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katsukikitten · 3 years

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Hello friends! Here is my contribution to the Bakugou Birthday Bash! The master link will be linked here ! Please enjoy my bit of an angsty fic! And all of the other art and works that are on the master list! Enjoy the big bakugou blow out and remember to leave a comment on your favorite pieces! Happy birthday ya shitty man! (Lowkey become 3d please)

Warning: he's 28 btw 😂 (my fic says so also)

It shouldn't be this fucking hard to get groceries and booze. It's a quick and easy errand. Everything already pre-ordered for an important birthday that just needed to be picked up. And yet here you were crying in your car trying to get it together before the attendant asked for the order name. Honestly you had texted out "I can't do this today. Sorry." Several times before deleting it, telling yourself not to hit send. But you would have to be having the worst mental day of your life wouldn't you? Today of all days, how fucking selfish of you.

Especially with the amount of time and effort you and Kirishima had put into this idea. Since New Year's actually, months and months of planning after the two of you had gotten shit faced at Denki and Mina's new years party, creating the brain child. All after bonding over switching patrol partners six months before, you had gotten Bakugou and he had gotten Ashido. Kirishima and yourself giggle over stupid things to the side of the party, people watching as you took shots. Kirishima points towards a normally grumpy blonde.

"Wow I think he's actually having fun." You snort, as you watch Bakugou hide his rare cat smile behind a sip of his beer as Mina makes Denki the butt of a joke.

"He actually loves parties. He never says it so people just think he's a wet blanket." Kirishima laughs, pouring the two of you another shot. Bakugou lets out a particularly loud laugh after 'Dunce Face' proves Mina's point. I guess that would be the time that it started.

When you started to fall. His laugh makes your cheeks deepen in hue and burn, to want to hear it again, to watch it again and learn all of the other sides of your patrol partner that he obviously only reserved for his closest friends.

"Let's throw him a great birthday party." You say, holding up your shot as a devilish smile spreads over sharp teeth. The mountainous man clinks your shot glass before he adds.

"Let's." In unison the two of you down the burning liquid as the plan comes into fruition.

Four months, four months and nineteen days of you thinking of nothing but your patrol partner with whom you got extremely close with since New Year's. So why? Why today of all days were you struggling? Why would normal everyday tasks feel more as if you were wading through mud than the breeze they should have been? You flip down the visor, looking yourself in the eye through little square mirror as you grit your teeth hissing

"Get your shit together."

Your little pep talk helps you get the several cakes and the cart full of booze that everyone requested, planning to make this the best birthday ever. Helping Kirishima set his house up with decorations, setting out the snacks, catering and even pouring some drinks as guests began to arrive to set down their gifts and help with the last minute touches before hiding. Masking through the pit in your stomach as you smiled at all of your friends as they poured in through Kirishima's door. Through the weighted emptiness you felt as each one wrapped you into a tight hug, already praising you and Kirishima for the amazing effort, that Bakugou would be so surprised when it was more than just you and Kirishima here. . Finally you had to go and get the guest of honor just before sundown to catch him before he went to bed. A much needed breather from the constant smiling and forcing a laugh that everyone thought sounded genuine.

Enjoying the silence of the evening train as it pulled you across town to the unsuspecting blonde. And maybe you could have made it through the night from your shitty pep talk or at least through getting the freshly 28 year old to his party but instead you catch your reflection in the window. Your facial features weighted with exhaustion, shoulders hunched allowing your body to continue to produce cortisol. Tears prick your eyes as you deep low, too low. Remembering everything and nothing all at once, steeping in guilt as you beg yourself for just a few more hours. That the depression episode can happen when you're home and alone, after the party goes off without a hitch. Tears fall anyway and they do all the way to Bakugou's until you finally get enough control to step out of yourself for a moment. Ringing the doorbell several times as a smile is plastered on your face, the door swings open. Bakugou's eyes narrow as they take you in, he notices that something is off. Your smile is a little too wide, your eyes rimmed red but he says nothing about it. Instead he lets his initial anger come forth.

"Oi! I told you to fuckin' text me when you were on the train so I could meet you at the station!" He growls, slamming his door shut and pocketing his keys. Deadly and sweaty hands deep in the pockets of his leather jacket as his palms itch to hold onto something else. Garnet eyes track your own hands as you reach over your head stretching.

"Yea yea, I hear you Dad." You tease giving him a look, "I still made it okay."

"Kirishima should have come instead of you that fuckin hair for brains." He snarls keeping pace with you as he always does on patrol.

"I know Dad must be sad cause his favorite didn't come to pick him up." You try not to sound dejected, nudging him in the ribs to distract from the crack in your voice, "Happy birthday ya big lug."

Bakugou cuts you a glare, mind racing before his barks out a "Thanks."

Comfortable silence stretches between the two of you before you two hit the train station, passing a corner store.

"Was shitty hair burning dinner? Do I need to stop for back up?" His thumb hooks over his shoulder towards the neon as he stands idle waiting for you to jog your memory. Kirishima had burned the last friend's dinner making Bakugou so angry he walked six blocks to make something that was 'FUCKIN EDIBLE!' while you tried to air out his apartment. You laugh loudly, genuinely for the first time that day causing Bakugou's shoulders to sag with relief. In the ten months he had been working with you he had only seen you faking a smile or laugh once or twice. Then the time after that you were absent from work the next day or two forcing him to patrol with Denki but worse yet...making him worry.

"Guess I'll grab something just in case." He gave you his back so you wouldn't see his face or the faint blush that dusted his cheeks.

"No, no! I ordered out this time. From that famous chef you like." Bakugou glares your way, digging in his back pocket for his wallet.

"How much." He demands through gritted teeth while you show him the palms of your hands in surrender.

"Woah woah! It's your birthday gift! You can't pay me back for dinner! I'd sooner burn the money before I'd accept it from you!" Your watch dings with a message from Kirishima asking for an ETA. You grab onto Bakugou's hand pulling him along into a run as you shout over your shoulder.

"We're gonna be late!"

Oh how Bakugou wished you hadn't done that, he was already struggling to keep his heart beat even when you were around and now to grab onto him. To pull him along in a hurry like those cheesy insta posts that couples did on their "grand adventure" together. He swallows the lump in his throat as he reminds himself that you are nothing more than his patrol partner. His friend at best.

Even though the train was mostly empty Bakugou stood closely by you, as he always did when the two of you were in a crowded space. He had seen how most men took advantage of the situation and he hated the idea of that happening to you although he knew you were more than capable of handling it on your own. Hell you could kick even his ass but he would die before ever admitting that. Instead he watches you talk about what you ordered for dinner and how you got the cake from that bakery Sato works part time at, the same one he got your birthday cake from but he doesn't hear a word. Instead all he can see is the golden light from the setting sun worshiping you. Kissing your skin to make it glow, giving your eyes a hue that makes his heart fall into his stomach and illuminating you in a true light. A radiant ethereal thing is what you were and Bakugou was just lucky enough to be standing by you. So out of it he doesn't realize the two of you are at your stop.

"Uh Suki?" Your voice is soft paired with the setting sun has him acting weird. He leans closer to you, pulled by some invisible force before he stops himself as he watches you look up at him beneath long lashes.

"You okay?" You ask almost nervously from his proximity, the smell of spice and caramel wrap around you making you feel warm and fuzzy. Temporarily making you forget that you were trying to act on the train, making you relax as you just talked to Bakugou. He sucks his teeth as he picks up your bag to sling over his shoulder.

"Yea but you were gonna forget your whole damn purse like you always do." He huffs, this time he was the one pulling at your hand in a rush before the doors closed to trap you two on the train. His hand feels warm in yours, his grip tight as he drags you along before pulling you within his sight, another habit of his you happened to notice. Almost reluctantly he lets go of you hand as Kirishima's house comes into view.

"We better have a good time tonight patrol Princess or you owe me a special birthday gift." He laughs causing you to roll your eyes at his stupid nickname that stuck after your first day with him, adamant that the two of you take your route instead of his it was a huge argument. But it was a good thing he listened to the "princess", it put the two of you smack dab in the middle of a robbery. You stick out your tongue.

"Trust me. You're gonna have a good time!" You push him up the steps as he bats away your hands. Opening the front door before everyone jumps out of various and bad hiding spots.

"SURPRISE!!" All of the alumni of class A and some of B shout, a select few already slurring their words. Bakugou's scowl turns into a smirk before he looks over his shoulder at you.

"Aw you did this to me?" His voice is teasing but his eyes almost sparkle, you nod encouraging him to go deeper into the party. As he does people flock to him laughing and yelling out happy birthday until he's sick of hearing it. All the while your smile wanes with the night. Until an hour in that heavy episode hits you full force. Numbness setting in where happiness should be, rotting as it turns to shame and guilt as you watch your friend, your crush, enjoy his night. Bringing a glass bottle to his lips as he talks with Kirishima, who then presses a shot into his hands. Bodies dancing to the house music that beat out of the speakers competing with chatter and laughter.

It felt weird to watch everyone truly enjoying themselves while you felt low. It felt more as if you were standing outside of the house, looking in through the window to see everyone enjoying themselves, no one even knowing who you were as you stared in.

You felt distant, alone. What a shitty way to feel in a room full of people, none of it being their fault and so the guilt pressed harder. Eyes watering as they lingered on the blonde who deserved this celebration and more. Making you decide to give the best birthday gift of them all.

To slip away upstairs and onto the roof, to give the room space to breathe when you felt like suffocating.

Crying to no one but the moon.

And no one noticed. Two hours slip by before Kirishima insists that Bakugou make a wish and eat cake before everyone gets too drunk too. The entire house drunkenly sings happy birthday but Bakugou notices a voice missing. Yours that's just a touch off key, not to mention he didn't hear you say the stupid nickname 'Suki' where his name should be in the song. Plus you weren't one to miss out on dessert. For as long as Bakugou has been working with you, you never turned down the opportunity for sweets. Whether that was taking the long way back to the agency to try to catch a certain street vendor or to hover by the deserts at a party to pick the very best treat.

And if it was a birthday party, you never could shut up that y'all could not leave until after they blew out the candles and made a wish.

His eyes linger for a second longer, making sure he didn't miss you before his heart sinks. He takes in a sharp inhale, thinks on his wish and blows out the candles.

Meanwhile you hear the cheers of everyone down stairs and sob into your knees. You missed your favorite part of birthdays. Of hoping they make a wish that comes true, of watching their face as they think of something quickly or how some people tear up when they finally realize just how loved they are on their birthday.

It isn't long after that do you hear the sound of combat boots on shingles. Whipping your head up in the direction of the sound. Stomach clenching with guilt as you watch Bakugou walking towards you with a slice of cake.

"Brought ya some cake, since I didn't hear you sing off key to me." He says sinking down beside you as you furiously wipe at your tears.

"I'm-um."

"You don't gotta explain yourself to me." He snarls as you stare dumbly at your cake, "You know that."

"I know…" Silence passes slowly, the moon shines overhead and the party carries on below.

"Well, I'm waiting!" Bakugou says dramatically, "You gonna sing or am I gonna have to sing to myself?"

"Oh." It makes you giggle a bit before you blush, realizing he is serious. You take a deep breath before singing "just off key" when you don't, to him.

"Sukiiiiii!" Relief washes over his features when he hears the dumb ass name, "Happy birthday to youuuuuu!"

"Okay, now you can eat the damn cake." He grunts, his smile never wavering as he looks to the empty street below. You follow his eyes, chewing the inside of your lip, setting the cake down.

"What'd you wish for…" Curiosity gets the better of you and earns his intense gaze. He smirks, scoffing at the end.

"You always say you shouldn't tell or it won't come true." He laughs at your pout, before he finally admits "I wished for courage."

With a furrowed brow you give him a puzzled look, he just holds your gaze.

"Why? You're like the bravest hero I know!" Bakugou can hear the truth in your voice, you aren't saying it just to fucking stroke his ego.

You actually meant it, making this conversation that much harder.

"Yea except when it comes to this one thing I want to do. Its fuckin easy and I've done it hundreds of times just as I'm about to do it I fucking back down cause I'm probably fuckin reading into things too much." He leans in closer, again his smell mesmerizes you, causing your body to visibly relax, "Too much of a fuckin bitch, thinking she doesn't want me like I want her. So I wished for the courage to follow through. To fuckin' just do it."

Your heart is racing out of your chest before one of his hands finds the nape of your neck pulling you into a feverish kiss. Teeth gnashing from the passion, lips perfectly modeling to the other before tongues lightly dance around one another. Lengthening seconds into hours with just a few head tilts and plush lips. You moan into his mouth, he pulls away, eyes clouded with lust as a string of spit connects your tongues. He pants, face flushed and his hand warm, almost burning at the nape of your neck, the shingle by his hand charred from restraint as he pants out.

"I wished for you."

#bakugou x reader #bakugou birthday bash #bnha x reader #bakugo x reader #bnha au #bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugo #bnha imagine #bakugou birthday

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youbloodymadgenius · 3 years

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Ivarello (Modern!Ivar x reader) Chapter 3

Moodboard by @quantumlocked310

Ivarello's masterpost here

A/N: This is my entry for @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie 500 Followers Fairy Tale Challenge. It's a retelling of Cinderella. Congrats again, darling 💖

A huge thank you to @mrsalwayswrite , who's a great beta reader and an even greater cheerleader 😂

A massive thank you to @quantumlocked310 , @vikingstrash and @serasvictoria . Thank you for agreeing to collaborate and for sharing your talent with me. Your moodboards are beyond amazing 🤩

In this story, Sigurd is alive. Ragnar and Aslaug are dead, but Lagertha didn't kill her. I took a lot of liberties with the show, I hope you won't mind.

Unlike the tale, there will be no magic involved. Not everything will be realistic, however. It's a fayritale, after all!

Let me know if you want to be tagged 😊

Summary: Orphaned five years ago, Ivar and his brothers have been living with Lagertha ever since. Now 16 years old, he wants to attend Harald's traditional Midsummer party, but obstacles stand in his way.

Warnings: description of car crash; orphaned kids; Sigurd being Sigurd; OOC characters.

Words: 3497 (oops 🙈)

Additional note: what you’re going to read is not realistic.

Enjoy 🙂

🛡⚔️🛡

With his stomach in knots and a frown on his face, Ivar watches closely his godfather, who enters the living-room, wheeling a large trolley case behind him.

"Hello, Ivar." Floki looks around, an eyebrow raised questioningly, "Lagertha isn't here?", before flopping down on the corner sofa.

"No," Ivar shakes his head, wheeling up next to him, "She's out on a date with this English guy... Hammond, Halmund or whatever his name is."

Scratching his ear, Floki tilts his head, "but she knows you're going, right?" He pulls the trolley case closer and then snorts, mumbling under his breath, "don't think I can't see you rolling your eyes!"

"What do you think? Of course, she knows. She said, and I quote," Ivar raises his hands to make air quotes, his voice tinged with obvious annoyance, "'Of course you can go, sweetie, you know I don't want to be the one holding you back. Call me if anything goes wrong. And don't forget to take your meds.'"

"She cares, Ivar." Floki's tone is soft as he places a hand on his godson's shoulder.

Ivar lowers his gaze. "You should have taken me in." His words are barely audible and suddenly he feels like he's eleven again and he has to swallow against the sudden dryness in his throat.

"You do know that back then I wasn't in a good place." Floki's sad sigh almost gets Ivar in tears as memories of his parents and Helga flood his mind. The pain in his heart becomes nearly unbearable but he fights it off with all his might. He never wants to feel broken and lost again.

Ivar lifts his head up and Floki can see the stubbornness in his eyes. "I could live with you now."

"No, you could not, and you know it!" Floki smiles and taps Ivar on the cheek. "Ivar, I live between two flights, today in Norway, yesterday in Iceland and after-tomorrow in Canada. What kind of life would this be for you, huh? And besides, living with Lagertha is not that bad."

But living with Sigurd is! Ivar wants to shout. He keeps quiet, though, shrugging before eventually mumbling. "Guess not..."

"So," Floki starts, eager to change the subject, "where are your brothers, by the way?"

"Where do you think they are, huh, you knock-kneed fool? They're already there." Ivar glances at his watch, furrowing his brow. "Harald's party started twenty minutes ago."

"We better hurry up, then!" Crouching down, Floki slowly opens the suitcase under Ivar's scrutinizing gaze.

"Quick!" Ivar commands, barely able to contain his impatience, his nervous fingers tapping his push rims. "What do you have for me, old man, huh?" He even contemplates climbing out of his chair to open it himself, but the fear of breaking a bone at the worst possible time is stronger than his eagerness.

"You're going to calm down, young Padawan." Floki quips, slowly moving his hand in front of Ivar with eyes full of mischief. Ivar immediately slaps his godfather's hand away, mumbling under his breath, "I'd rather be a Sith Lord." That earns him a loud, hysterical laugh from his godfather.

Ivar grunts, ready to protest, but all thoughts leave his mind as soon as he's able to see what is in the trolley case. The scowl on his face obvious, he doesn't even try to hide his disappointment as he utters, "you made me braces?"

He hates braces with a passion. Along with underarm crutches, he had some, as a child. They were bulky, stiff, painful and walking with them was tedious, agonizingly slow, and exhausting. Ragnar had been adamant that he wanted his youngest to walk, no matter the struggles, no matter the nearly unbearable pain. Ivar had settled his ass in a wheelchair the day of his father's funeral, getting rid of his braces shortly after, a decision he had never regretted. So no, such torture devices were not at all what he was hoping for.

"Have a little faith in me," Floki rolls his eyes. "These," he looks lovingly at the strange contraptions in his hands, "are not braces, Ivar. Have you and your crippled ass ever heard of exoskeleton?"

Ivar's eyes widen. "It's that thing used in rehab that allows paraplegics to walk, right?" As Floki nods, Ivar gives him a puzzled glance. "But, erm, you do know I don't have a spinal cord injury, don't you? Or are you suffering from memory loss? Maybe it's your age?"

Dismissing the remark with an exasperated wave of his hand, Floki hisses, "I'm well aware that you don't, godson dearest," before narrowing his eyes, his voice now serious, "you may have full sensation in both legs, yet they can't exactly support your weight and your lack of motor function can't be denied. Not really different from some paraplegic dudes, what do you think?"

Feeling a heavy lump in his throat, Ivar frowns, not pleased with the idea of him being like a paraplegic. Almost without thinking, he contracts his quads as best he can, as if he wants to make sure he's still able to do it.

Floki doesn't miss the barely-there movements in his thighs, though, and his voice softens. "Look Ivar, you're not a paraplegic, okay? But I used the exoskeleton technology. And since you're not paralyzed, I was able to make a smaller device that you can wear underneath your clothes, and you're going to walk. I mean, really walk, not just like those guys in rehab, between parallels bars and with a PT right behind them."

Ivar, his eyes bright, stares at his godfather, slack-jawed with amazement. "I'm..." He begins to sputter, voice filled with emotion, "I'm really going to walk?" Feeling like his heart is pounding out of his chest, he fails to contain his excitement, drumming the fingers of his right hand on his lap. He'd tap his feet if only he could.

"You are." Floki nods before taking out of the trolley case a pair of dress shoes. "I put dozens of sensors in the insole of these shoes, which will enable the exoskeleton to correct your stance practically every second. Therefore, you won't need crutches, although I would say it's safer for you to use this." Reaching down, he grabs a black derby-style cane, simple and sleek in design. "You know," he shrugs, "just for extra support. Better safe than sorry, hmh?"

Ivar, who doesn't even flinch when he sees the walking stick, just reaches out, his hand grazing the carbon fiber exoskeleton. "Is it really for me?" His eyes filled with wonder, his voice trembling, his lips stretch across his face as his godfather nods. "And you made this in what?... four, five days?"

Letting out his signature giggle, Floki waggles his fingers in front of his face. "Even I couldn't make this in such a short time. No, the truth is, I've been working on it for a while. Let's say your phone call just sped things up. Though I must say, this marvel of technology is not flawless... It has a really low battery life, like four hours of autonomy at best. If I had more time, I certainly could have done better, but for now, it is what it is and you'll have to make do with what you've got." Pursing his lips, he glances at his watch, "So, just so you know, if you put this on now, you'll have to come back around midnight if you don't want to have to crawl around. And if you hear a beep, you'd better hurry, okay?"

As Ivar just nods, his beaming smile never fading, Floki adds, tilting his head, "and now, go get ready, young Padawan, you have a party to attend!"

***

Sitting on a bench at the seaside, Ivar watches the party from afar, a feeling of uneasiness tightening his chest. It was a mistake. Attending to this party was a mistake. Despite the exoskeleton, despite the fact that he walks almost normally, it was a mistake. He shouldn't have come. He shouldn't be here. Anxiety surges like the swell of a wave, and he struggles to breathe. Sigurd was right: he doesn't belong here, doesn't belong to this life.

A part of him wants to leave. It would be better to run away, to go hide in his room. But he won't. He can't. Because just a moment ago he saw you. Because he's not ready to give up on you now that he is here, eventually close to you.

He recognized you the moment his eyes fell on you. Looking radiant in a polka dot dress, you're as pretty as he remembers. Pretty? Who's he kidding? The girl you were six years ago was pretty. You're a woman now, and one of the most beautiful he's ever seen.

Glowing, smiling at everyone, you didn't even see him. In his head, of course, he makes plans to approach you, even if deep down, he knows all too well he'll never muster enough courage to talk to you. You probably wouldn't want him to anyway. After all, he may be standing tall today, yet he's still a freak, a fucking cripple. He's still cursed with his bony, twisted, useless legs. He's still a burden.

Yet, there's this little voice inside of him, barely audible, whispering that you're not like this, that you never were in the first place; and that's partly why the ten-year-old boy he was when he first met you felt drawn to you almost instantly.

Closing his eyes, he focuses on his breathing and decides to take a little trip down memory lane, bringing him back to that sunny, summer day of his first – and only – encounter with you. His memory so vivid it's like it happened only yesterday.

He can't hear the chirping of birds as his brothers are loudly playing and bickering in the pool. His beloved mother is nowhere to be seen and he's willing to bet she's taking a nap, but not without first making sure he has everything he could possibly need. Lying on a sunbed in the shade of an oak, a glass of lemonade within reach and a thick book on his lap, he hardly notices his father coming into the backyard, Harald Hårfager following close behind.

Since Ivar knows Harald is here to talk business with his father, he pays no attention to the two men, who take their seats at the patio dining table.

He nearly falls off the sunbed when a tiny voice startles him. "Hello!"

Stunned, he turns his head towards the voice and comes face to face with a smiling girl he doesn't know. You. He'd say you're about his age.

"I'm Y/N," you tell him, waving your hand shyly. "I'm at my uncle's for the weekend," you keep going, pointing your finger at Harald, "and I was wondering... May I join you?" You finally ask, dragging a second sunbed closer to his.

His first instinct is to look around, because you can't possibly be talking to him. Why would you? Surely you can't have failed to spot his leg braces, nor his hideous orthopedic shoes. You can't have missed that he's a cripple.

Frowning as he sees that no one is around, he snorts, his nostrils flaring. He can tell you're wearing a swimsuit under your pink dress. What do you want, then? Are you here to mock and ridicule him or what?

"You better get in the pool with my brothers." He knows he sounds rude, not answering nor greeting you, but he doesn't care. He doesn't want to be made fun of and doesn't intend to give you the chance to do it.

Seemingly undeterred, you speak with a soft voice. "No, I'd rather not." Your smile is so genuine he can't help but think you mean no harm. "Actually," you shrug, sitting next to him, "I'd rather stay here with you, if you don't mind. What are you reading?"

Gobsmacked, he just looks at you – and gods, how pretty you are! – for a long time, unable to utter a single word. Are you truly interested in what he's reading? Interested in him? He swallows hard, his heart racing. A small smile dancing on your lips, your kind eyes never leave his as you wait, full of hope, for him to finally talk to you.

And that's what he ends up doing, almost in spite of himself. For the next two hours, he shows you his astronomy book, a gift from his godfather for his tenth birthday, and tells you about the stars, the constellations and the nights he spends watching the sky, when his mother allows him to. And for two hours you listen to him, asking a question here or there and always smiling. He's pretty sure you're not faking being interested in what he's saying.

All too soon, your uncle tells you it's time to go and you stand up with a scowl, letting out a sigh of regret. The next moment, you flash Ivar a grin. "I had a really great time with you, thanks! I'm going back to my mom's tomorrow but I hope we can spend time together again sometime, maybe next summer. I'd love to stargaze with you, you know?" With that, you lean forward and as your lips touch his cheek, Ivar's breath catches in his throat, his heart pounding like a drum in his chest.

Ivar inhales deeply. That kiss... That's when he fell madly and hopelessly in love with you. If he concentrates enough, he can still feel the softness of your lips against his skin, still smell your sweet, flowery scent.

That day, he had watched you leave with a smile on your face, already dreaming of the day he would see you again. You had said "next summer" and even though it was a long time away, he was willing to wait. In the meantime, he would have plenty of memories to recall - your joyful voice, your sparkling eyes, your lovely smile... Sure, he could wait.

And he had waited, hopeful and happier than he had been in a long time.

Not long after, however, his life had been turned upside down, his father being murdered and his mother dying in a car crash. Lost, angry, broken, and infinitely sad, he had gone through the following months as if anesthetized - barely living, hardly functioning, sometimes feeling as if the memory of you was the only thing keeping him from drowning.

Yet, and he doesn't know why – or perhaps simply because Ragnar being dead, Harald had no reason to visit anymore – he had never seen you again.

"Hello!"

His whole body freezes and he stops breathing. This voice... Your voice... He'd know it anywhere. Yet, it can't be, right? Did he fall asleep? Is he dreaming? Is one of his brothers tricking him? Why would you talk to the cripple?

"My name is Y/N." He can hear the smile in your voice. "I was wondering... May I join you?"

Summoning the courage he's not sure he has, Ivar looks tentatively toward you.

Gods! You're even more beautiful up close. Fuck. Now that you're here, right next to him, he doesn't know what to say, what to do. Panic seizes his hammering heart as a lump rises in his throat. He attempts to swallow around it to speak, to say something, anything, but the words won't come out and he finally just nods, his hand gesturing to the bench for you to sit on.

"Thanks," you give him a broad smile before taking your seat.

Ivar cannot believe his eyes. What are you doing? Did you recognize him? Why are you here, with him?

"Woul–", he sputters, struggling to find his voice, "Wouldn't you rather be there?" Pointing his index finger at the crowd gathered in front of the makeshift stage just a few meters away. He frowns, tilting his head, "the party is in full swing."

"No, I'd rather not." You shrug and as you turn your head toward him, he breathes in your sweet scent, suddenly feeling dizzy. "The guys are already drunk and really have one thing on their minds. And those who are not are boring." You lower your gaze, as if embarrassed, and it's so adorable Ivar feels like his heart is melting. "I'd rather stay here with you, if you don't mind."

Oh, he doesn't. He doesn't mind at all. The truth is, there's a fucking firework inside of him, and he barely contains the screams of happiness that threaten to escape his lips. "That's okay, you can stay," he says instead, his fidgeting fingers dancing on his lap.

Over the next hour or so, the conversation flows easily as you speak about Karasjok, the small town where you live, telling him about your mother's people, the Sami, their culture and customs.

Ivar shares with you bits and pieces of his life too, speaking about his passion for the Viking culture and about his belief in the ancient gods. The night, his night, is full of your laughs, full of your smiles, full of you. He wants it to never end.

He's still trying to figure out if you know who he is, if you remember meeting him once when you rise to your feet, almost bouncing with enthusiasm. "Walk with me, will you?"

He's about to break the truth about his inability to walk when he remembers that actually, thanks to Floki, he can. His eyes never leave yours as he grabs his cane with a little bit of self-consciousness, wincing as he stands up, but he can't see disgust, contempt, or disappointment on your face and your smile doesn't falter as you delicately slip your hand under his free arm, curling your fingers back over it. Shaken by your sudden proximity, Ivar feels goosebumps rising on his skin.

"It's such a lovely night and I'm so happy spending it with you."

