, to acknowledge the understanding they had with one another.

And now it was gone.

The loss of that possibility made new tears flow as she sat there, regret tainting her every thought. How could she have made so many mistakes to lead to this?

Time passed by, and she still sat there, unsure of where else to go. She couldn’t go back to her common room. If she didn’t start yelling at her, Constance would likely just ignore her, and both of those options sounded like torture. The only other place she knew would grant her solitude was obviously not an option, as it was already occupied by the person who had showed it to her.

So she sat there, waiting for some prefect or professor to come by and give her detention as curfew came and went. She couldn’t find it in herself to care.

She thought that was exactly what happened when a figure appeared in the shadows, stopping quickly as it spotted her. It approached, and suddenly there was Sebastian Sallow—someone she knew for certain was not a prefect.

He frowned at her. She was sure she looked a mess—puffy eyes rimmed with red, hair mussed from running her hands through it. Still, she stared up at him, daring him to question her about it. He was Ominis’s friend. Surely he knew why his friend was off brooding somewhere, and would have a word or two to say about it, just like Constance had.

But instead, his expression softened and he tilted his head. “Are you alright?”

The tension in her shoulders released a bit, her preparations for being scolded melting away. “I… I’m fine,” she said softly. Yeah right. “Shouldn’t you be off with… with Ominis?”

The brunette pressed his lips together before coming to sit on the bench beside her. “That’s where I was heading. I wanted to give him some alone time to cool down after things with Constance… I’m guessing you ran into him in the meantime?”

She hung her head. “I went to try to apologize. He didn’t—well, he didn’t really let me.” She glanced up at him. “Is he alright?”

Sebastian chuckled. “He’s left you crying like this and you’re asking if he’s ok?”

“But it’s all my fault,” she pressed.

“Last I checked it was Constance who was telling him off, not you.”

“She was repeating things I’d told her,” she insisted. “And she wouldn’t have done it if I hadn’t lied to her about—about—”

“The engagement?” Sebastian finished.

She gaped up at him. “Did she tell you?” God, was she out there telling the whole school, on top of the damage she’d already done?

“No,” Sebastian said. “Ominis told me. I was with him when he got that first letter. I’ve always known.”

She let out a deep breath. At least there weren’t rumors being spread around—yet.

Sebastian’s brows furrowed. “You never told her?”

She shook her head softly. “You saw how she reacted tonight. She’s always insisted in trying to take things into her own hands, even when she’ll do more damage than good.”

“How did she find out?”

She sighed, passing him the crumpled letter that she’d still held through it all. Sebastian glanced over it as she spoke. “She stole it off my bed and read it while I was in class. She must have found Ominis in that time, too. We… we fought when I realized what she’d done.”

“Is that why you’re out here?”

A small nod was all she could muster as her eyes tears up once again. “I can’t face her right now,” she mumbled. “I can’t. I don’t know where to go.”

Sebastian sat there for a second, clearly thinking. “Ominis showed you the Undercroft last night, didn’t he?” he said.

“He told you that?”

“Yeah. Wanted to give me a heads up in case you showed up there.”

“Doesn’t really matter or not if he showed me,” she muttered. “He’s there right now. I can’t really face him, either.”

“Look,” Sebastian said. “I’ll talk to him tonight and get him up to our common room. Then you can stay the night in there.”

Her head shot up as she stared at him. “You’d do that for me?”

He nodded. “This whole thing is a mess. You’ve been hurt as much as anyone. Least I can do is help you get a good night’s sleep somewhere you can’t get detention.” He seemed to hesitate a moment before speaking. “The fact that Ominis ever showed you the Undercroft… he doesn’t trust easy. When he’s afraid of getting hurt, he throws up his walls. He says things he doesn’t mean. He’s always been that way.”

She stayed quiet, listening to him.

“He’ll come around. If he’s stuck by me for this long, after all the idiotic things I’ve done, you’ve got nothing to worry about.” He offered her a small smile. “Give me a few minutes. There’s blankets in the cabinet to the left once you get in there. I’ll go talk to him.”

“I—” She found herself getting choked up at his kindness. Sebastian had always been nice, as far as Syltherins went, but she’d never thought it would extend to her at a time like this. “Thank you, Sebastian. Ominis is lucky to have a friend like you.”

He bumped his shoulder with hers before he stood up. “He’s not the only one. I trust Ominis’s judgment. If he’s taken a shine to you, I’m sure I will, too.”

She gave him a small smile.

He began to retreat from the courtyard before looking back. “Remember, cabinet—”

“To the left,” she finished. “I’ve got it.”

The silence seemed louder with him gone, and her stomach churned in anxiety as she waited. Sebastian had been friends with Ominis for years—was he right? Would this all find a way to work out? She hoped so.

It was a good half an hour before she finally stood, legs stiff from staying in one spot for so long. The Undercroft was empty, just as Sebastian promised it would be. She was grateful all over again as she pulled the blankets from the cupboard, laying them out and curling up in their warmth.

Sleep was slow in coming as the events of the last two days replayed painfully in her head. She wasn’t sure how she would mend things with Constance. Or if her newly formed friendships with Ominis and Sebastian would survive. She wasn’t sure of anything, and it scared her.

What scared her most was the small bit of hope trying to ignite itself in her chest.

Chapter Six

A/N: oops :)

TAGLIST:

@skarathewitch @cherryflavoredcoke @phoenix666stuff @wt-fxck @shameless0shenanigans @fitzs-trained-monkey @mxmia @vee-mage

#ominis gaunt #ominis gaunt x reader #ominis gaunt x mc #ominis gaunt x you #ominis x reader #ominis gaunt safety #ominis x mc #ominis x you #ominis gaunt fanfiction #hogwarts legacy #ominis gaunt imagine

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abcketchup · 11 months

Text

This is just something random that i wrote years ago. Just thought to make small slow burn drabbles out of this, what do you think??

Drabbles, best friends to enemies to lover ???

Warning : mentioned of cheating.

Jimin x Reader

you hate this. you really really hate this. “can you be disgusting and suck faces somewhere else?” and you snap. the two of so called as homo sapiens in front of you finally detach from each other faces. ew, is that string of- saliva? yuck. “aww, come on y/n. live a little, have fun, fall in love, suck faces, makes babies. you only live once. right, baby?” jimin smooch his girlfriend’s little nose and she giggles while you gag. jimin has this fond look on his face while he stare at his girlfriend. it’s disgusting and a little itty bitty tiny hurts a bit. you did love jimin, as more than friend, but before you get to confessed, suddenly he has a girlfriend and now you have to swallow down all the feelings you have into your guts and make it platonic. move on. the question is, do you?

you shut the book and pack your bag. “where you going?” jimin asked while his arm around his girlfriend, head rest on his girlfriend shoulder. he looks so content that it made your stomach feels funny. his girlfriend just show that side glance which means she is glad that you gone now. yes, she hates you but girl, you don’t care. “i’m going to ‘live a little’ as you ask me to” standing up you give him last look, “bye.” and you gone.

few days later, you’ve been studying for your test in the library. it’s quiet, yes obviously but you know, when the library is pack with people, there will be a lot of little hush and whispers here and there, but no. today is literally quiet, like a graveyard. and it’s pleasant, you love it. not until you heard someone moaning. ugh, these motherfuckers, you swear. “ahh- mngh” wait, why does it sounds, familiar? “mngh-“ that familiar girl moaning again. you slowly stand up, trying your best to not make any screeching noise from the chair, and each of your steps are careful. you swear you’re not a pervert. it’s just the girl sounded so familiar but the man is- different? you hide behind the shelves near to them and slowly you level down, by now you’re crawling. peeping from behind you saw a boy, broad shoulders which wrapped with your college baseball team jacket, hovering the girl. that girl arm tightly wrapped around that boy’s neck, she is scratching the boy’s hair and you squint to see the bracelet. it’s jimin’s bracelet. his precious lucky charms hang on it. with his initial name that clearly spell PARKJIMIN. that’s jimin’s girlfriend. you gasp. “fuck, someone’s here” the boy hastily turn around, “no, baby. there’s no one.” jimin’s girlfriend whine, coaxing the boy’s attention back to her. “come here.” and the kissing noises continue, while you tightly hold your mouth against your hand. body tightly planted on the shelves behind you. what the hell ?

throwing your bag to the side and you dive face down on top of your bed. what will you do now? what are you gonna do now? how are you gonna tell jimin ? do you wanna tell jimin ? but jimin needs to know, he deserve to know. fuck, what the hell is wrong with her? jimin is perfect, he’s loyal, handsome, a good dancer, cute, funny. why that bitch have to-, “arghhhh!” you groans out loudly into your pillow. suddenly you sit up. “whatever it is, jimin have to know”

you call jimin, and he still at the dance studio. he just finish his practice and you said you want to meet him, real quick. thankfully it just 5 minutes away from your house which is right now you feel like you are racing with your mom’s car. afraid if you wait any second, you will change your mind and be stupid. is this okay? what if he’s not going to believe you? maybe you should just- shaking your head to shoo away that thought, you determined.

“hey y/n! you’re here!” he beamed. he’s sweaty, the fact he just finished his practice, and out of breath -which is hot, - which is not the matter right now. “well, i just need to tell you something.” you fidgety, “if you have some time to spare”

jimin’s brow furrowed, confused. “of course.” he nodded, “let me grab my bag real quick” he rush and pick up his bag, say few goodbyes to his others members and coach before he walk out with you. “what’s wrong y/n? you have problem?” he looks at you, concerned. god, he is an angel. caring about people, yet his witch girlfriend- you shake your head. “no, jimin. let’s talk inside the car.”

and now, you sitting in driver seat while jimin beside you. how the hell are you gonna start? ‘okay jimin, your girlfriend cheated on you’. that’s too straight. ‘okay jimin, i somehow saw your girlfriend kissing this boy. you know what it meant?’ god no! that’s too, ugh. oh my god, how are you supposed to- “y/n? what’s wrong?” jimin’s voice snapped you from your train of thoughts that about to collides. you take a deep breath, hands tightly grip on steering wheel while eyes intently staring ahead, and “jimin, i saw your girlfriend in the library” one of his brow’s quirk. “and?” another deep breath you take in, “and she was kissing this boy from the baseball team.” silence. not a good sign. deep breath “she cheats on you” silence, then a laugh breaks out from his lips which made you turn to him instantly, “wh- what are you- are you kidding me?” he said in between his laugh. confused, you tried again, “god, jimin! i’m serious! i saw her today, at the library! clearly! she was kissi-“ “stop!” he cut you off. his face morphed in seriousness that you rarely see on him. “you say that one more time y/n, i swear i-“ he didn’t finish his words and you don’t even want to know the rest of his words. “you know what y/n? i know you love me, more than a friend should.” your eyes wide, how did he- “i saw in one of your notes, a scribbled. but i shut it down. and i know you love me, you like me, and that’s why right now you’ve been making this stupid scheme to me because you’re jealous.” he stare you down, like you some kind of meat, that he disgust. it’s hurts. tears welled up in your eyes which you try so hard for it to not fall down. “i don’t like you y/n. i love you, but just as a friend. i respect your feelings that’s why i didn’t say anything after i found out. but right now, you’re making up a lie just because i have a girlfriend and you are jealous. i hate a liar. and you know that, since you grew up with me” he makes face, that face when he hates someone. he hate you. oh no, you shake your head. “wait jimin, no! i’m not jealous, i’m not lying! it’s true! i saw-“ “STOP !” he yell and you flinch. he never raise his voice to you. never. and to think of it, he never let you explain. he is fulls with rage, and you know how jimin’s get with loyalty issue. both of you just stare at each other with different feelings in each of your both eyes. one with hates, another one with sadness. “don’t come to me anymore. don’t talk to me. we’re done.” he open the door and left you there. in your mom’s car. the tears you’ve been holding all the time, streams down. like a faucet when it’s tap open. it never stop.

you staring at the rabbits in their cage. somehow you feel the rabbits must be really uncomfortable from your staring. that’s why it keeps turning around, you guess. but you don’t care, you skip the sport festival -which is compulsory for your batch-, not wanting to see jimin with his so called girlfriend eye fucking each other because they were somehow thought it is sexy to wear sport clothes. whatever. it’s been a week now since the last time that you and jimin- you sigh. when jimin said, ‘we’re done’ somewhat it feels like your relationship is over with him. yes it is, your friendship. your friendship keychain on his phone also gone. -you still keep yours, pathetically- it’s a keychain where you both bought it together- jimin likes this stuff, that’s why his girlfriend has that bracelet, so fucking lucky- when you went to a mini trip to his friend’s grandmother house, taehyung. it’s a little strawberry with a carved name around it, yours is jimin while jimin is yours. fuck that sounded so good. but no, it’s over now. you sighed once again. “rabbits, it’s over” you tap on their cage which somehow make them startled a bit, earning a small smile from your lips. “erm, p-pardon?” sudden voice from behind, shock you to death. hastily turning around, you see a boy. a cute one at that. doe eyes that eerily remind you of that rabbits behind you. fuck, does the bunny suddenly turn into a human? but you don’t kiss any of it! “yes!?” your voice embarrassingly in high pitched that makes you winced. “i mean, yes?” you tried again, and he looks frazzled, “um, i need to- to feed the rabbits- it’s, it’s time for- um for their food. i, it’s urm it’s my turn to- feed them.” he cutely stuttering, eyes frantically move, avoiding your eyes. you smile, he must be a year or two younger. you step aside, “yeah sure. go on.” he carefully walk forward and open the cage, “can i feed them too” he jumped at your sudden voice so near to his. eyes wide, and he is so close to jump inside the cage. you stifled a laugh, instead you hold his arm, muscly one, the heck? - okay focus, so you hold his arm to make sure he’s not fall down. bet his knee is weak by how frightened he looks. “you okay there?” his eyes wide staring at you, “yeah, i’m good!” clumsily he stands and trying to get away from your touch. oh god, bless your soul. he is so fucking cute.

after that clumsy yet cute incident with that bunny guy, you learnt his name is jungkook, and he is two years younger than you. your junior and he pursuing his study in photography. he loves to feed the rabbits and spend most of his time there, even though somehow you barely can breathe with the rabbits stools makes you gag. but he has his way with the gardener to make some schedule with their turn to feed and clean the cage. surprisingly, you see yourself sometimes, beside jungkook, helping with the rabbits. it helps you with the jimin’s issue, to get you move on and forget the pain from the fight you both had. okay, to make it clear, you really don’t use jungkook to get you move on and forget jimin, that’s really cruel. right?

“-ooking so good, and hot, y/n!” somi’s voice snap you away from your guilt (?) thought about jungkook, “sorry, what were you at again?” hands reaching for another snacks on the table. you now at some of your classmate birthday party, not sure what’s her name again, you know her in some of your classes together , not bother to remember anyone’s name since you just going to say ‘oh hey you! yes you! oh party? of course i’m coming!’ and end up giving her a gift of one of your perfume that you don’t use yet- because the smell remind you of jimin, and you bought that before you had the fight and not using it yet so now you give it away- but hey, she’s happy after all, so that’s win-win. “you’ve been ignoring me all this time. what the hell?” she give you this, ‘oh you get some man’ look, you groan, “no! ew no, not like that.” walking away from the table with plates full of the snacks, “looking at all of the macarons, sweets, cupcakes and what is that?!” her hands snatch the chocolate ball on your plates, “hey! get your own balls girl!”

#bts fanfic #bts fluff #bts fanfiction #bts angst #bts yandere #bts romance #bts park jimin #bts jeon jungkook #bts #bts jimin

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here2bbtstrash · 2 years

Text

look down on me like that - 5 (explicit)

genre: slow burn enemies to lovers hatefucking coworkers au, smut (w some eventual angst)

pairing: yoongi x reader

summary: your asshole coworker min yoongi has made it his personal mission to ruin your life.

word count: 11.4k (you're welcome 😌)

contains: ~explicit sexual content~ !! *deep breath in* YES THERE IS ACTUAL FUCKING HAPPENING - EVERYONE REMAIN CALM. also i promise this is the most unhinged reader gets lmao. alright let's go: one night stand/stranger sex, semi-public sex (bathroom of a bar), fingering, spanking, a truly gratuitous blowjob, orgasm denial, a smidge of dirty talk/namecalling, finger sucking?, protected sex, semi-awkward sex lmao, the hatefucking is HERE 🙌🏻 plenty of alcohol mentions as always,, so much alcohol. this chapter also features a couple fun cameos - kihyun of monsta x and wonho 💜

A/N: hope y'all enjoy this absolute CHAOS!! i have so many lovely friends who cheered me on while i was writing this, far too many to name, but i fucking adore you all 🥺🥺 and i do want to specifically shoutout @kiestrokes because the ~spicy twist~ in this chapter would not be HALF as good if it wasn't for her and her big beautiful brain. srsly she took a half-baked idea i had and made it insane. god i love that woman. ALRIGHT ENOUGH BABBLING - ENJOY!!!!!

read on AO3!

chapter four | masterlist | chapter six

~*~

“Try this.” Jimin yanks an emerald green dress off the hanger and chucks it over his shoulder, nearly hitting you.

“Ugh, I hate this one,” you groan as you hold the offending item up for inspection, pinched between index finger and thumb. “The fabric is so itchy.”

Your best friend whips around, hands on hips, when you question his taste. “I’m sorry, did I just hear you going back on our agreement? Is that what this is?”

You groan, flopping over onto your bedspread, doing your best not to mess up your hair. Jimin had, understandably, been pissed when you’d called him immediately upon leaving the office last night, hands still shaking as you cradled the phone against your cheek. You think you have permanent hearing damage from the anguished wails your best friend made as you finally admitted everything you hadn’t told him. And you certainly could have done without the appreciative noises he made after he forced you to describe Suga’s dick in explicit detail.

It’s not like you aren’t constantly thinking about it, anyway.

Especially now that Yoongi has specifically told you everything, everything he wants to do to you. The words swim back to you in pieces whenever you aren’t actively trying to suppress the memory. Finger that tight little pussy. Spank you until you bruise. Fuck you like the slut you so clearly are.

God. You’ve been horny for 24 hours straight. This can’t be good for your health.

Jimin had nearly disowned you for letting secrecy infiltrate your friendship for the first time in over a decade, but then he’d realized how truly distraught you were as you just kept babbling into the phone about Suga, too far gone to make any sense.

“Jesus fucking christ, it’s not the end of the world!” He’d finally interrupted with a frustrated groan. “You really think Suga is the only man in the world who can fuck you senseless? He was probably overselling it anyway. Having a pretty dick doesn’t guarantee he knows what to do with it.”

At this point you’d stumbled onto the bus home, and you remember smacking your forehead against the cold glass of the window with a whine at the words pretty dick, your mind already departing on another Yoongi spiral.

Jimin’s peal of laughter rang in your ears. “I’ve never heard you down this bad in my life, good god girl! We just need to get you laid so your fucking brain can work right again.”

“Please,” you’d grunted.

“Alright, I’m coming over tomorrow, and we’re going out.” He’d paused then, and you knew there was more even before he continued. It was like you could hear his evil smile. “And I get to pick your outfit.”

You’re snapped out of the memory as a second dress is tossed your way, this one hitting you square in the face.

“Either the green or this one. You’re still in the doghouse, ma’am,” Jimin reminds you.

You pull the second option up to examine it, already grateful for the softer feel of the material. Jimin loves to put you in shit that you’d never wear— usually dresses that he bought for you, or bullied you into buying. You think you already dress pretty racy when you go out, but Jimin likes to take it to another level, always encouraging you to show more skin, more tits, more ass. He’s definitely responsible for this number even being in your closet: dark burgundy in color, it’s tight, short, and the cutouts leave very little to the imagination.

You whine softly despite yourself. “Do I have to? I’m going to freeze to death.”

Jimin has already moved to sit at your desk, examining his hair in the mirror you use to do your makeup. He’s in one of his favorite going-out shirts, one he claims “makes even the straight boys look twice”, a blue and white striped button down with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He doesn’t even bother making eye contact with you as he peers at his reflection, fiddling with the silver hoops in his ears. “I dunno. Depends on whether or not you value my friendship.”

You roll your eyes at his dramatics. “I can’t stand you.”

“Will you shut up and put your damn freakum dress on already?” He rummages through your makeup bag without asking until he finds what he’s looking for, a tube of Fenty gloss that he dabs in the center of his bottom lip.

“That is not what freakum dress means,” you say with a laugh as you stand to strip out of your sweats, but he’s already reaching for his phone that’s connected to your Bluetooth speaker, another requirement for the evening in order to keep your friendship intact. Beyoncé starts to blast as you pull your shirt over your head and suck in for dear life.

“So, what exactly is the plan?” You ask as soon as you swallow down another shot, nearly shouting to be heard over the noise of the bar. Jimin made you do a couple in your kitchen before you left, and though you haven’t even been out for an hour, you’re already straddling the line between tipsy and drunk.

He shoots you a look. “Don’t act so innocent, like I haven’t personally seen you go home with random dudes.”

Your gaze flits over the mass of bodies out on the dance floor. “I mean, yeah, but…” You shrug, grimacing slightly. “I don’t know, it’s been a while. And we’re not in college anymore.”

“What about him?” You look back at Jimin and he nods his head behind you. You do your best to be subtle as you glance over your shoulder to see two guys a couple of tables away.

“Which one?”

Jimin makes a face like it’s obvious. “Are you kidding me? The absolutely built daddy with the red hair?”

You examine them more closely, scrunching your nose up a little. He’s cute, big as hell, and you certainly notice his bubble butt in those tight pants. But it just doesn’t feel right. “I don’t know that he’s my type.” When your gaze lands on his friend, dressed in all black, dark hair skimming over his eyes as he leans in to say something, your heart flips in your chest. Now that could work.

Turning back to Jimin to say as much, you realize that he’s already brushing past you. “Well I’m not stupid,” he scoffs, and you scramble to follow after him as he stalks confidently across the room.

He’s already talking to them when you catch up. “Hi boys. Care for some company?”

They glance at each other, and you can tell Jimin’s presence is clearly unexpected but not unwelcome. He wasn’t wrong: nobody can resist him in that damn shirt.

“Sure,” red-haired daddy says with a shy giggle, and you have to bite back a smile. You were not expecting a guy that built to react so softly, and you already know your best friend is going feral on the inside. There is nothing Jimin loves more than a man he can fluster. Especially one who can make him pay for it.

His friend flags down a server and orders a round of shots for the table, then gives you a small wave as Jimin takes the liberty of giving his name and yours. “I’m Kihyun.”

“Hoseok,” Jimin's target is clearly squirming under his intense gaze. “But my friends call me Wonho.”

“Can I be your friend?” Jimin purrs. You’re nearly laughing at how quickly he lost the plot of trying to get you laid, but he’s also such an intense flirt that it nearly works as a wingman maneuver, in its own weird way.

You scoot a little closer to Kihyun as Jimin and Wonho disappear into their own conversation. Up close you can really admire how attractive he is, full lips and a wickedly sharp jawline.

“Hi,” you say with a smile, surprised to find yourself slightly nervous despite the alcohol coursing through your system.

“Hi,” he says back, and he looks like he’s about to say more when the server reappears with a tray of four shots.

“Thanks again for these,” you say as you reach for one, and he waves it off. You glance over at Jimin and Wonho, assuming they might want to toast as a group, but Jimin is already hooking his elbow around Wonho’s ridiculous bicep and making a not-at-all-subtle comment about how big he is, intertwining their arms before they each throw the shot back.

You look at Kihyun again, who is biting his lip nervously, and you can feel your face heat up. You’re no Jimin, so you settle for gently tapping your shot glass against his. “Cheers.”

He echoes the sentiment and you down your drinks simultaneously. You shiver a little as you swallow, but you’ve had enough that you don’t even feel the burn of the alcohol.

“So,” Kihyun’s eyes flit over to Jimin, then return to you. “Do you two come here a lot?”

You shrug. “We rotate. Jimin likes this place more than I do. You?”

He laughs softly. “Not really. Honestly, we’re both homebodies, but we try to get out every so often. Always nice to meet new people.” It’s so quick you nearly miss it, but you swear his eyes jump down your figure and back up again.

You try to ignore the little voice in your head reminding you of another pair of eyes; dark, calculating, wandering over your body. Not now.

“I couldn’t agree more,” you say, because it’s true: a new person is definitely what you need in this moment.

Before you can ask a follow-up question, you hear Jimin, talking loudly so that he’s audible over the music. “Your thighs look so good in those pants!” You have to resist the urge to smack your head against the table when you look over to see him attempting— and absolutely failing— to wrap his small hands around the circumference of Wonho’s leg, who is giggling like a schoolgirl.

You glance back at Kihyun, who is equally enraptured. “I’m so sorry,” you say quietly. “He is unfortunately always like this.”

“You know where else those thighs would look good?” Jimin’s voice lowers as he asks the question, and you watch Kihyun’s eyes go wide.

“Do you want to dance?” You say quickly, and he nods so fast you think his head might fall off. You start to break away from the group, his hand slipping to your waist, when Jimin smacks the table so loud that it makes you jump.

“Hey!” He yells, and you turn back, but he’s pointing at Kihyun, who instantly looks terrified. He leans in, as if to divulge confidential information, and Kihyun takes a tentative step towards him.

“Just so you’re aware,” Jimin starts, and you know it’s going to be bad. “She needs to get dicked down. Severely. Hope you’re ready.”

You close your hand around Kihyun’s wrist and drag him towards the dance floor, eager for a distraction to keep you from murdering your best friend.

Now that you’re actually in motion, you can feel the last couple of shots quickly catching up to you, the room blurring slightly at the edges. At the center of the dance floor, the thudding bass is loud enough to make it hard to think, which is exactly what you need right now.

You’re grateful not to have to force any more conversation, both of Kihyun’s hands slipping to your hips as you start to move in time to the music. It gives you free reign to admire him up close, and damn, he really is gorgeous. He’s only a little taller than you in your heels— probably about the same height as Yoongi, though his frame is slighter, smaller. You watch as his dark hair falls into his eyes again and he reaches up to sweep it off his forehead— Yoongi’s hair is a little longer, and he certainly has much better hands, but other than that—

You have to squeeze your eyes shut when you realize what the fuck you're doing. The whole point of this encounter is to stop thinking about Yoongi. Not pick apart this absolute stranger in comparison to him.

You desperately wish you could get another drink, but you know that would push you all the way into “drunk” territory. As much as you hate admitting it, Jimin was right: you really need to be able to consent to sex tonight. You’re gonna have to get through this the old-fashioned way, with sheer fucking willpower.

“Are you okay?”

Your eyes flutter open to meet Kihyun’s concerned gaze. “Yeah, yeah, sorry. Just, uh. Thinking about work.” Not a complete lie.

“Well, don’t,” he says with a soft laugh. “It’s the weekend. You should enjoy it.” His hands press a little tighter, pulling you close until your body is flush with his. His breath ghosts over your neck as you hear his voice in your ear. “That dress looks really good on you.”

A different voice echoes in your mind before you can stop it. Spread your legs for me. Show me what’s under that dress. You can’t help but wonder if this is what it feels like to literally go insane, and then you grab Kihyun’s face with both hands and kiss him in a desperate attempt to not think anymore.

You can feel him freeze, clearly not expecting it, but after a second his mouth starts to move against yours. His hands slip further down towards your ass, and fuck, it occurs to you that you are still incredibly horny. You need this to happen as soon as possible.

Pulling away and sliding your hands to Kihyun’s shoulders, you tilt up to speak into his ear. “Do you live near here?”

His eyes go wide for at least the third time tonight. “Y-yeah, not far.” You see his tongue dart out to lick his lips.

“I don’t know how to say this politely,” you admit with an embarrassed smile. “But my friend wasn’t wrong. About… what I need.”

He pauses for a moment, and your stomach twists as you prepare for rejection, the reasonable reaction considering you basically jumped this man like a crazy person. But then he smiles, leaning into you so he can keep his tone soft. “Come on, then.”

You follow Kihyun as he guides you towards the exit, keeping one hand pressed to the small of your back. It’s hard to miss the other half of your group making their way through the crowd— Wonho is large enough that people quickly shrink to get out of his way, but his gaze is entirely transfixed on Jimin’s ass in front of him. You nod in their direction and Kihyun follows as you push past bodies to reunite.

“Are you leaving?!” Jimin asks, and you can only nod. His eyes jump to Kihyun. “I told you, you better give it to her!” He shouts it so loudly that people standing behind him glance over their shoulders, but he is fully unfazed, now brandishing his cellphone. “And I always have her location on, so if you murder her, I will come find you!”

With a roll of your eyes, you lean across the circle so that Wonho can hear you. “Take good care of him, okay?” When you pull away, you swear he’s blushing as red as his hair, and he nods sheepishly.

You turn back to Kihyun. “Ready?”

The door to Kihyun’s apartment barely has time to close behind you before you find his lips with yours again. He presses you up against the wall of the entryway, and you waste no time in moving your hands over his body. His shirt and pants hit the floor in quick succession.

When he reaches for the hem of your dress, you cover his hands with yours to stop him. “Do you— is it okay if I keep it on?”

“Yeah,” he murmurs, breathless. “Yeah, okay.”

He kisses you again and you let him guide you backwards through an open door into his bedroom until you feel the mattress hit the backs of your knees. You perch on the edge of the bed and glance around the room, taking it in. It’s clean, if minimally furnished, and your stomach flips when you see a nondescript work desk tucked into one corner.

You look at Kihyun when you feel his hand gently rub your thigh, encouraging you to spread your legs.

“Kihyun?”

“Yeah?”

Your gaze jumps to his desk, then back to him. “Do— uh… Do you think you could bend me over your desk?”

He seems a little dumbfounded, and takes a second to find words. “Wh— I— yeah, yes, I can do that. I just—” he clears his throat. “Do you need, like, foreplay, or…?”

You stand up again, knees shaking slightly. “I’ll tell you what to do, does that work?”

It must, because he kisses you, eventually starting to move towards the desk. When you’ve gotten far enough, you feel him tug at your hips, encouraging you to spin around so your back is flush with his chest. His hand slides up to your shoulders to gently press you forward, and you brace your forearms on the desk, already breathless.

“P-pull my dress up,” you manage to instruct. His hands caress over your thighs, then move to the hem of your dress, pushing up until your ass is fully exposed for him.

Get a good look at that ass you were tempting me with, the voice in your head finishes for you. You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to focus on this moment, this man. Not any others.

You look back at Kihyun over your shoulder in an attempt to stay present, spreading your legs a little wider. “Touch me.”

He slowly moves a hand from your thigh up towards your core, and you feel his fingers just barely brush over the fabric of your underwear. The rush of contact after so much anticipation is enough to make you shiver slightly, but his touch is so light, so gentle.

Gentle is not what you need right now.

Keeping yourself held up on one arm, you reach the other behind you to forcefully tug your panties to the side. “Your fingers, Kihyun,” you hiss.

You tip your head forward and swallow down a whine of relief as he presses a digit into you and starts to rub circles. “How’s that?” His voice purrs in your ear, and you whimper as you nod.

It feels good, especially when he adds a second finger, but it’s not enough. He’s too soft, too tentative.

You look back at him again. “Can you spank me?”

You’ve officially lost count of the number of times you’ve surprised this man tonight. “I— what?”

“Like, smack my ass?”

“Like this?” He asks, but you barely feel it when he brings his hand down over your ass.

“Harder,” you say almost instantly, realizing after the fact that you could probably stand to be a little nicer to this random stranger. “Please.”

Kihyun’s second attempt is better, enough to make you groan softly as the sensation of the sting mixes with the movements of his fingers pressing against your front wall. He does it again, harder still, and you wiggle your ass back towards him— you need more, more than his hands can give.

“Kihyun,” you gasp, “want you to fuck me.”

“Yeah? I’ll fuck you right here,” he grunts. At least he seems to be genuinely into it, you think to yourself gratefully. He smacks your ass a final time and you bite down on your lip as he withdraws his fingers. “One second.”

You hear the sound of him opening a drawer somewhere in his room and retrieving a condom, and you let your eyes flutter closed until his hands brush over your hips again.

“Ready?”

“Yes, Kihyun, please,” you beg, your head dropping down onto your forearms. “Please fuck me.” Desire is wound up so tight inside you that you can’t think about anything else; you need this so fucking badly.

He makes a strangled whine as he presses into you, and you move your hips back onto him, gasping slightly at the stretch. “Fuck.”

“God, you feel so fucking good,” Kihyun groans, and he starts to roll into you with steady thrusts that brush the head of his cock right over your g-spot. You push backwards, matching his rhythm, and he’s not wrong: it feels good.

But it’s not enough.

“Harder,” you groan, your voice muffled in the crook of your elbow, and you hear Kihyun grunt as he picks up the pace, hips snapping against your ass. Better, but somehow still not what you need.

“Please, Kihyun,” you encourage again. “Fuck me like a slut.”

“Jesus,” he breathes, and for a second, you wonder if you’ve finally broken him. But then his hand cracks over your ass, hard enough to take you by surprise, and he starts to thrust even faster.