Your words leave him speechless as you lead him close to the water. A bunch of guys can be seen in the distance and Ivar is pretty sure his brothers are among them. He can feel their heavy stares on him and doesn't need to hear them to know what they're saying. "Who's this dude? Do we know him?" Standing tall, with his braided hair and a blue suit, he knows he doesn't look like himself. Yet, as he locks eyes with Hvitserk for a second, he'd sworn he sees a hint of recognition crossing his brother's face. And as the latter gives him a thumbs up, he knows his mind is not playing tricks with him.

"Oh, I love this song!" You clap your hands twice before shrugging shyly. "Let's dance, please!"

Ivar's heart breaks. Scared out of his wits, he swallows hard, his breathing uneven. "I... I can't." It's a painful admission, and he wishes the ground would just swallow him up.

He realizes you pay no mind to his defeated tone, though, as you grab his cane, leaning it against a nearby tree. "We'll go slow, I promise."

Almost in spite of himself, he places his hands on your hips as you wrap your arms around his neck. Gently – cautiously – swaying to the music, Ivar leans in close and, inhaling deeply your delightful scent, he feels like he's going to spontaneously combust. Your head resting on his chest, he's sure you can hear his frantic, pounding heartbeat. But he can't bring himself to care, not when you're finally exactly where he wants you to be. In his arms.

That's why he doesn't hear the first beep, or if he does, he doesn't pay any attention, entranced by your beauty, your kindness and the mesmerizing color of your eyes.

But when you stop dancing, your eyebrows raised, "What's that beeping noise? It doesn't stop," he hears it too, cold sweats washing over him as panic courses through his body.

"I... I must... I must go," he stammers, and honestly he's about to throw up. He can't think, can't speak. All he knows is that he doesn't want you seeing him crawling around. He won't allow it. He can't.

Fuck.

That's why he leaves. He just strolls off. He doesn't see the appalled look you're giving him, doesn’t' realize he's leaving his black cane behind, doesn't hear the despair in your tone as you shout, "wait, please! I don't even know your name!"

He has only taken a few steps when crocodile tears run down his cheeks, blurring his sight. It hurts so much he could scream, and he can barely breathe as the realization starts to sink in. Who was he trying to fool? Sigurd had been right all along. No matter the exoskeleton, no matter the genius of his godfather, he's still a freak. A monster. An abnormality.

He doesn't belong. He's not worthy.

Fuck.

His heart shatters in a thousand pieces.

Fuck.

Y/N.

Fuck.

🛡⚔️🛡

Ivar's taglist: @waiting4inspiration @honestsycrets @lisinfleur @saldelys @gearhead66 @inforapound @readsalot73 @milkkygirls @xbellaxcarolinax @shannygoatgruff @zuxiezendler @hecohansen31 @lonewolf471 @fuckindiva @tgrrose @didiintheblog @peachyboneless @pieces-by-me @funmadnessandbadassvikings @ethereallysimple @destynelseclipsa @cocovikings23 @xceafh @mrsalwayswrite @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie @pomegranates-and-blood @jadelynlace @grimeundglow @quantumlocked310 @alexhandersen-marcoilsoe-fandom @adrille88

Ivarello's taglist: @not-another-viking-fanfic-blog @hashimily @prepare4trouble @supernaturalvikingwhore @funmadnessandbadassvikings @heavenly1927 @dini73

#ivar #modern ivar #modern!ivar #modern-ivar #modern ivar x reader #modern!ivar x reader #ivar x reader #ivar the boneless #ivar ragnarsson #ivar imagine #ivar fic #ivar fanfic #ivar fanfiction #ivar vikings #vikings ivar #cherrypie’s500 #fairytale retelling #ivarello

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infinitebells · 3 years

Text

annoying: chapter 18

iwaizumi hajime has hated you, his assistant athletic trainer, since he knew you in high school. you on the other hand have bothered him for fun for as long as you knew him, not realizing your romantic feelings for him had manifested in that way. what happens when you two blockheads finally come to terms with how you feel?

— — —

you were buzzing with excitement as you watched kageyama send that one quick set that him and hinata had been refining for years to the orange haired spiker, and the stadium erupted into a cacophony of cheers as japan won the third and final set 28-26. atsumu, who on the sidelines with you, jumped up screaming, grabbing your hand and rushing you both onto the court to meet bokuto and yaku halfway. the four of you embraced in a group hug, you only being faintly aware of the sweat dripping down the boys bodies.

“WE DID IT!!” bokuto’s ecstatic shouts filled your ears, and he separated from the other two boys to wrap you in an even bigger hug, lifting you halfway off the ground. you could hear the telltale sign of cameras flashing around the two of you, but you really couldn’t care at the moment.

“i’m so proud of you kou,” you murmur in his ear. he sets you down with a huge smile on his face.

“oi,” a deep voice grabs your attention, and you turn to see suna standing with his hands tucked into his shorts. he stands there expectantly, and you shuffle over to stand in front of him, hand reaching up to pat his head gently. he smiles softly before taking his hands out of his pants to give you a short, tight hug.

“you did well sunarin,” you mumble, and he squeezes your sides at the comment before leaning back and smiling at him. neither of you notice the way iwaizumi stares unabashedly at you from the sidelines.

“oi assholes! we gotta line up!” yaku yells, and you give them all smiles again before heading back to the sidelines to watch them line up and bow to the opposing team before shaking hands with them. you refuse to acknowledge the athletic trainer only a few feet from you. you simply turn away and start to clean up some of the larger items on the benches before grabbing your own bag. by the time you’ve finished, the boys are having their post-game talk with coach. you can feel iwaizumi’s eyes on you as you continue to watch them talk about the game.

“y/n-chan!!” your ears perk up at the sound of the familiar voice you’d grown to love in high school. you turn to the side to see oikawa tooru in the flesh walking your way, arms crossed over his broad chest with that cheeky smile of his.

“oikawa,” you say smugly, turning your nose up to shoot him what you hope is a snide grin. neither of you can be petty for long before his arms open up and he welcomes you into a warm, inviting hug. his head rests on top of yours and you bask in the nostalgia hugging him brings.

“i missed you y/n,” he says, and you giggle before detaching.

“i think that’s just because i was a good kisser,” you say, and he sputters indignantly.

“well yes but that’s not why!” his face flushes, and you laugh out loud at his reaction.

“i know, i’m just teasing! i missed you too ‘kawa,” you say, tilting your head and closing your eyes as you smile. when you open then, he’s grinning widely.

“are we still good for tonight?” he asks, and you nod excitedly.

“yup! i’ll meet you outside the stadium after you’re showered and dressed ok?” he nods with a smile in respond before offering a quick goodbye and wave. as you go back to the bench, you see iwaizumi sitting with a clenched jaw and white knuckles. you pray that he doesn’t notice you as you move behind him to grab your water bottle, but of course, life isn’t that kind.

“what were you and shittykawa talking about?” he grits out. you can feel the annoyance radiating off of him, and it almost scares you how palpable the tension is between you two.

“nothing that concerns you,” you say sharply, choosing to swallow your obvious discomfort and sit a few feet away from him on the bench. neither of you look at each other. it’s vaguely familiar.

“well you’re my coworker and he’s my best friend so excuse me for asking,” he says, finally turning to look at you. your patience wears thin, and you can’t stop yourself from snapping.

“yeah well neither of those facts gives you any right to know about what goes on in my personal life,” you say. his eyes widen, and he does nothing but stare as you stand up and walk away from him.

“hey coach, i’m going to step outside for a bit, it’s a bit crowded in here,” you say, and your coach nods and watches as you walk out to the back of the stadium, behind the locker rooms and showers.

by the time you’re outside, it’s nighttime and the warm, tokyo breeze blows your hair softly. the atmosphere brings you back to your senior year of high school.

— — —

“tooru-kun! wait for me!” you yell through the open field, and oikawa only turns back to shoot you a breathtaking smile before stopping in the middle of the soccer field, blanket and backpack in hand. the moon shines brightly above you two, illuminating the grass for just the two of you.

“so slow y/n-chan,” he tsks, and he laughs as you catch up and flick his forehead.

“not everyone is a pro high school volleyball player you know,” you say, plopping down onto the blanket laid out for the both of you. he sits down next to you, pulling your body to his so that you’re sat in between his legs. one of his arms is set behind him for balance while the other wraps gently around your waist.

“and soon you’ll be a professional argentinian player,” you whisper. he hears you all the same. you can feel the lump in your throat growing against your will, and you know damn well he noticed the shift in mood. he’s silent for a moment, choosing to kiss your temple before speaking.

“i’m sorry darling,” he murmurs, and you shake your head, forcing your tears down as you turn in his grasp so you’re seated on his lap and facing him. your hands hold his cheeks gently, and you smile sadly.

“don’t apologize for chasing your dreams tooru. if i was in your position i know you’d support me all the same. i’m happy you’re able to do what you love,” you say sincerely. his watery smile is unconvincing, but he leans forward and pecks your lips all the same.

“have i told you i love you?” he asks, leaning back so he’s laying down with you two pressed chest to chest.

“i think so.” you grin, and he grins back.

“i won’t stop loving you, even if we fall out of love, i’ll always love you.”

— — —

you don’t remember when you shifted to the front of the stadium, watching swarms of fans exit the stadium and head towards the metro station. you lean back on the bench, eyes staring up at the various stars dotting the sky. the moon is almost full tonight, and even if it’s imperfect, it’s still beautiful.

“your head still in the clouds y/n-chan?” you sit up to see oikawa squatting in front of you, glasses perched atop his messy brown locks. his eyes are warm with joy, and his smile is genuine. it’s been a long time since you’ve seen him smile like that.

“it’s always been there,” you reply, and he giggles before standing up to his full height and offering you a hand.

“shall we go?”

“but of course good sir.”

— — —

masterlist

taglist: @babyoomi @honeysunny @halesandy @autumnandhotchocolate @velociraptorenthusiast @fluffyviciousbunny @darlingkuroo @youtuboo @b0bablinds @nerdynstoned @jovialweaselskeletonfan @amboisez @bbyhaji @astral-vroom @miwtze @seijqhigh @mrswhitethornbelikov @atsumubabie @lvrkuroo @navymacaroons @daphnxy @mangobangi @galagcica @its-the-aerieljeane @the-golden-jhope @cece-lives-here @kellesvt @nachotrash @jewlmin @anngelllla @poppi144 @trashy-simp @ysatrap @hogwarts--imagines @mariachiii @thestarsanctuary @indecisivehusky @bakugouswh0r3 @erinoikawa @freyafolkvangr @tetrapot-melon-tea @meiankolia @sya-arts-blog @d0llpie @rintarawr @winunk @roschea-behindthescreens @roselleviennesstuff @chaichai-the-weeb @lady-tokugawa-of-mikawa

#haikyuu #haikyuu smau #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x female reader #hq #hq smau #hq x reader #hq x female reader #iwaizumi #iwaizumi smau #iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi x female reader #iwaizumi hajime #iwaizumi hajime smau #iwaizumi hajime x reader #iwaizumi hajime x female reader #.annoying

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ri-ahhh · 3 years

Note

hi can you write about spending a valentine’s day with gray pls?

valentine’s day smut w/ gray? + more haha sorry couldn’t put them all in

A/N: I’m sorry this is a day late. It was supposed to be 90% smut but somehow it took on a mind of its own and turned into this monster.

warnings: smut, extremely cheesy, way too long

***

It should be a given understanding that Valentine’s Day is the dumbest, most antiquated, overrated holiday that’s ever existed. That had always been your take on it, even as a little kid — the worry of spelling your classmates’ names correctly on cards imprinted with cheesy Scooby Doo and Spongebob puns; the expectation to dress up nice in the hopes you would get asked to be someone’s Valentine in the hallways of middle school; the potential embarrassment of being the only person in class who didn’t get bought one of those stupid roses from a ‘secret admirer’ in high school.

There’s simply too much pressure surrounding the idea of professing your love or even your mere fondness for anyone and everyone in your life. The fear of rejection if you do, and the judgement if you don’t. It had always made you anxious, whether you had someone to share the day with or not.

But this Valentine’s Day, as a young twenty-something, you were actually (secretly) looking forward to it. Conner was your first adult relationship, with the title of ‘boyfriend’ and ‘girlfriend’ and labels and commitment. He’s cute and smart and charming and yours. So, sue you if you were quietly anticipating wearing that SavageXFenty set beneath a brand new dress while you went to dinner after being greeted at the door with roses and a box of chocolates.

And yet here you are, on February 14th, hood of your sweater drawn over your head as you rummage through your freezer with a clear target in your mind. Your eyes are blurry and swollen, but you find the pint of birthday cake Nada Moo with ease, and you slam the freezer door closed a little harder than you really mean to as soon as it’s in your grasp.

You’ve just popped the lid off when your phone buzzes on the kitchen counter where you’ve plopped down to eat your depression snack in a more acceptable place than your bed or the couch.

You see Grayson’s name accompanied by a goofy, up-close picture of him smiling filling the screen, and hesitate. He’s one of your best friends, and clearly done nothing wrong, but you’re not sure you’re capable of handling anyone of the male species right now after...everything.

At the end of the day, though, it’s Grayson. He knows heartbreak almost better than anyone, and you’ve coached him through it on more than one occasion. Maybe he can spew back some of your own advice if it comes to that.

You swipe the bar at the bottom of the screen, and your ceiling suddenly replaces the image of his silly, handsome face. “Sup?”

“Yo. Am I interrupting anything? Sorry, just remembered what day it is.”

You swallow. “Uh no, you’re not.”

“What’s wrong?”

You bite your lip hard, digging your spoon into the softened ice cream. Was it that obvious just from your voice that you had been upset? Or does he just know you that well?

“Nothing.”

“You sound like you’ve been crying.”

“I’m fine.”

“Don’t lie. Let me see your face.”

There’s a beat of silence, and you concede. “No. I’ve been crying.”

He’s quiet, and you can’t bring yourself to look at his own face in the corner of the screen. You shove the chunk of ice cream past your lips, and after a moment he says with a softer tone, “Crying on Valentine’s Day is never a good sign.”

You’re glad that you’ve gotten so much of your tears out already, because you feel the inevitable prickle behind your eyes that would have been full-blown waterworks a few hours ago. You scoop another bite. “Conner cheated on me — has been, cheating on me. I found out last night.”

Grayson sighs your name, and something about the genuine sympathy in his voice makes you even more emotional. “Fuck. I’m so sorry. What a piece of shit.”

You shrug even though he can’t see, and sniffle past the lump in your throat. “It’s whatever. I’m still in shock more than anything. Hurts like hell, though, still. I let him have it when I saw the texts and he hasn’t tried to call me once. No texts. Nothing.”

He’s silent, but it’s that raging silence you know oh so well from him. It doesn’t happen often, but anyone who knows Grayson Dolan knows that when his volume comes down, he means business. A loud and obnoxious Grayson is a happy one, but a brooding and quiet one means serious business.

“Do you want me to go beat his ass? I’ll do it.”

A smile cracks your scowl before you know it, and you shake your head. “No thanks, Gray. As much as I’d love to see that happen, I like your face the way it is. And not on a mugshot.”

He chuckles a little, and you feel your chest lift some just hearing the familiar depth of it. “Well, do you at least want me to come over later? I totally get if you need to be alone, but I know from experience sometimes what helps the most is having good friends around.”

You’re a little surprised. “You don’t have a date?”

“Nope.”

“No one from the roster hitting you up?”

“I don’t have a roster,” he argues playfully, but you both know that’s a lie, if not at least a stretch of the truth. “And even if I did, you’re more important. Always.”

You sigh and take another bite. His words make your neck tingle and your toes wiggle, but you ignore it; your brain is full of confusion as it is. “That makes one man in my life who thinks so, I guess.”

You finally prop your phone up against the fruit basket sitting in the middle of your bar so he can see you. Grayson takes in your image, which admittedly must look kind of pathetic, and you watch his jaw clench and release in a way that you can’t deny is utterly sexy.

“Is an hour okay? Tell Vanessa to come, too.”

“Benito took her to Tulum for the weekend,” you say, referring to your best friend and her boyfriend. “She did threaten to get on a plane and come home early for me, though.”

Grayson grins crookedly, but his jaw is still tight. “Well, tell her you’re in good hands. See you in an hour?”

You give it one last quick consideration; you already feel this much better just talking to him on the phone. Nothing bad could come from him being in your apartment, and you trust him. “Yeah, that’s fine. But just so you know, I’m already at the stage of eating ice cream at 10:30 AM.”

“Did you forget you’re talking to the emotional ice cream eating champion? No judgement here.”

You finally let out a giggle, your spirits officially lifted. “I’ll see you soon.”

True to his word, Grayson arrives at your door about an hour later, his arms laden with milkshakes from Monty’s, a gift bag decorated all over with sparkly hearts, and a gorgeous bouquet of flowers.

You’re stunned. The only thing you’d managed to do in the time it took him to get here was take a quick shower in attempts to rid your face of some of the puffiness, throw on some shorts this time with a fresh hoodie, and toss the used tissues scattered around your place into the garbage.

Before you can say anything, he holds out the flowers. “They were out of roses. But I know you like pink.”

You reach out for them slowly, eyes wide, your fingers brushing his when you grasp the plastic wrapping. His cheeks are a similar color to the petals, and it makes both your heart and your lips smile.

“Peonies are my favorite,” you say truthfully. “And yes, especially pink ones. Thank you, Gray.”

“You’re welcome,” he says, sounding relieved.

As he crosses the threshold of your door, he leans down to kiss your cheek, and you can’t help but hum quietly and pull him in for a hug. “That gift better not be for me, either,” you mumble into his chest.

Grayson pulls back, his eyes sparkling, but keeps you close with an arm wrapped loosely around your shoulders. “Oh, this? No, this is for my other best friend I’m trying to cheer up on Valentine’s Day.”

You slap his arm playfully, and lead him into your kitchen, pulling out a vase from the cabinet beneath your sink for the flowers.

The bag has a few gifts in it: a new Comfy (“I remembered you ruined yours when that ketchup bottle exploded all over you the other day”); a huge bag of watermelon sour patch kids (“I know they’re your favorite. Also ice cream gives you brain freeze after the first pint or so, trust me”); and a heart shaped box of your favorite chocolates (“you can eat them or burn them, I wasn’t sure which you’d appreciate more but either is fine with me.”)

You appreciated all of it, more than he would ever understand. All you can do is fling yourself at him weakly, completely overwhelmed. “Fuck you, you’re gonna make me cry all over again.”

Grayson envelops you in those huge, muscular arms, cooing behind that laugh you love so much. “Is that a really backwards way of saying thank you?”

You grunt in affirmation, and with you still wrapped up in his arms, he starts waddling the two of you back the short distance into your living room.

“Here,” he says, coaxing you down into the blanket nest you had created on the couch. “You chill and find a movie. I’ll make popcorn.”

You do, and he does, and the next few hours are spent lounging about in your apartment. Having him here with you is doing wonders from keeping your mind from going down the paths you’d been spiraling towards ever since you saw the messages between Conner and no less than four other girls on Snapchat. You don’t believe in snooping, but finding the first one had been an accident when he received the snap while you had his phone, and your finger happened to press the icon at just the right moment.

In your eyes, though, the image of one pair of tits that weren’t your own was enough justification to see what else you could find.

“I hate to admit it, but I’m kind of relieved,” you told Grayson a while later, Shrek playing on the TV quietly. He’s sitting next to you, far enough apart for there to be couch space between the two of you, but close enough to share the oversized blanket thrown over your laps. “Obviously what he did is so fucking shitty and I’m not justifying it in any way, but I can be honest with myself now and realize I wasn’t in that relationship for the right reasons. There wasn’t anything there emotionally at the end of the day.”

“You still have every right to feel hurt by what he did, though. It’s a huge violation of trust,” Grayson assures, reaching out and squeezing your hand gently.

You squeeze back and grimace at him. “Yeah.” You let out a little mirthless laugh and shake your head, heat flooding your cheeks. “It’s so embarrassing, too. And finding out the day before Valentine’s, no less. Like, I just wanted to look cute, have a nice dinner, have some nice sex, and just... I don’t know. Have an actual Valentine’s day for once. No pressure or anxiety or anything.”

Grayson stares at you in that way he does — so intense and almost intimidating if there wasn’t a genuine warmth behind it. You’re suddenly aware of his thumb brushing the back of your hand slowly. He squeezes your fingers again.

“So, let’s do it, then. You and me.”

You arch a brow at him, smiling at the rosiness in his cheeks when he realizes what he might have implied. “The dinner part, I mean. And the dressing up. Even though I think you look plenty cute right now.”

You roll your eyes, but for the countless time that day, your heart flutters happily. Looking back, you can’t remember the last time Conner had complimented your appearance, let alone after hours of crying and lazing around in sweats, sugar crystals stuck to the corner of your lip.

“That would be great, except there’s no way we’re getting into any restaurant at this point,” you remind him. “Probably no delivery, either.”

“I’ll cook for you,” he counters, throwing the blanket off his legs and standing up with a groan. He stops to stretch, and the way his arms go over his head makes his shirt ride up at the bottom, exposing a chunk of hard muscles and golden skin.

You swallow, eyes trailing up the rest of his torso appreciatively. “I don’t have much.”

He’s already rummaging through your pantry, though, and pulls out a half-full box of pasta, a jar of marinara sauce, and a leftover chunk of sourdough bread. “You got salad stuff?”

You nod, and he opens the fridge to find some lettuce, peppers, and other salad fixings before setting them with the pasta ingredients on the counter. “Go get dressed, look as cute or not cute as you want. I’ll take care of this.”

He’s absolutely unreal. “Gray-”

Grayson holds up his hand. “Ah, no, I’m doing this. You deserve it. Also, I’m hungry. It’s a win-win.”

Your stomach growls as well, and that’s all the convincing you need. While he gets busy in the kitchen, you tidy up the living area some before heading to your room. You feel a little silly, making your third outfit change of the day, but you also like the giddiness in the pit of your belly at the thought of Grayson doing all of this for you. You might as well take advantage of having someone like him in your life. Show him some Valentine’s appreciation of your own.

You forgo the slinky red number you had planned to wear to the restaurant with Conner, and opt instead for a rather unsuspecting blouse-jeans combo, which happen to both respectively frame your tits and ass perfectly.

The lacy, bright pink set in the back of your closet might have made it beneath your clothes, though. The prettiness of it made you feel that much better, even if no one else was going to see it.

Maybe.

Padding back into your kitchen after running a flat iron through your hair and throwing on some concealer, mascara, and lip gloss, you find Grayson draining the pasta into a colander in the sink.

Grayson does a double-take when he sees you standing there admiring the flex of his bicep as he holds the pot. “Hey! You look amazing.”

“If you say so,” you joke, bumping his hip with yours as. You pass him to pull plates and bowls out of the cabinet.

“I do,” he insists quietly.

Arm outstretched mid-reach, you look over at him, locking eyes with his hazel ones. He looks a little surprised by the words that left his mouth, like he meant for them to stay inside his head. There must be some kind of challenge in your gaze, daring him to elaborate.

He busies himself with the pasta again hastily, his voice low. “Conner is a fucking idiot. To do that to you. To let you go. You don’t deserve that. Especially not today.”

Plates in hand, you rest them gently on the counter with your lower lip caught between your teeth, and peer over at this handsome man you’re so proud and lucky to call your best friend. He’s everything you thought Conner was — cute and smart and charming — but so much more — beautiful and good and kind.

And he’s been right here in front of you the whole time.

You reach out and touch his elbow softly. The hairs on his forearm are crisp but soft, and you follow them down to that gleaming watch on his wrist.

“You know,” you start quietly, fingers tracing the links of the band before flipping his hand over to trace the lines of his palm, “you keep talking about what I deserve today. But you deserve all that and more. You deserve someone’s love that matches your own.”

He watches your delicate fingers on his large, calloused palm, then trails his eyes up to yours when he feels their attention on his face. A piece of hair flops into his eyes, and you reach up without thinking or any hesitation to push it away again with a little smile playing on your glossy lips.

You look down and lay your palm flat against his, admiring the difference in size between your hands for a moment before interlocking your fingers with his.

“I love you.”

Your eyes flit up to his in surprise; he beat you to the words.

“In case that wasn’t obvious,” Grayson continues, turning towards you. “And I hope that’s not too much for you to handle, with everything you’ve had hap-”

“I love you too, Gray,” you interrupt, stepping that much closer to him so you’re nearly chest-to-chest with him.

“Yeah?” He sounds almost boyish in his astonishment, and it makes you want to hold him tight and never let go.

“Yeah,” you giggle. “A lot. I’m sorry it took me getting dumped to realize it.”

He shakes his head, his hand resting on your cheek gently. “Can I kiss you?”

You nod once before he’s swiftly ducking down to claim your lips with his. They’re soft and pliable, and you feel their effects from the nerves in your scalp all the way down to your bare toes.

“Grayson,” you breathe, lashes fluttering open as he pulls back just enough to look at you concernedly.

You smile, bigger and brighter than you have all day, and cup his stubbled cheeks with your hands, scratching your nails gently against his jaw. “I just wanted to say your name.”

Grayson grins now, too. He kisses you more insistently now that he’s got the taste of you on his tongue, which he flicks against the underside of your top lip as he breaks the kiss. “Say it again.”

“Make me,” you challenege, voice breathy and excited, eyes closed as you savor his sweet breath against your lips. “In my room.” You feel him tense up a bit, and you open your eyes to meet his questioning gaze, biting back a smile at the inevitable hope also shining there. “I’m sure.”

With that, Grayson hauls you up into his arms, and you wrap your legs around his waist with a squeal as he buries his face into your neck. He starts making the way to your bedroom, cooked food left long forgotten in the kitchen behind you.

“Are you wearing my signature scent?” he asks, inhaling your skin deeply.

“Mmhm,” you hum, threading your fingers through the back of his thick hair. It’s so long again, and you give the dark strands a sharp tug that makes him grunt. “Part one of my gift to you. Since you got so many for me today.”

“Part one, huh?” he says, crossing the threshold of your room. “What’s part two?”

“What I’m wearing underneath this,” you whisper in his ear, giggling loudly when he lies you down on the bed with more of a toss than he might have intended. “If you want it, that is.”

He looks at you like you’ve lost your mind at the mere suggestion that he wouldn’t, and you take that as enough encouragement to tug at the bow tying your forest green silk wrap blouse together.

The folds part open and expose your chest, clad in that pink lace demi-cup bra with the cage detailing over the tops of your breasts. Grayson moans and dips down to nuzzle your cleavage, breathing in the scent of your warm skin. His hands trail up your sides, from your hips to your rib cage, until they settle in the dips of your waist. His touch ignites you, makes your back arch and your hips grind up against his thigh between your legs, just from the sensation of his hands on these new parts of your body.

“Grayson,” you sigh, and he smirks up at you with his chin on your tits when he realizes that’s all it took for you to say his name again.

You grab his cheeks and kiss that smugness away, shifting your legs so they’re wrapped around his waist once again, pushing down on the small of his back to get your centers to meet.

Both of you gasp into each other’s mouths when his erection rubs against your pussy, even through all the layers of clothing still on your bodies. You reach down blindly, still attacking his mouth with yours, and feel around for his belt.

His pants come off, followed by yours, and he sits you up enough to push your blouse off your shoulders rather gently considering the intensity of everything. Once the garment is tossed over his shoulder, you’re down to nothing but that pretty lingerie and he in his boxer briefs.

There’s a moment of pause and clarity for the two of you, staring into one another’s eyes as the reality hits of what you’re about to do. What it means to both of you. Grayson stares down at you, and places a hand over your rapidly thumping heart.

“Beautiful,” he says quietly, dragging his hand up your chest, over your throat, until he’s cupping you’re cheek and stroking your lip with his thumb.

You smile in return, then part your lips with your eyes locked on his, encouraging him silently to slip that digit in your mouth.

Grayson’s eyes darken, and he offers you his pointer finger instead, swallowing hard when you suck and swirl your soft, wet tongue around it.

Suddenly, he’s rolling the two of you over, switching positions so he’s on his back and you straddle him. You smile happily, taking your turn to duck down and attach your lips to the pulse point his neck, grinding down on his cock with a slow, steady rhythm.

“You’re so amazing, Gray,” you tell him, nipping at the lobe of his ear before kissing the underside of his chin. “Can’t believe you’re all mine now.”

“Can’t believe you’re mine,” he growls back, cursing when you trail your kisses down the center of his body, giving each one of those moon’s their own special attention before continuing down.

When you get to the waistband of his underwear, you trail your tongue on the edge of the elastic and watch his abs contract with each shaky breath he takes. One little move of your hands, and you’ll finally get to see what he’s really packing.

But before you can even hook your fingers there to pull down, he’s tugging on your hair. “Fuck, fuck, c’mere. Please.”

You pout, but follow his lead, licking back up his muscular torso until he’s able to drag you to him for a deep, wet kiss.

“Sit on my face,” he demands, shuffling down on the pillow to make more room for you.

That takes you off guard. “But—”

“Do it. Please. I fucking have to taste you.”

Your body must be working ahead of your brain, because before you know it, you’re straddling Grayson’s face, his tongue is sweeping through the wetness in your slit, and his dark eyes are peering up at you from between your thighs.

“Oh... oh!” you cry out when his tongue starts flicking against your clit. He goes back to swiping up all your arousal, then suctions his lips around your clit. He’s using one hand to hold the lace of your thong aside, and the other dips first one finger, then two inside of you. “Oh, fuck, that’s so good...”

Grayson moans, the vibrations erupting around your clit and sending you right to the edge already. You reach back and palm his cock, rock hard in his underwear still, and squeeze as he makes you cum all over his mouth.

He gets his fill of your cum as he groans and keeps up the motion of his fingers, the pressure of his lips, the softness of his tongue as your pussy pulses with each contraction of your orgasm. You wait for him to start letting up, but something about the way he’s working you just makes those waves stay steady rather than die down again. Maybe that’s his intention, because when you drop your head down to look at him with your mouth wet and agape, there’s a sparkling mischief in his eyes has he eats you out like his last meal.

Your hips grind against his face of their own accord, and you delve one hand in his hair while the other supports you on the headboard. You gasp out a quivering, breathless laugh as it all becomes just too much, and you try to lift off his mouth.

Grayson isn’t having it, though. He wraps his arms around your thighs and holds you down, reveling in the moans and whimpers and squeals as he makes you cum again.

“Oh my god — enough, enough, I can’t...” you whine, shoving on his forehead until he releases you and drops his head to the pillow. You could already see it by the crinkles in the corners of his eyes, but he’s smirking wide, chest heaving as you slink your way down his body.

You collapse next to him in a daze, and he rolls on top of you smoothly, peppering little kisses to your cheeks, your jaw, your nose. When you’re back in your right mind, you nudge blindly at his face so his lips find yours. He tastes like your pussy, and you sigh happily as you lift your heavy arms to wrap around his neck while his scoop beneath you, holding you close.

You continue to indulge in each other for a while, in the kisses you hadn’t been allowed to share until now. There’s something exciting about his familiarity and yet also this strange newness that has you absolutely desperate for him in every way.

“This is crazy,” you say when you pull back for air, studying his face hovering right above yours. You push back that stubborn chunk of hair that keeps falling into his eyes with a soft smile. “How did we end up here?”

Grayson turns his head to press his lips to your palm. “I don’t know. Is it too much? Should we stop?”

You shake your head vehemently, and he grins. “No, please. I think I just have to grasp that you’re really... mine now.”

He chuckles. “How do you think I felt watching you with that loser for five months?”

The mention of Conner makes you feel nothing — nothing other than gratitude for Grayson, that is. You slide your hands down his back, over his ribs, across his abs until your hand cups his dick.

His hips thrust into your touch, and you grin up at him demurely as you finally delve your hand past his waistband until you’ve got his length completely in your grasp.

He’s hot and hard and thick, and you start stroking him just to gauge the reaction in his face. He doesn’t disappoint, his jaw gaping open slightly, his breaths picking up, a flush rising to the apples of his cheeks.

Without warning, he reaches down and grasps your wrist. You pout, but he asks hastily. “Are we gonna have sex?”

You smirk. “Hell yeah.”

Grayson grins and shakes his head. “Alright, then you gotta stop.”

“Already?” you tease, letting him sit back and hook his fingers in the tiny string of your thong at your hips.

He gives you a look as he pulls the scrap of lace down your legs, then stands to push down his own underwear. Your mouth waters at the sight of him, and you wish he’d let you blow him some before you hit the main event, but he says, “I’ve wanted you for too long to take any chances about screwing up the first time.”

You melt a little, reaching for him as he climbs back on the bed. “There should be some condoms in the drawer there. Just to be safe after... you know.”

He nods and dips down to kiss you before leaning over to riffle through the top drawer of your nightstand. He comes back with a purple square, which you take from him.

“Gotta practice an activity safely,” you wink, tearing open the condom and rolling it down his shaft quickly.

“Shut up.” Grayson rolls his eyes, but smiles softly as he settles between your legs just right. “I love you.”

“I love you,” you whisper, gasping as he starts to sink inside you.

“Oh, fuck,” he whimpers as your walls suck him in and grip him tight.

He goes slow for a couple of minutes, allowing both of you time to adjust to each other. He stretches you out so much better than anyone you’ve ever been with, and you can’t help but clench around him when you see those tattoos and smell his cologne and hear his voice — all things that remind you that this is Grayson fucking you.

He growls the first time you do it, then sits up hastily, pulling his face out of your neck when you do it again. He tucks his knees beneath him, sits on his heels, and hauls your hips into his lap as the speed of his thrusts picks up incrementally. Until he’s fucking you for real, and your tits bounce in your bra with every upstroke.

You shove an arm beneath your pillow, enunciating the curves of your body, and watch his expressions as he fights to hold back. His hair is disheveled, lip caught tight between his teeth and muffling his deep, satisfied sounds that mingle with your open higher-pitched ones. He catches your eye and his hands on your hips grip you so tight for a moment that you’re sure little bruises will be there in the morning — not that you mind.

“Fuck,” he whispers harshly before slowing his hips and shifting down to give you a deep, sloppy kiss. “Turn over.”

You moan into his mouth, then follow his order, rolling onto your front as soon as he pulls out. You expect him to haul your hips up into the air, but he moves your hair off your neck and trails sweet kisses from shoulder to shoulder, his hand sweeping down the subtle curve of your back until he’s gripping your ass.

Grayson’s hand moves down your thigh and pushes it up and out once he’s cupping the back of your knee. The angle encourages you to twist your upper half until you have sight of him once again in all his angled, sweaty, muscular glory.

“Fuck me, baby,” you beg him, already anticipating the fullness inside you again. Needing it.

“Want me to fuck you?” he asks needlessly, pushing into your pussy once again. You moan loudly, either in confirmation or from pure pleasure, it doesn’t matter. The angle is tighter, the tip of his dick hitting a spot so perfectly accurate inside of you that you can’t concentrate on anything other than how good he’s making you feel. “Yeah. So fucking sexy. So beautiful...”

“Gray.. oh fuck yes, right there,” you whimper, catching onto his arm as he leans over you and gives you those hard, steady strokes.

“Open your eyes, baby, lemme see them when you cum,” he growls out.

You open them as much as you can, your vision blurry, but you can still make out those handsome features soaking in the pleasure on your face. Watching and waiting for you to get yours so he can get his.

As soon as you’re clenching like a vice around him, Grayson is letting go into the condom. You can vaguely feel the throb of him as he cums in spurts, the sound of his masculine, drawn-out groans making you shiver and tense up even more on his dick. If it’s possible for anyone to sound as sexy as they look, Grayson achieves that in spades.

He collapses on the bed next to you, and you have just enough strength to roll over until he’s got you gathered in his arms. You nuzzle into his chest and try to process everything. You had been hoping for nice sex today, and instead you got the best sex of your life.

After a few minutes of comfortable silence while you both catch your breath, after he pulls and ties off the condom, you smile into his cooling skin with a satisfied sigh.

“Thank you for making this the best Valentine’s Day of my life. Especially after it was starting to look like the worst.”

“You made this the best day of my life, period,” he says, kissing your forehead. “Happy Valentine’s Day, sweetheart.”

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Gray.”

#the relief i have in finishing this lmao #im sorry its a day late this took way more effort than i thought it would #dolan twins #grayson dolan #smut #blurb #g blurb

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dreamescapeswriting · 3 years

Text

One Summer In Paris ~ Missing

WORD COUNT: 4K

GENRE: Fluffy, romance, ex-lovers to lovers,

PAIRING: Jungkook x Fem!Reader

DESCRIPTION: Jeon Jungkook had always loved Paris with its amazing views, incredible museums and the small Bookshop right across from the Effiel Tower. It was were he spent a lot of his summer breaks as a kid so he loved it well into his adulthood. There was one bookshop he rented a room in the summer that changed his life. It was a place where he felt happy and at peace whenever he had the chance to stay there. Where he fell in love for the first time and had his first heartbreak, a lot of firsts for him were in Paris. But what happens when he goes back to the same book shop four years later and finds the love of his life in the arms of another with a daughter who looks suspiciously like him…

THEMES: Single Parent, Jungkook x Fem!Reader, self insert, Smut will be included in a later chapter

MASTERLIST || PREVIOUS || NEXT

Grace grumbled as she made her way up the stairs to the apartment, she hadn't made the trip in years and here she was trying to find out where you were since the shop was open and no one was manning the till except for Josh who'd come by when he noticed the doors open. She was far too old to be climbing up all of these stairs on her own so she hit the door with her walking stick the second she got close enough.

"Y/n!" You jolted awake upon hearing your name rubbing the back of your neck from the dull pain that was there.

"Grace? What-What's going on?" You groaned getting up from the floor, you'd fallen asleep on the floor in the apartment above your own while you were crying the night before. You pulled the door open to see Grace leaning on the wall as she tried to catch her breath.

"You tell me! I get a worried Joshua calling me because the shop doors are open and no one is here, what are you doing?! This is that stupid boy-" She continued ranting on as she grumbled about how stupid Jungkook was but your head was going back to the doors being open.

"I locked the doors..." You began running through your head about the night before, you remembered shutting and locking the door behind you since everyone had been gathered outside.

"You and that stupid Jungkook boy! Whenever he's around you do nothing but make stupid decisions! I'm glad I told him to leave when I did when he was here the first time!" She continued ranting away about how she was the reason Jungkook left, you stared at her confused. Jungkook had left because he was famous and had obligations to go back to not because Grace had said something to him,

"What do you mean you told him to leave?" You questioned as you stared at her, your blood boiling with every passing second.

"I knew you were pregnant, I knew he would be no good. I told him to leave. I told him you didn't need him around." As much as you wanted to scream out at Grace your head went back to you being pregnant at the time.

"Areum-" You raced out of the apartment while Grace yelled after you to stop moving away from her while she was talking to you but you didn't care. Rushing into the apartment below you sprinted into your daughter's room to see Areum's bed was empty, her backpack was gone and some of her clothes were missing.

"A-Areum?!" You screamed out looking around the apartment, maybe she'd been gone into your room but the whole place was empty. There were no signs of her anywhere making your heart race, Paris was huge and she had no idea where she was going alone.

"Listen to me young lady I have been nothing but kind to you since you showed-" Your hand raised to your temples as you turned around to face Grace who seemed a little startled at you,

"Grace! Enough! My daughter is missing! I don't care if you don't like Jungkook okay?! It's not as if we're ever going to work out because of who he is but if you'll excuse me! I have a daughter to try and find," Grace stumbled back as you pushed out of the apartment trying to call Jungkook who but his phone was going straight to voicemail. You punched your hand into the wall crying out as you reached his voicemail box again,

"Did you take Areum with you? I'm not...I'm not mad but call me...Tell me she's with you please," You whispered your voice cracking at the thought of your daughter suddenly going missing. If she wasn't with Jungkook you'd have no idea where else she could be.

"Josh. Watch the shop until my worker can come in-" You tried to tell him but he began questioning you on what you were doing.

"Where are you doing?" He questioned as you looked outside, there were no more paparazzi and screaming fans so you assumed someone had said something to them the night before. Hopefully, Jungkook had called someone to fix everything but now you had another problem.

"Areum isn't here, is she with you?" He shook his head offering to call the police but you knew you couldn't call them until it had been at least a couple of hours. She had to have been missing for at least 24-hours before you could call someone about it.

"I'll find her dad, she...She has to be with him." You were stuttering as you walked out of the shop without a second thought about it. You began calling Jungkook's phone over and over again as you walked towards the hotel you knew he was staying at,

"Jungkook please answer your phone, I'm worried sick...She has to be with you, please tell me she's with you." You felt like you were going to vomit at the thought of Areum not being with him but out in Paris alone.

Areum jumped into Jungkook's arms as he spun her around in the air before he placed her sitting her on his hip. They were having breakfast together after having a sleepover the night before. Areum had shown up at the hotel a couple of minutes after him, he'd just gotten to his room when the reception called him and told him that they had a girl claiming to be his daughter.

"Can I stay over again tonight?" Areum questioned as she walked over to the bed and began jumping up and down on it. Jungkook laughed softly about to say something when his phone began buzzing, it was finally turning back on after dying on him the night before. There were over 100 missed calls from you along with a lot of voicemails, as he was about to listen to them another call came through. He answered it,

"Hey What's-" He was cut off when you began yelling at him loudly down the other side of the phone but he didn't understand a word you were saying.

"Y/n? W-Whoa! Why are you yelling?!" He grumbled moving the phone away from his ear so he could change ears.

"WHY AM I YELLING?! Where's Areum?! Where-" Jungkook looked at Areum who was now hiding behind a pillow on the bed,

"She's sitting on my bed, she told me you dropped her off outside the hotel to sleep here for the night-" The scoff that left your throat made Jungkook realise that couldn't have been true.

"And you believed her?! You're such a fucking-" You took a deep breath to calm yourself down. Reminding yourself that the most important thing was that Areum was safe and sound instead of being around Paris.

"C-Can I talk to her?" Jungkook hummed trying to give Areum the phone but she wiggled away from Jungkook and into the bathroom slamming and locking the door behind her.

"She's in the bathroom, she won't-" The thought of your own daughter not wanting to see you made your heart break into pieces.

"Let me in, please. I tried to get in but the receptionist kicked me out," Areum was still in the bathroom but Jungkook agreed hanging up the phone and to go to the door of the hotel room. There was no way Areum could get out without the room key so he began racing down to the reception area to look for you.

"Where is she?" He pulled you towards the elevator when he noticed the tears streaming down your cheeks, your hands were shaking as he got you into the elevator. You'd been feeling sick from the moment you realised Areum was missing.

"She's in the bathroom, she can't get out of the hotel room though." You looked at him while you swallowed the lump in your throat not knowing what to say about it,

"G-Grace came to wake me up, the shop doors were open she must have walked out last night when I was kicking off...J-Jungkook," He shook his head at you, wrapping his arms around you as he brought you into a hug promising you that Areum was fine. Sobbing into his chest you held onto Jungkook's shirt tightly in your fist as you tried to calm yourself down. All you wanted to hug Areum but you wanted to discipline her for running out on you like that, she knew she wasn't supposed to be alone out on the streets like that. She knew the rules about going off on her own.

"Areum?" You called out cooly as you walked into the bathroom. Jungkook had used a knife on the door lock on the outside so you could walk into the room. When you walked in she was sitting in the giant bathtub, seriously that thing was the size of your bed back home almost. Areum was crying as she looked at her hands not wanting to look at you,

"Why are you crying, princess?" You groaned as you got into the bathtub beside her, she sniffled using her firsts to wipe her face. Jungkook handed her some tissue as he got in beside her, you'd both sandwiched her between one another.

"You and dad were fighting...You were supposed to be happy, w-we went out together, we were a family. We were going to be a happy and complete family." You bit your lip as you realised what she wanted to happen and what she thought was happening between the two of you. Jungkook looked at you sadly as he even realised what Areum was talking about.

"A-Areum me and your dad...We haven't been together in a long time and we- We might never be again," Jungkook felt his heart shut down as you said it might never be he thought the time you'd spent together would be good and lead to more.

"I want you to be together, you have to be together like in all of the movies," All of those movies seemed to be going to her head and your heart sank at the thought of telling a four-year-old girl that love stories weren't always real. Jungkook looked at Areum as she began to nod off, she hadn't slept well the night before Jungkook knew that since she was in the bed beside him on his phone watching movies and playing games.

"Let's let her sleep for a while," He whispered picking her up and taking her over to the bedroom, he placed her into the bed and you both sat on the floor watching her. You leant back against the wall watching her in silence and Jungkook sigh as he went off to make a drink.

"I haven't been that scared since her birth," You admitted as Jungkook handed you a mug of hot chocolate, he slid down onto the floor beside you and watched you. He'd been wondering things about the pregnancy but he never knew how to ask you about it all.

"What happened when she was born?" You swallowed some of the hot chocolate letting it relax you as you leant your head back against the wall just watching Areum sleeping. The thoughts of her birth coming back to you,

"It was a difficult birth-" You'd never opened up to anyone about this, not even Grace who had you discharged from the hospital.

"We nearly died Jungkook," You whimpered as you turned to look up at him.

Dear god, why did it have to be now? Was this some kind of punishment for not telling Jungkook that you were carrying around his child. It had been eight months since Jungkook left and you knew you were due but not for another month at least. You whined out as you rubbed your hand over your stomach trying to calm yourself down.

"You alright dear?" An elderly lady beside you on the bus questioned when she watched you run your hand over the bump that was coming from your top. You shook your head as you locked eyes with her for a second,

"I-I think I'm in labour," You stuttered but just as you finished your sentence the bus stopped abruptly and you groaned looking out of the window. The whole roads seemed to be blocked and it looked as though you were going to be here for a while.

"Traffic? It's not rush hour," You hissed looking at the elderly lady who was getting up to see what was taking so long,

"There's some kind of event going on, the stadium is packed out for some boy band." The universe was really trying to torture you with this, you stared out of the window to see posters of Jungkook strung everywhere. There were huge posters of him everywhere making you feel even worse about this. Your eyes glanced around out of the window to see fans all over the place. That was what was blocking the roads and stopping everything from moving.

"Hey, it's okay. We'll get you to the hospital in no time," The elderly came back over to you, introducing herself as Audrey as she tried to distract you from the pain you were experiencing. You stared into her eyes as you began to feel the pain of a contraction rush through you, along with a sweating sensation and a pain that made your head fall back against the seats. You groaned out loudly as you felt a contraction hit you,

"Can you keep it down!" Someone yelled from the back of the bus as they played their show out for everyone to hear. Audrey shook her head as she stood up to look at the children at the back,

"She's in labour, how about you show some consideration," Audrey snapped back stripping herself from the cardigan she was wearing and looking at you. It was May in Paris so you were in a summer dress. She put your legs up onto the chair in front of you to make you comfortable and she looked at you,

"Do you want me to check? Or I can call a doctor," You nodded at the second option taking out your phone to call Grace who was supposed to be with you when you went into labour but evidently she wasn't here. She was supposed to be the one that helped you through all of this since she used to be a midwife.

"Hi, yes! I have a young girl here who seems to be going into labour," Your eyes were starting to water as you felt another contraction coming on, your hands gripped onto the edge of the chair as you screamed out in pain. Crying heavily as you threw your head back against the seat,

"We're stuck in traffic, there's no way for us to get to you or for you to get to us...Yes...Yes...I understand, thank you." She hung up her phone and looked at you anxiously which didn't make you feel like the best right now,

"We have to try and time your contractions okay? Did you take birth classes, do you know the techniques?" You knew everything, you'd been doing all of the classes with Grace by your side as well as taking extra classes since you were so scared of doing this alone. The books were piled up at home which you'd been reading every time they'd come into the shop.

"I don't want to do this here, I don't want to," You were laid on the back seats of the bus with your legs up, the men on the bus had all surrendered their jackets to put up against the windows so no one could see inside while Audrey and another lady from the bus were up at the back of the bus with you. The driver had turned on the engine to run the air-conditioner for you while others were offering you water, blankets and everything else you were going to need for this.

"You have to, you're ready to push and we still can't move okay? Push for five seconds, ready?"

"No!" You screamed looking at her but she gave you a sympathetic smile while squeezing your hand, you took a deep breath before pushing for as hard and long as you could,

"Let's go," Your head flung back against the seat as you began crying, you could hear the music from the concert playing as you began delivering your baby, it was truly the worlds way of saying "fuck you" to you as you did all of this. Pushing harder as you heard chanting of Jungkook's name, along with others.

"Push!" You screamed out a curse word in french as you began pushing once again trying to block out the music as you continued to push through the pain that was ripping through you.

"A couple more pushes and you'll be done, I promise," Audrey squeezed your hand but you couldn't feel it, everything felt like it was so far away from you right now nothing felt like where it was supposed to be. Even the concert music and screams of the fans were beginning to drown in and out of your hearing.

"Y/n? Can you hear me?" You rolled your head forward limply pushing once again until you heard a screaming child and people clapping. You smiled weakly as you heard the healthy screams of a baby,

"It's a girl," Someone yelled cheerfully but your body slumped forward in the seat,

"Audrey?" The other woman that had been helping yelled as she tried to wake you up but your heart rate was slowing down and they could barely feel it pulsating in your neck.

"Ambulance or something, please! She's losing a lot of blood!" The screams continued until you heard nothing else around you.

"I woke up in the hospital a week later, Grace had been looking after Areum while I was out." You whispered as you looked at Jungkook before staring down into the cup in your hands.

"We were in town?" Jungkook felt odd that he was there for the birth of his daughter but not really there for you. You nodded at him while laughing at yourself thinking back on it now you could laugh on it,

"I think the universe was trying to play some kind of sick joke on me for not telling you," He sighed wrapping his arm around your shoulders as you began to cry into his arms thinking back on it all.

"I'm sorry Jungkook, I should have told you when I got pregnant, I just-" He shook his head at you kissing your temple softly,

"I should have told you who I was. I guess it kind of makes us even," You rolled your eyes, there was nothing on this Earth that could make you even for taking his daughter away from knowing him for four years. You'd never do it again, you were going to let him be a part of her life any way he wanted.

"I knew if you knew you'd stay but you mean so much to those people and I-I was angry at you for not telling me so I hid it. I'm sorry." Jungkook shook his head at you and you stared into his eyes wondering how he was being so calm about this,

"Everything happens for a reason right?" You remembered saying that to him, he had you tattoo the saying onto the inside of his arm which made you smile.

"What?" He chuckled wondering what you were thinking about and you reached up to touch his arm gently,

"I just remembered you making me tattoo the saying on you-" He knew what you were going to say so he began rolling up the sleeve of his jacket to reveal the tattoo to you. It was still right there, along with some new additions to his neverending collection,

"You didn't cover it up?" He shook his head at your question he would never cover something up that meant so much to him.

"Why would I cover up something someone I love did for me?" Your eyebrows raised at his statement and you stared at him,

"Love? Not past tense?" He nodded taking your hand in his and giving it a small squeeze and your heart began to pound once again.

"I still love you," He whispered as he finally admitted that he was still in love with you after all of this time.

"I love you too," You admitted to him and to yourself as you stared at him. His hand slowly reached up to cup your face in his hand and he ran his thumb along your skin smiling to himself as he could finally touch you the way he used to. He'd missed being able to be free with you like this no more holding back around you.

"I missed you," He whispered as he moved closer to you - as if it was even possible you were practically sitting on top of one another as it was.

"Every time I looked at Areum and I saw you...I missed you a lot Jungkook," Without another thought, you connected your lips together wanting to know if the sparks were still there and they were. The fireworks exploded in your head as soon as your lips touched one another and from there it was as if nothing had changed, there had been no break between you. He moved his hands onto your waist and sat you on his lap while you worked your hands into his black hair tugging at the strands as you made out on the floor. Everything felt as though it was falling into place as you kissed him, all of the pieces of the jigsaw clicking into place, he licked along your bottom lip but you pulled away from him. Panting heavily as you laid your forehead against his,

"W-We should stop before she wakes up," Your voice came out hoarse and Jungkook smirked, he loved that he still had that effect on you. You didn't want Areum to see and get excited over something after you both told her you weren't together.

"I just-" The door opened as he was about to talk so you sprung apart, standing there was Namjoon who was scanning the room for Jungkook until he saw you standing there.

"Y/n, I've heard a lot about you." His voice was calm as he shook your hand which made you laugh softly. Jungkook was glowing a bright red colour as the room was suddenly filled by 7 men all of them staring at you both. BTS and their manager who did not look too pleased to see Jungkook right now,

"We have a lot to do to sort all of this out, I took care of the paparazzi and fans last night but-" He stopped speaking once he noticed that you were in the room, he didn't know how to deal with this.

"Mum?" You turned to see Areum making her way over to you all as she rubbed her eyes tiredly wondering what was going on around her,

"She's tired, I can take her home and get some rest-" You tried to tell Jungkook,

"No!" All six members chorused as they turned to look at you and a startled Areum.

"I've been picking up toys since I left my apartment," Taehyung groaned wanting to spend time with someone who he would treat as a little niece. He held up a bag in his hand,

"I had to admit I brought along some things for her too," Namjoon admitted, everyone looked at you since you were the one in charge of her. Jungkook turned to you to see if you would be comfortable with all of it and you smiled.

"We can get to know one another while Jungkook gets into trouble," Jimin laughed wrapping his arm around you as Jungkook was lead out of the room with his manager. You quickly exchanged looks and a small wave before the door shut behind him and you were left with Areum and her six uncles who were all dying to get to know her more.

"She's tired so don't be too surprised if she starts crying at too much attention," Areum was sitting beside Taehyung and Yoongi as they spoke to her asking her some basic questions. A small toy piano sitting in front of her as Yoongi taught her some basic chords as she stared up at him in awe.

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Tagline: @lyoongx @mitzwinchester @fan-ati--c @kneel-begyourpardon @taestannie @rjsmochii @bisexualmess007 @innersooya @sw33tnight @sweeneyblue1 @jin-from-the-block @neverthefirstchoice @jikooksgirl19 @jungkooksseuphoria @queenmasterxx @janieooo @preciouschimine @koremis @keijilovebot @silscintilla @mayafravoli

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extravaguk · 3 years

Text

santa&prada

part of my opposites attract! series.

ksj / knj / myg / jhs / kth / jjk

pairing: rich!jimin x reader

summary: Yeah, Park Jimin most likely didn't even realize he was being a rude and disrespectful son of a bitch.

wordcount: 5k

genre: smut - angst(? - fluff (? idk u tell me

rated: m

warnings: a christmas fic in late november, cursing, a huge misunderstanding lmao, i call jimin ‘park jimin’ too many times bc i felt like it, car sex, oral (f recieving), some good ole spanking, (kinda) rough and unprotected sex, a lil of dirty talk, spit kink. thats about it. just an excuse to write jimin fucking you in a car. jimin is not as bad as oc thinks srsly.

The first time you meet Park Jimin is through mutual friends. On a firday night on December, with white, red and green lights decorating the streets of New York, filled with the typical hustle of the masses doing last minute Christmas shopping, the freezing weather impacting your body temperature, cursing yourself for choosing tights, a skirt and heeled boots that are too pretty but too uncomfortable to wear.

You had never considered yourself a particular enthusiast of Christmas festivities. You guess discovering Santa Claus was, actually, your parents before the rest of the kids in your class was one of the many reasons that made you grow up too soon and therefore, not allowing you to fully enjoy the month of December. Or maybe it had nothing to do with Santa, and more to do with your parents deciding to get a divorce a day before Christmas Eve. A traumatic event for seven year old you, but completely forgotten and overcome by twenty-four year old present you.

Growing up each Christmas suffering the consecuences of a shared custody would have probably had a disastrous effect on anybody else, but not you. Although the separation was a tough reality to accept at first, fortunately your parents were always capable of raising you in an environment full of love and affection, just like any other kid. And you prided yourself on having moved on from those circumstances a long time ago (even if your therapist disagreed and blamed many of your behaviors on it. Whatever.)