“Is this what you want?” He asks, and his voice is tense, almost angry; something about it makes your walls start to flutter. Your orgasm is so frustratingly close, yet somehow beyond your grasp.

And then you hear that all-too familiar voice in your head. I want to make you come so hard that your legs shake. Before you can help it, you moan a little at the memory. The way Yoongi leveled his gaze on you as he spoke so calmly, in a way that had you believing every single word. You can feel your core starting to tighten at the very thought, and once your brain realizes that’s what will get you there, it’s like the fucking floodgates open.

“Oh fuck,” you groan, and you can hear him grunt in agreement, like he’s close, too.

You’re helpless to stop it now, too desperate to come. Yoongi’s voice, his face, his tongue, his hands, his cock. It’s all you can think of. You gasp as everything inside you tightens and starts to pulse.

“Shit, shit, I’m gonna come,” you whine. So hard that you have no choice but to scream my name as I wreck you, the voice in your head finishes, and you dig your nails into the desk beneath you as you reach your climax.

Your back arches, pleasure washing over you, and you cry out. “Yes, Yoongi, yes!”

There’s a moment where his hips stutter, and then he pushes all the way into you one last time with a grunt of effort as he comes, too. Your heartbeat starts to slow.

And then it occurs to you that the man fucking you is absolutely not named Yoongi, and you smack a hand over your mouth.

“Oh my god,” you say softly, voice muffled, and you remove your hand as you start to straighten up. You can hear Kihyun still breathing heavily behind you, but he’s otherwise silent as he releases his grip on your hips and slides out of you.

“Kihyun,” you turn to watch him cross the room to the en-suite bathroom, where he briefly disappears to dispose of the condom. Face burning with embarrassment, you awkwardly maneuver to readjust your underwear and pull your dress back down over your ass.

When he reappears in the doorway, you try again. “Kihyun, I am so sorry. I—I don’t—” you fumble for what to say, knowing full well you don’t have a good explanation. At least not one that doesn’t make you sound insane.

“It’s cool,” he says, but he’s clearly uncomfortable. “I mean, you know. Shit happens.”

You glance around nervously for your phone before realizing it’s back on the table in the entryway where you tossed it in the throes of passion. You shoot Kihyun a weak smile. “I should— let me call Jimin. I can get a ride home.”

Kihyun laughs dryly. “Yeah, I’m gonna take a wild guess that he might be a little busy. I can take you home. It’s not a big deal.”

As much as your pride wants to refuse, you don’t exactly have a backup plan. “I would really appreciate that,” you murmur.

The drive is silent and painfully awkward, Kihyun turning up the music just loud enough that you get the indication that he doesn’t want to talk. As the lights of the city stream by, you can’t help but wonder how everything got so fucked up.

When Kihyun pulls up to your apartment complex, you indicate where he can drop you off, and he reaches over you as the car slows to a stop to politely open the door.

“Have a good night,” he says firmly, and you can barely manage a word of thanks before you slip out of his car and head up the stairs to die of embarrassment.

Jimin shows up at your door late Sunday afternoon, a takeout bag of haejangguk tucked under one arm, gushing incessantly about the various ways Wonho threw him around all night. It feels like he babbles for an hour, until he finally takes a break to sip from his own container of soup, and prompts you with a raise of his eyebrows.

“Your turn. Was your mission successful?”

You keep your gaze firmly planted on the floor as you recount what happened.

“Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

~*~

Jimin decides that you’ll try again next weekend, promising he’ll be less distracted. You’re not positive you’ll survive that long. You preemptively text Jungkook asking to take the week off from boxing class - your stomach is such a fucking bundle of nerves that you barely sleep at all Sunday night, and you know the next five days spent in constant fear of running into Yoongi is only going to make it worse.

Those same nerves creep up into your throat when you unlock the doors Monday morning, Jungkook waiting patiently behind you with his hands wrapped around the straps of his backpack.

Dread blooms inside of you as you move to place your purse on your desk, and then you make a split-second decision, spinning back to face Jungkook.

“Hey, JK?” The nickname is unplanned, just sort of comes out, but you see him visibly brighten. “Are there any open desks on your side of the office? I think I need a change of scenery.”

He nods, eyes wide. “Yeah! I’m actually all by myself right now. Sunye is on maternity leave for the rest of the month. You can use her desk.”

You gesture for him to lead the way and he does, heading past the break room and walking backwards down the hallway to keep talking to you. “Is there something wrong with your normal desk? We can always put in a work order.”

“Uh, no,” you scramble, trying to find a good excuse. “It can just be a little distracting, you know. People coming in and out all day. I’ve got a lot of stuff I need to be heads-down on this week.”

The excuse sounds flimsy and false to you, but he seems to buy it. “Yeah, makes sense! I’ll try not to distract you too much.”

He does a full 360-degree spin on his heels as you turn the corner at the end of the hall, and it’s enough to make you laugh softly despite yourself. There’s a small alcove with a desk pressed against either wall, and you don’t even have to ask which one is Jungkook’s. The standing desk is dotted with tell-tale signs of Baby Star Candy: an empty shaker cup, a mini tub of protein powder, several fidget toys tucked beneath his monitor. A small collage of polaroids is taped to the wall where you see him smiling with friends, throwing up a peace sign in nearly every single one.

Sunye’s desk is mostly empty, save for a few framed photos of her with her husband and two young kids. You drop your purse down and take a seat as Jungkook chucks his backpack under his desk, both of you reaching to retrieve your laptops.

Outlook hasn’t even loaded before he’s turned around and talking to you again. “So how was your weekend?”

You grimace reflexively at memories you’d rather forget, and Jungkook misinterprets the look. “Oh, sorry, no distractions. I’ll be quiet.”

“No, no,” you shake your head. “It’s not you. My weekend was fine. What about yours?”

He laughs, looking a little embarrassed. “I mean, honestly? I’m super addicted to this new mobile game that just came out. I feel like I blinked and lost two days.” He’s already reaching for his cellphone. “Want to see?” You roll your chair across to his side of the room as Jungkook leans over to show you the little island world he’s nearly 500 levels into. After a few minutes, he seems to remember himself.

“Shit, you specifically said you came here to focus. I’m sorry, I really will leave you alone now.”

You bite down on your bottom lip. “No, it’s okay, JK. I— honestly, I wasn’t being entirely truthful when I said that. I don’t mind the distraction at all, actually. It’s kind of complicated, but… it would be nice if I could hide out here for the foreseeable future.”

He looks at you, clearly surprised. “Of course. Whatever you need. Is everything okay?”

You wince a little, with no idea how to answer that question.

His voice drops. “Is it Suga?”

“It’s complicated.” You repeat with a sigh.

An unfamiliar emotion flashes in Jungkook’s eyes. You’ve never seen him angry before, but you’d guess this is what it looks like. “Hey, seriously, if he’s being aggressive with you, we should do something about it. Report it or something.”

You have to suppress the urge to laugh in his face. Like Yoongi being aggressive with you isn’t exactly what you’ve been fantasizing about for days.

“No, it’s not like that,” you reassure him. “I think we’re just two people who are better off kept apart from each other. That’s all.”

Jungkook nods slowly, and it’s clear from his expression that he wants to pry more, but is forcing himself not to. “Okay.”

There’s a heaviness of unasked and unanswered questions in the air, but the two of you manage to lapse into corporate smalltalk as you roll back over to your desk and dive into your workday.

Jungkook eventually has to peel off for a few virtual meetings, and watching him work is its own source of entertainment. If it’s a meeting that requires his focus, you can tell because he leans in close to his monitor, staring at spreadsheets or data visualizations with a look on his face like he’s using every single brain cell he owns.

You can also tell when he’s put on calls where he clearly isn’t needed, because he’ll spin in a full circle at his desk with a glazed over look in his eye. There are even a few times where you glance up to see him silently doing what you vaguely recognize as TikTok dances, and you have to clap a hand over your mouth to keep from outright laughing.

The day rolls on, and you’re neck deep in drafting a communication when Jungkook’s voice breaks your concentration. “Do you like ramyeon?”

Your head snaps up to see him lean down under his desk to grab his backpack. He unzips it to retrieve two containers of instant noodles, and when he offers one to you, you give an approving nod. “I usually bring two in case I get extra hungry. I’ll make it, come meet me in the break room when you finish what you’re doing.”

You genuinely believe him on the first day, but when he just so happens to bring a second lunch on Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday, you start to get a little suspicious.

Friday has you stuck on a working session straight through your usual lunch hour, and Jungkook disappears without a word, returning as you’re pulling your headset off with two to-go salads in a plastic bag.

“I ordered one, and they gave me two. Crazy, right?”

You quirk an eyebrow at him to signal that you don’t believe a damn word, but you still thank him as you follow him down the hall to the break room.

“You’re coming out tonight, right?” He asks over lunch, and it takes you a second to remember the planned happy hour your boss has scheduled for the office. You’re torn between never wanting to see the inside of a bar again, and the overwhelming desire to drink as much as you can on the company’s dime. Ideally enough to obliterate the brain cells that store your memories of last weekend.

In the end, your cheapness wins out. Plus, given that it’s a social work event, you’d bet your entire salary that Yoongi will be nowhere to be found. You figure it might actually prove to be a good distraction. “Sure, yeah. At least for a couple drinks.”

“Cool,” Jungkook smiles a little as he spears a piece of chicken on his plastic fork. “Let me know when you’re done for the day, we can head over together.”

As much as you’d like to blow off early, a phone call that was supposed to take fifteen minutes ends up lasting over an hour. You mute your headset briefly to give a loud sigh, and shoot Jungkook a silent pout in apology when he meets your gaze, but he just flips his phone around to show you the progress he’s making on his island. At least he’s good at keeping himself entertained, you think with a smile.

Finally the person leading the call seems to come to the extremely delayed realization that no one is going to make any more progress on the issue after 5 PM on a Friday, and things wrap up pretty quickly after that. You and Jungkook gather your things and head for the front, and the office is a ghost town.

Your eyes drift down the opposite hallway towards the Genius Lab, your pulse quickening a little. You’ve checked the lab every evening this week and have luckily only found it empty, but you’re nearly an hour ahead of schedule today. And you don’t exactly have a great track record with Yoongi when it comes to Fridays.

“I should probably…”

“I can do it,” Jungkook cuts in softly. You’re hit with the automatic urge to say no, to shield him from this chaos in any way you can. But it would be really nice to not have to deal with Yoongi for one fucking day.

“I would appreciate that,” you reply, and Jungkook is already striding down the hall. You pretend to busy yourself on your phone as you hear a knock, then the electronic beeps of him punching the code into the door lock. When you glance up, you see him push the door open and stick his head inside, then promptly close it again.

“He’s gone. Let’s get out of here.”

The bar your boss has chosen is only a few blocks away from the office, and Jungkook holds the door open for you to enter first when you arrive. You don’t see your group right when you first walk in, and you have to round a bend in the layout of the building before you spot the long table of familiar faces.

You move to take a step forward, but Jungkook nearly imperceptibly brings a hand to your elbow to stop you. He says nothing, which is unlike him, and you start to ask a question.

“Wh—” the words die in your mouth when you see Yoongi smiling politely into a glass of whiskey, seated at the table next to your boss. His gaze flickers up to meet yours. Your stomach twists as you watch the smile immediately drop off his face.

“We can go,” Jungkook says quickly, but you know you can’t give him the satisfaction.

“It’s fine,” you say, and it comes out a little more harsh than you mean it to. “We don’t have to sit near him.” Jungkook follows your lead to the opposite end of the table. When you take your seats, he almost immediately gets sucked into a conversation with some of the audio engineers. You do your best to at least act like you’re following along, but it feels like the room is spinning despite the fact that you’re entirely sober.

That absolutely needs to change, you quickly determine. You’re sitting at the corner of the table, so it’s easy enough to slip out and get to your feet. Jungkook glances up when you do.

“I’ll be right back,” you say, and your tone must be direct enough that he doesn’t ask any follow-up questions or offer his company. Which is fine, you think to yourself as you cross the room. You’re perfectly capable of walking to the bar and ordering a drink on your own.

At least it feels that way until you sweep your gaze across the room, waiting on a bartender to acknowledge your presence, and realize Yoongi is headed straight towards you, empty glass in hand.

Fuck fuck fuck.

You set your jaw, determined not to let him smell your fear, and renew your conviction to flag someone down and get a drink as fast as possible. When Yoongi takes a seat at the barstool next to you, you will your face not to react. But you’re not quite fast enough to remember to tell your mouth to stay shut, too.

“What are you doing here?” You snap, refusing to look him in the eye.

“I wanted to talk to you,” he says, voice even, and you blink hard. You don’t know what you were expecting, but it wasn’t that. “I figured an event with free alcohol was a good place to start. Let’s hope no one wore their good shoes tonight.”

Setting your jaw has turned into fully gritting your teeth, and you’ve never been more grateful to see a bartender when one approaches. You order quickly, and see Yoongi silently lift his empty glass as a request in your periphery.

“What do you want, Yoongi?”

When he hums and doesn’t respond right away, you glance over to see him running a finger around the rim of his finished drink. Just his fucking hand is enough to send a shiver up your spine, and you tear your gaze away.

“Well, for one, I honestly have to say I was surprised when HR didn’t personally escort me out of the building Monday morning.”

Your head snaps up to look at him again as you parse out his meaning. “Really?”

Yoongi’s gaze meets yours, his brows slightly pinching together as if he’s surprised that you’re surprised. “Uh, yeah.”

You’re so shocked it takes you a minute to form words. “I— I mean, it’s not like it was unprovoked.”

He makes a face as if he’s considering it, shrugging a little. “I suppose.”

As you drop your gaze to the wood grain of the bar, you can’t help but wonder if that was meant to be an apology. You barely have time to process that thought before the bartender returns, setting your drinks down, and you reach for yours like a woman dehydrated. When you take a sip, it’s strong— exactly what you need in this moment.

You’re already halfway off the barstool, very ready to get back to your seat at the table, when Yoongi speaks up again.

“Do you want to hear a funny story?” Something in his tone makes you pause, and he keeps going.

“I heard from an old friend a few days ago. We used to be really close, but lately I don’t think we’ve talked in…” He shakes his head in disbelief, like he’s trying to think. “God, probably years. I’ve been so focused on work. You know how I get.”

You physically recoil at his strange candor, how comfortable he suddenly is with implying that you know him. Your stomach is already starting to turn, though you can’t put a finger on why. It just feels like he’s playing with you.

Yoongi rolls his glass between his palms as he continues. “So you know, we catch up, ask how life is going, all the usual shit. And then my friend— Kihyun, that’s his name— Kih starts telling me about this crazy hookup he had last weekend.”

You nearly drop your drink as your blood runs cold. Yoongi continues the charade, pretending like he’s telling you something you don’t already know first-hand.

“He said he got approached by this super hot girl out of nowhere, and that she was fucking desperate for it. Barely said two words to him before she was asking him to take her home. And once he did, he said the sex was wild. I mean, it definitely sounded great to me when he gave me the play-by-play.” He pauses for a moment, and when he speaks again, there’s a new tone to his voice, almost aggressive. “Straight out of one of my own fantasies, really.”

You take a nervous gulp of your drink in hopes that it might help cool down your burning face— whether it’s from shame or rage, you can’t tell.

“And get this.” Yoongi’s voice is grave now, all pretense of telling a funny story gone as he turns to fully face you. “You’re never gonna believe whose name she cried out when she came. Because it sure wasn’t Kih’s.”

The shock of his words, at the fact that he knows this, is enough to freeze you where you stand. You’re nearly shaking with the chaotic storm of emotions swirling in your brain, and it takes every ounce of willpower you can muster to keep your voice steady as you fix him in your gaze. “I don’t see that it’s any of your business who or how I fuck, Yoongi.”

“Oh, I think it’s absolutely my business when you’re calling them my fucking name. And I don’t understand why you’d settle for imitation when you could have the real thing.” Despite how livid you are, you don’t miss the way your pussy flutters at the smug look on his face.

“Maybe it’s because your friend doesn’t come with all the strings attached that you do.”

“Strings?” He quirks an eyebrow. “I wasn’t planning on dating you, sweetheart.”

You can’t believe how dense he is, and you slam your drink down on the bar. “No, Yoongi, but you’re my fucking coworker. Have you ever heard the phrase, ‘don’t shit where you eat’?” He chuckles dryly into the rim of his glass. “It’s a bad fucking idea.”

He examines you as he takes a sip of whiskey, then finally speaks again. “Here’s the way I see it. We are both sane, consenting adults, very capable of being rational about this.” You scoff in disbelief at how calmly he can say such a thing as you take another long pull from your drink. “There’s obviously a lot of pent-up feelings going on. I’m not saying we have to be friends. Hell, we don’t even have to like each other. Sometimes it’s more fun when you don’t.”