To put it simply, December was just not the month for you. It was just another month, like the remaining eleven of the year, except Mariah Carey's voice was heard every five minutes everywhere you'd go and people gave each other presents as if it was only during that time of the year when they remembered their loved ones.

The only thing you could thank Christmas for were the well deserved two weeks of holidays our work allowed until the new year's arrival. Fifteen days of rest, peace and baking those gingerbread cookies that Seokjin died for and that you sincerely denoted as nauseating.

You truly had no idea what exactly you did wrong that night. You don't know if it was something you said, or something you did, but what you did know was that Park Jimin pursued a silent and personal vendetta against you that continued nowadays.

"Here are your disgusting cookies, you filthy animal." it might have been that very first sentence you said when you entered the bar and reunited with your friends that didn't cause a good impression. "Shit, it's cold as fuck. My nipples are harder than my life." or maybe it was your selection of words while you waved every familiar face hello until you stopped to look at the only (pretty. too pretty, as well) one you had never seen before.

"_____, it's Chrismtas! Santa Clause will only bring you a lump of coal if you keep cursing like that!" Lisa laughed while she kissed your cheek and made space for you to sit next to her. "Oh, by the way, this is Jimin. A friend of Namjoon. He's a newbie!"

Park Jimin was stunning, you had no trouble admitting that. You weren't blind, you weren't stupid, and you could go as far as theorize that his dark eyes, his light and always immaculate styled hair, his sharp jawline and those plump lips as red as cherries must have been sculpted by Satan himself.

Fuck, you were even sure you'd be on your knees in front of Park Jimin in an alternative universe begging for his dick inside your mouth. But in the universe where you and the real Park Jimin reside, he would never come near you unless somebody was aiming a gun into his skull.

You're not precisely sure what it was, but a brief exchange of glances and an evasive and sligh shake of hands with Park Jimin was enough to make you feel ashamed and withdrawn for the rest of the night.

If Jimin wasn't even able to drop a polite "Nice to meet you", he sure as hell wasn't able to pretend you even existed.

Even the small talk you had tried to engaged with him about his shiny pair of shoes went terribly wrong.

"Oh, are those Dolce and Gabbana?"

"Dolce and Gabbana are homphobic, racist and sexist, so no" the grimace on his face should've been enough to make you regret speaking to him in the first place , but the snarky voice of his made you want to run away and hide from him until next Christmas.

In reality, you swore you didn't care. Seriously. Other's opinions were never something that could easily bother you or keep you awake at night. You had always turned a deaf ear to the cruel children that made fun of you due to your parent's divorce, you had always ignored the amount of men that never considered you "ladylike" enough (what the fuck did that even mean, anyway? what exactly made a lady and what didn't?), and you had always disregarded any envous comment surrounding you.

So, fuck Park Jimin! You had said to yourself. He's just a well mannered rich boy. Somebody who didn't resemble you in any aspect. A stupid, pretentious, spoiled boy who's had everything he's ever wanted in the palm of his hand, unlike you. Who the fuck cares what Park Jimin thinks?

But apparently, you did.

You would have never placed such importance to whatever it was that roamed inside Jimin's head if his appearances in your group of friends hadn't been so recurrent.

Because each time you were forced to see Jimin's face, you were also forced to experience a strange knot of discomfort and humilliation growing in your stomach in his mere presence. It's not like Jimin did anything specific to make you feel that way. He might not even do it on purpose, or his intentions might not be entirely evil. Maybe he simply didn't realize how he always avoided being by your side like the plague, or how his body immediately tensed and he balled his hands into fists everytime you were less than two feet away from him, or how he would look at you from the corner of his eye everytime you decided you speak, almost as if he was waiting for you to shut up to finally let out the air he was containing inside his lungs in relief.

Yeah, Park Jimin most likely didn't even realize he was being a rude and disrespectful son of a bitch.

And with time, you couldn't help but attribute that disdain and hostility that Park Jimin always directed at you to the many undeniable differences that constituted each of you. Park Jimin, with his impeccable and always well ironed Prada shirts, his spotless trousers, jewelry that probably costed more than three of your annual salaries, and always emanating that Givenchy fragance that screamed "wealth!" every rare occasion you could experiment his presence next to you. Exactly two years after that first meeting with Park Jimin, you hadn't been able to avoid reciprocating that feeling of contempt towards him. Not when you were the only victim of his arrogance. Everybody loved Park Jimin, and Park Jimin loved everyone.

Except you.

Clinging to your glass of Don Pérignon and finishing the rest of the liquid in one go, you try to snap out of your own thoughts, reminding yourself to return to the conversation you're currently having with Taehyung about a pretty waitress that he's met during one of his art exhibitions (or at least that's what you think you caught him say) and forcing yourself by all means to stop observing the friendly and kind smiles that Park Jimin was shooting to those present from across the room and that you will never be able to achieve.

"_____? Are you even listening to me, darling?" Taehyung's voice is what makes you finally look away from the dumb blond standing on the opposite side of the room, blinking a few times before clearing your throat.

"Sorry, Tae." letting out a sigh, you try to brush back and put in place the strand of hair that escaped the intricate hairdo you had tried and so miserably failed to do yourself to try to fit in and hopefully impress such environment of preppy and privilaged people (ahem, Park Jimin) falling on your forehead as best as you can. "Just been really stressed this week and I'm on another planet. You know how I feel about Christmas. I think I need a new flute of . Or five."

Taehyung sends you a look full of empathy and places one of his hands in your shoulder, squeezing lightly in a comforting way. "I'll get you another one. I'll be right back." You quickly interrupt him though, to prevent him from standing up before you.

"No, really. I'll go. I need some fresh air anyways, if you don't mind." And of course Taehyung doesn't mind, so you get on your feet as graceously as your tipsy state allowed you to (who told you it was a good idea to drink three glasses in less than thirty minutes of the extremely expensive champagne Taehyung had brought to the Christmas party he had organized and why did it convince you it would appease your anxiey?) and make your way towards the table where the rest of the bottles are. A table dangerously close to the conversation Jimin and that friend of Lisa (whose name you don't remember) were having.

Both are with their backs turned and, honestly, you take a silent moment to thank God or whatever is up there because the last thing you need right now is yet another awkward interaction with Jimin, so you try as best as you can to refill your glass of champagne to get out of there as soon as possible, praying to make your exit going unnoticed.

But no. Because the stars and the universe loved to align to make you suffer! They love to play with your karma and they love making you damn that one day you didn't help that lady cross the street. They love making you regret buying those plastic straws. They love making you feel guilty for hacking your neighbour's Wifi when you run out of money to pay for yours. Because the moment you try to take a hold of the bottle in your hands, it slips out of your grasp, and you're watching in slow motion how the sparkling berverage ends up spilling all over the extremely expensive (or so you assume. Balenciaga maybe) suit pants Park Jimin decided to wear that night.

Everything is kind of blurry and you can't even hear anything. You can only watch as Park Jimin turns around, lips parted and eyebrows furrowed, until his eyes find you, the bane of his existance and immediately recognizing the culprit of his now drenched piece of clothing. And you can watch as, once again, his gaze turns almost black and narrow lightly as to reprimend you for what you've caused. But of course he doesn't say a word. He has nothing to say. He doesn't even look surprised. No. Because obviously, Park Jimin knew that if there was somebody in this room willing to ruin his night, it would be you, and only you.

"Shit!" you're the first one to break the strained silence, but that only makes Jimin flinch. "Shit, shit, shit. I'm so fucking dumb! J-Jimin, I'm so sorry, let me just go grab a paper tow-"

"Don't." his voice cuts through you. Literally cuts through you. Because it's not often that Park Jimin decides to aim his words at you, but everytime he does it holds the same frigid tone. Like knives trying to painfully stab your being. "Just, don't."

In reality, you don't know a lot of things and you don't know what causes what happens next. You don't know if it's the specific time of the year, you don't know if it's your internal stress, or if it's Park Jimin, his voice, or the fact that he will never like you. But it's instant. They way something compresses your chest, and suddenly your eyes are not glaced by the alcohol but by something wet that threatens to flow. You would never admit to anyone they're tears.

So, shutting your mouth and swallowing the uncomfortable feeling of anguish in your throat, leaving your flute forgotten on the table and grabbing the bottle instead. Without saying a word, your feet start moving up the stairs of the ridiculously enourmous house Taehyung owns towards the first free and empty balcony you can find. Free of people and free of Park Jimin.

Closing the large window behind you, you allow yourself to close your eyes and take a deep breath; the icy temperature outside immediately welcoming you. Although the hairs on your arm stand up and you know you're probably going to catch a cold (because the dress you've chosen for the dinner is not at all appropiate for such winter climate), at least the tension in your body seems to disappear while oxygen keeps that ugly feeling in your heart at bay from continuing to choke you.

With shaky hands, you take a big gulp straight from the champagne bottle. Fuck Park Jimin. No man will ever have the power to make you feel what you're feeling right now. Fuck Park Jimin. And fuck his beautiful face and his ability to make you tremble and fear looking like an idiot. Fuck his fancy clothes and his perfect manicured hands and his marvelous but frigthening presence.

Knock knock.

The sound makes you jump back from the window, hand grasping your chest while you turn around, coming face to face with the man in question. Your first instinct is to ignore him. But that thought is already out of the way when it's him the one who struggles with the window lock before opening and taking a step towards you. You step back as he steps in, raising your head up high and puffing your chest. Because your second instinct is to tell Park Jimin to go fuck himself.

"_____, I would like to-"

"You would like to what?" Jimin looks taken aback at your harshness. Alcohol has always been a weapon of mass destruction in your system, provoking words to flow too easily and without filter out of your mouth, more than they already do when you're sober. Especially when it's mixed with the frustration you've been harboring inside of you for two years. That's why when the words start to come out, they won't stop. "To make me feel like shit one more time? To look at me with that fucking conceited face trying to make me feel like you're better than me? Or would you like to ignore me once again as you always do everytime we're in the same fucking room to make sure I know you hate my mere existance, even if it's just the two of us right now?"

The steam leaving your lips due to the accelerated beat of your heart blurs his face for an instant while he looks at you dumbfounded. The silence and his expression makes you scoff, an acidic smile adorning your face while you take another sip of your drink because even with such a stupid face, he still looks delectable with his white shirt and ruined pants. You turn around, removing a tear that you hadn't even realized had fallen during your speech and that, frankly, you were hoping he hadn't either. You would blame it on the cold, anyway.

This time, a gust of wind running through you from head to toe, making you forget of Park Jimin's presence looming behind you, reminding you it's still December and the fabric of your dress is doing nothing to conceal you from the cold.

But before you can do anything about it and blame yourself for being dumb and not taking your coat with you before deciding to step into balcony, Park Jimin surprises you once again, this time by placing his navy blue blazer over the naked skin of your arms.

Your back straightens when you feel his warm breath caressing the back of your neck, at the same time that a voice you have never heard Park Jimin use with you echoes in your ears.

"I really don't hate you, _____. I..." Jimin wets his lips. His body trembles, but it's not due to lacking his own coat, while his brain hurriedly searches for words eloquent and adequate enough to explain voice his thoughts. "I like you very much, _____."

Scoffing again while you shake your head, you push down with all your inner strenght the incipent fluttering of butterflies in your stomach that Jimin has managed to cause in just a matter of seconds. It's probably the longest sentence you've heard from him in two years, and you don't exactly understand why your body is reacting the way it is. But you're also not willing to give Park Jimin the satisfaction of knowing that. He doesn't deserve it anyway. So with all the courage you can muster, you turn around with your hands clenching.

And even though being at such short distance from Jimin is a bit overwhelming and unexpected for you, the irritation still making your blood bubble is enough to not let a man as handsome as him derail you from your current circumstances.

"Well, fuck you Park Jimin. You certainly have a funny fucking way to sh-" his hands cradling your jaw that pull you closer to him and his lips that silent you roughly, but with surprising care. Only for a moment. A moment in which your body betrays you and make you melt into hir warmth. But his voice, low and sinfully husky, murmurs against your lips.

"God, that mouth of yours..." he goes back to attacking your own lips, this time more firm than before, snatching a sigh from you. The sound has his tongue asking for permission into your mouth, and with your body betraying you once again, you part your lips to allow him in. It's him who whimpers this time, while one of his hand moving until it reaches the bottle in your hand and letting it drop carelessly onto the floor, ignoring the sound of glass shattering and the future scolding you'll get from Taehyung. Instead, he sneaks that same hand on your waist, pulling your body flush against his, fingers digging onto your skin. "It's been driving me crazy for two years. Two years, _____."

He mumbles between kisses and swipes his tongue against yours, while he stars walking the both of you until your back meets the nearest concrete wall.

"Two years of having to hear the incessant filthy words that leave your mouth..." his own stop their movements and you catch yourself before begging him to reattaching his lips to yours, enjoying instead the path of wet kisses and bruises his lips traile from your chin to the pulse of your neck "...and trying my best to hide the painful boners I get whenever you're nearby."

With your eyes shut, your hands are back in motion, ignoring the voice in your head reminding you he's still an asshole and finding their way between Jimin's soft golden strands of hair. He hums in appreciation, sending goosebumps all over your body. "So, s-so why not do anything about it sooner?" you say, suddenly finding it difficult to breathe properly.

You feel Jimin's body tensing before you and he ceases the movement of his lips against your neck. Breaking away, your heart stops, afraid you might have ruined the moment. But Jimin's in search of your eyes, eyebrows very lighlty raised, the intensity of his gaze pinning you in place. You don't know for how long you stare at each other until Jimin comes out of the trance, eyes descending over your flushed cheeks, the very same color as your lips and the soft flesh of your neck until they reach your cleavage, the glimmering fabric encasing your breasts, taunting him the same way they had been doing all night long.

"You scare me so much..." and then, one of his hands repeats the same journey his eyes just did, until he touches your shoulder, right under his own blazer. "Everytime I look at you, all I can think of why the hell a girl as real as you like you would even glance my way." he slides the strap of your dress slowly tentatively, just enough for you to stop his advances if you chose so. You don't. "You're smart in ways I could never compare, so funny it makes me jealous, and so pretty it leaves me speechless. You're...You're everything I'm not."

His voice resonates in the atmosphere, and you would love to blame it on the cold again for how your body has reacted, but your body heat has increased so much since he started kissing you that it would be stupid not to admit that it's just the effect that Park Jimin has on you tonight. You're sure he would've had the same effect if it had happened before.

Your now uncovered breast doesn't even has to suffer the consequences of the icy wind, because one of Jimin's arms quickly comes around you to hold your body against his, lifting you ever so slighty until your erect nipple is at the same level as his mouth and his lips are enveloping it in their warmth. You gasp his name, and that encourages his teeth to tug softly before his tongue stars moving in circes.

"My God, you're so perfect." Your head spins while you hold onto his shoulders as tight as you can, the undeniable heat roaming all over your form, hips involuntarily rutting his incipent erection poking your abdomen. "Been thinking about this since that night we first met." Looking for relief, Jimin mirrors your movements without ceasing the administrations on your chest, as one of his hands lifts one of your thighs to wrap around his waist, closing the short gap remaining between the both of you.

"Ohmygod! F-fuck, Jimin," trying to form coherent phrases is almost impossible, not with Jimin finding a slow and tortuous rythm with his hips, his clothed cock rubbing against your core. Something shifts in the air, because Jimin stops abusing your nipple with a loud pop, and shuts you up by pressing his mouth onto yours in an urgent, dirty and desperate kiss. You could almost hear him swearing, while his hand keeps your jaw in place.

"S-stop talking like that, ______." his voice, inaudible, and his face now hiding in the crook of your neck, the thrusting of his hips speeding up, more and more frantic this time. The hand not holding your thigh against his hipbone reveals your other breast, hand covering it and giving it a light squeeze before tugging at your unattended nipple between his forefinger and his thumb while his tongue and teeth mark the skin on your neck.

"Hell, I've been dying to stuff your mouth with my cock to prevent you from such foul language," the soft whimpers leacving your mouth coax him into taking the hem of your dress and bunching the fabric until his fingers easily find the place in your body calling to him the most through the lace. It's immediate, how his fingers dampen at the first touch, surprising the both of you, and how your body jolts and an embarrassing sob escapes your throat. "How-how are you this wet? Holy hell, I could just slide right in..."

And as he says that, one of his fingers pull aside the fabric of your underwear and glide into you, so easy. You insides burning while he fingers you, another finger being added with his thumb rubbing circles on your nub. And fuck, you're not sure if you're just too horny and Park Jimin is a magician with his hands, or maybe it's the way he keeps mouthing at your chest and whispering how soaked you are, but you don't think you've ever been so close to cumming in such a short period of time.

"W-whats stopping you?" you manage with a voice that doesn't even resembles yours, but before your hands can even make work of the zipper of his trousers, he pulls his finger out from your center, causing you to whine in protest.

Jimin licks his lips, eyebrows framing the dark expression that his eyes ooze. Although the desire in his eyes is more than evident, it is also evident the faint hesitation in them. Because Park Jimin doesn't do things this way. Park Jimin was raised in a world of correct manners and conservationism. A world that has taught him when and how to act. And as badly as he is dying to fuck you against the wall of Taehyung's ridiculously inmense house, he also wants to do the right thing.

"Let me take you on a date."

Park Jimin has been spoiled his whole life. Being born in a well-off family has always provided him of everything he had ever wanted and more. From the innecessary number of toys Santa Claus left under his Christmas tree every year since he was a baby, to his fisrt extravagant sports car at the age of eighteen. Park Jimin has never been a greedy or needy man. How could he, when he's had everything he's ever wished in the palm of his hands. He has never missed anything in his entire life. Hasn't missed a roof over his head, warm food on his plate or brand new designers clothes each week.

It has taken him two years to control himself. He still remembers that night he first met you, just like he remembers every single time you both had coincided in the same place at the same time. He remembered your scent, had memorized your figure over your pieces of clothing and had tried as best as he could to keep a distance from you because he knew you would never give him the time of day. How could you? You probably despised everything he was because he was definitely nothing like you, and that thought intimidated the fuck out of him. He was a mess everytime you wear nearby. Never relied on his voice because he knew he would stutter if you ever spoke to him, could never trust his eyes because if he ever looked at you he was afraid he wouldn't be able to look away.

And everytime you spoke, shit, that voice of yours always cursing here and there left him wondering how would you sound in a different setting and if you would still be that badmouthed. More specifically, between his sheets. So he did everything he could to minimize your interactions as much as possible. He just never thought he would come across as such a jerk. It was never his intention to hurt you, and seeing you cry that night (although you denied you did, over and over again) seriously made him realize he wanted to make things right.

He was trying really, really hard to keep it in his pants, to be the same well composed and controled Park Jimin he had mastered himself to be.

But that damn dress.

After seeing that little black dress hugging your figure when you started taking off your coat at the restaurant, the brief flash of thigh tights that you accidentaly (or not so accidentally) had blessed him with by crossing a leg over the other, that exposed collarbone calling his name and those heeled sandals with straps wrapping around your ankles, reminding him of the snake tempting Eve, Park Jimin was sure he needed to dig into that apple more than anything he has ever needed before.

That's why he surprises you right after you both finish the second course meal by telling the waitress you won't be having desert, at which you look at him somewhat indignant. But the look he shoots you is enough to make you understand if somebody was going to have desert tonight, it would be him. In his Mercedes.

"I'm gonna-" you gasp, fingers tugging at the soft strands of his now ruined blond hair, his head between your thighs and your legs thrown over his shoulders. His hands have a grip of the meaty flesh of your ass, holding you firmly againt his mouth as it works wonders on your clit. You're sure it hasn't even been ten minutes since Jimin had opened your legs in the backseat of his car, not even bothering to take your underwear off, simply moving the fabric aside before diving in, and you already feel yourself on the edge of an orgasm.

"I know." voice vibrating right into your core, he slows down his administrations, tongue carefully and delicately lapping at your folds while he enjoys the feeling of your fingers loosening their grip and fondly brushing his hair back. You meet his eyes as he pushes a finger inside your core and your whole body twists in agony.

"N-no!"

Jimin stops immediately, lifting his head and focusing his concerned eyes on you. He's about to ask you if he's done anything wrong, but you're fast to roughly pull him up by his hair until his face is leveled with yours. You answer him by kissing him and he returns the kiss with the same eagerness, and now it's your hands that are looking for his cock, palming him through his pants.

"Your dick. Inside. Right Now." you punctuate each phrase with a kiss and he only stops kissing you to pout.

"But I wanted you to cum on my tongue." but still, he's putty in your hands when you undo the botton and the zipper. "Wouldn't you rather me fucking you in my bed, where we're more comfortable?" you notice the slight quivering of his voice when you slide his trousers and boxers down, just enough to pull him out.

"You can eat me and fuck me as many times as you want tonight, tomorrow and whenever you'd like, but right now..." none of you contain the moan in unision that leaves each of your mouths when just the head of his lenght comes in contact with your entrance. "I really can't wait anymore." brushing your lips over his, you lower your voice. "Wanna get on my hands and knees for you."

Park Jimin has tried to do things the right and appropiate way throughout all his life. He's been a professional from a very young age on how to be in charge of his emotions, his desires and his impulses. Always well mannered and well composed.

But it's in this moment that Jimin comes to the realization that the only thing that has ever made him lose his mind and self control, is you. Seeing you like this, ass up, grinding your drenched and still thong clad cunt all over his precum dripping lenght, he can't control the way his hand bunches the fabrick of that damn dress over your waist, then flies to your right cheek, a sharp sound of skin filling the air, tearing a gasp from your throat.

"God, I'm-I'm sorry. Couldn't help mys-"

"Do it again."

And he does, the palm of his hand now leaving a reddenning print on your flesh, making you jolt back involuntarily, aligning yourself to the head of his cock and like he had hoped, he slides right in. Not all the way, because Jimin is sure he would cream inside you too soon and he wouldn't be able to forgive himself if he did. He wets his lips, clenching his jaw and dropping his palm one more time, hand more steady and purposeful.

"You like it rough?" voice hoarse and a hand beside your head holding himself, your back to his chest, twitching beneath him as he soothes the sting with his free one.

"I like you rough." turning your head slowly to peer at him from the corner of your eye, your hips moving on their own accord trying to take him deeper. Your head is suddenly pulled back harshly, Jimin's fingers tangling in your hair as his own hips close the remaining gap between your bodys in an abrupt thurst. You squeal, Jimin's cock finally filling you up to the hilt just like you wanted him to be, the pleasure making your arms wobble and finding it harder to mantain your balance.

Jimin's breath fawns over your ear, his tongue darting out to suck on your skin sending chills down your spine. "You're such a dream." he groans, torturously sliding out of your core that's gripping around his shaft for dear life. A whine of protest escapes your lips and he tightens the hold on your hair in response, diving right back in. You fall forward, your arms' strenght betraying you as his thrusts find a new rhythm. With your eyes closed shut, you try to muffle the sound of your voice with the back of your hand as Jimin's lips place soft kisses to your exposed shoulder.

"Don't be quiet." he stands straight, the pull on your hair arching your back in such a enticing way it was Jimin look away for a second, cock buried inside of you and his hips faltering. "Been dying to have you like this for so long."

Another clap of his hand against your right cheek, and a particular stroke of his dick that has you mewling as your climax approached again. "S-so good, Jimin. Oh my god."

"You're gonna cum for me?" his fingertips leave bruises on your skin and the windows of his Mercedes are foggy, just like your mind. You can't concentrate on anything that's not Jimin's cock sliding in and out and how much you wished this had happened way sooner. "Gonna cum for me like a good slut?"

Park Jimin always takes his time. Always does things nice and slow to assure the best outcome possible.

But he can't contain the acceleration of his hips against yours as your walls clench impossibly tight around his cock, your orgasm finally taking over . Can't contain himself from falling forward again, hand twisting your head in his direction and his mouth searching for yours in a fiery and messy kiss. And he most definitely can't barely contain himself from cumming when your you ask him to spit in your mouth.

"You're gonna kill me." he breathes, removing himself off you and quickly maneuvering you on your back, his dick finding its way back inside you. Picking up right where he left off, skin slapping against skin in an obscene melody, he collects a considerate amount of saliva in his mouth before dropping it into your welcoming tongue, watching you swallow with a smile he hopes he'll be the only one to see in the future.

And that's what has the last bit of his self restraint slipping from his fingers. He somehow manages to rip the top of your dress down, fabric tearing until your tits are free and his mouth is attacking your nipples, white strings of his release panting your walls, some of it them oozing out that he fucks back right into you.

It's between ragged breaths, kisses and tender carresses that Jimin promises you more dates in the future and new dresses that he can't promise not to savage apart again.

#jimin #park jimin #jimin smut #park jimin smut #bts smut #bts #pjm #pjm smut #bad bunny is retiring like who the fuck does he think he is to decide when he gets to retire???#nah bb WE decide when you retire

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the-purity-pen · 3 years

Text

All My Life

Pairing: Marcus Moreno x Fem!Reader

Rating: G (for now) Warning: None. Just a lot of pining. Word Count: 2,144 A/N: I threw this idea out like over a month ago to you all after watching the movie and you all loved it! I’ve finally finished the first part of this story! I hope you all enjoy!

“Marcus and Missy Moreno Save the World Again”

The headline dashed across the bottom of your television screen as clips of the Heroics defeating an invading robotic alien flashed on the screen. The news reporters were rambling on about the details of the attack and how the Morenos and the others had stopped the invaders.

The smile on your face as you packed your suitcase was undeniable. It was wonderful to see the next generation of Heroics take over. Especially after your own departure from the original gang. You hadn’t kept in straight contact with many of them aside from Jasmine and Alana.

They both had been texting you for the last week to ensure you were actually going to attend the reunion. You didn’t know why they were so insistent on you going but you’d absolutely be lying to say you weren’t excited to get back together and have something other than work to focus on.

Becoming a consultant for recruiting new Heroics wasn’t always a glamorous job and your deadlines for meeting quotas were constantly breathing down your neck. But knowing that you were still making an impact even if your powers were mostly underwraps and not used in a big way, was enough to make your job and your move all those years ago worth it.

Your phone buzzed as you attempted to zip the suitcase, pushing down with your entire body weight to try to slide the metal zipper. You grunted and puffed air up out of your mouth and shook your head. You should know better than to overpack but you were trying to make sure you were prepared for anything for the weekend that you’d be back home.

You took a sharp breath in and reached for your phone where it sat on your nightstand. Seeing the messages flying in from Jasmine and Alana made you laugh. They were both gushing about how Marcus looked on the newsreel and Jasmine in particular was mentioning that he was looking better with age and that if you didn’t try to snag him at the reunion that she would seize her opportunity.

“Seriously? He just uses those arms like that?”

“I swear if he comes to the reunion in that vest…”

“Can you imagine what he looks like now that he’s so stacked?”

Your fingers flew across the screen telling them both to calm down and that Marcus, the last thing you knew, was married. Alana was quick to jump in and inform you that Marcus’s wife had passed away just a few years ago. Your heart immediately sank upon reading that message. Despite the years and the way life had separated you, your heart still cared for Marcus.

You had lost your husband to infidelity but losing a significant other in the way Marcus did? Your heart panged as you texted the girls that there was absolutely no way you'd be able to "jump on that" as Jasmine had to eloquently put it. It wouldn't be right. You were just excited to see him and everyone else and catch up on life.

You finally won the fight against the zipper of your suitcase and pulled it onto the floor. You ran through your checklist one last time before deciding you were ready. You placed your carry-on on top of the suitcase and with your phone and keys in hand, you left the house and made your way to the airport.

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

“Daaaad, seriously,” Missy groaned with a grin attached to her face. The young girl got up from the edge of her father’s bed and stood in front of him by the mirror. Her small hands came up to cover her father’s larger ones as she stopped him from fidgeting with the tie.

“You look fine,” she reassured him, again. She tugged on the tie to straighten as Marcus looked down at her and sighed. For a teenage girl, Missy seemed to have her life more together than Marcus at times.

“If you say so. Doesn’t make me feel fine,” Marcus admitted to his daughter. Ever since his wife had died, Missy had become his focus and when he had to rejoin the Heroics, he did it to protect her. Everything was for her. So having a night out for just him was odd.

“What are you nervous about? That everyone is going to know that we saved the world again?” Missy laughed and Marcus cracked a grin, shaking his head softly.

“That I’ll bump into people I haven’t seen in years and they’ll think differently of me,” Marcus admitted with a sigh. Missy’s brows furrowed up at her father before her face softened. She knew what it was like to have people look at you like an outcast but there was no way her father would be looked at that way. He was a literal hero and she told him such which made him smile down and press a kiss to the top of her head.

“Love you kiddo,” Marcus sighed before finally leaving the house to make his way to the gymnasium of a building he hadn’t stepped foot in in almost two decades. The walls seemed shorter now and the hallways narrower but his feet carried him through as if he were back to being a teenager.

His eyes scanned as he saw the locker that he had called home for all four years. And a few steps later, he saw your corner locker and his heart stopped for a second. He wondered if you were going to make it to the reunion. He hadn’t thought too deeply about you in a few years because he was still grieving his wife but now that he was here, you were consuming his thoughts.

As he walked into the decorated and rainbow-lit gymnasium, all conversations started to fade away as everyone looked to him with bright smiles. Jasmine looked over your shoulder towards the entrance and her eyes widened. She tapped your arm and nudged her chin in his direction, making you turn.

Your heart nearly leaped out of your chest seeing him. A black suit with a black tie and his black frames all pulled the look together nicely. You guessed Missy probably had a hand in helping him pick out his outfits. The girl was notorious for helping her father with simple things and it didn’t surprise you.

You watched as Steven, better known as Miracle Guy, came over to clap Marcus on the shoulder while shaking his hand with the other. Last you knew Steven didn’t like Marcus but perhaps he was putting on a show since there were phones and cameras everywhere. You scoffed quietly to yourself as a reminder that some people really don’t change.

Some minutes later, Alana nudged her elbow into your side. “Marcus is alone at the drink table. Go say hi,” she punctuated the last word with another nudge and you made a pout at her. “But I have a full-” you started but Alana quickly swiped your cup and downed the rest of your punch. You narrowed your eyes at her and she just gave a giddy, toothy smile, holding your now empty cup out to you before mouthing the word Go.

You rolled your eyes and sighed heavily as you took the cup from her and turned around but not before sticking your tongue out at her. You walked a bit slowly, nervous to even strike up a conversation with your ex-high school boyfriend turned superhero of the world.

You stepped up the punchbowl just as Marcus was about to reach for it and bumped his arm. “Oh! Sorry!” you exclaimed with a light chuckle and he turned to see who had bumped him and felt a huge lump form in his throat.

Your name came from him like a soft whisper and you felt your face soften looking at him. “Hi Marcus,” you said softly, almost in a soft whisper that echoed the way he had said your name. “Or should I say Mr. Superhero of the World?” you gave a soft chuckle and he echoed it with a soft guffaw of his own. The two of you stood there for a minute, just studying each other’s faces with goofy grins attached to your lips.

Suddenly the music dimmed and a tap of a live microphone came over the speakers. “Attention everyone! Okay, okay! Come closer okay?” the class president, Rachelle Hawkins, spoke into the microphone. You and Marcus turned your attention to the stage at the same time. Most of the crowd started moving closer to the stage but you stayed back with Marcus by the food table.

“First of all I just want to say thank you to everyone who could make it tonight,” she said in her overly fake happy tone that she used to use as a cheerleader. You rolled your eyes slightly and Marcus looked over and chuckled at your response. He remembered how much you and Rachelle didn’t get along. You weren’t exactly enemies but her power during school years seemed to have just been racking up the count on how many boys would lose their virginity to her.

Marcus leaned over to speak into your ear with both of your heads still facing the stage. “Good to see she hasn’t changed huh?” he whispered which made you snicker. You both were already falling back into comfort after so many years apart. It only made sense since you had dated for all four years of high school and were friends first.

“Let’s start the night off with a dance from our senior year prom king and queen!” Rachelle exclaimed and held her hand out to point in your and Marcus’s direction. Everyone turned to face you both as Rachelle called out both your names and a bright light then shown on you. You tried to shield your eyes from the blinding spotlight as you looked to Marcus.

In the distance you heard Jasmine and Alana whooping and hollering in celebration which prompted everyone else to start clapping and cheering the two of you on. Marcus looked at you and placed his plate down on the long table. You followed suit to place your still empty cup down next to his plate. You swallowed a large lump that had formed in your throat before Marcus was holding out his arm for you to loop yours through.

You did so and he led you out to the middle of the floor. The light finally faded and you could clearly see Marcus’ face. His eyes were scanning the crowd before jumping back to you. You took a deep breath and reached up to put your left hand onto his shoulder. He placed his right arm on your hip and reached with his left hand to grab your right and hold it. He intertwined your fingers and you felt your heart nearly leap from your chest.

He pulled you closer slowly so your bodies were right next to each other as the song started playing. “All My Life” by KC and Jojo came over the speakers and you couldn’t help but burst out laughing as Marcus swayed you to the beat. He was smiling too knowing why this song was picked. It was the same song that was played during your dance after being chosen as king and queen.

Your laughter caused you to lean into Marcus’s chest for a minute to catch your breath and his heart started to race a mile a minute. Your heart was starting to match his rhythm and when you stood up straight up again, you found yourself just looking into his eyes. The feel of his body pressed against you, the heat of his arm that was now wrapped around your lower back all accumulated to you immediately feeling smitten by him once more.

Your eyes flickered around his face slowly, landing on his lips before looking back into his eyes. But before you knew it, Rachelle’s voice was coming back through the speakers, loud and clear over the music. “Aw look at them folks! It’s like nothing has changed! How sweet!” she cooed and the entire crowd followed suit. You rolled your eyes and Marcus gave a tight lipped grin in response.

He finally pulled back from you when Rachelle started to list off the night’s events and the song faded into the night. Your heart was beating so hard you were starting to breathe heavier. Marcus walked back over to the food table to gather up his plate and you followed him just a step behind. You picked up your cup and without a word to Marcus, started to refill it with punch.

“I’ll um, I’ll see you later?” Marcus asked rather than said and you looked up at him with a wry smile and slow nod.

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clouditae · 3 years

Text

First Love | 11

Word: 2.6k

You first saw him in the multi-purpose room. Later learn his name, and on your third year, as he becomes your neighbor, you discover his lifestyle. Knowing your crush on him was nothing but that, you wanted to find the courage to look for love. Asking your friend for help, you’re pointed in the direction of the expert. Your neighbor, Min Yoongi

Chapter Index

It’s been about a week since you last saw Yoongi. A week since you’ve discovered that he has a past with Sam, the girl you met at the party, but you’re not fully sure if it’s the same Sam and what past they have.

You never told Ari about this. It was too… embarrassing for you to mention. You did what Ari didn’t want you to get hurt about, and you’re deeply hurt. Sure you didn’t do the actual thing with Yoongi like a lot of girls have, but what you did and what happened after caused a silence between the two of you. It’s not like you’re avoiding him the way he’s avoiding you. He hasn't texted you or talked to you, and Hoseok says there’s usually a girl in his room so he has to wait for her to leave before he can go in.

Ari would give you worried glances, but you’d brush it off like you’re not about to cry because your feelings for him grew ten times more. When you left his room and went to yours, you lied in bed and cried yourself to sleep. Just like you did the first night of the year. That fear you felt when you were in that room only proved to be right. This ended badly and you’re left feeling empty.

Right now you’re sitting in class trying to focus on the lecture rather than on Sam and Yoongi, and you and Yoongi. You want to know who this girl is and what past they have together to make Yoongi sound so hateful. The only person you can ask is the person who knows him best. Thankfully you’re meeting Ari and Hoseok for lunch after class.

As your professor finishes his lecture, you pack your belongings and leave the room like a lot of eager students who are just done listening to long rambles about night photography and how to have a better advantage when taking them. Walking down the hallway, you reach the stairwell and follow the group of people heading down. When you’re out of the building, you make your way towards the food court where Ari and Hoseok will be waiting.

Not having your earphones in, you’re stuck with listening in on others conversations. Nothing is interesting to you; they talk about class or “the bastard is gonna get his ass beat when I see him this weekend—I can’t believe he cheated on me”. Conversations you can care less for. You have your own problems and one of those is how to bring Sam up in a conversation without causing Ari to get suspicious and cause Hoseok to question things. Sweet Hoseok is oblivious, and you want to keep it that way when you ask about her.

Off into the distance, further away from the court, compared to you, is Hoseok chatting with someone. Your face lights up in realization as you pick up the pace to the food court. With another quick glance at Hoseok, and realizing he’s making his way over, you lightly jog inside and scan the area for Ari. You’re starting to feel the panic as Hoseok gets closer and closer to the building while your eyes continue to glance back and forth in the room.

Where is she?

“Y/N over here,” her voice rings, hand waving towards you from the far left corner of the room.

You almost run to her now as you throw your bag on a chair next to you and rush, “Whatever I ask Hoseok play along—I’ll explain everything later—”

Hoseok has just arrived. “Hey guys,” he says, smiling as he takes a seat next to Ari and places a kiss at her temple.

You try your best to act like nothing happened. “Hey. Are you guys ready to eat? I’m starving,” you tell them, voice wavering just a bit from the adrenaline of just a simple beating him here.

“Yeah, let’s get some grub,” he agrees, smiling oh-so happily as he gets up. To your luck he never catches on, but Ari’s now staring at you with a curious look. You give her a begging look and that is all you need to do before she gives up and plays along with your request, but you know she’ll be barking questions the second the two of you are alone. “What are you guys in the mood for? I got an A on my performance so it’s my treat,” Hoseok explains, a huge grin on his face as he wraps his arms around Ari’s and your shoulders.

“I’ll never deny free food, and congrats, babe.” Ari gets on her tiptoes and places a kiss on his cheek.

“Thanks, baby, and don’t even argue with me Y/N, you’re letting me pay today,” Hoseok concludes without giving you a chance to deny his offer.

You sigh, “Then can I have Chinese?” You point to the stand next to the Greek food stand.

“I’m down for some Chinese,” Ari inputs.

“Chinese it is!”

After spending five minutes waiting for Ari to decide what she wants, getting in line and placing your order, and finally getting your food, the three of you sit at the table, munching on your orders. Ari and Hoseok spend a majority of the time talking while you struggle to find a way to bring up Yoongi and Sam. There never seems to be a perfect moment, and the longer you wait, the closer you get to finishing your food and leaving for the day while Hoseok goes back to class.

But it’s like fate is on your side as Hoseok says, “Yoongi seems to be having a lot of girls over because almost every day when I go to the room, there’s a piece of red tape on the door. This is worse than usual. I know I said this before, but I really want to go in my room once in a while without having to wait all the time.”

It hurts. It hurts more than anything to hear that again, but you can’t let that pain show on your face even as Ari glances at you with a worried expression once again. “Oh, yeah,” you begin, swallowing the lump in your throat, “I forgot to say this last time, but some time last week I heard someone knocking on his door. It was a girl and it sounded like Yoongi wasn’t happy to see her there,” you claim, leaving out the details of being in his bathroom rather than in your room.

Hoseok frowns. “Really? Did you happen to catch her name or what she looks like?”

“I didn’t see what she looks like, but I think he said Sam?” You try to look like you’re struggling to remember what he said, but his words are so clear in your head.

You can see the slight shock on Hoseok’s face as he mutters, “Oh.”

So he does know Sam. “Do you know her?” you question.

Hoseok can only shake his head as he answers, “Yeah. She’s Yoongi’s ex girlfriend.”

You need more information. You feel desperate for more information. “What happened between them? It has to be something bad since he didn’t sound happy and you don’t look like she’s a great person.”

Hoseok picks at his food, taking a quick glance at you. “You can’t tell him I told you this.”

You do your best not to look eager as you nod. “Of course.”

“They met when they were sophomores in high school. It was an immediate attraction, and after five months they were dating. They’ve been together for four years before they broke up last year.”

“Why did they break up?” Ari asks, seemingly invested in Yoongi’s past just as much as you are.

He sits back, running a hand down his face. “When Yoongi is dedicated to something, he’s dedicated. He’s also not good at expressing his feelings. In high school and even now he works on making music, so he tends to be cooped up in his room for days. Sam wanted attention from him—you know, to know he still loves her, but Yoongi struggles with that. Last year Yoongi caught her cheating on him, and that was the end of that.”

You can’t think of anything to say. He met a girl; he fell in love, and now he’s heartbroken. How long did it take for him to fall in love with her? How long will he continue to let this eat him whole?

“That must have sucked,” Ari mutters with a sincere tone.

“Yeah, and I’m really hoping the girl that is in the room isn’t her,” Hoseok groans, taking a bite of his food.

“Never get back with an ex. Especially if they’ve cheated on you,” Ari recites, as if it’s an actual rule written in a book somewhere.

“What does she look like?” you inquire. You have to know that the woman you met at the party, the nice girl who made you feel a bit more comfortable being there... You have to know that she is not the Sam that broke Yoongi’s heart. But the memory of Yoongi’s dejected look flashes in your head.

It is her. You know it. You were his distraction in the bathroom when he saw her that day.

“She has like red blondish hair? Brown eyes. She’s a theater arts major, so if you’ve gone to plays you may have seen her.” He shrugs, finishing the rest of his food.

“Plays? I’ve been to a few.” Ari taps her chin in thought. “I’m trying to remember a girl with that hair color. What plays has she been in?”

“Uhhh…” he trails off, eyes darting back and forth a bit as he tries to remember. “The last time I saw one was when she was in Shakespeare’s The Taming of the Shrew. She was Katherine? I’m not a pro at Shakespeare, so I’m not totally sure if she played that character.”

“Oh! The strawberry blonde? She’s gorgeous,” Ari comments, eyes wide with surprise.

Yeah, she really is, you confirm, remembering how pretty she is and how her laugh was so bubbly and warm. You can feel a tinge of jealousy boiling in the pit of your stomach. She’s pretty, friendly, funny and so much more. Yoongi fell in love with her. He’ll never fall in love with you, and you hate yourself for thinking about that.

“You’ve seen her before?” Ari asks.

You blink a few times in realization that you said those words out loud. “Yeah. She was at the party I went to. She was the other team I was playing against in beer pong.”

“Really?” Hoseok baffles, voice louder than before. Ari covers his mouth, smiling apologetically to the eyes glancing in your direction. They’re the perfect couple when it comes to being loud. He removes his girlfriend’s hand from his mouth. “No wonder Yoongi was acting weird when he came back. He was in a pissy mood—more than usual,” he adds.

“Damn. He must really hate her.” Ari shakes her head, pressing the lock button on her phone to check the time. “Oh, babe you should go. Class starts in ten,” she tells Hoseok, looking to him as her phone goes black once again.

Taking a quick glance at his watch, his eyes widen before he closes the lid to his box, picking it up along with his backpack. “You’re right. I’ll see you guys later.” Giving a quick kiss to Ari, Hoseok quickly leaves the food court.

The second he’s out of sight, Ari’s attention is now on you. “So are you going to tell me what that was about?”

You sigh. You can’t have a second to yourself before she bombards you with questions, but it’s just like you predicted. “Well what I told Hoseok was what I told you to wait for.” You avert your gaze. “Except I was in Yoongi’s bathroom when Sam knocked on his door.”

“What were you doing in his room?” You can see the hint of curiosity and playfulness dance on her face.

“What happened that day was a mistake. Sam clearly wants him back, and Yoongi hasn’t spoken to me since that day.” You can see that Ari wants more information as to what happened that day, but you just aren’t ready to tell her. Tell her what will most likely be the biggest mistake you’ll ever make. “I’ll tell you some time, Ari. Just not now.”

Her being your best friend, she can tell your distress and can only nod, reaching across the table to take your hand in hers. “Whenever you’re ready, hon, I’ll be here and ready to beat ass if necessary.” You nod, now fighting the urge to cry all over again. You’ve been fighting the urge to cry almost every day, and you feel ridiculous about it. “Want to head back to the dorm?”

You nod again, closing the lid to your entrée box. You grab your backpack, along with your food and follow her to the trash can to toss the food and follow her out of the building. Walking through the crowd, Ari loops her arm through yours, smiling as she leads you to the bus stop to wait for your ride back to the dorm.

A short, and somewhat crowded ride later, you and Ari lie in your own beds staring up at the ceiling in silence. “I know I have a paper to write, but right now I could care less what the four main issues Hunston discusses regarding in corpus design are. I think I’d rather talk about the Tokugawa era and its fall than anything with corpus linguistics,” Ari complains, the sound of her feet hitting her bed filling the silence.

You frown in confusion. “What?”

“Exactly!” she whines, “Why did I decide to take five classes this semester?”

“Why did you?” you ask her, turning to your side to see her through the mirror. She can’t see you though, so it always makes you feel a bit weird staring at her without her really knowing it.

“I want my last semester to be the easiest,” she answers, her smile spreading across her lips. The smile leaves as she sits up and stares at you. Seeing her serious expression, you sit up and look at her. “If you don’t want to do this with Yoongi anymore you should tell him. I’ll make something up to Hoseok if he asks.”

You give her a small smile as your gaze goes down to your hands on your lap. You know you have to end things with him. If you continue to receive these lessons it’ll only hurt you in the end. You can’t keep pushing yourself onto this hope that he’ll one day fall for you. No matter how much you wish for his attention, you’ll never get it. “Yeah, I know,” you whisper, blinking back the tears.

You hear her moving around before the sound of her feet hitting the floor causes you to look up. She grabs her white water bottle. “I’m gonna go fill up my bottle and then find Rollan downstairs because I have questions about bringing a cat in here.” You chuckle. “Be back,” she sings, opening the door and leaving the room.

When the door closes with a bang, you let out a shaky sigh and grab your phone that’s hidden under your pillow. You unlock it, going to your contacts and search for his name. Once you tap on his name and open the text, you type away with shaky fingers.

[1:14 pm] Me: Hey. After thinking about it, I feel like I’ve learned enough to try and find someone on my own. I won’t be needing those lessons anymore. I hate you.

Deleting the last sentence, you hit send.

#bangtanarmynet #bangtanuniversity #thebtswritersclub #btsgoldnet #btswritersguild #bts #bts x reader #bts x you #bts fanfic #bts fluff #bts angst #bts au #min yoongi #yoongi x reader #yoongi x you #yoongi fanfic #yoongi fluff #yoongi angst #yoongi au

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watermelonlipstick · 3 years

Text

Dreams, Chapter 18

If you haven’t read this series before, you might want to start on Chapter 1, or check out the Dreams Masterlist! Here’s the series description:

When Dean dies for good leaving Sam and his girlfriend (the reader) behind, they must figure out how to carry on without him. Alone, reeling, and unsure what to do next, trying to honor Dean’s memory and follow their hearts gets even more complicated when their nightmares become dreams that feel a little too real.

Title: Dreams, Chapter 18

Pairing: (past) Dean Winchester x Reader, (eventual) Sam Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 4326

Summary: Dean gets a better sense of what Sam and the reader’s new life is like.

Warnings: FLUFF, swearing

Barbie opens the door with an honest to god plate of pigs in a blanket as though she just had them going and you have to remind yourself you’re in a dream. “What a nice surprise! Come in, come in. And who’s this?” she asks, hugging Sam with one arm while holding onto the plate and offering for you to take one. It’s as buttery and salty as you ever could’ve hoped.

“This is, uh, this is my brother Dean.”

“Well hello, Dean! What a handsome pair you two are.” She offers the plate to the brothers. Dean grabs two with a pincher, tossing both in his mouth. Sam politely takes one as Barbie yells over her shoulder. “Mike, we have company!” She motions for you three to follow her into the house and Sam has to practically clothesline his brother to get him to take his shoes off before he trails blindly after the plate full of sausage.

Mike stands up from one of those leather armchairs, folding back the magazine he’s reading to greet Sam with a bear hug. “This is my brother Dean,” Sam offers as Mike hugs you with decidedly gentler back pats than he had for Sam. Dean holds his hand out as if to shake but Mike curves his big paws around Dean’s shoulders and pulls him in for a hug with enough force that Dean almost falls into him.

“You didn’t say anything about a brother!” he bellows to Sam over Dean’s shoulder.

Sam and you both freeze, and you can only speak for yourself but you suspect Sam is also worried Dean will be upset to hear that. Instead, finally released from Mike’s binding embrace, Dean rocks back to holding up his own weight with a big smile. “Crazy private, these two, right? You’d think they were in the witness protection program.” For another second you’re worried about how you’ll do damage control, how you’ll talk to them about Dean after this, and then you remember this isn’t actually Mike and Barbie, they won’t actually remember anything.

Mike leans into Dean conspiratorially. “You can say that again. Now, what can I get you three to drink?”

“Whatever you’re having works for me, sir,” Dean answers, charming as ever with his most clean-cut smile.

“You’re going to regret saying that,” Mike laughs, heading over to the kitchen where Barbie is fiddling with something in the oven. He fills a row of pint glasses with dark beer out of a growler you know is the extremely strong beer he brews himself and hands one to his wife with a kiss on her cheek, motions for you and the Winchesters to each take one. “To a pleasant surprise and finding out there’s another man in the world like Sam.”

“I think you mean another man like me,” Dean says cheerfully as you all clink your glasses together.

“So you’re older?” Barbie asks, handing Sam a stack of plates to go make the table with.

“Four years, yeah. It was easier to tell when I had a foot on him.” Dean reaches up to ruffle his baby brother’s hair, and Sam generously waits a half-second before swatting his hand away with a sheepish flush.

“A foot? Really? I wouldn’t have thought anyone would ever have had a foot on this behemoth,” Mike laughs, catching Sam with a jokey punch to his bicep when he comes back for silverware.

“Oh, yeah. Sam was a little squirt until he was like 17.” Dean continues.

“How’s Luke’s basketball team doing?” Sam asks, color rising in his cheeks and desperate to have the focus shifted off of himself.

Barbie grants his wish with a knowing smile. “Going to the playoffs! He’s very excited.” She hands Sam a huge bowl of salad to carry to the table and takes out a hot casserole dish from the oven.

“They do playoffs for middle school?” you ask, about to trail into the dining room after Barbie with Sam and Mike like a chain of ducklings. Dean stops you with a hand on your arm.

“It’s going to make it weird if you’re not yourself with him,” he mutters, low so the Kaisers and Sam won’t hear. “I’m okay, kid, I promise. This is…awesome, but I know you’re holding back. You don’t have to.”

“What’re you talking about?”

“You touched Sam more when I was topside and we were together. You’d think he has leprosy the way you’re dodging him now.”

“Dean, we’re always going to be togeth—”

He rolls his eyes in frustration. “Okay, fine, yeah, we’re together now. But you know what I mean.”

You bite your lip. “I thought they’re just my mind’s projections, who cares if they think it’s weird.”

“Babe.” He holds firm, his gaze steady.

“Jesus, Dean, it is weird, okay? The whole thing is bizarre!” Your whisper has turned into a bit of a hiss and he glances to the dining room to make sure you haven’t caught anyone’s attention.

He wraps his fingers around your hand and swipes an arc into it, looking down as he does. “I know it is, I’m sorry. Can you try, just a little bit? The whole thing is only going to get less awkward if we keep at it.”

“Fine, yeah. I’ll try.”

Dean holds your eyes for a moment, not seeming to buy it, before staring back at his feet. “For you it’s a dream but this—this is the closest I’m going to get; to being part of your lives. I just—I just kinda want it to be as close as it can be, you know? If you’re acting different then it’s not really—”

“Understood.” You swallow hard against the lump forming in your throat, willing it to dissolve, not about to keep feeling sorry for yourself when he’s clearly putting so much aside to be present.

Too quickly for you to react Dean lifts your hand to his lips, and the warmth of the kiss on your skin sends a shudder through you. He follows you into the dining room, where Sam and the Kaisers are about to sit down. You grab the seat next to Sam, leaving the head of the table opposite Barbie for Dean as the new guest.

“You okay?” Sam asks, quietly enough you’re sure you’re the only one who can hear it.

You squeeze his thigh reassuringly under the table. “Yeah, definitely.”

Dean catches your eyes to give you a meaningful look that makes you swallow again, and before you can think about it you’re sliding your hand around Sam’s neck, looping him down to kiss him on the cheek. Sam’s cheeks flush pink as the corner of his mouth tries to tug into a smile and it’s so impossibly cute that you’re not faking your subsequent smile for Dean’s sake.

Both Barbie and Dean smirk thoughtfully at the two of you before pretending to be engrossed in the salad she’s passing to him. “So, Dean! We heard your families were friends before these two got together; was it one of those things that you always knew was going to happen?”

Sam chokes on a sip of beer, trying his best to cough with his mouth closed to keep the sputtering to a minimum. You think you’re probably the only one who catches the flair of joyful ribbing behind Dean’s eyes as he pretends to be concerned.

“Aw, I remember my first drink. All good over there, Sammy?”

His little brother strains to stop, his voice sounding as rough and cracked as if he’d spent 50 days breathing sand. “Yep. Wrong pipe, sorry.” He gives a closed-mouth smile of reassurance to his hosts that makes him look like a kid.

Dean turns to Barbie, smile smooth and charming as anything. “You know, it’s funny you ask that. When we were younger, I was the one with the crush on her.”

You probably should’ve guessed Dean would pull some kind of jokey shit like this but you’re still thankful that the Winchesters aren’t sitting close enough to kick each other’s legs under the table. As it is, you give a grin you hope seems warm and not tense.

Mike finishes chewing a huge bite and nudges Dean’s arm with his elbow playfully. “I hope there’s no jealousy there.”

“Ah, you know how it is. You grow up, things happen.” And if that isn’t the damn understatement of the century. “Couldn’t ask for a better girl to take care of my baby bro.”

“Well I think that’s pretty damn sweet. Barb’s sister hated me until I drove to Wausau on Thanksgiving Day to change a blown-out tire for her. We’d already been married six years!”

Barbie rolls her eyes across the table at Sam, mouthing “not true,” with an easy smile.

“I think that’s worth a drink,” Mike emphasizes, raising his beer. “To the best girl for—what’d you call him? Somehow I can’t imagine He-Man over here ever being a ‘Sammy.’”

You raise your own drink with everyone else and Dean catches your eye with an iridescent twinkle as he repeats the toast. “To the best girl.”

The rest of dinner is the exact emotional and literal comfort food you always get from the Kaisers, a respite from the world in the best way. As you had suspected he would, Dean gets along perfectly with them, falling into a good-natured ribbing of Sam borne of admiration with Mike and charming Barbie within an inch of her life. Dean tells stories about Sam as a little kid that you know are really far more embarrassing than the version he shares, and hearing Dean edit to idealize Sam for the Kaisers even as an eight year old makes you want to melt into the floor.

You pretend to be tired too early in the evening, feeling selfish and wanting the boys all for yourself. Being handed a Tupperware of leftovers reminds you this isn’t real; the futility of carrying them a flash in the evening that you’ve otherwise forgotten won’t last.

Standing in the doorway, Sam’s already on the porch when Barbie stops Dean as he’s following you out. Quietly, trying for privacy, she says to him, “Honey, I am so glad we got to meet you. We worry about these two being all by themselves, but knowing they’ve got you looking out for them is going to help me sleep a little more soundly tonight.”

Dean covers her hand where she has his arm and looks at her with soft doe eyes. “You have no idea how much I could say the same to you.”

They hug for a beat longer than necessary and then Dean’s right at your side, trailing after Sam’s long legs down the road to your cabin.

It’s hard not to think it’s purposeful, Sam going ahead to let you walk with Dean on the way back. Dean flicks a side of his jacket away from his body and you slide in there like you always did, warmed by the pre-contained heat coming off of him and giggling when he kisses the top of your head. “Man, I guess some things never change,” he murmurs, breath spilling over your hair. “You even move to the damn arctic and still don’t get any warmer coats.”