Not expecting that commentary, you nearly choke on the ice in your glass. Yoongi gives you a moment to recover before continuing.

“It seems to me like we could establish something that would be mutually beneficial. Get some of that energy out. If anything, I think it might help both of us actually focus on our work, and that would in turn benefit everyone. It’d certainly be a lot better than the two of us running around like a couple of horny teenagers the way we have been lately. It’s not a purely selfish thing.”

You hate that his stupid logical argument makes sense to you. You hate it so much that you finish your drink in one swallow.

“Look, I’ll make it easy for you,” he says, eyes locked on you, his voice dropping into a lower register. The tone immediately takes you back to the last time you were in his lab. The things he said to you. The things he wanted to do to you. Heat pools in your belly before you can tell it not to.

“I’m going to head back to the group. You get yourself another drink, come join us, and take some time to think about it.”

He leans in to speak the next part directly into your ear, his voice quiet. Every nerve ending in your body lights up at the feeling of his breath against your neck. “Then I’m going to get up and go to the restroom. I’ll give you three minutes to discreetly excuse yourself and join me. If you don’t show, I’ll drop all of this and leave you alone. Promise.”

Yoongi pulls away, shooting you that trademark smirk, knowing full well that he doesn’t have to explain what will happen if you do decide to join him. He already has. Then he slips off the barstool, glass of whiskey in hand, and strides back towards the table.

When you order the next round, you ask for a double.

You do your best to act like the world isn’t ending as you return to your seat at the table. The conversation continues around you, without you; you can only stare dumbly at the empty space between two of your coworkers as you take a long swig of your drink. You’re vaguely aware of discussions of upcoming mixtapes and the Grammy’s, but your brain can’t process anything over the roaring in your ears, the pounding of your heartbeat in your gut— and a little lower.

You feel insane, enraged, and deliriously aroused.

You have no concept of how quickly time is passing, no clue if it’s been an instant or an hour when you see movement from the other end of the table out of the corner of your eye. There’s no self-control left in your system to keep your jaw from going slack, to keep you from unabashedly watching as Yoongi gets up from the table and strides confidently across the bar toward the restroom. He doesn’t so much as glance in your direction.

“Are you alright?”

You whip around at Jungkook’s voice, having completely forgotten there was anyone else in the room. It takes a second for you to snap your mouth shut, and then you realize you have to open it to answer his question.

“I— uh—” You can barely string a sentence together. “My drink is really strong.”

“Do you need some water?”

When you nod, he’s up in a flash, heading towards the bar, and you realize as you watch him disappear that it might have been a bad idea to let yourself be left alone. Because now you have no distraction from the way every cell in your body is screaming at you.

It’s obvious that there is a right choice and a wrong choice here. And you’ve tried so hard, for so long, to be smart. To deny the truth, to say no and go home, to channel the energy out in any other way. But none of it has worked. You still want this terrible man to do terrible things to you, maybe now more than ever. And you’re so fucking tired of making the right choice.

So tonight, you resolve with a final sip of your drink, you’ll make the wrong one. Fuck it.

You slip away from the table before Jungkook returns, following the same path Yoongi did towards the back of the bar. When you reach for the handle of the restroom door, your pulse is racing, enough that you nearly jump out of your skin when the door swings open before you can even touch it. You glance up to find yourself face-to-face with an equally shocked looking Yoongi.

“Your three minutes are up,” he says dryly. Rather than bother with a response, you bring your hand to his chest and firmly shove him back inside the single stall room. You hear him laugh a little as you follow after, pulling the knob and turning the lock into place behind you.

When he takes a step toward you, there’s nowhere for you to go except flush against the door. You watch his eyes drop down your body and back up, taking his time, shameless. His gaze lingers on your mouth.

“Didn’t think you’d really do it,” he murmurs, eyes glinting.

“Call it a lapse in judgment.”

There’s something about the situation that makes you feel like Yoongi has the upper hand— like he expects every part of this to go according to his plan. That, you decide, simply will not do. And then you drop to your knees in front of him.

“Oh my god,” Yoongi breathes, taking a small step back to give you room. “You’re a whore.”

You do your best to shoot a death glare up at him. “I don’t have to do this.”

He smirks. “I meant it as a compliment, honestly. Respectfully.”

That’s it. You’re determined to suck that smug fucking look off his face. “Hands to yourself,” you say firmly. “If you touch me, this all ends.”

Yoongi’s eyes widen, as if he wasn’t expecting you to be giving any orders. But then he nods, raising both hands in the air as if to indicate compliance. You lower your gaze and realize he’s already straining against the fabric of his joggers, which do nothing to hide how hard he is, the thin material clinging to every inch.

In one swift motion, you tug both his pants and boxers down his hips, and you have to actively suppress a soft sigh of appreciation. Yoongi’s ego doesn’t need any more feeding, but damn, his dick is even better up close: long, pale, and pretty.

Glancing back up at him, you maintain eye contact as you lean forward to teasingly trace your tongue along one of the prominent veins that runs the length of his shaft. His eyes are dark with lust as he watches you. Despite being on your knees, a thrill of sheer power runs through you when you see him swallow hard, his Adam’s apple jerking in his throat.

It occurs to you that you are extremely ready to torture this man.

When you reach the tip, you just barely slide your lips over it in an open-mouthed kiss to the head of his cock, your tongue swirling in sloppy circles. You can hear Yoongi breathing now, clearly trying and failing to suppress his shaky exhales at your work.

Tilting your head to find the right angle, you take more of him into your mouth, then bring a hand to his shaft to guide the head of his dick to one side. You don’t miss the quiet groan you elicit from him as you let him press against the soft wall of your cheek to create a bulge. He makes the same sound again, louder, when you rub your tongue firmly along the underside of his shaft while you do it.

His hips jerk under your touch as you start to move the hand wrapped around him in slow, deliberate strokes. You recenter him in your mouth and bob your head along his length in time, now sucking firmly. Yoongi’s breath catches on a moan as you keep your tongue pressed tight to his shaft and match the movement of your head to the deliciously slow pace of your hand.

The sound only encourages you, and you lean forward to take even more of him until his cock briefly brushes against the back of your throat. You hold him there for a second, then swallow.

“Fuck,” Yoongi hisses. You can feel him twitch a little in your mouth, taste it as he leaks precum onto your tongue. You tip back for a few more shallow thrusts, just tormenting him, then repeat the action, humming this time as he hits your throat. His knees nearly buckle.

You glance up at Yoongi as you pull back again, lashes fluttering, and you have to keep yourself from laughing around his cock at the look of pure distress on his face. Now that you’re watching him, you realize his hands are flexing desperately at his sides— it’s clearly taking everything in his power to follow your no touching policy.

Good, you think, and then you lean forward to swallow him down and keep him there, taking as much as you can until your nose is nearly flush with his pelvis. You bob your head, guiding him up and down your throat, choking slightly but too determined to stop even as your eyes start to water.

“Oh my god,” you hear him groan, and your eyebrows raise at the sound of a loud smack. When you look up, still working him in your throat, you realize that he’s helplessly banged a fist on the bathroom door and is now bracing himself against it. You watch as he rakes his other hand through his hair, his head tipping back with a gasp as you increase your pace in response. His hips shudder as he starts to buck softly into your mouth. “Y-yeah, keep doing that, oh fuck, fuck—”

At what feels like the last possible second, you pull off his cock with a soft, wet pop, swallowing down the precum in your mouth. You wipe at the corners of your lips before getting to your feet, legs shaking a little more than you’d like from how long you’ve been on your knees. As you meet his gaze, now at eye-level, it seems you’ve certainly achieved your mission: Yoongi’s usual smug appearance has been replaced with a look of frustrated desperation, courtesy of one denied orgasm.

“Why should I let you get off that easy?” You ask simply, and he makes a noise low in his throat, something between a groan and a laugh.

“Fuck, you are such a bitch.” He advances towards you, and you find yourself backing up, this time until your ass is pressed against the countertop of the bathroom sink. He’s staring at your mouth again, looking at it with what seems to be a little more reverence now that he knows what it’s capable of.

“Am I allowed to touch you yet?” His voice is so low, his mouth so close to yours, that it makes your core ache. The noises you sucked out of him have unfortunately only turned you on even more. “Or are you going to make me beg?”

As much as you’d love to see that, the desperate throb that’s been steadily building between your legs has now overtaken your desire to tease. “Yes, Yoongi, you can touch me.”

The words have barely left your mouth and his hands are already on your hips, firmly spinning you around. You have to clutch the edge of the countertop just to stay upright, but you only feel yourself getting that much wetter at the rough way he handles you. You shiver as he shoves the hem of your dress up to expose your ass, and you can’t help yourself, leaning forward to give him the best possible angle, too desperate for anything less.

“Fuck,” Yoongi breathes, and you’d swear he almost sounds appreciative.

You don’t even have time to process that thought before his hand cracks down over your ass, so hard that it nearly knocks all the breath out of your lungs. You inhale a shaky gasp, your mind reeling in its attempt to catch up, but Yoongi is already pulling your panties to the side, perfect fingers sliding between your folds. There’s no hiding how drenched you are; your upper thighs are starting to stick together with arousal.

Without warning, he presses two fingers firmly into you, and it’s enough to make your jaw go slack. You outright moan when they find purchase against your g-spot, rubbing in tight, expert circles. He could make you come right now if he wanted to.

“You’re so wet for me,” Yoongi’s voice is low and smug, and you don’t need to see his expression to know that cocky smirk has returned to his face. “Been ready for it all night, huh?” You whimper a noise that isn’t disagreement.

“Good,” he says firmly, pairing the word with another smack to your ass. You’re too far gone to try and hold it back now, not with the way his fingers are working inside you, and you moan again. “Because we can’t take too long,” Yoongi continues. “Don’t want anyone getting suspicious. Which is really a damn shame, because there’s so much I want to do to you.”

When he smacks your ass one more time, even harder, and couples it with an insistent press of his fingers against your front wall, you have to grip the edge of the sink for dear life. Your cunt squeezes around him; the noise you make is practically a sob.

He huffs a laugh as he withdraws his fingers, and you glance up to see him retrieving a condom from his pocket and tearing it open. “Wrecked already? And I haven’t even fucked you yet.”

You try to compose yourself, but just watching the way his hands work as he rolls the condom over his leaking cock has you aching, clenching around nothing. You really are fucking wrecked— nothing has ever come close to this.

Yoongi’s hands come to your hips, pads of his fingers digging into your skin, and you feel the head of his cock against your entrance, sliding lazily through your folds but purposefully not pressing into you.

“Yoongi,” you whine. You’re too far gone for this teasing.

“You have to tell me what you want,” he says, his voice dark.

You can barely even think a sentence, and you try to push back on him instead, but he keeps you held firmly in place, hands squeezing into the flesh of your hips. “Tell me,” he insists.

“I want you to fuck me,” you manage, and you look up to meet his gaze in the bathroom mirror.

He licks his lips, and you realize that he’s having just as hard a time restraining himself. “That much is obvious,” he says, and you can hear the unsteadiness in his voice now. “How would you like to get fucked?”

You’ve had enough alcohol to brazenly tell the truth. “Like you hate me.”

It may be the first genuine smile of his you’ve ever seen.

“Gladly,” he replies, and then he thrusts all of himself into you at once. You collapse forward on the countertop, crying out at the feeling.

“Yeah,” Yoongi grunts, a little breathless. “You like that?” He pulls nearly all the way out and slams into you one more time, pressing his hips flush with your ass until you feel overwhelmingly full. Then he starts to properly thrust, moving at a pace that can only be described as ruthless.

“Oh, fuck,” you gasp, your head dropping down as you scramble to brace yourself against the counter. You practically yelp when his hand cracks over your ass again.

He leans forward; you can feel his chest graze over your back, his hips still snapping into you as he grabs your jaw with one hand and forces your gaze up to look at him in the mirror again. You watch as he runs two fingers along your bottom lip in an unasked question. You let your jaw go slack to allow him to slip into your mouth.

When your lips close around his fingers, you find yourself a little grateful to have something to keep you grounded to reality. Your eyes flit up to Yoongi’s face, and his gaze is piercing, eyes totally fixed on you.

“You look so good like this.” His voice is hoarse, strained from effort, and he continues to drive into you, never slowing. Your own hip bones dig into the bathroom counter, shocks of pleasure-pain rippling through you with each thrust. Little moans and whimpers spill out from your mouth around his fingers at the sensation, and you can feel your climax starting to build.

Yoongi withdraws from your mouth, that same hand moving down your body to slip into your panties and circle your clit, earning a gasp from you. His other hand keeps a death grip on your hip as he thrusts, and he straightens up again, the head of his cock now rubbing so perfectly over your g-spot that you hiss.

“Did Kihyun fuck you like this?”

The question catches you off-guard. “N-no,” you gasp, and the hot coil of your arousal tightens in your core. Yoongi’s cock stroking into you, his hand working your clit, the feeling is overwhelming, dizzying. “Oh, god.” Your head presses into your forearm as you give yourself over to the pleasure. You can only distantly hear Yoongi’s voice continue, somewhere between coaxing and demanding.

“I didn’t fucking think so. So why don’t you say it? Tell me who fucks you right. Tell me who you fucking hate.”

The fingers on your clit are unrelenting now, and your edge approaches fast and hard.

“Y-Yoongi,” you breathe, and it feels too good to say his name and mean it. “Yoongi, fuck, Yoongi.” A loud moan rips through you as your legs start to shake. “Oh fuck,” you gasp, “I’m coming, fuck, yes—” You nearly sob as your climax hits you hard, and your walls flutter around Yoongi’s cock over and over in what feels like an endless orgasm.

The pleasure rolls through you, and you look up in the mirror to see Yoongi grit his teeth as he picks up the pace of his hips. A look of desperation paints his face, not unlike the way he looked when you were blowing him, and you know he must be close.

“God fucking damnit,” he grunts, each word punctuated with a thrust, and then he tips his head back and pushes all the way into you with a moan as he comes.

For a moment he pauses like that, gazing up at the ceiling, chest heaving with effort as his dick twitches inside of you. “Holy shit,” he breathes, and then he starts to laugh softly in what appears to be disbelief. “Fuuuuck.”

You haven’t fully recovered, so you can only watch, still gripping the countertop for dear life, as he slips the condom off, chucks it into the trash can, and pulls his boxers and pants up. He gives his reflection a once-over in the mirror, running a hand through his hair, and you’re amazed at how quickly he’s put himself back together. The only indication that he was literally just railing you is the way he’s breathing heavily.

Yoongi notices you watching him and gives your ass one more firm slap, hard enough that you flinch a little.

“Wait a minute or two before you head out,” he instructs, and you nod dumbly. He crosses the room, opens the door, and slips out, all before you can even so much as think a coherent thought.

It takes several more minutes for you to get your shit together, but you eventually manage to readjust your underwear and smooth your dress down, though your legs are certainly still unsteady when you make your way back to the table. You can’t help but shoot a glance over at Yoongi as you pass, and you’re shocked to see him laughing and chatting it up with the group of coworkers seated around him. You see clear expressions of surprise on their faces, too— because he’s never like this. Except, apparently, mere minutes after fucking you.

You don’t even bother to sit down, instead grabbing your purse off the table and slinging the straps over your shoulder.

“Wow, there you are,” Jungkook’s voice drags you out of your thoughts, and the look of concern on his face just makes your stomach turn. You genuinely have no idea how long you were gone for. “Are you okay? Your face looks flushed.”

You don’t know how to answer his question, so you don't. “I think I’m gonna go home.”

“Do you need a ride?”

You shake your head quickly. “I’ll call a friend.”

Perched on the curb outside, you clutch your phone for dear life as you pull up Jimin’s contact to call him. The line rings and you realize you’re shivering; you don’t think it has anything to do with the weather.

You don’t even give him a chance to say hello when the call connects. “Can you come get me?”

He groans on the other end of the line. “Why? I already took my pants off for the night.”

“Baby mochi, please.” You whine, but you know only the full explanation will get him out of bed. You drop your voice a little. “I just hatefucked Suga in the bathroom at the company happy hour. I need you to come pick me up immediately.”

Jimin’s apartment is a ten minute drive away, but you swear he makes it in five.

“Well, well, well,” Your best friend’s voice is smug as you slide into his passenger seat. “If it isn’t the company whore.”

“Shut the fuck up, Jimin.”

~*~

Come Monday morning, you’re racing down the hallway to the conference room, quietly cursing yourself for being late. You’d seen the email from your boss moving the usual Tuesday pull-up to first-thing Monday, but then you’d gotten so tied up with other projects you’d forgotten about it entirely. It was only once you were in the break room, trying to get your caffeine fix in, that you’d glanced up at the wall clock and realized it was already ten after.