He’s feeding you the intro to an old script but you don’t have the heart to tease back, just snuggling up to him and walking to the cabin together feeling the familiar way the muscles in Dean’s side move against you as he does. Sam doesn’t even look back and it’s so unlike him not to check that you’re there that then you know definitively he’s giving you a moment together. “I miss you, baby.”

“Kid, I’m right here.”

You peer up at him. “Don’t be a dick.”

He glances down at you bundled against him. “I miss you too. But I see you guys all the time; it’s like nothing changed.”

The reflex to laugh bitterly doesn’t fit the moment but you can’t stop it. “Right. My mistake.”

His jaw muscles tighten to a ball for a whisper of a beat. “I need you to fucking work with me here, babe. I know this is not ideal but it’s so much more than anyone else gets and I gotta be honest, you’re being kind of a bitch about it.” You kick your eyebrows up on your forehead, both disbelieving and challenging. Dean realizes the mistake borne of his frustration immediately. “Not a bitch, that’s not what I mean, sorry. A baby. You’re being a baby.”

“A baby?”

He stops you both. Sam’s already about halfway up the driveway. “Listen, I know that you’re—I don’t know, mad. At me for not being here, the way things happened, whatever. But it’s done. It’s over. No one else in the fucking world gets this, gets to have it both ways, visit like I’m just a town away. You get to see me, I get to see you guys, pretty much whenever we want.”

A few tears start collecting in the wells of your eyelids, indignance or grief or both. You try to blink them back but when one falls, lightning fast and stupid like Wil E. Coyote running out over the edge of a cliff, Dean brushes it away with a swipe of his thumb. “I get it. I miss you too, all the fucking time. I miss the way things could’ve been; I miss shit I didn’t even have, you know? I miss this fucking cabin, believe it or not—I—we all could’ve lived in a cabin like this together. We—maybe we could have had kids or something, couple of little girls to braid Uncle Sammy’s hair, the fuck do I know? But at some point I had to accept what I do have, and you do too.”

You look over his shoulder, not wanting to meet Dean’s eyes or the truth that’s there. He’s right, but that doesn’t make the bottomless pit of greed for more of him go away. “Sam’s going to be waiting for us.”

“Don’t deflect. It doesn’t have to be this second, but you have to get good with this. Today—tonight, whatever—was pretty damn near perfect and you’re upset because you want something that doesn’t exist.” He flicks his gaze up the driveway to confirm it’s empty; Sam’s already inside. His jaw is still tight but his eyes are tender and fuzzy, the same way he looks when he’s tired. When they lock onto yours, you can feel them sear straight into you, heating you up slow like an Easy Bake oven. “But right now you’re going to kiss me like it’s the first time. Then we’re going to head in, and you’re going to act like I know you’ve been with Sammy, sappy freaks that you both are, I’m going to have a few drinks with my brother, and we’ll tell the same stupid stories you’ve heard a hundred times.”

That’s finally enough to make you chuckle and you venture an arm out of the protective embrace he has on you to take his chin in your hand, thumb on that perfect indent as you catch Dean’s lips with yours. It’s soft and delicate, a thank you and a reminder and a memory at once. His lashes catch a shadow when he opens his eyes, and you hold them for a long second. “I thought you said like our first kiss—you didn’t even try to jam your tongue down my throat.”

Dean rolls his eyes through a smile and a part of your mind flares with victory knowing you’ve made it past the bramble patch of emotion. “I was like twenty, can’t blame a guy for trying. You couldn’t have been that mad; you still let me get under your shirt the next day.”

You laugh hard, letting it ring out along the driveway as you tug Dean to the house with your fingers interlinked in his.

Sam is pouring a few fingers of bourbon into three little juice glasses when you walk in, and you grab one right off the counter without breaking your stride, tossing it back and offering it to Sam. “Hit me.”

He smirks and obliges as you slide a hand to his lower back. There’s a half beat of hesitation before he leans back that inch or two into your palm like he always does, but what’s more important in that moment is that he still does, and without flushing. Sam and Dean both grab their glasses and you don’t remember the last time you’ve done this many toasts in a night that weren’t at the bar following a Packers win.

“To you two morons finally figuring this shit out,” Dean says, raising his glass.

“Yeah, whatever,” Sam grins. For a beat you can see in his eyes the unbridled admiration he has for his brother, the complete devotion and deep grain of grief he’ll never be free of even if he can see Dean like this every day for the rest of forever. You wonder if you had truly realized the way it flared in his eyes before everything. All three of you sip at your whiskeys together, and you have to fight to keep your mouth closed through a petite yawn.

Sam tucks a stray piece of hair behind your ear and lets you lean into the wall of his body, wrap your hand around to his side. His hand moves to envelop your shoulder, thumb swiping absentmindedly back and forth. It’s nothing, genuinely less physical affection than you used to show Sam most of the time when you and Dean were two halves of a living couple like he’d pointed out to you earlier, but the most important thing is that it feels okay. More than anything it feels like being at the bar, the ‘aren’t they so cute’ on Dean’s face the same one that you get at work only made different by how much you wish you were somehow able to tuck up under Dean’s arm at the same time.

A couple drinks and a while later you’re sprawled on the couch, head laid back on the armrest. One foot is tucked under Sam’s thigh where he sits next to you and one rests on top of his lap, a large, warm palm gently wrapped around your shin. The living room—area in the non-bedroom-or-bathroom-space in the cabin where you’ve put a couch, armchair, and rocking chair you’ve grown fond of, really—is small enough that Dean’s knees, extended and one crossed over the other where his feet are on the coffee table, are right by your shoulder, absentminded slow rocking of the maple chair he’s on not quite matching the pace of the hand he has playing with your hair. You’re close to drifting off, and isn’t that weird, that you would get sleepy in a dream, but listening to Sam and Dean is so relaxing. They’re talking about the few weeks they stayed in Bar Harbor as kids, running around Acadia National Park like it was their own personal playground and swimming in freezing cold Atlantic waters, creating all kinds of imaginary games in spite of even Sam being maybe a touch too old for it, by then.

It’s warm; Sam has put a couple logs on the fireplace, trying to hide how eager he is to show his brother all the repairs he’s done to the cabin. More than that, you realize suddenly, it finally feels like home, Dean’s appraisal the baptism that it needed to make you feel safe enough here to approach sleep so casually without Sam’s body as physical protection. Dean’s hand wraps around to cradle your head and he leans over to whisper in your ear. “It’s okay, you can fall asleep.”

You shake your head loose of a little of the drowsiness. “No, I—we’re in my head, it’ll be over if I—” you murmur, waking up even more as you talk.

Sam’s hand moves up and down your shin reassuringly. “It’s okay. We have a greenhouse filled with dream root now, we can come back all the time.”

“Well, not all the time,” Dean amends. “You guys have to get out there, not become sleep junkies. Once, twice a month or something.”

“Oh good, a standing appointment. Like the dentist,” you say, rolling your eyes around a bitter smirk and killing the rest of your drink. Sam smiles softly and looks up at Dean, silently willing him to be the one to argue with you.

Dean takes the bait, sliding his hand out of your hair to prop his elbows on his knees. You sit up straighter to be able to fully see his face.

“Babe, come on, don’t make this harder than it needs to be. Sam and I have seen what happens to people who get hooked on this shit, take it every day. It’s a risk to do it even every couple weeks.”

“You haven’t even explained to me how this works—do I have to decide to wake up or will it happen by itself?”

“It’ll be a natural transition if you don’t consciously decide to,” Sam offers, voice quiet and smooth like you’re some victim’s family member he’s trying to soothe. You let him do it, stop yourself from rankling defensively and appreciate for a second how nice it sounds, how comforting it really is. “Most likely it’ll get easier to control it with a little practice, but I think Dean’s right, if you go to sleep that’ll probably do it a little more, uh, gently.”

Sam’s eyes reflect the firelight as they do every time he sits in that spot on the couch. He looks warm, looks calm and whole. You can see right away that he needs you to be the one who’s struggling to let go—maybe partly for Dean, who’s eviscerated every time he sees his brother hurt and has always been, but also for himself, for the way he’s telling himself this is enough. Though you were the one who’d threatened Dean, Sam had undoubtedly gotten closer to following through—following Dean—both actively and passively. You loved Dean, but Sam in many ways was Dean, just like Dean was Sam. Inextricable in the parts that really counted and that was the point, why you would’ve mainlined dream root swamp ass tea until you withered away like a rat choosing a pleasure button over food to see them both. They were each perfect alone, Sam and Dean—different and perfect—but together they were the sun and the moon, the entire universe inside one Impala.

It’s easy to let him have it. Sam deserves so much more than this small mercy and you are struggling, want desperately to have been put in some kind of coma together in this little play-pretend world where the food’s always exactly what you want and the time passes inconsequentially if at all.

You wipe a tear off your cheek that you hadn’t felt fall, can tell before you open your mouth that your voice is going to falter. “Couple weeks, right? You promise?” Sam and Dean nod in tandem and you try to drink up every drop of it, try to ignore the shade of sad-desperate behind both of their eyes. “And it’s going to be the same? No one’s going to like, forget or anything? Is this like Groundhog Day where you’ll have to be re-introduced to Barbie and Mike every time?”

Dean’s eyebrows screw up in thoughtful empathy. “Pretty uncharted territory here, kid. I hope not, but I don’t want to promise you something I can’t deliver.”

Sam reaches over to take your hand, stroking the back of it with his thumb. “It’ll still be us, though. That’s the important part, right?”

You nod tightly, feeling small and stupid ironically like a kid trying to fight off bedtime. It hangs in the air for a beat.

“Catch you losers later, I guess,” Dean smirks, standing up and offering you a hand. Like he’s heading to his house on the other side of the block you reach up for a hug, only momentarily surprised when Dean foregoes the hug to slip a strong hand into your hair, cradling your face for a kiss that’s somehow bruising and tender as he presses your lower back to weld yourself to him. The feeling of his lips steals the breath from your lungs and you barely have the presence of mind to realize you’re blushing, getting dangerously close to making out just a step away from Sam. Dean, cocky asshole that he is, winks at you as he draws back.

When you turn back to Sam, he’s—he’s rolling his eyes through a smile. With a start you realize it’s exactly the same long-suffering playful tolerance he’d have catching you stealing a kiss during a case and that thought alone is a buoy as Dean pulls Sam down to tuck into his arms, that same eternally-little-brother hug that has always made you smile. You look down at your feet, giving them a second to share a few of those ever-indecipherable looks.

“Do you guys want to just stay out here maybe? I can ‘go to sleep’ or whatever in the other room? Feels a little weird to just sit here and have you both staring at me,” you offer with air quotes.

Sam’s eyes are earnest and reassuring when he meets yours. “Whatever makes you most comfortable. Do you want me to, ah, also…?” He tosses a casual thumb over his shoulder to the bedroom.

“I’ll be okay, I think. Thanks, though.” You rock back on your feet awkwardly. “Um, goodnight, I guess.”

“See you soon, babe,” Dean says, and it’s not hard to see the sweetness under the casual affect he’s trying on.

“See you both soon. Love you, morons.”

You don’t remember falling asleep, but then you wouldn’t, because in reality you’re waking up.

Continue to Dreams, Chapter 19

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dccomicsimagines · 4 years

Text

What’s Lost is Found - Batfamily Imagine - Part Nine

Warning - Depressive Thoughts, Angst Content

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Six.Five Part Seven Part Eight Part Ten Part Eleven

Requested by Anon - I really love the batdad concept,it's so cute! I was just wondering,are we going to have some flashbacks of Bruce being a dad to (y/n) in What's Lost is Found?

***

“We’re here,” Jon whispered as he dropped out of the clouds to fly low. Your heart skipped a beat when you took your face out of his neck to see the manor again. A wave of joy and relief washed over you. Home.

“You know the secret entrance to the cave, right?” You pointed down at a rock by the lake.

Jon hummed, flying toward it. “Yeah, it’s how I met Damian back when we used to hang out.” You tightened your arms around his neck as he hit the rock at full speed. The two of you went through it and flew down a dark tunnel. “I remember when Damian first told me about the holographic rock. I didn’t believe him.”

“Oh, I know.” You laughed despite everything. “We made fun of you through the camera as you poked at it before you toppled down the tunnel.”

Jon smiled for the first time since you left prom. “I figured.” He sobered once he got to the end of the tunnel and flew into the cave. Much to your surprise, the lights were on. The batcomputer running data. Someone sat in the batcomputer’s chair. Your heart went into your throat, thinking it was your dad for a moment before you told yourself it wasn’t.

The person in the chair turned when Jon landed behind them. “Oh, Mx. Wayne,” Lucius said, blinking in surprise. He frowned at Jon. You tried to get out of Jon’s arms, but he wouldn’t let you go.

“Jon, it’s Lucius. It’s fine,” you whispered in his ear. He relaxed and set you on your feet. “Hi, Lucius. What’s happening?” You went over to the computer, frowning at the footage from across the city.

Lucius turned back to the computer. “Well, the city is under siege.” He brought up security video from Wayne Tower. A figure you knew led in a group of mercenaries. Your heart stopped at the sight.

“Is that Bane?” Jon caught you before your knees gave out.

“We’re not sure. Batgirl is working to get a confirmation.” Lucius gave you a look of concern. “I was under the impression you were retired, Mx. Wayne.”

“Not now.” You swallowed hard. “Did you call in the Justice League?”

Lucius pursed his lips. “No, there appears to be a number of disasters around the world. The Justice League has their hands full.” You pulled away from Jon and went to the computer.

“This was set up.” You frowned, accessing the second keyboard on the batcomputer. “There is no way all this could happen at once.”

Jon pressed close to your back, hovering rather protectively. “You don’t know that.”

You glared at him to back off, but he stayed where he was. “There was a breakout at Stryker's Island and Blackgate. An earthquake in Peru and Japan. Plus there is a terrorist attack in Atlantis. All this on top of Gotham under siege. This is not a coincidence.”

Lucius hummed. “You are very much like your father, Mx. Wayne.” He frowned at the computer, bringing up footage of Gotham General Hospital. A tank-like batmobile crashed through the soldiers’ blockade around the hospital. Damian jumped out of one of the hospital’s windows and glided down into the batmobile. You relaxed, knowing he was safe.

“Your design?” You pointed at the batmobile.

“Yes, your father requested it before...well.” Lucius folded his hands, smiling as Damian drove off. Jon breathed down your neck. His arm wrapped around your waist. Irritation build up inside, but you ignored it.

“I’m surprised you’re here in the cave, Lucius. We closed it up.” You flipped through the other footage, trying to get a better view of Bane-looking figure. Jon’s arm tightened enough to hurt. You put your hand on his. He relaxed.

“I was evacuated here along with some of our...more sensitive projects when we received intelligence about the siege.” Lucius frowned, bringing up the police scanner. “Oh dear.”

“We got 10-71 on 45th and 3rd. Gotham Gazette is on fire.” The police scanner beeped as another voice cut off the first. “10-72. Firefighters are trapped in the building by a 10-32.”

You pulled away from Jon. “Is anyone able to help them?”

Lucius shook his head. “No, Batman, Red Hood, and Batwoman are on the docks stopping more soldiers from entering the city. Red Robin and Spoiler are defending the police station. Batgirl is trailing the Bane lookalike. Orphan, Bluebird, and Signal are preventing Two Face’s bank robberies. Huntress, Batwing, Starfire, and Nightwing are MIA.”

“What?” Your blood ran cold. Jon’s arm tightened around your waist again. “Dick and Kori are here?!”

Lucius nodded. “Yes, we lost track of them two hours ago after they went to stop the Penguin’s gun smuggling ring.” He got to his feet.

“We have to go.” You turned to look at Jon. Jon’s eyes were wide. He shook his head. “Jon, we have to go. They need us.”

“No, this is too dangerous. We know this is all because of you. They’re doing this to get you.” Jon cupped your cheek, looking you in the eye. He was more serious than you ever seen him before. For the first time, you couldn’t see the puppy dog elements that you loved about him.

You shook your head, pulling away from him. “So what? People need help.” You headed over to the display case that held Jason’s Robin suit. “I’ll use this since my suit doesn’t fit anymore.”

“You won’t have to do that, Mx. Wayne,” Lucius said. You looked back at him in surprise. He smiled and gestured over to a huge case next to the batcomputer. The Wayne Tech logo made your heart skip a beat. “I have something for you. Consider it a graduation gift if you will.”

“(Y/N).” Jon grabbed your arm as you headed over to the case. “Please. We have to stay out of this.”

“Do you know something I don’t?” You spun to him. Rage sparked in your heart again. “Because my family is out there in danger! We have to help them!”

Jon sighed deeply. “Fine.” He closed his eyes. You pulled your arm away from him, wondering if your relationship with Jon will ever be the same again. Tears burned your eyes, but you focused on what was important. You pressed your hand against the bioreader of the case. It beeped, registering your name and opening to reveal a brand new high tech Robin suit.

It took your breath away. “Oh my.”

Lucius chuckled. “Get ready, Mx. Wayne. We need you out there.” You timidly took the suit out, feeling the armor and tech. It was the suit you always dreamed of. You turned to go to the changing area, brushing against Jon as you past him.

“(Y/N).” Jon followed you into the changing room. You sighed, undressing even though he was there. He fell silent, blushing and turning his back to you. He took off his shirt, revealing his Superboy suit underneath.

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me about anything of this,” you hissed, slipping on the suit. It was like a second skin. The tech turned on at your biological signature. You put the mask on, finding it suddenly connected to the batcomputer.

Jon groaned, spinning to face you in his full Superboy suit. “I couldn’t. This is so much bigger than we thought. I didn’t even know about all this until just before prom and that’s only because it was decided you would stay with us longer.”

Your hands clenched into fists. Rage ate you alive along with the worry for your family. Dick and Kori were MIA. You knew they could take care of themselves, but why did you have to cause all this? Why did you kill Bane? Why did your father have to die? “I can’t talk about this now. We have to go. Those firefighters need our help.” You marched out of the changing room.

“As you can tell, the suit is connected to the batcomputer. It also increases your strength and agility.” Lucius smiled at you in the suit with pride. “I would give you more detailed instructions, but we need you to learn as you go.”

You nodded. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.” You turned to Jon. He pursed his lips and picked you up in his arms.

“Keep your comlink on, Mx. Wayne.” A trace of concern crossed Lucius’ face. “We can’t lose contact with anyone else.”

“They won’t,” Jon answered for you as he flew into the air. You stayed tense in his arms, wondering if you should have trusted Jon. A lump formed in your throat. You pushed that aside. Jon flew out of the cave and straight toward the war-torn city.

***

You helped the firefighter to his feet. “Robin, where have you been?” he gasped as flames ate up the floor below you.

“Around.” You half-carried him to the window. Jon appeared, taking the firefighter from you.

“Get out of the building. It’s not stable.” Lucius’ voice filled your ear. Jon floated the firefighter down after giving you a warning look.

“Can’t. One more inside.” You looked up, seeing the heartbeat through your mask’s bio-vision. The suit was amazing. You felt more alive than you had in a long time.

Rolling out of the way of falling debris, you flipped your way up through the hole in the ceiling. “Help.” A weak voice came from the stairwell. You wandered over, putting in your rebreather to help with the smoke. It was thicker up here.

You opened the door to the stairwell only to see a blast of flames hurling toward you. Jumping out of the way, you heard a chilling laugh. “Come on out, Robin,” a male voice shouted. Your mask identified the voice as the Human Flame. “Let me burn you up. Give me that million.” You took out a freeze grenade and threw it around the corner.

“Don’t you hate Martian Manhunter? Why are you even in Gotham?” You smiled when you heard him howl. Moving so fast to the point where you thought you were flying, you ran around the corner and kicked him hard in the face. He grunted. The ice that formed around him shattered. He slammed into the wall. “Woah.” You laughed, flexing your arm in the suit. “This is so cool.”

Suddenly, an arm wrapped around your waist and you really were flying. “The building is coming down and you are just hanging out in here?” Jon grumbled in your ear. He picked up the Human Flame by the scruff of his costume and carried you both outside. He dropped the Human Flame by one of the cop cars.

“I thought it was another firefighter.” You wrapped your arms around his neck. “That was exhilarating.”

“Mx. Wayne, we lost contact with Batman. His last location was at northeast end of the docks,” Lucius said. Your blood ran cold.

“Are you sure we’re ready to let Damian know we’re here?” Jon looked nervous as he flew toward the docks when you pointed in the right direction.

You snorted, pretending your hands weren’t shaking. “He probably already knows we’re here.” A high pitch whistle filled the air. You looked over Jon’s shoulder to see a missile coming toward you. “Jon!”

Jon dropped you, taking the hit. The explosion sent you soaring to the ground. You pulled out your grapple gun, flipping through the air before firing it at a nearby roof. It took the impact as you rolled into your landing. Jon went flying, crashing into the street a block away.

You sprinted down the street toward Jon only for bright headlights to suddenly beam from behind you. Going off instinct, you rolled into an alleyway as brakes squealed to a stop. You blinked at the tank-like batmoblie. Batman hopped out. You felt sick, reminding yourself that wasn’t your father.

“TT.” He marched to you. “This is not the time for some simpleton to dress like Robin.”

“I’m not a simpleton and I can’t believe you talk like that when you’re Batman. Who will be scared of you?” you retorted, smiling at the shock on his face.

“(Y/N), go home.” He grabbed your arm. “This is a big enough disaster without you making it worse.”

You yanked your arm out of his grasp. “Shut up.” He narrowed his eyes at you. “I made this mess, so I have to help clean it up.”

“Ouch,” Jon groaned, appearing at the opening of the alleyway with a limp. “You okay, Robin?” He came to your side. Damian eyed him.

“You brought them here, Superboy?�� Damian snarled. It was almost like they were never friends in the first place. Jon bit his lip nervously, keeping his eyes on you. “You idiot, don’t you understand?! This is what they want! You think that missile was a mistake!”

You swallowed hard. “Why was your comlink off?” You crossed your arms, pushing aside your anger and frustration. “We were sent to look for you.”

“Fox.” Damian growled. “He gave you that suit too, didn’t he?” Damian tried to grab your arm again. You stepped out of his reach.

“He said Nightwing and Starfire are MIA.” Jon wrapped an arm around your waist. Damian stared at Jon’s arm before glaring darkly at Jon. To his credit, Jon scowled right back at him.

“Yes, I was about to investigate before you dropped in front of my car.” Damian yanked you away from Jon. “Keep your hands to yourself, Superboy.”

Jon growled. “Robin and I have been dating for quite some time. I have a right to touch them if they want me to.”

The pure fury on Damian’s face was priceless. If this wasn’t happening in the middle of a war-zone, you would have enjoyed it more. “Nightwing and Starfire,” you said, stepping between the two men. “We have to go find them now.”

“Fine.” Damian’s grip tightened on your arm. He pulled you toward the tank-like batmobile. “You’re coming with me and you’re going to stay in the batmobile. Do you understand?”

Jon trailed behind you before flying into the air. You hopped into the batmobile. “I’m not staying in here. You need backup, Damian.” The comlink button was off. You switched it back on.

“Oh good, Mr. Wayne. Welcome back into the fold,” Lucius said sarcastically. Damian hopped in beside you.

“TT, some people don’t need your sarcasm, Fox.” Damian glared at you as the batmobile sealed and took off toward the Iceberg lounge.

Lucius hummed. “Mr. Pennyworth called. He is in Smallville and discovered Mx. Wayne and Mr. Kent have disappeared from their prom. I informed him that they were here.”

Damian’s eyes shot to you at the word ‘prom’. You did your best not to look at him. “Tell him we’re sorry, but this is something I have to do,” you said, pursing your lips. You glanced up to see Jon flying above the batmobile.

“Of course.” Lucius’ voice clicked off.

“Prom? You went to prom with him?” Damian glanced at you. His hands gripped the steering wheel tightly. “Are you dating him?”

“Yes, if you must know.” You crossed your arms.

Damian frowned. “Has he...have you and him....?”

You snorted. “Why do you care? I’m just the one who tarnished our father’s legacy.”

Damian slammed on the batmobile’s brakes, sliding to a stop. “You did.” He glared at you. “I will let you back me up, but you have to do everything I say and you are to go home with Grayson once we find him.”

You nodded, not trusting yourself to answer out loud. A tear slipped out of your mask. You quickly wiped it away with your hand. Damian noticed. He grunted, hopping out of the batmobile.

Jon landed beside the car, offering you a hand. “You okay?” Jon whispered, eyeing Damian.

“It’s fine.” You let Jon take your hand as you both trailed after Damian. Damian glared up at the Iceberg Lounge.

“Why is (Y/N) here?” Tim demanded, landing next to Damian with Steph behind him.

“It’s going to be like this all night, isn’t it?” you said to Jon. Jon nodded, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. Steph raised an eyebrow at the sight. Tim just frowned.

Someone landed behind you. “All I know is that Dick is going to kill us all, and Superboy is going to get castrated for sure,” Jason chuckled, walking up to join the others.

Jon shifted uncomfortably. “Stop it.” You glared at the others. “Can we just focus on saving Nightwing and Starfire please?”

“Huntress and Batwing escaped and reported in. Apparently, the Penguin hired Deathstroke.” Tim worked on his wrist computer. “And they’re waiting for us to take the bait.”

“Then we go.” You started toward the building, but Jon held you back.

“No, you don’t.” Damian gripped your shoulder, pulling you away from Jon. “This is a trap for you. I bet they’re trying to collect the bounty on your head.”

You narrowed your eyes, swallowing the rock in your throat. “That’s Dick in there, Damian.”

Damian glared back at you. “No, you’re not going in,” Tim said, stepping up to glower at you too. “You caused this mess. Stay out of it and let us fix it.” Your heart ached when you saw the strain Tim was under. Guilt dropped your stomach to your feet. He never used to be this stressed or mean.

“(Y/N) stays.” Jason stepped between you and Tim. “They have to do this.”

“Jason, I know you’re the reason they’re here. You texted them that you left, knowing they would follow.” Tim leaned in close, staring straight into the lenses of Jason’s helmet. “I hacked your phone, because I knew you’d pull some shit like this.”

“Watch it, Timbo.” Jason’s hands clenched into fists. “I can still beat you within a inch of your life.”

You were going to push your way between them, but Steph beat you to it. “Enough. Oh my god, stop this stupid pissing contest. We got family in danger in there.” She scowled at Jason then Tim. Tim blushed, looking away. Jason snorted. “Let’s shape up. Make a plan. Get them out alive and then we’ll argue.” Steph looked at you and Jon. Damian’s hand tightened on your shoulder. “Robin and Superboy come with us.” Steph looked at each of your brothers. “Is that understood?”

All three grumbled. “Wow,” Jon mumbled, sneaking back to your side when Damian wasn’t looking. “She’s tough.”

“She was Robin once too, you know.” You tensed as Tim went into a plan to rescue Dick and Kori.

***

“Irresponsible,” Tim grumbled as he crawled in the vent ahead of you. “Dumb. Childish.” You wished Steph had been sent with you to shut him up. However, it was just you and Tim.

Jason and Jon were going through the front door, creating a distraction and taking down whatever goons the Penguin had ready. Damian and Steph were coming up from under the Iceberg Lounge. You and Tim got stuck with the vents. Your worry for Dick and Kori plus Tim’s verbal abuse made you want to scream and break a few bones. However, you decided to be the bigger person your father would want you to be.

“This is all Dick’s fault. His stupid hardheadedness had to rub off on you. He refused to put you into stasis like I told him.” Tim kept mumbling. You froze at the stasis part. He was an completely different person than the Tim you remembered. Did you really force him to change that much?

“Wow, thanks Tim. I didn’t realize how much you and Damian were alike.” Tim flinched at your words. You smiled sadly, missing the brother who showed you cartoons and always listened to you. Your heart broke at the fact you did this. By killing Bane, you made Tim into this malicious man.

Tim slipped out of the vent into a store room. He held his arms up to help you down, but you ignore him, dropping down on your own. Tim sighed. “You don’t understand,” Tim said, guilt flashed in his eyes. “(Y/N), you started a war. You broke Batman’s code and it started a chain reaction. I mean we would have had some conflict due to Batman’s...” He swallowed hard, unable to say death. You wondered if Tim hadn’t processed your father’s death yet. Poor Tim, maybe he didn’t have a chance to grieve yet because of the mess you made. “But we wouldn’t have had this if you didn’t kill Bane.”

“But Bane might still be alive. I saw him in the cameras.” You brought up the footage on your wrist computer. Tim blinked at the footage.

“That’s not him.” Tim turned away. He hooked up his wrist computer to the computer panel next to the door and hacked it.

“How do you know? Mr. Fox said Batgirl was investigating it.” You followed, taking in everything he did. A boom sounded somewhere in the building. You flinched, hoping that it was just part of Jon and Jason’s distraction.

Tim fixed you with a icy glare. “I’ve been gathering intel for almost a year. I know who it is.” You nodded for him to keep talking, but he fell silent.

“Seriously?” You punched his arm.

“What?” Tim hacked away on his wrist computer.

“Who is it?” Your voice became dangerously low. Tim looked back at you.

“You don’t need to know.” He caught your fist before you could hit him again. “You’re only here to help us rescue Nightwing and Starfire, then you’re out of this. I’ll put you in stasis if I have to. I don’t care what Dick says.”

A frown pulled at your lips. Your eyes filled with tears. You quickly turned away from him, so he wouldn’t see. Curse your emotions, probably another thing that Dick rubbed off on you. A stony silence fell between you and Tim as he hacked away.

“I should have known I’d find you two here,” Dick’s voice said from behind you. You and Tim jumped in surprise. Tim grabbed your arm and stepped in front of you protectively.

Your heart skipped a beat as you studied Dick in his Nightwing costume. Tim tensed. “I thought you were being held in the Penguin's office?” Tim asked, squeezing your arm in a secret signal your father had taught you. ‘Danger.’

“Escaped. It’s what I do best.” Dick leaned over to peek at you. “Hey Robbie, nice to see you.” It felt wrong. A shiver ran up your spine.

“Right, I forgot.” Tim forced a smile on his face. He squeezed your arm again, another signal. ‘Dodge and run.’ “Hey, just so I know, when did we first meet?”

The wrong Dick frowned. “Why are you asking me that? Don’t you know me, Red?”

“No reason.” In one quick motion, you dived out of the way as Tim threw a electrified batarang at the wrong Dick. Dick screamed before dissolving into a pile of clay on the floor. Clayface emerged into his true form. You dashed out of the room, barely avoiding Clayface’s arm that tried to grab at you.

You sprinted down the hall, sliding to trip a guard when he burst out of one of the doors. Clayface and Tim crashed out into the hallway. “Robin, run,” Tim ordered, dodging Clayface’s foot.

“Going.” You kept running, bursting through the door onto the main stage of the iceberg lounge. It was dark. Your mask switched to night vision. You avoided the instruments. Suddenly, a spotlight clicked on and you were blinded. Something hit you from behind. You fell to the ground, all the breath forced out of you.

“There you are.” Your mask rebooted itself and identified the voice as Deathstroke. A foot pressed on your back, holding you down. “So easy. Your father would be disappointed.”

A ice cold shiver went down your spine. Hot, blistering rage filled you. “Shut up.” You used your suit’s increased strength to throw his foot off your back and rolled to your feet.

Deathstroke grunted in surprise before pulling out his sword. “Let’s see how much of a disappointment you are.”

You narrowed your eyes. Taking a deep breath, you relaxed into a fighting stance. Deathstroke zoomed toward you.

It was a long, hard fight. He got you several times with his sword, but you got a few hits in to startle him away before the sword could sink into you. You knew you wouldn’t last long.

Deathstroke kicked you off the stage. You landed hard on your arm. The bone snapped. You screamed, rolling away as Deathstroke jumped to stab you. The sword missed you by inches.

“You’re good, but not good enough.” Deathstroke laughed, suddenly kneeling on your chest. You gasped, crushed beneath him. Your good arm smacked at him, but he didn’t react. “I could use you. Train you to be better.” He reached down to run a hand through your hair. “Like I did to Terra.”

“Fuck you.” You choked. Deathstroke snarled, slapping your face hard. Blood filled your mouth.

You prepared yourself for the worse, remembering everything your father told you about Deathstroke.

A sharp cry of rage echoed through the room. Deathstroke was slammed off your chest by a black and blue blur. You took a deep breath, wincing at the pain in your ribs. Some of them were broken.

You forced yourself up to see Nightwing punching Deathstroke over and over again. “Never ever touch my kid! You hear me!”

“Di...Nightwing, stop,” you whispered, unable to breathe enough air. “You’re going to kill him.”

Dick stopped. Deathstroke laid on the floor limply. Dick got to his feet and ran to your side. “Hush, baby. I’m here.” His hand ran through your hair, inspecting you. “I don’t know how you’re here and why you are in a Robin suit, but we’ll talk about that later.” You tried to relax, but you were in too much pain. “Your arm’s broken. God, those cuts are going to need stitches.”

A wave of suspicious came over you. Clayface’s version of Dick flashed before your eyes. “When did I first taste popcorn?”

He frowned slightly. “Honey, how hard did you hit your head?”

“Answer me.” You growled.

Dick sighed, glancing around. “It was the first time you went to the movies. I took you.” He smiled. “You were so cute, licking it first before finally putting it in your mouth.”

You relaxed. “Oh, it’s you for real this time.” Dick helped you to your feet. “Where’s Kori?”

Dick frowned. “I don’t know. I was looking for her when I heard you scream.” He wrapped his arm around your shoulders. You held your arm, hissing from the pain. “This was a setup. The whole thing.”

“It’s all my fault.” You shivered. Dick led you out of the main lounge.

“No, it’s not. Let’s just get you out of here.” Dick threw a batarang at a goon that came around the corner. “Are you alone here?”

Almost on cue, the wall in front of the two of you exploded. Dick knocked you down as Jon flew past you and crashed back into the main lounge. You groaned, black swarmed your vision as you struggled to breathe. Your ribs and arm were on fire from Dick’s weight.

“Of course, Superboy brought you. I’ll kill him,” Dick grumbled, getting off you quickly. “Sorry, honey. Just hold on for me.”

“(Y/N).” Jon crawled to your side. Blood ran down his face from a cut on his forehead.

“What happened to you?” You forgot about your own pain, reaching up to wipe some of the blood out of his eyes.

Jon winced. “Metallo.”

Dick glared at Jon. “Get Robin out of here.” He looked you in the eye. “Stay at the cave with Jon. We’ll see you soon.” Dick kissed your forehead before going to join the fight. Jon picked you up.

“We can’t go. Kori.” You panted. Jon’s arms put painful pressure on your broken ribs. “Damn it.”

“Sorry.” Jon set you on your feet. “(Y/N), you’re in no shape to stay.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Neither are you.”

He sighed. His shoulders slumped. “I can never win against you, can I?”

A weak smile pulled on your lips. “No.”

Jon snorted. “Come on, my x-ray vision picked up some activity in the basement.” You nodded, holding your arm to your chest as you led Jon to the staircase.

***

The two of you found a metal freezer in the basement. There was a lot of damage outside of the freezer along with unconscious soldiers. “Batman and Spoiler came through here,” you said, eyeing the wounds on the soldiers.

Jon stared at the freezer for a long moment. “Oh no.” He quickly ripped off the door and Kori fell to the floor. You gasped, rushing to her side. Your ribs and arm throbbed, but you ignored it.

She was cold as death. Her orange skin tinted blue. “Please be okay.” You checked for a pulse. It was faint, but still there. You glanced at Kori’s baby bump nervously. “Jon, you have to warm her up now.”

“How?” Jon glanced around in a panic.

You pointed at your eyes. “Heat vision.”

“But I’d burn through her.” Jon shook his head. His eyes were on Kori’s baby bump too.

“You can control it. Warm up the floor around her.” You moved away. Jon nodded. His eyes glowed red as the beams shot out of his eyes and into the floor. The heat soaked into your feet. Your suit sent you a warning, and immediately started cooling you off.

Slowly, Kori’s skin lost the blue tint. She stirred, but didn’t wake up. “Kori,” you whispered. Jon turned off his heat vision. You approached, kneeling down beside her. “Please wake up.” Your eyes filled with tears. “Please.”

Jon’s hand touched your shoulder, making you flinch. Pain racked through your body at the sudden movement. “We have to get her help.”

“Take her to the cave.” You nodded to Kori, getting up. Your broken arm burned in agony. Every breath hurt.

“I’m not leaving you here.” Jon shook his head.

“Jon, we can’t leave Kori here. She’ll be defenseless.” You glared at him. “Take her to the cave.”

Jon sighed. “They’ll kill me for leaving you here. I mean they’re already going to kill me for bringing you here and for not taking you home.”

You grabbed his arm with your good arm. “Please.” Jon looked into your eyes.

“Okay.” He bent down to pick up Kori with some difficulty. “You better be here when I get back.”

“I can’t really move that fast to not be.” You waved for him to fly off. Jon gave you one last look before bursting up through the ceiling until he was out of the building and in the open air.

Alone, you glanced around at the unconscious soldiers. You studied their uniforms. They were mercenaries, but you recognized some of them. Some of them were League of Assassins, others were military trained soldiers. Whoever was wearing the Bane mask pulled a lot of weight. You swallowed hard. Why did you have to cause all this?

The hallway’s temperature dropped suddenly. You heard heavy footsteps coming down the hall. Kneeling behind the freezer, you held your breath. Your mask identified the footsteps as Mr. Freeze.

Staying quiet, you heard him wander around the room. Stupid Deathstroke for breaking your arm. You could take him if you had your arm and ribs intact.

When it finally sounded like he was leaving, you took a deep breath. You hissed in pain at your lungs expanding into your ribs. Suddenly, Mr. Freeze’s footsteps stopped. You cursed yourself. The freezer you hid behind was pushed aside and you came face to face with Mr. Freeze’s freeze gun.

“Robin,” Mr. Freeze said in his robotic voice. He looked at you with a curious expression. You frowned, ready to dodge. “I did not expect you to be here.”

“Where else would I be?” You stayed where you were, waiting.

Mr. Freeze hummed. He glanced over his shoulder. “Freeze them and we’ll split the reward,” the Penguin said, waddling into the room with his bodyguards behind him.

Dick was going to be so upset. You hoped Jon wouldn’t feel guilty for leaving you here. Closing your eyes, you let go. The end would come. At least you would be with your father. Tears filled your eyes. He’d be so mad you joined him so soon.

The freeze gun went off. However, you didn’t feel the ice overtake you. You opened your eyes to see the Penguin and his bodyguards frozen in a block of ice. “I never did like you,” Mr. Freeze said to the Penguin before turning to you. “I never liked Bane either.” He walked out of the room. You stayed where you were, shocked.

After a few long minutes, you forced yourself to your feet and went upstairs to find the others. The battle had been won. You found the others in the main lounge, handcuffing people and tending to the wounded. Dick frowned when he saw you.

“You’re supposed to be at the cave.” He hurried over to you, taking the first aid kit from Tim and started to splint your arm.

“We found Kori.” Dick froze. “Jon took her back to the cave. She needed help.” You swallowed past a rock in your throat. “I’m so sorry.”

“None of this is your fault, okay?” Dick’s voice trembled. His hands shook.

Tim came over to take over as Dick couldn’t finish the splint. “This is a mess.” He studied you. “I heard you took on Deathstroke.”

“It wasn’t my choice. He jumped me.” You shivered. Tim finished the splint. Sun peeked through the holes of the building. It was already morning.

“The police and National Guard should be here soon. We need to go,” Tim said.

Dick nodded, shaken. “I need to get to Kori.”

“We’ll all regroup at the cave,” Damian said, taking your good arm to pull you with him. “Nightwing, come along.”

You stumbled on debris, falling against Damian. He growled, jerking you upright. Your arm and ribs burned at the movement. Dick followed. He reached over to remove Damian’s hand from your arm. “Stop it.”

“TT.” Damian called the batmobile to him. It drove and stopped in front of him. He hopped in the driver’s seat. Dick helped you into the backseat before taking the passenger’s seat.

“Hang on. I’ll ride with you,” Jason said, running over. He crawled over Dick like a little kid, which was an hilarious sight given that Jason was taller and broader than him. Jason sat down beside you. Tim called over his bike and him and Steph climbed on.

Damian grumbled, driving off. The sunrise was beautiful, but the city was damaged. No people were around. Buildings crumbled, holes in the street, streets signs knocked over, street lights blown up. It was a combat zone. You leaned your head against Jason’s arm. Jason hummed. You closed your eyes, hating that you destroyed everything your father cared about with one choice that you couldn’t even remember making.

***

You laid next to Jon in your old bed at the manor. Alfred had arrived, reopening bedrooms for everyone get to a few hours of rest. Jon wasn’t supposed to be in here, but he slipped in when everyone else was asleep. Now he snored softly with his hand on your arm. There was a bandage on his forehead for the cut he gotten during the fight.

Your body ached. Every breath still hurt even with the pain pills Alfred had forced you to take. Your arm, now in a cast, throbbed away. The cuts from Deathstroke’s sword were stitched up, stinging.

Dick was still in the cave with Kori. He went silent when he saw her under the sun lamp in the cave. She hadn’t woken up yet. No one would tell you if the baby was okay or not.

Unable to stand it any longer, you rolled to your feet. The pain intensified, but you pushed through. You wandered out of your room. A rock formed in your throat when you reached your father’s room. Slowly, you pushed open the door, frowning at it’s lifeless quiet state. Alfred had covered everything in sheets, but that’s it. Your father’s belongings hadn’t been moved.

You pulled off the sheet on the dresser and opened the top drawer. His shirts were neatly folded inside. You picked up a dark blue one and pressed your face into it. It still smelled like him. You relaxed, letting yourself float back into your memories if only for a moment.

***

You were packing your suitcase, knowing the flight back to Gotham was in the morning. Currently, you were in the Wayne Tech’s penthouse located in Paris. Your father and you had traced Magpie there where she had attempted to steal the Regent Diamond from the Louvre. Using the excuse of a business trip, Batman and Robin stopped Magpie while Bruce and (Y/N) supposedly attended business meetings.

“(Y/N)?” Your father appeared in the doorway of your bedroom. He was wearing sweatpants and t-shirt. You remembered he got a phone call from Alfred, who had stayed behind in Gotham. From the tension in your father’s shoulders, Alfred must have scolded him about something.

“Yeah?” You sat down on your bed, swinging your legs playfully.

He sighed. “I forgot again, didn’t I?” He sat down beside you on the bed.

You eyed him, shrugging. “It’s not a big deal, Dad.”

“Yes, it is. Fathers aren’t supposed to forget their kids’ birthday.” Bruce shifted uncomfortably. “Alfred made a suggestion.”

“What? I don’t need anything, Dad. Being in Paris was a nice enough birthday for me.” You smiled, looking out the window at the beautiful view of the Eiffel Tower.

Bruce cleared his throat. “Well, then you’ll be happy to know we’ll be spending an extra two days here then.” Your jaw dropped in shock. Bruce chuckled at the sight. “No patrol, no Batman or Robin. Just you and me and whatever you want to do.”

“Are you serious?” Your heart skipped a beat in excitement. You thought about going to the Louvre and actually getting to look around this time instead of just stopping Magpie. All the food you could try. You licked your lips before hugging Bruce tightly. “Thank you, Dad. This is going to be great!”

“You’re welcome. Happy birthday, (Y/N).” He hugged you back in his strong arms. You felt so loved, so safe.

***

You sobbed, burying your face into the shirt as you sank to your knees. Your body ached, but the pain in your heart was too great for you to stop. Deep down, you knew you would never get to feel that loved and safe again.

Thin, strong arms suddenly hugged you from behind. You tensed as a sharp chin rested on the top of your head. It took you a moment to catch your breath. “Cass?”

She hummed, hugging you tighter. You didn’t know she had come to the manor too. More sobs racked out of your body, hurting your ribs. Cass held you for a long time. Eventually, you stopped crying, exhaustion soaking into your bones. Your father’s shirt was soaked with your tears and snot. Cass guided you to your feet and led you back to your room. She clucked her tongue at Jon in your bed, but ignored him to tuck you in. Your father’s shirt stayed in your hands.

“Sleep.” She patted your cheek before silently leaving the room. Jon’s arm wrapped around your waist to pull you close. His body heat permeated you like sunlight. Your pain faded as you let yourself fall into the blissfulness of sleep.

***

“This is only going to get worst!” Tim’s voice echoed throughout the cave. He, Damian, Jason, Barbara, Steph, Cass, and Duke were in the meeting area. Their debate grew more heated by the second. You shivered on the medbed as Alfred changed the bandages on your cuts.

Alfred frowned. You sighed, wincing when it hurt your ribs. Jon and Lois were having a very tense discussion in the corner. You felt bad for him, but you didn’t regret coming here.

“Mx. (Y/N), take it easy. You are not going out tonight,” Alfred said firmly once he finished.

“Yes, Alfred.” You swallowed hard, getting off the medbed to wander over to the ICU area. Kori was still unconscious and under the sun lamp. Dick sat as close to her as he dared, staring at her with an empty expression. The monitors showed a steady heartbeat. A faint smile crossed your lips when you noticed two heartbeats on the monitors.

You came to Dick’s side. He blinked, wrapped an arm around you. “Hey kiddo,” he whispered. His hand rubbed your side gently. It hurt your ribs, but you didn’t want to say anything.

“Is she okay?” You trembled.

“Her vitals and the baby’s are good, but she hasn’t woken up.” Dick ran his free hand through his hair only to wince from the movement. He had been hurt too. Your stomach twisted, threatening to lose the little food you managed to eat. “This isn’t your fault, honey. I don’t want to hear that from you.” You pursed your lips, tears threatening to fall. Dick kissed your cheek. “I didn’t want you to be part of this.” You wanted to scream. If you hadn’t come, you would be hearing about Kori’s injury about now if not more terrible news. It was three in the afternoon. You probably would have had fun at prom, fell asleep only to wake up to this horror that you caused. How could he be so dumb to try to keep you out of this?

“Shouldn’t you be with the others?” you asked. Dick pulled you to sit in his lap, hugging you tightly. You let him.

“No.” Dick squeezed you, hurting you. You bit your lip to keep from gasping. “We’re not going to be here for much longer.”

“What?” Your jaw dropped, heart skipping a beat.

Dick sighed. “We’re leaving, going home.” He frowned when you pulled away from him. “Don’t fight me on this, sweetheart.”

“We can’t leave.” You choked. The guilt ate you alive. “I caused this. I can’t leave them to deal with this. Tim already hates me, Damian too. I can’t do this to them.”

“I’m not arguing with you on this.” Dick snarled in a way he never had to you before. “We’re going home.” His tone softened. “I have more to lose now.” He patted your arm, but you jerked away from him. “(Y/N).” You left the room, shocked beyond belief. Dick wasn’t who you thought he was.

You stopped outside of the meeting room, listening in. “They said they will stop the siege if we turn Robin over to them,” Barbara said sharply. “Obviously, we’re not going to do that, but maybe we can set up a decoy.”

“TT, no one is small enough to be convincing,” Damian said. A fist slammed into the table.

“Don’t even think about saying we just hand them over! Damn it!” Jason’s voice echoed throughout the cave. You quickly walked away. Your mind swirled, trying to think of a way to fix this.

“You are grounded for life, you hear me,” Lois snapped at Jon as you passed them. Jon looked at the ground, not noticing you.

Going upstairs to the manor, you exited into your father’s study only to be taken back by his giant self portrait on the wall. He hated it, but it was all part of the Brucie image.

“Daddy, I broke everything.” You looked at his eyes, imaging the disappointment that would be there. “I know you said it wasn’t my fault, but everything is going to hell.” You took a deep breath. Your ribs on fire. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I killed Bane because Bane killed you.”

Silence followed. You kept staring into his eyes. “What would you do?” Your heart broke. Deep down in your soul, you knew what he would do. Your father was selfless to the upmost degree. Closing your eyes, you let out the breath you didn’t know you were holding. “Okay. It’s time anyway.” You opened your eyes to meet your father’s painted ones. “I have to fix this.” You went over to the desk and got out some paper to write notes for everyone. A final goodbye.

***

It was easy to slip out of the manor. You wore civvies and a plain domino mask, not wanting the high tech suit to fall into the wrong hands. No one noticed you left.

You rode a motorcycle into the city, zipping along. Everything was brighter, more clear than it ever been. You enjoyed everything for the last time.

The Bane lookalike’s headquarters was at Wayne Tower. You parked your bike outside, looking up at it. It took several long moments before the Bane lookalike came out and stood in front of you. Up close, you knew instantly this wasn’t the Bane you killed. He was not tall enough and he didn’t have the grace of a street fighter that Bane had.

“Welcome Robin.” The Bane lookalike smiled. “Finally.”

“Is the deal on?” You narrowed your eyes at him, getting off the bike. Entering the code, you rigged it to explode in two minutes. “If I hand myself over, you’ll leave Gotham alone?”

The Bane lookalike studied you carefully. “Yes.” He gestured for you to come to him. You took a deep breath, your ribs burning. Slowly, you walked over to him. “Good child.” A sharp prick in your neck left you dizzy. You turned to see a ninja with a needle. Your legs gave out. The Bane lookalike caught you. “Now you will pay for what you’ve done.” The last thing you heard was his laughter.

#batfamily #batfamily imagine #batfamily x reader #dc comics imagines #dc reader insert #dick grayson #dick grayson imagine #jon kent #jon kent x reader #jon kent imagine #superboy #superboy x reader #superboy imagine #nightwing #nightwing imagine #starfire #starfire imagine #kori anders #kori anders imagine

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caxsthetic · 4 years

Text

Just Fine

Miya Osamu x F!Reader

Hurtful Truth: Sometimes no matter how long you have loved them, if they don’t want to stay, they wouldn’t stay.

Part 1 ⇛ Pt. 2

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *. GRAND MASTERLIST .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Your eyes focused on the television in front of you, the screen was the only thing that lit the dark room you were in right now. You felt safe as you laid there on the couch with huge amounts of blankets wrapped around your figure.

It calmed you down and made you forget about everything that happened in your life recently.

You didn’t bother to check your phone, knowing for certain who’s name would pop out on your notifications. You really didn’t need a reminder that someone just broke you into a million little pieces.

To be loved was something that not every human being could feel. You knew that, and the fact you actually believed that someone would love you was one thing that you would regret as you wake up every morning.

And you fall to the mirage, for the past ten years in your life.

You and him always belonged in each other's side, everyone that saw the two of you could even see how the future would unfold perfectly. They always said that you and him would end up in marriage,

And tragically, you believed in every word that they said, since it boosted your confidence that someone like you could actually have someone as majestic as him to be your significant other.

The Miya Osamu, one of the most successful entrepreneurs below thirty three, the one person that had your heart since you were sixteen,

And the one who broke your trust.

It was Saturday night, both of you were laying together on the couch in your shared house. The house that used to be empty, a house that was so cheap that the two of you could afford right after graduating from college.

But little by little, the house turned into a safe haven, renovated with all the contemporary detail as the two of you poured your blood and sweat into this house,

A house that has now become a home, the place that made the two of you believe everything would be alright. Just the two of you together, and maybe someday, filled with another little Miya.

His arms wrapped loosely around your figure while you rested your head on top of his chest. He would occasionally caress your hair gently, and you would close your eyes to feel all of his affection.

It was your weekend break when the two of you soaked in each other’s warmth; the time when the two of you closed yourself from the universe, when everything just rotated around you and him.

The atmosphere that surrounded the two of you was so serene. Though, it all changed when he appeared on the television screen all of a sudden. Your eyes lit up immediately, realising that it was your fiancé who was now being interviewed on screen.

You sat up, straightening your posture as your body leaned towards the television. Proudness welled up inside your heart as you heard him answering questions after questions that were being thrown at him.

He always told you everything about Onigiri Miya. About all the events, all of his interviews, a new branch that he opened, even all the commercial plans. He did that, because he knew you would be so proud of him. Having someone that constantly praised you was addicting to him.

But what you didn’t notice as you were so excited to see him on the screen, was the horror on his face as he remembered the reason why he didn’t tell you about this interview.

“And how about you and your fiancée? Is the wedding bell around the corner?”

“Babe, this is embarrassing, let’s just change the channel.” He pleaded, but you were too focused on the television, your eyes never leave the screen as a wide grin plastered on your face, “Babe, please-”

“Unfortunately no, please don’t ask about my personal life.”

But then, your smile was replaced with a confused look as you heard his answer.

Your name was known as the woman behind the Onigiri Miya, the support system that everyone wanted to have in their life with how loyal you were towards the one that you loved. And as your fiancé, he always answered questions about you with pride lingering on his face.

So when you saw him averting his gaze to the corner while answering the question, you knew that something was up.

“Samu, has something happened?” You finally turned towards him, “Do you want to talk about it, love?” Your eyes locked onto his face, wondering why he stayed silent and just looked away from you, “You know that I am always up to talk about anything with you, right?”

Yet the reason behind his unusual answer was something that you could never prepare yourself for. You could feel your breath hitched once he met your gaze. His eyes were filled with sadness, orbs glistening with tears as he finally dared to look up at you.

Then just like that, he averted your gaze once again, and that’s when you knew that he was hiding something from you.

“Samu,” Your hand gently wrapped around his much larger hand; you could feel how the man was trembling. Your fiancé's skin felt as cold as ice compared to yours, “Love, what is it? Please look at me, I am worried for you, Samu.”

Your fiancé let out a sigh, squeezing your hand a little before pulling away from you. You eyed him as he stood up from the couch, eyes staring down at you with remorse evident on his face.

“I-I am sorry,” His voice trembled as he couldn’t look straight into your eyes anymore, “I did something. Something bad,” Tears were streaming down his face as he sobbed.

By that, you immediately stood up, wrapping your arms around him to give some comfort,

“Sshhh, Samu, it’s alright…” You didn’t know what was it about, but the only thing in your mind right now was to make sure he would be alright, “We can talk about it-”

“But that's the thing. We can’t!” Osamu suddenly snapped, pulling himself away from your embrace as he realised that he didn’t deserve any of your affection, “This is something that we cannot talk about, (Y/N).”

“Samu, you don’t know about that-”

“I'm cheating on you!”

And at those four words, you swore you could hear your heart break. You immediately took a step backwards as you wrapped your arms around your own body, feeling the temperature dropping.

You bit your lip, mind still trying to process the words. Cheating. That was something that you never thought someone like Miya Osamu would do. Hell, it was something that you never thought any of your family or friends would do, let alone your fiancé.

“W-with who?” You were always there for him, and you knew damn well no matter who it was, the answer would tear yourself apart. However, you needed to know. You needed to know what they had that you didn’t that could make him did this to you.

“(Y/N)-”

“With. Who.” Your eyes bored into his with a look that he couldn’t fathom as you hardened your voice, “I deserve to know the whole sto-”

“It’s Rintarou.” But you didn’t expect your brother’s name to be leaving your fiancé's lips. “We happened to meet up a lot when I planned the branch for Onigiri Miya in East Japan, I-”

“That was six months ago…” You muttered under your breath when the realisation hit you. Osamu could feel the lump in his throat as he still decided to either speak or stay silent.

Although just like what you said, you deserved to know the whole story.

“We have been meeting each other ever since.” He gulped down, his voice beginning to break, “Every week, when you are busy in your office.”

Never once in your life have you thought you would be in this position right now. Tears were streaming down your face as you looked up to the man that you sacrificed everything for.

“What kind of meeting?” Right now, your voice betrayed you as it cracked a little. “How far have two of you gone?” By the forlorn look on his face, it was enough for you to know, “For god sake, Samu!”

You chuckled bitterly, dazed by the fact you have been betrayed by the two most important people that you had in this life. Right now you couldn’t even think straight. The feelings you felt right now were all too much. All that you wanted at the moment was just to vanish.

Your fiancé walked up towards you, regret evident inside his beautiful orb, glistening with tears. Because he knew, he just broke one person who was always there for him from the start. The women who supported him through thick and thin. From when he was still nothing.