Focused as you are on getting to the meeting quickly— and just as importantly, not spilling any of your coffee— you’re completely unaware of your surroundings until it’s too late. You nearly smack directly into Yoongi as you approach the conference room simultaneously.

He smirks as you jump back in surprise. “We have got to stop meeting like this.”

It’s the first time you’ve seen him since Friday; you’ve been hiding out in Baby Star Candy’s corner all morning. “We’re late,” you say, flustered enough to state the obvious, and he shrugs like he can’t disagree.

“I got distracted.”

Yoongi must notice the way your eyes start to widen. “With work,” he clarifies quickly. He reaches around you to place a hand on the conference room door, and you hear his voice low in your ear. “Amazing how much easier it is to focus today, huh?”

Straightening up to put some space between you, he pushes the door open and gestures for you to go first. You swallow hard and try to keep your composure as you enter the room, briefly apologizing for being late. Yoongi follows behind you silently, slumping into the open seat across the table. You take a sip of your coffee to settle your nerves, which turns out to be a horrible idea when your boss speaks.

“There they are, perfect timing. You’re the very two people my next announcement concerns.”

You just barely manage to keep your drink in your mouth. When your gaze flits to Yoongi across from you, he looks similarly shell-shocked. You can’t help but wonder if you’re about to get fired in front of the entire team.

“We’ve managed to secure funding for the Grammy’s at the end of the month,” your boss says brightly. “We’ll be flying Suga out to do a press circuit as well as attend the award show and surrounding events in-person. We think it will be a great opportunity to network with American artists, try to get his name out there and work on our international appeal.”

“And of course,” your boss’ gaze lands on you, “we all know that our Suga isn’t the most extroverted, or good with schedules, for that matter. We figured he needs a wrangler, and who better than our very own admin?”

You swear your heart stops beating. Your boss keeps going, reminding the team to connect with you about temporarily taking back any deliverables you’ve been handling while you’ll be out of pocket for Grammy’s weekend and subsequent travel time, but you barely process a word. This can’t be happening.

An entire weekend of forced professionalism, in Los Angeles, with the man you just hatefucked in a bathroom. What could possibly go wrong?

chapter four | masterlist | chapter six

#yoongi smut #yoongi angst #yoongi x reader #bts fanfic #bts x reader #look down on me like that

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captainsimagines · 1 year

Text

pretty woman, this is me trying || one

Summary: Bucky Barnes does not like to be touched. He’s completely ready to live a distant life and give up when the time is right. Until Stark hires him his own personal pretty woman. Over time, Bucky Barnes begins to learn how to touch again. How to feel again. How to love himself again.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female SexWorker!Reader

Trope(s): Holiday Fanfic ; Slow-Burn ; Friends to Lovers

Based on the Song(s): sweet nothing by Taylor Swift and Iris by The Goo Goo Dolls

(1/14)

Mini-Series / AO3 Link

Warnings: PTSD themes; past sexual abuse (Hydra); strong language; panic attacks; nightmares

Word Count: 2,950+

Author’s Note: A holiday fanfic! You know I couldn’t leave you all hanging! I’m excited for this one. I know it deals with a lot more heavy situations, but I wanted to write something angsty/romantic. PLUS, I wrote this in 3 days so I’m sorry if it’s bad lol

I hope I do you justice. Love you all. xxMoni

Bucky Barnes did not like to be touched.

He did not shake hands, he did not hug, he did not do well with even the slightest brush of someone’s body. The faintest of touches froze him. Paralyzed in the faint sensation. Memories of harsh hands and machines, demented laughter and sedated foreplay, echoed through his mind.

The only person he allowed to touch him when necessary was Steve, and even then Bucky had to remind himself that it was his best friend. The size of Steve’s body was not a danger. The command of his voice was for safety only, and not to order him to strip. The friendly claps on the back were meant to ease Bucky into the world, not to bend him over from behind.

Sometimes he believed he was getting better. Mornings were beautiful, food tasted great, and everyone greeted him with a smile. On those special days, Bucky's heart filled with hope. Hope he could sit in close proximity to someone else, hope he could travel outside the compound and not rely on his super soldier skills, hope he could get out of his head for one second.

But when someone entered a room too loudly, or when he was forced to physically fight an enemy—those special days crumbled to ash, now cruel illusions that sent Bucky on a downward spiral. A spiral Steve usually had to coax him out of with gentle words, words that scarily resembled begging.

So Bucky has given up on trying to fit in. On trying to find the light at the end of the tunnel. On trying to feel human again.

And fuck all that bullshit about being human was to feel pain.

Pain was not a good emotion, and it was mean to give it relevance to the human condition.

It wasn’t an emotion every human had to suffer in order to be considered living. It was an emotion that was cruel and unforgiving and completely, completely exhausting.

If Bucky Barnes had to live his life without touch again, then so be it. If he had to step out of a room to calm his nerves with the repetition of his tapping fingers, then so be it. He did not want to feel trapped, or abused, or ridiculed ever again. He did not believe in soft touches or love making anymore.

First, the war stole his boyhood.

Then the Swiss Alps stole his life.

And Hydra stole his dignity.

His time with Hydra had been documented to horrible extremes. Extremes Bucky was certain were going to be plastered on media outlets and history books. But he had discovered one night, while on a solo-mission to the compound’s lounge, that those theories were unlikely.

Because he had found Tony Stark and Natalia Romanov scouring every database and paper trail about his torture… and completely destroying it. With help from Jarvis, Bucky’s recorded nightmares were erased. Washed out. Encrypted, set on fire, and utterly gone.

Neither Tony or Natalia ever spoke to him of it. He assumed Stark was simply avoiding an awkward conversation, and that he didn’t exactly do good with such rough topics. Natalia did write down the number of her therapist for him.

He threw the piece of paper away.

And on nights like these, he really wished he hadn’t.

Bucky curled up in his thin bedsheets and clutched them close, willing his body to stop sweating. He tried to touch his knees to his chest but he was too large. If he could feel pressure there, then he could fall asleep. If there was added pressure to his back, then the sleep would be immaculate.

He turned and piled the pillows high, setting them behind his back. The coldness of the cotton seeped into his skin, instantly relaxing him. He clutched a throw pillow to his chest and pressed it down, counting by even numbers.

Pressure, a sequence, and breathing.

He could tell by the bright white light shining through his curtains that it was still night. No light that bright could be anything but the moon. That was a reassuring constant for him.

“Shall I ring for Captain Rogers, Sergeant Barnes?” Jarvis whispered over the speakers in Bucky’s room.

Jarvis’s random voice didn’t scare Bucky anymore. At first, it had caused Bucky to spring into a full blown panic attack. But as time went on and Jarvis continued to speak with him randomly, at odd times, Bucky’s body got used to it. Expected it.

“No, Jarvis. I’m good.”

Jarvis hummed, pausing a little before saying, “Let me know if you need anything.”

Bucky didn’t respond. He never took Jarvis up on that offer anyway.

He curled further into his mound of sheets and pillows and shut his eyes, forcing himself into a dreamless sleep.

He succeeded in sleeping, but relived memories twice over in the dark.

“Twenty bucks says you don’t ask her,” Steve declared, pulling his wallet from his coat.

Wanda giggled from behind the kitchen counter, pouring coffee into her impossibly large mug. Pietro saddled up beside her, stealing the mug for himself.

Sam clicked his tongue. “Bet. I’ll do it today after dinner.”

Steve scoffs, “Fuck off. Another twenty says you won’t have the balls to ask until next week.”

Bucky snickered as he looked between his two friends. He sat with his left leg bent so he could rest his chin on his knee, comfortable enough to be casual this morning. He sipped at his hot chocolate, grateful Wanda gave him one of the festive mugs. It was December 1st, after all.

“After dinner,” Sam promised, slapping his own twenty onto the dining table.

Wanda leaned forward and snatched the money for herself. “I’ll keep this bet safe for the time being.”

“You think she’ll say yes?” Bucky asked, overly curious.

Sam asking Natasha to the annual Avengers Christmas ball? Yeah, right.

Sam puffed out his chest, his smile wide. “I’ll bet more money, Barnes. That’s how confident I am.”

Steve rolled his eyes. He finally picked up his fork and dug into his eggs. With his mouth full, he said, “If you think you know Romanoff, you don’t.”

It was Sam’s turn to roll his eyes. “Like I said, Cap. I’m confident about this.”

“Well, I think that’s a good attitude to have,” Pietro commented, sitting down beside Steve with own full plate of eggs and bacon. “And when it all crashes and fails, we get to be the ones to tell you ‘I told you so!’”

Sam flung a piece of bacon across the table, cursing Pietro’s name.

Bucky watched it all unfold, feeling both inside and outside the circle at once. He was a part of the conversation, but he still felt benched. His body would lurch forward on its own accord and try to join in—maybe to thump Pietro on the back of the head, slap Steve on the back, grab a mug of coffee from Wanda’s delicate hands.

It was funny, really. Being afraid of Wanda’s hands because of his own history and not because of the power she held within them.

He was both included, and not. There, and nowhere. Inside his head but forcing himself to step out of it. Dissociating for too long until the conversation was on another topic entirely.

Jarvis’s voice snapped them from their play fighting. “Sergeant Barnes, Sir has asked me to tell you that he would like your opinion on something.”

Bucky grumbled, drinking from his hot chocolate. “What does he want?”

“Oh, that’s the wonder of standing up and finding out for yourself, isn’t it, Sergeant Barnes?”

Sam howled, nearly choking on his last piece of bacon. “Jarvis really is Stark’s creation. Jesus fucking Christ.”

Bucky sighed, having been left with no choice. He placed his half-drunk mug in the sink and waved goodbye to everyone, trying hard not to stomp to Stark’s lab.

Stark was under a massive machine with six arms and blue lasers when Bucky walked into the lab later that afternoon. He had ignored Jarvis’s constant badgering and decided to visit the lab after his morning run. Only after it Bucky was certain he wouldn’t physically fight Stark if what he had to say was idiotic.

“My one and only!”

Bucky rolled his eyes and sat at the farthest chair from the monster machine. “You called?”

“And you diddle-daddled.”

To this, Bucky actually laughs. Sometimes Stark got on his nerves, other times he was a breath of fresh, realist air.

Stark climbed out from underneath the metal monstrosity, wiping oil from his hands. Bucky waited patiently as Stark finally sat, cracking his neck three times before speaking.

“So… The Christmas Ball.”

“Uh huh.”

Stark adjusted his seating, slowly lowering himself in his rolly-chair. Bucky watched him become shorter, awkwardly staring at him and the walls simultaneously. Whatever Stark wanted to talk to him about, it was becoming less interesting to Bucky.

“Pepper has informed me that there is going to be an auction. A, donate thousands of dollars to take me out on a date, type thing.”

Bucky grimaced. “Isn’t that prostitution?”

“No, it’s escorting. Prostitution is the other honorable profession.”

Bucky hummed.

Stark wiped a stressed hand down his face, curling his lips as he continued speaking. “Pepper has also informed me that only Thor is being auctioned for real. Meaning, everyone else isn't actually on the roster. Their dates are going to be the highest bidder regardless of what anyone bids that night.”

Bucky frowned, stumped. “So, we’re denying money from actual bidders and rigging this thing?”

“No. Private donors have already given their fair share of money. We’ve flown past our goal for the evening.”

“Then why have the Ball in the first place?”

“Appearances, photo ops, meeting new people—You name it.”

So Steve and Sam were going to be “sold” to their highest bidder, who will also happen to be their dates for that evening. That nice coffee shop girl Steve has been dating for the past six months was already invited…

That meant she was bidding whatever amount she needed to, regardless of the price, for a date with Steve. Money that was already donated before the damn Ball even started.

Bucky looked to the white, marble floor for answers. But all he saw was his distorted reflection, staring back at him with creeping realization.

“What… What about me?”

Stark sighed, shrugging his shoulders empathetically. “I tried everything, Barnes. But the higher-ups forced us to include you, too.”

Bucky was going to throw up. That ball of nausea that often stuck to the back of his throat was crawling upward, scratching his tongue, begging to be let free. To spill all over this damned marble floor.

He whimpered silently, turning his face to his metal shoulder. His hair covered his anguished expression, but it was pointless to assume Stark hadn’t noticed. Bucky’s neck was already redder than the original color itself.

“Barnes, listen to me.” Bucky tried to follow the direction of Stark’s voice. When he blinked, his vision seemed to get blurrier. “Breathe. Tap those fingers. You remember you got fingers, right?”

Bucky counted to three, then began to tap his index and thumb together. He relished in the feel of his skin, in the lifted edges of his fingerprints, of his filed fingernails. Slowly, the world stopped spinning. The chair didn’t feel like it was caving in anymore. The walls stopped stretching and his ears stopped ringing.

The remnants of his panic attack settled in his chest, pulsing uncomfortably. But he could finally open his eyes long enough and not feel like passing out.

“Good, good. Now if you would just let me finish.”

Bucky huffed a quiet laugh, easily amused by Stark’s sarcasm. It was a surprise how quickly the two fell into step after Bucky moved into the compound, seeking each other out for random answers and opinions. Steve had questioned it, but accepted that if Bucky was alright with it, he wouldn’t budge.

“I spoke with Pepper. You have two options: Let me find you a date who I promise will not leak anything to the press, touch you without permission, or annoy you until you feel like swallowing a bullet.”

Bucky blinked at him, eyebrows scrunching. Stark getting him a date? Bucky didn’t want to date any of Stark’s past flings or strangers he might pull off the streets. The rational part of his brain understands that this person will be vetted and practically stalked, but it’s the irrational side that’s telling him this person might just hurt him. They could convince the world they’re the most innocent thing ever, but when he’s alone with them that mask could easily fall off and reveal eight tentacles and a flaming skull.

“Or,” Stark enunciates, standing from his incredibly low chair. He blew a fast raspberry before saying, “You and Sam attend together, or you and Natasha.”

Okay, that seemed like the better option. He trusts both Sam and Natalia, trusts them to keep their hands to themselves and protect him. Yeah, that was obviously the better choice—

But Sam wanted to ask Natalia. Sam has been wanting to ask her a million things before the Ball was ever a reality. His friend had all this insane amount of exhilarating excitement when he even thought about the red head.

Bucky couldn’t take that away from him. Even if his own comfort was the victim in this situation.

“This… person. Will they be an escort?”

Stark’s eyes widened momentarily before he steadied himself. “Yes, and maybe no. They’ll be the person I believe can be most trusted. Are you okay with the possibility of taking a hooker to the Ball?”

Bucky grunted, “Don’t use that word.”

“It’s the 21st century, Barnes. Hooker means prostitute, prostitute means sex worker, and sex worker has a positive connotation nowadays.”

“Just say escort.”

Stark grumbled beneath his breath, turning to a nearby computer and typing something into the search bar. “Jarvis, make sure this web search is wiped from the center of the earth after I’m done with it.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Tony.” Stark knew that when Bucky used his first name, it was a call to turn around and look him in the eye. So that’s exactly what Stark did. “A sex worker expects sex, don’t they? I’m not giving them that, so how can you expect me to be fine with it?”

Stark tapped his fingers against random keys, deep in thought. “I don’t know how to say this without sounding offensive. Jarvis, help me out. How do I say, ‘You don’t have to fuck the person, you can just pay them,’ kindly?”

“We will be searching for people who have voluntarily enrolled in sex work, Sergeant Barnes. Any meeting you set up with them is consensual. And the beauty of consensual sex work is, without a doubt, the freedom of choice. So think about it like this, Sergeant Barnes: They will not touch you if you do not ask. You are investing time, and they will accept the money without a kiss exchanged if that is what you wanted.”

A companion?

Bucky had only ever had Steve and Sam after he returned to the compound. Only ever hung out with them outside in the real world, too. A random person entering the compound and pretending to be his date seemed a little extreme, no? Like he couldn’t make friends of his own.

But wasn’t that the real reason behind all this? Bucky didn’t have many contacts or love interests to take to this damn Christmas Ball so he was being punished for it. Forced to interact with a stranger and the stranger forced to interact with him.

“I can do a proper search of these websites with Jarvis’s and Hill’s help and get back to you in the morning, okay? Are you sure you’re okay with this?”

“I only have to meet them tomorrow and that’s it?”

Stark wobbled a flat hand in the air. “Kind of. Spend one day with them and tell me if you think you can last a whole night with them as your date. I don’t want you to be paired with someone I thought was great but you find repulsive.”

Okay, that was somewhat considerate. But a whole day? At best, Bucky will last a few hours before wanting to run under a hill.

“Okay,” he surrendered.

Stark sighed, “I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable, Barnes. It’s just… Maybe it’s not the ideal way, but meeting new people isn’t always a bad thing, you know?”

“Oh?” Bucky replied sarcastically.

“Oh. You think I didn’t suffer the same thing? People I knew since birth betrayed me. I’ve got trust issues too, my man.”

“We’re not comparing sad little tales, Stark.”

“Find it in your ice cold heart to be compassionate, Barnes.”

Bucky chuckled, leaning back in his seat. “So, tomorrow then?”

Stark nodded. “I’ll do my best to find you a hot piece of ass.”

“Stark!”

“Sorry! I joke. I kid. I jest.”

Bucky watched Stark toy with his experiments for ten minutes more before bidding him a good rest of his day.

Maybe a companion wouldn’t be so bad. He’d have someone to talk to after all. Text, get coffee with, watch movies with. He could do all those things with Steve and Sam but they were busy. Busy with work, busy with life, busy with everything Bucky avoided for good reason.

And even though his body is physically repulsed by the idea of being in close proximity with an absolute stranger, perhaps someone who was forced to be nice to him wasn’t exactly a lousy idea.

Maybe it was necessary.

#Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes/reader #bucky barnes fanfic #holiday fanfic #bucky barnes au #pretty woman au #avengers au #marvel fanfiction #mini-series #captainsimagines #by Moni

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kelexr · 10 months

Text

Snippet of a fic I’m writing (title impending)

Damijon/JonDami

Slow burn, enemies to lovers AU

Word Count: 2,864

Status: Unfinished

Any and all critiques are welcome as this is my first fic! I’m especially worried about this fic flowing too fast or being hard to understand, please help 😭

Any tips on how to make this fic longer would be very very appreciated

🩵

This was utterly idiotic, perhaps it was the biggest gap in reasoning his father has demonstrated to date. Damian could not even fathom how his father had come to the conclusion that this was the best way he could spend his summer vacation. Most would call it unfair, rightfully so; none of his brothers were asked to hang up their capes for ‘social enrichment.’ Yet, there he was, glaring at the gloved hand holding out his suitcase.

“It seems you have forgotten what I told Father; I’m not going,” Damian barked out, attempting to close the door on the man’s face. However, a sleek, black shoe prevented him from doing so. He scoffed and crossed his arms over his body, but did not make any moves to force the door shut.

Alfred removed his foot from the doorframe, and once again motioned the suitcase towards the younger boy, “Master Damian, it has been made abundantly clear that Master Wayne does not intend to let you miss this outing.” The butler paused for a second before adding on, “Who knows, it may even help you.”

Damian responded with an exaggerated eye-roll before continuing his yapping, “Oh please, as if I have ever needed assistance. Especially from that alien’s halfling son! The last time I had the displeasure of speaking with it, I swear I almost utilized my kryptonite.”

The man in front of him raised an unimpressed eyebrow, before a gruff voice rang out behind him, “That is exactly why you are going.” His father, seemingly coming out of nowhere, walked up to Alfred before taking the suitcase from his hands. The butler nodded in understanding before walking off to attend to the rest of the manor.

His father held out his free hand, and Damian mumbled a few curses before handing his father a lead-lined box containing a certain green rock. The older man stared down expectantly before his son let out a drawn out sigh and pulled another box out of his back pocket.

Bruce gave his youngest son a warning look, one that would strike pure terror into most non-bats, before speaking, “Jon is a… sweet boy,” Damian scoffed, knowing of his father’s ‘subconscious’ distrust of Kryptonians, “and he would be a good friend for you to have. His family was kind enough to offer you a place in their home over the summer. You are going, understand?” He tried to end his clumsy attempt at a ‘father-son talk’ in a way that snuffed out any argument.

It may have actually worked if it weren’t for the fact he was talking to Damian Wayne.

“Father, I'm 15! I do not need to be sent to some farm so I can mingle with its homely residents,” the older Wayne opened his mouth to scold the boy, but was not given the chance, “I made one— and the incident with the paparazzi does not count—mistake and suddenly you can’t trust me to perform the thing I was raised to do?”

“Damian,” Bruce let out a frustrated breath, “Do I need to remind you, again, why I have to do this?” He waited for an answer, but was given none, “Verbally attacking every journalist that came up to you was nothing short of immature and reckless. As Robin you are able to utilize your rage to do great things, but as a Wayne— as my son—you are expected to behave to a certain standard.” He shook his head, “If you want to be treated like you’re an ‘adult,’ start acting like one. The way you are speaking about the Kents is proof enough that you have learned nothing from our previous talks.

This is not meant to be a punishment, it’s the last option you have given me. Jonathan will be an easy friend to make and sets a great example for how you should act. I am aware of how your previous meetings with him have gone, but this time will be different.” He sets a hand on his son’s shoulder, “This time there will be no capes and absolutely no reason to fight,” he leans in closer, “if I find out you tried to run away, snuck any kryptonite in, or refused to help with chores, no Robin until you graduate.”

“But Father-”

“No,” He tightens his grip on the boy’s shoulder, “no more arguing. Dick has offered to take you. Do I have to escort you to his car, or can you manage to do that yourself?”

Just like that, Damian knew he had been backed into a corner, “No thank you.” He snatched the suitcase out of the other man’s hands before backing into his room to pull out another suitcase, one he packed for himself. Bruce eyed the pre-packed suitcase, feeling an odd sense of pride. It was short-lived, “I didn’t pack this because I wanted to go. I always have a suitcase ready.”

Damian stomped past the so-called world’s greatest detective before remembering he was supposed to be mature. He regulated his steps and before reaching the end of the hallway called out, “Do not forget to feed my animals.” He quickly turned the corner and made his way to the stairs.

They were sickeningly extravagant with golden railings that held flowery engravings and polished, spiraling steps. Due to it being the first thing seen when entering the manor through its front doors, it is usually the only thing first-time guests want to gush about. While Damian tries to completely write off the ogling over the lavish flight of steps, he does appreciate the amount of work Pennyworth invests in keeping them clean. Really, he appreciates all the work his pseudo grandfather does to keep the house from being in complete ruins, not like he’d ever say that to his face.

Once he reaches the final steps, he allows his suitcases to roll on the ground behind him. He is vaguely aware of the fact he did not bid farewell to, well, anyone, but the idea sounds far too bothersome for him to care; he pushes open the front door, cementing his decision to ignore as many people as he possibly could.

Perhaps his silence would be their punishment, but he highly doubted they’d see it that way. If anything, they were counting down the days he’d be leaving— especially Drake. Sure, he has formed effective partnerships with the bunch of bat-themed heroes, but that much is to be expected of a Robin. In the end, his relationship with his ‘family’ has always been one built upon tolerance; his silence was nothing more than a sign he would not tolerate their presence at the moment. There was no use dwelling on these circumstances, ones he forced upon himself. The simple truth was that he would not miss them and they would not miss him. At least, that’s what he told himself.

“Beep beep!” The man’s voice forced Damian out of his thoughts, “You need help with your stuff?” Dick Grayson asked, leaning over his steering wheel to look at the boy. He didn’t pity his older brother with a response, opting to do the task himself. He stomped down the manor’s steps, his suitcases banging following him as he went. The boy refused to spare a look at the home he was now being forced out of. He yanked open the door to the backseat of the sleek, blue Mercedes-Benz, unceremoniously shoving the suitcases into the luxury car.

Dick watched the boy’s movements through his peripheral, “Upset?” Damian grumbled in response, pulling out to slam the door, before promptly getting in the vehicle through the passenger-side door. “C’mon, lighten up! Isn’t Clark’s son, like, your best friend? Other than me of course.” He chuckled at his own comment while beginning their journey away from Wayne Manor.

“He is not my friend! We are far from cordial at all,” The Arab boy huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. He looked out the window, safe from having to see the home of his betrayers.

“Sure thing, D,” he motioned towards the boy, “also, seatbelt.” Damian sighed, but clicked the safety harness into place. He may be reckless, but road safety matters!

They drove for a few minutes, but, in true Gotham fashion, were quickly swept into the afternoon’s traffic. There were a few honks and screams echoing out of the vehicles around the boys, a common symptom of road rage. The boy’s green eyes lazily traced over the slow-moving cars stationed beside him, and he was left wondering why he couldn’t just get flown there.

Dick, of course, took this chance to pester his little brother.

“I mean, you have to give the boy a chance. Remember a few years ago? He was so excited when you came to his birthday, and— oh yeah…” Dick rubbed his neck nervously, seemingly remembering why Damian wasn’t invited to any subsequent birthdays of any Kent.

Damian smirked at the memory, still taking pride in the fact he was able to pull such a stunt off all these years later. It wasn’t his fault a superhuman was deathly afraid of spiders, but some could argue that manufacturing hundreds of nano-spiders was. Also infusing said nano-spiders with kryptonite could’ve been a bit too far, and wrapping them up as if they were a gift was— Hmm, okay, maybe he’s a jerk. However, no one could say he wasn’t a jerk with a plan.

His older brother sighed, pulling him out of his reminiscing, “That was probably a bad example, huh? I don’t think he was too upset about it, he was back to begging his dad to hang out with you within the month.”

Damian looked away from his window, and directed a confused look at the blue-eyed man driving. He knew Jonathan had been friendly with him, but he begged to see him? That’s absurd! “What are you talking about?”

“Oh you don’t know? When you two were younger, all he wanted to do was talk to or about you,” Dick laughed, “if I didn’t know better, I’d think he was crushing on you, D. Bruce saved your ass back then, always making excuses for you.” The man paused to think for a few moments, “I don’t think he’s done that for a while. When was the last time you guys saw each other?”

Oh boy, another memory? I guess you can get an actual flashback, you’ve earned it!

“Lois and I will be having tea and I’ve also agreed to an interview, afterwards I can drop you off at the animal shelter— how long will you be volunteering?” His father questioned as they walked up the steps of the Daily Planet. Bruce had made a habit of meeting with his best friend’s wife (it would be suspicious if they weren’t head over heels in love with their spouses) to talk over tea, coffee, and wine on special occasions.

Damian thought for a few moments, “I suppose a few hours would be fine; however, I would like to come back at a time in which my schedule is not completely booked. Could that be arranged, Father?” He kept his green eyes trained ahead of him, his hands clasped together behind his back. He could be professional and level-headed in public, ha!

His father nodded, opening the building’s front doors. He motioned for his son to enter, “I forgot to mention, Jo-”

“You.” Damian cut off his father’s words, spotting what slipped the man’s mind before he could even finish his sentence. The boy in front of them glanced around nervously, his eye’s movements barely visible behind his wide-framed glasses.

“Uh- M-Mr. Wayne,” he nodded his head at the man, “and Damian, uhm, hi.” The boy shifted his weight between his feet before speaking up once more, “Uhm, Mom asked me to,” he motioned to the elevators behind him, “escort you guys to her office.”

Bruce smiled and nodded, allowing the boy to lead him, but Damian scoffed, turning his head in disgust and moving his hands to his hips, “I wasn’t aware it was bring-your-child to work day.”

Jon looks away bashfully, “It’s not! I’m only here because-”

The— slightly— older boy cuts him off with an obnoxiously fake yawn, “Don’t care.” He suddenly feels a hand fall upon his shoulder. He looks up to see a horrifying sight, even for him; his father is glaring down at him intently, baring into his soul with a fire that could kill the toughest of fighters. So much more being professional and level-headed.

“What my son means to say is, it’s a pleasant surprise, and,” he pushed the boy closer to Jon, “he’s sorry.”

“I mean to say no such thing-” Bruce gives him a single look. “I feel a slight guilt at my words,” Damian clears his throat, “lead the way, Farmbo- Kent.”

Jon smiles— he really does smile too much— turning on his heel. The boy doesn’t present himself as anything, but what can be seen on the surface; a humble farm boy who has learned to see the best in people. And in a way, that’s all he is. He stands in the shadow of his father’s billowing, red cape and doesn't complain, doesn’t resent it. Perhaps he knows that the sunshine he emits when grinning ear-to-ear is enough to drown out the shadows. He himself is a symbol of hope, and he does it all without the oh-so recognizable crest. It makes Damian feel nauseous.

He leads the pair to a row of elevators and clicks a button, causing a downwards arrow to light up. The screens above the elevators indicate its descent down to them. 10…9…8…The half-Kryptonian bounces in place, having seemingly forgotten his nervousness, now filled with restlessness as he waits, “Mom has been really excited to show you her new office! She bought a new, fancy tea, but don’t tell her I told you because I told her I wouldn’t. Anyways, her office! It’s bigger, has a better view, and it has its own mini fridge— a mini fridge! Can you believe that? She could keep so many snacks in there, and no one can-”

Much to Damian’s relief, the elevator’s chime cut the boy’s words short. Despite being a teenager, 14, he sure did ramble like a child. A few businesswomen walked out as the doors opened, deep into a conversation about recent pictures captured of The Flash; to the human eye he looked to be nothing but a red streak when he dashed by, so action shots of the man were a rarity and something deserving to be gawked at. The emerald-eyed boy refused to give them even a passing glance, reporters were vultures and he could already see the headlines:

Heir to Bruce Wayne intimidates Daily Planet Employees!

Damian Wayne; back to harassing the press?

Nature Vs. Nurture, a deep dive into a billionaire’s son.

Maybe he was being dramatic, the Daily Planet is known for its honesty and doesn’t usually stoop down to tabloids or exploiting mundane occurrences. Damian, though, knew better than to let reporters or their annoyingly persistent sons get close. Let others’ secrets spill out like an overflowing sink, but keep yours held tightly against your chest; that’s what his mom would spend countless nights instilling into him. Her methods in teaching this lesson, while cruel in most cases, worked well and allowed Damian to have an impenetrable wall encasing his heart.

He stepped into the elevator, head held high. His father gave the boy a polite response to his previous word-dump, but it didn’t take a detective to know he was ready to relax and enjoy some tea. Jon clicked a button to select a floor, and the Arab boy made a point to ignore his quick glances when he settled into place next to him. It had been almost a year since he’d last seen him, and, despite his own growth spurt, the alien was still much taller than himself.

The ride consisted of a silence that was, at some points, interrupted by Jon’s humming. They were carried up, luckily without having to stop for any extra passengers, and the door opened to a bustling office. A stench of coffee wafted through the air as Jon led them through the maze of cubicles. Conversations overlapped, and the clacking of keyboards was a constant annoyance. Jon, being the embodiment of sunshine he was, had to stop and greet every other worker.

It was very… stimulating.

Finally, they reached a room with glass walls, the contents hidden by thick, black curtains. “Tah-dah! Here it is!” The boy motioned towards the room with his arms dramatically, “Have fun Mr. Wayne!”

“You won’t be joining us today?” The billionaire asked, less out of genuine want and more out of politeness.

Jon shook his head, “Mom asked me to wait in the breakroom while y’all talk.”

“Oh, alright,” Bruce thought for a few moments, “Damian you can join him.” His father gave him a push, and began opening the door of the office, “Have fun, boys.”

“Father-” The door was slammed on his face, hmm, usually he’s the one who does that to his father.

#ao3 #fanfic #dc #damijon #jondami #damian wayne #jon kent #damian x jon #jon x damian #beta reader #writer #send help

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moog-rt · 1 year

Text

ᴄʏʙᴇʀʙᴜʟʟʏ [ʀɪꜱᴇ!ᴅᴏɴɴɪᴇ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ]

PART ONE

Links to parts: one two three four five

Summary:

Fate brought you and that purple-clad turtle together in the form of endless battles of code.You were a purple dragon recruit, and he was your target. He plays your games as you tease him with the slim possibility of victory.

You may just let him win if you are feeling particularly merciful.

Notes:

enemies to lovers (I think?); slow burn; takes place after the movie; reader is a villain

If you’d prefer to read it on Ao3, here’s the link:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/43043685/chapters/108159981#workskin

Otherwise, enjoy!

♡ ♡ ♡

“God, dammit!” Donatello threw himself back into his pimped-out desk chair, hands dragging themselves down his face as he groaned. “How could this happen?” His human friend beside him perked up at his frustrated tone.

“Uh, everything good, D?” April asked, grateful to have a reason to turn her attention away from her biology assignment. You know…that assignment that Donnie was supposed to be helping her with before he got sucked into his computer.

“No, everything is not good. In fact, everything is quite bad!” he began to raise his voice. “It seems that one of our old purple dragon friends decided to hack into my system to get access to some of my blueprints…” Queue an eye twitch of rage. “And they very much succeeded…” He began muttering and laughing to himself. It had all happened almost in an instant. One second, all of his servers were fine, untouched and secure. The next, some black hat hacker had busted right through his firewalls without any warning at all, and just like that, his blueprints were gone…

“Well? What are we waiting for then? Let’s go kick their sorry asses!” April hyped, throwing a fist in the air with a determined grin. Donnie met her enthusiasm, jumping up on his chair and pumping his tech-bo above his head with a maniacal smile.

“Yes! We shall show them what is to come when you attempt to hack Sir Othello Von Ryan!” He began laughing madly, leaping from his chair to start gathering his equipment. Time for things to get physical. April began packing her bag as quickly as she could manage. However, she was stopped in her tracks as she heard her phone go off from a text message, quickly picking it up to check who it was.

“Ah… actually, Donnie, I’m gonna have to put a raincheck on that. One of my classmates wants to meet up to work on that bio assignment I was telling you about.” She threw her backpack over her shoulder and waltzed out, leaving the poor turtle dumbstruck.

“Huh, but what about the—huh?”

♡ ♡ ♡

God, you were good.

You couldn’t stop the wide grin from spreading across your face. Who could blame you though? You had just broken through the firewall of one of the strongest security systems you’ve had the pleasure of coming in contact with, and boy was it fun. You got to play around with some algorithms you hadn’t had the chance to use yet, and they worked like a charm. On top of that, you were now in possession of some pretty cool blueprints for a variety of tech, from drones, to multitools, to sentient AI…

They were incredible designs.

The person you hacked must be some crazy genius. Their cyber security as solid as they come, and to have the ability to design such complex technology, considering all the knowledge of physics, engineering, and everything in between that was needed to create them… Incredible. Simply incredible.

You picked up your phone, ignoring all the notifications you had received and sending the blueprints over to Kendra. She got back to you almost immediately, sending praise for your quick and efficient work. Your heart swelled with pride. Of course, you already knew that you were fairly skilled when it came to coding and whatnot, but to have someone like Kendra acknowledging your good work felt nice… especially since it was your first assignment as a purple dragon.

Flopping down on your bed with a happy sigh, you decided it was probably best to get started on some of your homework. You scrolled through your contacts to find your lab partner’s name, shooting her a text to see if she’d be down to work on one of your assignments together. She gave you a warning when you were first assigned to each other that her area of expertise lay outside the realms of STEM, to which you offered to help her out to the best of your abilities. You weren’t the biggest bio nerd around, but it was an interesting subject, and you knew enough to be a good tutor to your upperclassman.

She, too, responded with lightning speed, eager to meet up and work together. The two of you agreed to meet at her place, and she promptly sent you her address. It wasn’t too far by transit, so you got your things together before starting your trek over. You let her know when you arrived so she could meet you to let you in. When she greeted you at the entrance to her building, you noticed she was breathing a bit heavily, and there was just a touch of sweat above her eyebrow.

“You good? You seem a bit out of breath, girly,” you said, giving her a gentle nudge with your elbow. She let out a breathy laugh in response.

“Oh, I am fine. Don’t you worry. I just got a little caught up in something, so I had to run a bit to beat you here,” she smiled, waving you off.

“Huh? You should have told me! I would have been totally fine coming later—”

“Nah, girl, seriously, I think you actually saved me from getting caught up in some nonsense tonight,” she chuckled, and unlocked the door to her apartment, allowing you in first.

Her place looked incredibly cozy. It wasn’t too spacious nor too cramped. Décor was strewn about tastefully, and there were fairy lights draped around the perimeter of her living room, creating a welcoming ambiance.

“April, this is such a nice setup,” you beamed.

“Why thank you very much!” She put her hands on her hips with a smile in return. “Now set your stuff down and get comfy. You want something to drink?”

“Water is good. Thank you!” You plopped down on April’s couch, pulling your laptop out of your bag to take a look at the assignment. She soon joined you after handing you the water, and the two of you began working through the problems. Luckily, most of the problems were addressing fairly basic vocabulary and cellular functions, which you could get through easily enough. April got stumped just a couple of times, but you were happy to explain anything she was having trouble understanding.

You eventually found yourselves working on the final question of the problem set. This one proved to be a bit more of a doozy. It was asking about the lipid bilayer that forms the cell wall, but it was more of a problem-solving question rather than just a test of basic knowledge. It even challenged you quite a bit, leaving you stumped for a minute or so. When you finally came to a conclusion, April had come to her own, as well. You both blurted out your solutions at the same time. They were very much not the same.

“Uh… April, I still don’t see how you got that answer…” You scratched behind your ear as you stared at the page of scribbles your classmate had created in an attempt to show you her thought process.

“It’s because the lipids have more kinks in them that the bilayer is more fluid as a whole—” you began to explain, however, she interjected again to argue for her own point. Your little debate went on for several more minutes. Papers filled with diagrams and chicken scratch began covering April’s once tidy floor.

“Okay, you know what?” The spunky girl whirled around to reach for her phone which was about 5 feet away from her. She stretched out way more than you would have thought possible, grabbed the phone, and sprang back into her previous sitting position. “Imma just call my nerd friend real quick.” She smiled at you with gritted teeth, eyes not leaving your form as she aggressively typed on her phone.

It didn’t even ring for a single round before her friend picked up. She immediately put the guy on speaker, not giving him a chance to even get a simple “hello” in as she was already explaining the whole situation at an inhuman speed. There was a moment of silence on the other end, and you both waited, biting at your nails in anticipation.

“So—uh… Yeah, no. Your friend’s answer is pretty much perfect,” the guy stated.

“Ha-HA!” Immediately, you threw your fist into the air in celebration of your academic victory. April slumped with her arms crossed and bottom lip jutted out just slightly.

“This ain’t fair,” she pouted. You giggled leaning over to her phone.

“Thank you, April’s friend,” you sang. Again, it was silent until you heard the quiet sound of his throat being cleared.

“Ah—uh… Yeah, it was—” The poor guy had to take another break to clear his throat before proceeding to speak with a bit more confidence. “It was totally no probles. Sciency stuff is kind of my thing, so if you ever need a tutor—”

“Okay. Donnie? I’m gonna have to stop you right there before you embarrass yourself,” April cut in. She put him off of speaker, but you could still vaguely make out some hollering from his end. “Buh-bye now!”

“He seems like a funny dude,” you chuckled. “Maybe next time we should invite him to the study group. He seems to know his shit.” The other girl sweat-dropped at this and began playing with her fingers.

“Yeah, maybe just over the phone… He’s kinda got this thing…” she trailed off, seemingly trying to think of the right word to use.

“This thing…?” you echoed, urging her to continue explaining. You didn’t actually mind, but now you were curious.

“He’s—uh…”

You waited.

“He’s just really shy!” You stared at her and allowed your head to tip to the side. She was giving you a wide toothy smile, not meeting your eyes as beads of sweat ran down her face. She was clearly desperate for you to be appeased by that excuse. Lucky for her, you were a merciful god and accepted her explanation. Besides, if you really wanted to know, you could easily find out.

Now that you finished your bio assignment, the two of you decided to spend a while longer working on other assignments. April had turned on some chill lyric-less music and brought over a good variety of snacks. You guys worked for a while until there was nothing major left to do, and you lost yourselves in simple chit-chat. It was now fairly late, however, so you decided to finally part ways until your next shared lecture.

Your journey back home was just a bit chillier, but still rather quick. You tapped into your building, jotting in the passcodes where they were needed, and made your way to your bedroom swiftly. Throwing yourself onto your desk chair, you spun around twice before stopping in front of your PC. A nice big warning message that your servers were now under attack greeted you. Your heart skipped a beat, and a wide grin was forcing its way onto your face once again.

Your dear friend was deciding to fight back.

♡ ♡ ♡

276 notes · View notes

oddinary4bts · 2 years

Text

Masterlist

Hi, I’m going to start a masterlist so you can find my fics easily!

Have fun getting lost in everything on here!

BTS ot7:

Life Goes On series:

Here is a collection of fanfics that all take place in the same universe, with all the members falling in love one after the other.

☆summary: Being the biggest boy band in the world can make it hard to find love. But in time, everyone finds the one that they were meant to find, the person that was forever theirs to begin with. Even the Bangtan boys aren’t an exception to that most simple rule of the universe, as they fall in love in the most unexpected places

☆rating: 18+

☆genre: snippets of life, idol!au

☆ series masterpost

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Min Yoongi and Jeon Jungkook:

Sinful Lust

☆summary: in an attempt to spice up your bedroom life with your boyfriend Min Yoongi, you suggest bringing another man into the action. Yoongi seems reluctant at first, but when you mention his friend Jeon Jungkook, he can’t deny his attraction. All that’s left to do is to convince Jungkook into participating...

☆rating: 18+

☆genre: 3some!au, slife of life!au, smut, angst

➳ series masterpost

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Jeon Jungkook

The Forgotten Spaces

☆rating: 18+

☆genre: slow (SLOW) burn enemies to lovers, college!au, slice of life!au, angst (oop), smut and fluff

➳ series masterpost

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

When the End Comes (The Forgotten Spaces sequel)

☆summary: Seven years after you've started dating Jungkook, long distance creates a wedge in your relationship. When the only solution seems to be breaking up, you go your separate ways even though love still lives in the two of you. Will you find a way back together, or has the end come for you and Jeon Jungkook?

☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI, every chapter contains mature content)

☆genre: breakup!au, slice of life!au, angst with a big A, smut

➳ series masterpost

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

November Sun

☆summary: whenever he breaks, the november sun shines on him. and jungkook chases you across the sky - but you've gone some place he can't reach you now.

☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI, it deals with heavy themes)

☆genre: grief au/funeral au?, exes au, angst

➳ Complete fic here! please read the warnings before reading this fic.

To Give A Helping Hand

☆summary: you're a fan, untouchable, yet Jungkook finds he's far too attracted to you.

☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI, this is pure smut)

☆genre: smut, idol!au

➳ Part one here!

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

1k followers celebration drabbles

Jeon Jungkook:

☆What’s wrong?

☆The Bane of Your Existence

☆The Coincidence of Fate

☆Let Me Kiss Your Mom

☆Happy Birthday

Min Yoongi:

☆The Worst Coworker You’ve Ever Had

Jeong Hoseok:

☆Two Hundred and Nineteen Days

Kim Namjoon:

☆Can I Ask you a Question?

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Stray Kids

For you series:

Here is a collection of fanfics that all take place in the same universe.

☆summary: being idols is a busy work, especially as one of the most requested group out there. Will the members find time to discover about love and feelings, or will they focus on work until they are at the top of their art?

☆rating: 18+

☆genre: snippets of life, idol!au

Hwang Hyunjin: Always been you

☆summary: when two estranged best friends meet again at their friends' wedding, an old spark reignites. You swear to yourself that you won't fall for Hyunjin again, until alcohol blurs the line between you two. Is it your fault if you find yourself drowning in the familiarity that is him?

☆genre: best friends to strangers to lovers, idol!au; fluff, some slight angst

☆warnings: mention of cheating, Hyunjin be a ghost, alcohol consumption

➳ Teaser: Coming soon!

➳ Complete fic: Coming soon!

Han Jisung: unnamed

☆genre: gaming friends to lovers, idol!au

Coming soon!

Lee Minho: unnamed

☆genre: jyp trainees to friends to lovers, idol!au

Coming soon!

Bang Christopher Chan: unnamed

☆genre: friend of a friend to lovers, idol!au

Coming soon!

Kim Seungmin: unnamed

☆genre: yet to discover, idol!au

Coming soon!

Seo Changbin: unnamed

☆genre: gym buddies to lovers, idol!au

Coming soon!

Lee Felix: unnamed

☆genre: family friends to lovers, idol!au

Coming soon!

Yang Jeongin: unnamed

☆genre: yet to discover, idol!au

Coming soon!

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Ateez:

Love is a Laserquest - Choi San

☆summary: years after your break-up, Choi San comes to you for help. In an attempt to save his life, you escape to your uncle's cabin in the woods far from civilization. Will nostalgia and longing make you fall again, or is Choi San just spinning more lies to you?

☆genre: gangster au, exes au, angst, smut, a smidge of the one bed trope

☆warnings: guns/gun violence (mentioned), knifes/stabbing (mentioned), a bounty over San's head, death of a minor character (named Jungkook my bad), blood, injuries, stitches, probably some wrong medical terminology bc optometrists don't stitch up people lmao, a panic attack, cursing, pet names, explicit content: oral sex (female receiving), face riding

➳ Complete fic

644 notes · View notes

borahaerhy · 2 years

Text

Gone (5) - jjk

Summary: You and your childhood best friend, Jungkook, have grown apart over the years, although you still have the same overbearing fun-loving bestie, Aria, that really wants her best friends talking again, something neither of you really want to be apart of until Aria goes missing, and the only other person that could help you find her is the one you've spent years avoiding.

Pairing: Jungkook x Female Reader

Genre: Best friends to enemies (ish?) to lovers, High School AU, eventual smut, slow burn

This one is a lot please read Warnings before reading: Theft, JK and Y/n are on the run, a Motel 6, cursing, More breaking and entering, Jungkook has a gun and uses it, someone gets shot multiple times (not a main character), someone gets unalived (shit happens man), Aria's parents are drug addicts.

Word Count: 4.6K

Previous | Next

Note: I have been told this may not be the most fun to read at night, so viewer discretion advised :)

“He’s going to burn my fucking house down,” you spoke as soon as you got into Jungkook’s car. His car was already started and in drive, so as soon as you closed the door he started driving out of there.

“No, he’s not, because we’re getting the fuck out of here,” you pulled the wire from under your shirt and shoved it into his glove compartment hastily, unsure of where else to put it as your brain was scrambled.

“What does that mean?” You asked, not really wanting to know the answer.

“Y/n, that guy just threatened to kidnap you or worse. While we’re still here, going to school, doing normal things, he can watch us; make sure we don’t find her. I know you’re already freaking out, but we have to ditch everything and leave if we want to have any chance of finding her, or keeping you safe, okay?” You tried to keep your breathing under control as he spoke, but that’s really hard to do when all the words he says sound so crazy.

But he’s right.

You can’t get help Aria if we can’t do anything. You can’t act normally and pretend you don’t care that she’s gone, not now that you know this much. You basically have a taped confession, but who’s all in on it? Why? Is there anyone you can trust? There's no way to know, you could go to the state police and give it to them, and they could turn it and tell Bennett you had it. You can’t use your phones, they track everywhere you go, probably his laptop too.

“Well, I for one, have no money, so I don’t think we’re going to get very far.”

“I know the code to the safe in my dad's study, my parents won't be home from work for the next couple of hours,” you laughed a lot harder than you probably should’ve. He looked over at you with confusion smeared all over his face.

“I’m sorry, but to try to avoid getting arrested for crimes we didn’t commit, we’re going to steal from your family and worry both of our families extensively while we try to find our friend that could very well be dead at this point. If I don’t laugh at that, I’m going to start hyperventilating,” Jungkook reached over and placed his hand on your thigh, squeezing it lightly.

“We’re going to be okay. It’s you and me against the world, remember?” He spoke in a calm voice, trying to reassure you. You let out a small chuckle.

“No offense, I liked you a lot more the first time I said that,” He let out a light laugh, moving his hand back to the wheel.

“I know, but we’re kind of the only ones we have right now,” you nodded, knowing he was right. He pulled into the driveway of his house and jumped out of the car, running up to the front door. You got out and immediately went over to your own car unlocking and was about to slide in it. “What are you doing?” You stopped, standing straight up.

“I’m going home, I need to get clothes and things –”

“No, Y/n, we don’t have time,” He shook his head.

“I’m not leaving without my goddamn toothbrush. Pick me up when you get your shit, I’ll be waiting,” you got in your car before he could protest any further and sped out of the neighborhood. You made it back to your house on the other side of town in record time.

You got out of your car and ran into your house, grabbing a duffle bag and shoving a bunch of your things in it: toiletries, clothes, a stuffed animal. The necessities.

“Y/n, what are you doing?” you abruptly turned around, seeing your mother standing in your doorway. You put the bag down and ran up to hug her tightly. She hugged back, still not sure what’s going on.

“Mom, listen to me very carefully. Wait as long as you can before you report me missing –”

“Missing?”

“Don’t trust the cops or anything they tell you. Don’t let them know you don’t trust them. I’m going to get Aria back, okay? Don’t trust anyone, please, I’ll be okay I promise; Jungkook promises,” you let go of her and make your way back to your bag, shoving a few more things in it before you zipped it up and slung it over your shoulder.

“Y/n, what’s going on?” You turned to face your mother, hugging her tightly again.

“I just need you to trust me, okay? I’m getting Aria and I’m coming back; everything will be okay,” you pulled your phone out of your back pocket, headphones still attached to it, and handed it to your mother. You heard Jungkook honk the horn of his car, both you and your mom looked at the front of the house, before you looked back at each other. “I was never here, and you’ve been so upset, you didn’t notice I was gone, okay?” She nodded, tears filling her eyes as she pulled you in for one last hug.

“I love you, Y/n,”

“I love you too mom. I have to go,” You pulled away, kissing her on the cheek before you walked to the front door, pushed it open and walked out. You threw your bag in the backseat of his car before you sat down in the passenger's seat, clicking your seatbelt.

“You told her?” You looked up to see your mom standing on the porch, looking at you. You nodded.

“I had to warn her not to trust the police, plus, she caught me packing.” He waved at your mom, who waved back as he pulled out of the parking space.

“Here,” he hands you a Walkman. A Walkman? “I tapped the recording from the police station onto it, then deleted it and wiped my laptop. That’s the proof we need to put him away,” you nodded, looking down at it.

“Guess we’re going to have to find another way to research, huh?” He nodded, sucking his teeth.

“Public libraries it is.”

You drove all day and all night, only stopping once to get gas and food, and you were now in a very nice Motel 6, seeing as you both needed to get some sleep. Jungkook closed the blinds as you flopped down onto the bed furthest from the window, your duffle bag sitting on the ground beside it.

“I’m gonna grab a shower, you should get some sleep,” Jungkook said, one of the first things either of you had said in hours. You rolled over and gave a thumbs up.

“I’m already halfway there,” You mumbled, grabbing one of the pillows and hugging it. You heard him chuckle slightly before the bathroom door closed and the water cut on. You sat up and pulled your bag up onto the bed, unzipping it. You pulled out some sweatpants and a hoodie, and decided to change into them, wanting to be more comfortable. You shoved your dirty clothes back into the bag and grabbed your stuffed bunny. You pulled the blankets back on the bed, happy to not see bugs scurrying, and climbed in, falling asleep almost instantaneously.

“I didn’t know you still needed Bob to sleep.” Jungkook says, still half asleep as you hand him a coffee and muffin that you had gotten from the gas station across the street.

“I don’t need him; he just gets lonely,” you said, shoving your stuffed rabbit named after the iconic artist, Bob Ross, back into your bag. You sat on your bed and sipped your coffee as he furrowed his eyebrows.

“No breakfast?” he asked, taking a huge bite of his muffin.

“I already ate mine on the way back over here,” He nodded and continued eating. “You know, it’s very hard to find things when you don’t have technology or a map,” He nods.

“Yeah, I’m not even sure where we are right now,” He took a long sip of his coffee, before finishing off his food.

“Good thing the gas station had maps, there’s a library a few blocks from here,” He smiled and gave you a thumbs up before standing and grabbing his own bag and rifling through it.

“I’ll get dressed and then we’ll head out.”

Minutes later you were at the library, each on a computer seated beside one another as you decided to see if you’d been reported missing as he found your new best friend Officer Bennett. All you had to do was look up Jungkook’s name and he was blasted all over the internet as missing, along with both you and Aria. Bennett had put the missing person’s case of Aria through, and now you were wanted for basically everything. Your eyes widened at the screen as you realized you had very little head start, and the police would most likely already be looking for Jungkook’s car.

“Officer Cole Bennett, age 36, been a police officer in the area for 15 years, but before he went into the academy and “turned his life around”, he’d was arrested several times on various drug charges along with gang activity,” Jungkook kept his voice low as he read from the page, eyes never leaving as you could tell he was starting to look for something else. “I’m going to see if I can find his address, you find anything?” You sighed softly as you turned your attention back onto your screen, a long list of charges under your name.

“Well, we’re all missing,” Jungkook stopped what he was doing an looked over at your screen. “Well, you and Aria are missing, I’m on the run, and you are either a fugitive or an accomplice, they haven’t decided yet,” you scooted your chair over slightly as Jungkook moved over to get a better look at your screen. “I guess your parents noticed your absence pretty fast, huh?” Jungkook glanced at you for a second before turning his gaze back to the screen, feeling like he should apologize for his parent’s worrying for their child.

“Looks like we’re famous, going to have to get better at hiding,” you nod as you look around you, suddenly afraid that everyone here will know who you are if they see you.

“You know, I did always want to be famous,” you joked, still looking around to make sure you were undetected. This was not going to be good for your anxiety.

“You get anxious while getting your picture taken,” Jungkook scoffed, trying to lighten the mood. You heard him click away on his own keyboard a few more times, your eyes trained on your own charges. What the fuck did I say to get terroristic threats as a charge?

“I found his addresses,” Jungkook was sure to emphasize the fact that he had multiple residences, “He has three, none of which you could afford on a police officer's salary alone, but this guy somehow has three. They’re all in this state, at least, but very spread out and all in more secluded places. I’ll write them down and then we should probably get out of here; might want to invest in a GPS if we’re going to have any hope of getting there.”

“Kookie, what are you doing over here by yourself for?” You asked, still out of breath from running across the entire playground. He looked up at you from the swing he was perched upon, before looking back down at the ground. You moved to sit in the swing next to him, kicking off slightly to give yourself a nice breeze.

“I dunno, it just kind of feels like I’m being replaced,” you grabbed ahold of the chain to his swing and tried to rotate it, but instead you just rotated yourself. You being startled by your own abrupt movement made him look at you and laugh.

“What do you mean replaced?” You ask as you both calm your giggles. He looks over at Aria, who was hanging upside down on the monkey bars, waving excitedly at you.

“I just feel like you’ve been playing with Aria more than you’ve been playing with me since she moved here. I just miss you,” you looked over at Aria again, before returning your gaze to your depressed friend.

“I’m sorry you feel left out, but I just wanted to get to know her better. But you’re my best friend, Kookie, she’s not going to replace you,” He looked up at you again, his eyes wide.

“Promise?” he asked. You smiled, holding out your pinky. He wrapped his around it, and then you connected your thumbs. The most profound and unbreakable promise in the universe: the pinky promise.

“Promise. It’s you and me against the world, okay?” He smiled and nodded. “Besides, we’re going to be in middle school soon, why would I spend my last few weeks of having recess away from my best friend?” You kicked off the swing again, this time actually swinging. He smiled, and did the same, trying to get higher than you. A few seconds later you were both going as high as the swings would allow.

“Wait up, guys!” Aria ran over and sat on the swing on the other side of Jungkook, quickly trying to get as high as Jungkook and you had gotten.

Jungkook had convinced you it was a good idea to go steak out this guys house to see if he was there, if there was any sign of Aria. You made our way back to the motel, and decided to change into darker and more comfortable clothes before you drove several hours to sit outside someone's house and see if anyone was there, before maybe breaking in. How you were convinced that this was a good idea, you weren’t sure yourself.

After changing, you packed up the rest of your things into your bag, both of you agreeing you shouldn’t stay anywhere longer than 24 hours. You zipped up your bag and threw it over your shoulder, turning to see Jungkook pull a gun out of his bag. We’re going to die—

“Where did you get a gun?” You asked, knowing there’s no way he’s ever even held one before right now, let alone fired one.

“The safe, thought it might be useful, considering someone did threaten to kill you yesterday,” He shrugged, lifting the back of his shirt before he slid the barrel of it into the waist band of his jeans.

“I mean fair, but what do you even know about gun safety? What if you shoot yourself trying scare other people? What if it explodes —” You started walking toward him as he himself was walking toward the door.

“There’s a reason I didn’t tell you and waited until I thought you were turned to take it out,” He turned to face you, making you stop walking abruptly or you’d run into him. You stayed standing, looking at each other for a moment. How have I not realized how tall he’s gotten? “I won't shoot myself, or you, I promise,” He held out his pinky, eyebrows raised, waiting for you to accept. You sighed, linking your pinky with his and brought your thumbs together.

“C’mon, we should get going, we have a long drive.”

The drive was just that. Long and uneventful.

You pulled up to the house about an hour ago, staying seated in the car just waiting to see if it looked like anyone was home. By now it was dark out, so if anyone was, there’d be lights on and you’d be able to see shadows; 2 things you hadn’t noticed. There was, however, a car sitting in the long driveway, so someone probably was there, you just hadn’t been able to see them.

You sat mostly in silence, watching the house with the car turned off with the occasional observation or sigh cutting through. There’s probably a part of the house you can’t see from this side of the street, or maybe even a basement. Or he might just be asleep.

“Do you think we should just go in? I don’t think anyone’s home,” he asked, looking over at you. You shook your head.

“There’s a car, so someone’s probably here, just in a part of the house we can’t see,” He huffed, slouching down into his seat. He remained silent for a second.

“Wanna brainstorm while we wait?” he asked, his voice sounding defeated as he slouched down slightly in his seat. You looked over at him and shrugged, wanting to hear whatever he had come up with because to be frank, you didn’t come up with much. “So a cop kidnaps our friend, sets her house on fire, chases us through the woods, sets the place on fire he took her from, and then threatens to kill you before he reports us all missing and leaves you a wanted fugitive. If it has something to do with her dad, which is the most likely case scenario, why? Is he trying to blackmail her dad?”

You listened to his words carefully, trying to make sense of why he would take her, but blackmail seems like the only reason that made any sense. “If I had to guess, Bennett’s a crooked cop. Maybe he likes to sell drugs on the side to help pay for his numerous houses. Maybe he’s a hitman, I don’t know, but there’s no way he can afford to live in one house that looks like that,” You pointed out the window at the house the two of you were currently stalking before continuing.

“Without doing something shady on the side. I mean, you know all the fucked up shit her parent’s used to get into, maybe he was their dealer, got in debt,” You shrugged, thinking of all the possibilities. Growing up with Aria, one thing was always consistent about her parents and that was their inconsistency. A slew of unmedicated mental disorders partnered with addictive personalities and just from what you remember, they were hardly ever sober.

“That’s definitely a possibility, still don’t get why that would make him want to burn the house down, unless he had something to do with—” you slapped Jungkook’s chest, cutting him off as you pointed toward the house, the car that was in the driveway slowly pulling out of it. He looked over as you both slouched down in your seats, not wanting to be seen if he happened to turn this way. Thankfully, he didn’t. Jungkook looked back over to you with wide eyes.

“Now?" You looked at him then back at the house, biting your lip as you think.

“We should really wait 5 minutes -”

“I’m going now,” He opens the door and steps out, and you do the same, cursing under your breath in the process. You walk across the street, walking along the side until you make it to the back of the house. You walk up to the back door and he reaches out to try to open it but you stop him. You reach into the pocket of your hoodie and pull out 2 pairs of rubber gloves you had brought from home. He took a pair and put them on and tried opening the door. It was locked. Big whoop.

You pulled a bobby pin out of your hair and kneeled in front of the door, Jungkook standing directly behind you as he kept his eye out for anyone that could be watching. In less than a minute, you were able to unlock the door. You stood up and opened it, about to walk in when Jungkook grabbed your arm and shook his head. You stepped back as he pulled the gun from his waistband and walked in.

You walked in behind him and carefully closed the door behind you. You entered through the kitchen, which was connected to a large living room that looked like it hadn’t been used in years. Between the kitchen and the living room on the wall to the right there was a relatively short hallway, and next the that, a staircase.

“You go up, I’ll go back,” you whispered, looking back the hall, about to start walking.

“Where’s your weapon?” You looked at him, rolled your eyes, and pulled a pocket knife out of your pocket. He didn’t seem impressed, but you lightly shoved him toward the stairs. He continued up them, admitting defeat. You stepped back into the hallway; the first door is on your right. You take a deep breath before you quickly open the door, waving your knife around as you look for someone hiding. It was a bathroom, and a rather empty one at that.

The shower curtain was clear, but you checked behind it just to make sure. Aside from that, there was nowhere else someone would be able to hide in here. You stepped back out of the room before opening another door on the opposite side of the hall. You opened the door as frantically as the first, but again, there didn’t seem to be anyone behind door number two.

It was a bedroom, very simplistic with a bed, simple sheets, a nightstand, a lamp, and a dresser. There was also a closet, where there were some shirts hanging and a couple pairs of dress shoes haphazardly placed on the floor. The dresser was empty except for 2 drawers, one of them having a few pairs of boxers and socks, and the other gym shorts.

You left that room and went to the last room at the end of the hall. This door, for some reason, gave you the creeps. You took another deep breath and opened the door. It was a staircase leading to the basement.

Oh, fuck this.

You swallowed harshly and balled your hands into very tight fists. You slowly began walking down the staircase, the little moonlight that was illuminating the rest of the house was now gone. You stopped halfway down the steps and reached into your pocket where the keys to your car were sitting perfectly silent in the center. You pulled them out and found the mini flashlight that was on it, and switched it on, before you continued down the stairs.

As you made it to the bottom, you moved the flashlight around, getting a once over of everything, before you decided to turn right. This basement was huge and was packed with what you would call junk. You could tell he used this for storage, and there were about five rooms off this one giant room. You walked up to the first door and placed your hand on the knob and was about to turn it when you felt someone wrap their arms around your body, one hand going over your mouth and the other pinning your arms down.

You screamed out as loud as you could, the knife and light both abandoned on the floor where you had dropped them. You were resisting as hard as you could, but the man was now carrying you, much stronger and taller than you were. You heard footsteps rushing down the stairs, but you couldn’t see anything. You could only hope it was Jungkook and that the flashlight was pointed enough in your direction so that he could see what was going on. A few unbearably long seconds go by before something happens.

A gunshot rang throughout the basement, the sound amplified several times over as it bounced off every surface in the room. Your body flopped into the concrete ground harder than you thought humanly possible, your ribs aching as you felt a warm liquid begin to surround you. A second later Jungkook grabbed ahold of your arm and pulled you off the ground.

“Are you okay? Did I hit you? Did he?” He grabbed your face and moved it from side to side as If he was trying to look for anything that indicated pain, but there was no way he could’ve seen you right now. You shook your head though, knowing he could feel it.

“No, I don’t think so, I think this is his blood,” you said as you grabbed your damp hoodie. As soon as he concluded that you were not severely injured, he grabbed the flashlight off the ground and pointed it at the guy, as well as the gun in his other hand. The man was still alive, hands pressed into his abdomen where there was blood pooling.

“Where’s Aria?” Jungkook practically yelled, the man having virtually no reaction. He crouched down and put the gun very visibly in his face and cocked it. “I asked you a question, I recommend you answer it.”

“Whose Aria? I have no idea who that is! I’m just here to make sure no one gets too nosey, that’s all!” He was groaning in pain as he yelled, his words hard to understand as he was breathlessly trying to get them out.

“Who hired you?” Jungkook was downright terrifying right now, his hands steady and his eyes focused. He’s so out of it, you genuinely think he might kill him.

“Some guy, said his name was Cole, but that's all I know, I swear,” you took a few steps forward very slowly, kneeling down slightly as you neared them.

“Jungkook,” you spoke softly, hand moving to gently rest on his shoulder. He didn’t move. “Jungkookie, he doesn’t know anything. He needs a hospital,”

“He’s cleaning up after him, he probably knows something,”

“He already said he doesn’t know where she is—”

“He could’ve killed you, Y/n, I'm not just going to help him,”

“I’m not the one with a bullet wound, Jungkook, and he’s not the one that put it there. He’s going to bleed out soon if we don’t get him out of here, now,” he paused for a moment before he sighed, uncocking the gun and putting it back in the waist band of his jeans. As soon as he did, you rushed over to the other side of the man and helped Jungkook get him to his feet.

You ushered him up the stairs and made your way into the hallway. As you started walking down the hallway, someone else stood at the end of it looking you dead in the eye. Cole Bennett.

“C’mon, Y/n, I thought we had an agreement,” you saw him reach around his back and you pushed the two men into the still open door of the bedroom before slamming it shut and locking it. The wounded man was on the bed as Jungkook shoved the dresser in front of the door. You grabbed the flashlight Jungkook still had in his hand and moved it so you were holding the key like a weapon and smashed the key through the window, shattering it.

“Jump, I’ll get him,” Jungkook said, holding the dresser back against the violently shaking door as hard as he could. You hesitated for only a second before you nodded and jumped through the window, gashing your leg in the process. You could tell the second he stopped holding the door as there was a loud thud followed by a gunshot. Before you even had the chance to worry, Jungkook had flung himself through the window, landing perfectly as he grabbed your hand and started sprinting.

“Wait, what about-”

“He shot him, we have to run, now!” He yelled back, running as fast as he could. You looked back for a second, before hearing another gunshot ring out. You turned and put all your energy into running, Jungkook and you eventually hitting the tree line as the gunshots stopped.

Note: Proof ATE

Taglist: @koobsessed @mwitsmejk @roxy1205 @yoon2jk @pamzn @drmrastraea @bbl32 @softforpj @lpgirl2324 @astoriasx @mooncuddler

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