You were someone who was there when the spotlight was only rotated around his brother. You were there during every breakdown, every failed recipe, every declined partnership. You were always there for him, patiently supporting him through everything.

“I am sorry, (Y/N).” His voice wavered, both hands timidly extended towards you. Solicitude struck him to the core as he wanted to pull you into his embrace, but at the same time Osamu knew he had broken you beyond repair. “I didn’t mean to do it… It just happened.”

You snorted in between your tears when you heard his words. From all the movies and television series that you have watched together with him, you always heard the same sentence numerous times already. The words that popped out...

From the lips of the character who cheated.

“Having sex with someone- no. not just somone,” You coated your pain with a snarky remarks, trying to act tough in front of the man who broke your heart, “When you have sex with your fiancé's brother everytime she wasn't around can't be excused with 'it just happened', Samu.”

Osamu knew the second he captured someone else’s lips, he could never turn it back around. He just cheated on you, someone who didn’t deserve to be treated like this. You, who would leave everything behind if that means he could be happy.

Even if that means you would never have your own happy ending.

Cheating is a taboo relationship that was made by two people who agreed to get into it, and he understood that what he had with the professional volleyball player could never end up well. Yet he did it anyway, for the last six months. With your very own brother.

It was more like a neverending nightmare for you. To have someone that you gave your whole heart to, the same someone who you spent your whole early life with, only to stab you in the back.

Two people who broke your heart were the two people you trusted the most. And each one of them was someone who you held dear inside your heart.

The buzzing sounds from your phone brought you back to reality. You groaned because once again, you fell to the unwanted memories that you were trying so hard to forget.

To have the only relationship you ever had falling apart was something that you never prepared yourself to. Up until now, you never knew how it felt to get your heart broken. From all the fights that you had with Osamu, none of them could crack the strong bond that you two shared.

The bond that was now all broken when he decided to get in bed with your brother.

You unconsciously touched your face, feeling the warm tears cascading down your cheek as you wiped it all away with your sleeves. You hated yourself because you felt so blind believing in every word that people said about how you and Osamu would last forever.

Your hand reached for your phone, wondering who in the right mind would call you this late at night. There was no way it was your ex-fiancé, because he always gave you space and only called you in your free time.

You furrowed your eyebrows when you saw the name on the screen. It was Atsumu.

Every time you saw his name, your mind would only think about his twin brother instead; you cursed yourself for even thinking about Osamu all over again. Even when the said man just broke you apart.

Without thinking, you declined the call and decided to turn off your phone for tonight. Your eyes bore into the now black screen, looking out to the reflection of your face. There used to be a glimmer of joy and warmth, but now it was just a blank expression as it stared back into your soul.

“I am sorry,” You were so tired of hearing the same sentence over and over again. “I shouldn’t have been selfish.” Your brother was a man of silence, yet here he was right now in front of the new house you were staying in, repeating the words that he said over the phone since last week.

“There’s no need to say sorry, Rinrin.” You bit your lips, eyes never leaving the ground, “You love him, it’s not your fault to fall in love with… With the same man that I l-love.” You could see how he clenched his fist, and you knew that he felt guilty over it.

There were a lot of things inside his head at the moment as he stood in front of the woman that always had her faith in him. You were the best sister that anyone could even ask for, that one family who he wanted to live the happiest life because you deserved it all.

He felt like a hypocrite because he knew he was the one who took the happiness away from you.

“I broke it off with him,” He muttered under his breath, afraid to see your reaction from the news. Right now, the realisation that he just hurt you was more painful than the fact he just broke up with his lover.

He expected you to be angry at him, saying it doesn’t matter anyway because things already happened and he couldn’t change the past. Maybe you would even curse and punch him; he would be okay if that was your reaction.

Then again, he forgot that it was you who stood in front of him.

“Why?” Your voice was calm as you looked up at him, “Don’t you love Samu, Rinrin?” His breath hitched from the question. Today was supposed to be the day he finally faced you, apologizing for all the heartbreak he put you through. So why was focus suddenly thrown at him?

“I do,” He hesitated to answer that question at first, but he knew too well that you already knew what was inside his heart. Then his eyes widened as he saw a sincere smile plastered on your face.

“So don’t break it off,” You whispered the words so easily as you reached for his hand, “I-I know how much he loves you,” For now, you really hoped his feeling was real, “He is a loyal man, and he would never do such a thing if he wasn't really in love with you, Rinrin.”

Your hand felt so warm as your thumb grazed on the back of his hand. With that little gesture, your brother broke down in front of you, hiccuping from the immense guilt that brewed inside his heart.

“I am sorry, you don’t deserve this.” He sobbed, and you couldn’t help but bring his head to your embrace anyway, “I am sorry, I am sorry.”

People told you that you were too kind for your own good. You have been wrecked by them, torn apart by them. None of them deserves to be treated right, and society would not even be surprised if you wanted to cut everything off from them.

But you were not like that, you could never act like that.

“It’s alright, Rin…” Your hand fell on his hair, holding back your own tears as you realised what it would mean to let them together, “It will be alright,” They would, but not you. Not now, not in forever.

No matter how many times you tried to shake away all of the pain, you couldn’t just undo your love that you felt for Osamu as easily as you want to. Your feelings have been there since the first year of your high school days, it was always there, since your brother asked you to watch his game.

Since the two of you broke off the engagement-for an obvious reason-, you only saw him on the television. Sometimes you still look back at all the messages that he had sent for you; laughing over the joke, smiling from his sweet words, but ended up with tears as you remember there would be no more messages like that.

So you could only stare at the blank screen of your phone, the reflection showed how your eyes glistened with tears once more.

“Oh! That’s Miya Osamu!” You jerked your head back to the television, heart beats a lot faster by just the mention of his name, “Come on, make sure you got a good angle of him.”

You chuckled, a little smile adorned your face as you saw him looking as gorgeous as ever with a black suit wrapped around his torso. He was in some kind of red carpet gala, and of course, invited there as he was one of the most successful entrepreneurs of the century.

He received a lot of invitation, but he would usually turn it down if you couldn’t be his plus one due to how busy you are with your own business sometimes. So when you realised what does it mean for him to be there, you dropped your phone to the ground,

Right when your brother appeared on the screen.

“You look so good tonight, Osamu!”

“Thank you, I couldn’t do it without his help.”

You thought you were ready to see them on the same frame. Their eyes glimmered with something that the camera could even catch,

“The two of you looked so good together, I am jealous!”

“Really? I guess we do, huh?”

From the look on his face, you knew that Miya Osamu really fall in love with the man in his arm,

“Is the wedding bell around the corner?”

It was the same question, the same question that he received a year ago at the night he confessed what he did to you,

“Yeah,”

But the answer was so different, nothing like the time when he was still yours.

“The wedding bell is around the corner for sure.”

He kissed the man beside him, a loving smile adorned his face as your brother chuckled with blush spread around his cheek.

It used to be you, to be in his embrace as he showed the world how much he loves you. It used to be you, to be the one who received his kiss and affection. It used to be you, who wore the match engagement ring with him.

Sometimes you wonder what would happen if you never gave them permission to be together. You wonder if any of you still get hurt, or maybe by time all of the broken trust would be healed, and the three of you would have a beautiful future with someone else.

Your friends told you to walk away from your past, telling you that your ex fiance and your brother didn’t deserve to be together, since both of them stabbed you from behind.

For six months, without you knowing. For six months, as you laid in his embrace with his heart belonged to someone else. For six months, you kissed the lips that had captured another.

Then again, you love them, a little bit too much that even though they were the one who took away the smile from your face, you couldn’t just let them suffer. Either from guilt, or from the heartbreak that would haunt them.

You knew how it felt since he decided to love someone else other than you, you were damn knew how it felt to love someone, but couldn’t have them anymore,

So who are you to stop two people in love from being together?

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ༶•┈┈⛧┈♛ ♛┈⛧┈┈•༶ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Thanks to my bby @iwaixiumi for being my beta reader!

Tagged Lovelies:

@vventure @heccingdead @muffins-puffins @miyuswriting @nanashinanashi @vlovers-world @proplayer-kenma @kashika @cuddlyasahi @blacckdiamondposts @muffngw @baby-boy-taichi @of-heroes-and-dreams @for-ests @giyuwu-san @oli-imagines @lordeofthunder @miyatsunami @analyze-hq @benewol @allywritesimagines @iwaixiumi @hihiq @gulfwanq @the-fandom-ness @quirksandbreaths @dear-green-tea @simp4tsukkii @ladyalicevii @evermorehaikyuu @clowninfortodoroki @koutaroulovebot @daiseukis @fitriiaw @macaronnv @verbluehte

#miya osamu #miya osamu x reader #miya osamu imagine #miya osamu scenario #miya osamu drabble #miya osamu oneshot #haikyuu miya osamu #miya twins #miya osamu angst #miya osamu fluff #haikyuu scenario #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu drabble #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu angst #miya osamu x suna rintarou

834 notes · View notes

xpeachesncream · 3 years

Note

Hey Nikki! Could you do a perfectly wrong drabble of reader thinking she is pregnant? thank you <3

perfectly wrong | drabble [10]: why are there multiple kinds of pregnancy tests for Taehyung to decide between?

word count: 1.9k

warnings: cussing, implied sexual content, pregnancy scare (use protection and use protection well, folks!)

note: this ended up being a little longer than i thought lol sorry! hope you enjoy still. i also just whipped this up before going to bed so this is pretty raw - excuse any mistakes pls. love me still 🥺

"Fuck!" You yelled as you ran to the bathroom as a huge wave of nausea hit you yet once again this morning. You were abruptly woken up early in the morning due to the feeling, not getting much rest after the first time you hurled last night's dinner into the toilet bowl. Taehyung had just walked into your apartment, mouth slightly open as he furrowed his brows watching you run off to the bathroom.

"Baby, what's wrong?" He says, swinging the bathroom door open as you dry-heaved into the bowl, curse words trailing shortly after. He crouches to your level, rubbing your back and holding your hair out of the way.

"I don't know, I just woke up feeling--" He watched as you threw your head back into the toilet bowl, a little bit of the water you had taken down earlier coming back up. "Really shitty." You continue after you spit.

"Shit, did you eat anything bad yesterday?"

"I don't think so? Nothing seemed suspicious." You pointed at him weakly. "And you look perfectly dandy being that we ate at the same places." You rested your back against the wall, eyeing how god-like your boyfriend looked.

"I'm sorry, love." He pouted. "You okay to get up now? Let's get you in bed and I can run out to grab whatever you need me to grab." You sat there, pondering on your thoughts for a second. The food you ate last night didn't seem bad, but also you never know. However, you were starting to freak out mainly because of the countless, amazing, 'let me rearrange your guts' type of sex you've been having with your boyfriend. That thought always has to be taken into consideration.

"What's the date today?" Taehyung quickly whips out his phone to check the date on his lockscreen.

"The 20th. Why?" Your eyes widened. You were supposed to get your period 5 days ago. Albeit, you've always been on a weird, irregular schedule ever since you were younger. Getting on birth control somewhat helped regulate that, but lately it hadn't been wonky. You usually got it on the 15th. "Why, baby?" His eyes started to widen.

"I'm late, Tae. I should've gotten my period 5 days ago."

"Okay, let's not panic. We can't assume just yet, right?" He begins to slightly freak out, but he's doing his best to keep his emotions in check. He was worried as hell now, not only because you were hurting but because this?

Lord, please. If you get me out of this one, I won't slap Y/N's ass ever again.

Don't get him wrong, he really wanted to be a father. He had always dreamed of having a good sized family with the love of his life. But right at this moment? He wasn't ready. You weren't ready. You both were just trying to survive school and that was already work on its own.

"Right." You say, but you're fucking screaming internally. Jesus fucking christ?!

"Let's get you in bed. I'll grab you some gatorade and soup while you get some more rest." He says, helping you up. You loved his cologne and taking in his scent, but today you couldn't deal. You sat on the edge of your bed, immediately grabbing the trash can next to your night stand and puked a little bit more acid.

"God, I'm so tired. Let this be ooooover." You whined as Tae tucked you into your sheets and wiped your face clean with a warm, wet towel. He folded it in half, placing the towel onto your forehead to help regulate your temperature as much as possible.

"I'm so sorry, babygirl. I hate seeing you like this." He kisses you on the cheek. "Don't drink water just yet, it doesn't seem like you can keep it down. I'll come back right away, okay? Try to get some sleep."

"Can you grab a test?" He swallows the lump in his throat.

"Yeah, of course." He smiles toothlessly, watching as your eyes slowly droop and shut close, the exhaustion from all this effort hitting you out of nowhere. Tae was worried sick, and he honestly wished he could snap his fingers so that the things you need would just appear and he wouldn't have to leave you alone.

He gets to the closest convenience store that would have everything you needed in one place. He grabs you a few bottles of gatorade, making sure to grab you the blue Glacier Freeze bottles because he remembers you saying that's the only flavor you grew up drinking. He grabs a couple of ingredients to whip you up some chicken noodle soup later once you're able to tolerate the gatorade at the very least. He also grabs a few unnecessary things like snacks for you both [mainly him cause it's based off of his own cravings right now] and then makes his way over to the aisle that has the condoms and pregnancy tests.

Tests?

Multiple kinds?

How the fuck is he supposed to know? Does one differ by the other much? They all look like the same fucking stick. They all look like that game of pick up sticks.

His eyes go from one box to another, mouth slightly hanging from how overwhelmed he is right now. This one says 6 days sooner, but the other box has two sticks for the price of one? He's assuming that's a nice safety blanket to have an extra stick confirm your results. But there's also one box with two sticks AND the 6 days sooner message.

Then a box with 4 sticks?

"Hooooly mother of pearl, fuck it." He says, grabbing the one with 4 sticks and the 6 day message. That's the gold for him. It makes him feel a little better knowing he could look at all 4 sticks. Does Y/N even have enough pee for this? He's about to make his way out of the aisle when he passes the condoms and lube.

Heh, no lube cause I make my girl hella wet already.

But condoms? After today, he was highly thinking about it. But lord knows how much he'd hate to have to wrap it up like that. Condoms are for sure your friends, but that raw feeling when he's inside the girl he truly loves - Exquisite. Chef’s kiss. Absolutely irreplaceable.

He eyes the boxes one more time before a little elderly lady walks past him in the aisle. She looks at him, smiles, then looks at the condoms before looking down at his basket with the pregnancy tests.

"A little late for that, don't you think?" She chuckles as she jokes to herself.

Well, damn? Like that??

He purses his lips into a fine line before rushing out of the aisle and making his way to the self-checkout lanes. He quickly checks out, not realizing he had gotten a little distracted from his own thoughts.

Getting back to your place, he notices you're still sound asleep. He takes your trash out and dumps it down the trash slot outside of your door. He cleans up a little in your living room, folding your blankets neatly and lighting your favorite candle. He washes the dishes left in your sink as he waits for the stove to heat up. He starts to whip up that chicken noodle soup for you so it would be ready.

Once he's done, he grabs a bottle of gatorade and sits on the edge of your bed, gently brushing the hair out of your face.

"Here baby, drink some." He says, handing you the opened bottle. You stir in your position, sitting upright in order to get some of the gatorade into your system. You hope you can keep it down and make some progress. "I got you the tests." He shows you the box with 4 sticks.

"Damn, babe. Four sticks?" He clicks his teeth and points a finger gun at you.

"The more the merrier, amirite?"

"I should probably do those now." You take your time standing up with Tae right beside you, making sure you don't get dizzy or lose your balance. In the bathroom, you stand and stare at the box for a little, reality kind of settling in for you. This is actually happening right now.

"Hey, whatever happens, I'll be right here, okay? We'll figure this out." He reassures you, giving a kiss on the side of your head as you silently nod and open the box. You sit on the toilet, Tae helping you swap out the sticks until you no longer need to pee. He sets the aside the sink carefully, putting on a timer on his phone.

"Fuck. I can't just sit here and watch." You dig your head into your hands.

"I almost bought condoms." He chuckles, trying to brighten the mood.

"Taehyung and condoms? No way. My boyfriend would never."

"I would if absolutely necessary - and by absolutely necessary, I mean like today o’clock." You shoot him a look, the statement only heightening your anxiety. "But! I didn't, okay! We'll be fine, we can't assume."

"You're pulling out next time."

"I mean if you let me bust my load on your—"

"No, you're gonna cum in your own fucking hands after today." You furrow your eyebrows angrily.

"Baby." He laughs. "That's no fun."

"Taehyung, we're sitting in my bathroom waiting for four pregnancy tests to show their results!" His timer goes off and suddenly you feel sick again.

"I guess we'll find out if I'm daddy in a few minutes." You smack him on the chest.

"Don't ever."

"Please, ladies first." He nods towards the sticks.

"You!"

"Why me?"

"It's your sperm that did this!"

"Woah m'lady, it takes two to tango!"

"Pick up the goddamn sticks." He clicks his teeth.

"Fuck, fine!" He picks up the stick. "Oh my god, baby." He says, gasping with his mouth agape.

That's it. You're gonna fucking cry. Everything is turning into white noise. Yes, you wanted a family but all of this shit was happening so quickly you couldn't even—

"You're not pregnant." He says in the same dramatic tone.

"I'm going to fight you!" You shriek at him, grabbing the sticks to double check. You see one single line across all four sticks, causing you to breathe a sigh of relief. You start to cry a little, causing Taehyung to laugh and pull you into a hug. He knows how stressed you just were and he knows this moment alone must have taken a lot out of you. He can't help but wanna cuddle you in his arms for the rest of the day.

"Oh never again, love."

"Don’t get me wrong. I wanna have your babies but I’m not ready to right now."

"I fully agree, 100%."

"I'll call my doctor tomorrow just to make sure we're in the clear." He nods.

"Feeling a little better?" You shake your head.

"Honestly, I still feel like shit."

"Go sit in bed, I'll bring the bowl of soup to you." He kisses you on the nose. "I love you."

"I love you, too." And that's what you do - sit in bed while your man brings your bowl of soup that he delicately prepared over so you can get something in your system. Luckily, you were able to hold both that and the gatorade down and that's what your diet consisted of for the rest of the day.

The good ol' doc says it's nothing but a dumb stomach bug and that your birth control is just playing mind games with you, showing you the results to confirm the negative pregnancy test. He demands you take it easy and get lots of love in the mean time until you fully recover from whatever thing you ate that day that wasn't prepared carefully.

You live and you learn. Life is all about that, right?

"Never again, Tae."

"We don't mean that." He whines as he chases after you walking towards the car.

"You try being in my shoes during a pregnancy scare then!"

#bts #bts fanfiction #taehyung fanfiction #taehyung #kim taehyung #taehyung x reader #kth x reader #writing #perfectly wrong #perfectly wrong drabbles #kth series #taehyung fluff #bts fluff #kim taehyung fluff #kth fluff

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bill-y · 3 years

Text

INURE

Peeta Mellark x Reader

[ We all know who Katniss Everdeen is, but what if Primrose hadn’t been chosen but another boy from another unfortunate family? YOUR family. ]

Info: This is basically a reader insert and I’ve changed a few rules, not ground breaking though. The reader is a bit bland for now but I plan for his actions to be different. Because he has different moral grounds from Katniss and such. Would appreciate feedback! FEEL FREE TO POINT OUT TYPOS. GRAMMARLY SOMETIMES DOESN’T DO MY DYSLEXIC ASS JUSTICE

Part four: Click here, rooroorara shooty shooty vang vang

Part five: You're right here, silly!

Part six: Click here, war criminal of 1878!

Wattpad acc: L0calxDumbass

The moment the anthem finished, we were taken into custody. It's not as if we were cuffed or anything; a group of Peacekeepers simply marched us through the front door of the Justice Building.

Each year, at least one of the tributes tries to escape; I've never seen one successfully do so.

Once inside, they put me in a room. It's the most prosperous place I've been to. With a thick carpet in the ground and a weird couch made of fabric, I've never seen before.

It was a strange texture, almost like the weird fuzzy stuff in deer's antlers. My father called them velvet; was this the same thing? If so, that's a bit gross.

Despite this, I still caressed the couch; it was oddly comforting. Almost like you're patting a nearly hairless kitten. It switched from smooth to rough each time I ran my hands through it.

Then I remembered that we only had an hour to say goodbye to our loved ones before leaving for the Capitol. I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath in. I didn't want to cry at all; the cameras were trained on me. I'm sure the Capitol would eat my tears up.

The first people who came in were my mother and my brother. Kunal let out a sob as he ran towards me, practically throwing himself onto me. I hugged him, staying silent as he buried his face into my neck, afraid that if he let go, I would disappear.

But I needed to break it one way or another. "Mother," I called, my voice detached. Her green eyes met mine, her lips quivering. I gulped down my spit, taking another deep breath in. "Do you. . . Have any idea on how you'll support yourselves. . ?" I asked.

Her eyes landed on the thick, red carpet. "Not as of now," she answered grimly, "But Katniss' mother offered me some work at the apothecary,"

My arms around my brother tightened. Maybe Gale and Katniss could bring them some of the game as well, though I wouldn't count on it. Why would they help us when they have other things to worry about? It's not as if I could teach Nal how to hunt either. The boy's frightened by his own shadow.

All he's good for right now for picking flowers as much as I love him. A sigh escaped my lips, my chest falling slowly as the reality sunk in.

"Well, you must think of something," I told her, my brows furrowing. "I'm not going to come back; I won't be able to support you and—"

"No!" she barked, "No! You will come back, Y/n." she proclaimed, her eyes shaking. She clenched her, fists, "Swear that you will."

Bitterness rose within me. "Tell that to the Capitol, mother," I said coolly. "If I die, then I—." My words were cut short by the sobbing of my brother.

He sniffled, pulling away from my now wet neck. "You'll win, won't you?" he croaked, wiping his eyes with the sleeves of his reaping clothes.

I felt my heart stop; what was I supposed to say to him? "No, Nal. I will surely die, don't count on it," a lump formed in my throat.

My eyes landed on my mother, who gave a stern look. It told me to lie, if not for her sake, then for my brother's. With shaky hands, I held my brother's shoulders. "I'll make it out; then we can— gather some flowers in Victor's village, yes?"

Nal nodded, hugging me once more. I took a deep breath before I started explaining what they should do. With mother possibly getting a job at the apothecary, perhaps they have a chance to survive, after all. Though I'm not sure, that's such a pleasant thought with the fact that I will die.

Soon enough, a Peacekeeper was at the door, telling them their time was up. I gave Nal a hard squeeze before pushing him off. My mother nodded at me; her strawberry blonde hair bounced as she did so. "I love you both,"

The words were stuck in my throat; I couldn't say them. Maybe it was because of my strained relationship with my mother or because I hated the fact that I had just given my brother a false sense of hope. I simply watched as they walked away, hand in hand.

Nal's watery blue eyes looked back at me one last time, a look of sadness. He knew I was lying. I sounded unconvinced when I told him. My posture slumped; I felt horrible. Our maker is siis merely, I suppose.

The next visitor was unexpected; Peeta's father, the baker. My gut churned; I was off to kill his son soon. Why has he come to visit me? Perhaps he has come to beg me not to kill his son? Not that I could either way, Peeta was stronger than me: it was clear as day.

He handed me a small piece of parchment. It was filled with warm cookies. A delicacy. He must've visited his son; after all, why would he just me cookies? I was about to die anyway; why feed a dead man?

I let out a huge breath, "How was the squirrel?" my voice pierced through the thick silence. He shrugged, "Alright," he answered. Then another wave of silence hit us. I sniffed awkwardly, the scent of fresh bread entering my lungs.

I couldn't think of anything to say. What was I supposed to do? ApoloApologisebe, but I never really liked apoloapologisingee no need to. If I'm sorry, then I'll show it. We sat in awkward silence before the Peacekeepers told him his time was up. He stood up, clearing his throat.

"I'll keep an eye on the little boy, make sure he's eating," He stated before leaving. I felt the pressure lift from my chest. They may not like me much, but Nal was practically an angel to them. An angel born in a family of rebels, I'm guessing, is their thoughts.

The next guest then entered. Madge. Her expression wasn't weepy nor evasive, nor did she wear that bright smile she always had when she was around me. It looked urgent. She walked straight to me, the urgency in her tone quite surprising, "They let you wear one thing from your district in the arena. One thing to remind you of home, will you wear this?" she holds out a circular gold pin that was on her dress earlier.

My brows furrowed, "Your pin?' I said. Does she really to die wearing rich-people-things? That hasn't even crossed my mind. . .

"I'll put it on your tunic, alright?" She said, not waiting for my answer as she leaned in and fixed the bird on my chest. "Promise me you'll wear it to the arena, Y/n. Promise me," She took my hand, her thumbs rubbing the back of my own.

Compared to Peeta's, hers was cold yet soft, almost as if she was nervous, worried. But why would she? I barely talk to her; she's the one who always strikes a conversation. All I do is nod and disagree at certain times.

She leaned closer to my face; I gave her an uncertain smile, pulling away. "Thank you, Madge," I muttered. She nodded, letting go of my hands. "Please, stay safe," her voice trembled as she rushed out of the room. I was left standing there, confused. What was that? Why did she visit me despite my rudeness earlier?

Next was Gale and Katniss. I didn't hesitate to hug both of them before pulling away with a sigh. "Hey, you'll be fine," Gale reassured, patting my shoulder. I stayed silent, only nodding. Katniss gave me a pity smile, "I'm sure it would be fairly easy to get knives, Y/n."

A sigh left my mouth, "I know— I just— Don't want to—" I stammered, making a stabbing motion with my hand. Gale gave me a pitied look, "It's just like hunting, Y/n. You're the best hunter we know," he said.

"They're not animals. They think; they're armed." I reasoned, my voice trembling. Why did I have to feel these emotions now? Maybe reality has finally settled in, the truth that I'll never see any of these faces again. On the off chance that I do, I'm sure they'll view me differently, a cold-blooded murderer.

"What's the difference, reale said grimly. Those words echoed in my head as they went away with the Peacekeepers. What is the difference? We're all just feral dogs forced to fight or cocks pit against each other.

I took a deep breath as I got called to ride a wagon to the train station. It was a relatively short ride. We never really had the luxury of these; we always had to travel by foot.

I silently thanked myself for not crying; there were insect-like cameras trained onto my face. Thankfully, I knew how to act, to bite my tongue. If I hadn't, I'd probably be screaming profanities. My eyes glanced onto the television screen; I look bored. Which, I surprisingly was.

It was as if my spirit left me already.

Peeta Mellark, on the other hand, had obviously been crying. However, he didn't even try to hide it, which was quite odd. Was this his strategy? To appear weak and vulnerable to assure the other tributes that he was no threat? This worked for a girl from district 7. Johanna Mason.

She seemed frightened, a cowardly fool that no one bothered about her until only a handful left. She then killed them all, with no problem whatsoever. I remember watching this game, quite shocked. She sold her act to me, but then again, maybe I'm just oblivious.

This worked for her because she looked frail, weak. Peeta applying this strategy was quite odd. Not only did he not look soft, but he was also jacked. He just looked like a big doofus. All those years having bread to eat and hauling trays made him physically capable.

Annoyance rose through me when we had to stand by the train's entrance while cameras gobbled out images up. I was sure I no longer looked bored but rather pissed. It wasn't like I was about to put on a pretty smile for them. These jester-dressed-worms should know how I feel.

Finally, we boarded, and the train began to move at once. The speed took my breath away. It was going faster than I could ever think of. The scenery around us just blurred—a mix of the neutral colour palette that made up District 12.

We were taught about coal in school. Some basic maths and reading before it circled back to coal again. Our district was used for coal mining, even hundreds of years ago.

Then there are the weekly lectures about the history of Panem, which never fails to annoy me. It's all blather about how we owe the Capitol because of the rebellion and whatnot.

I knew they're hiding something; we couldn't have lost that easily. I always think about this whenever I'm up in the trees, daydreaming, which is why I'm always the last one to arrive at the hill.

The tribute train was much fancier than the room at the Justice building. We were given our own rooms, a dressing area and private bathroom with cold and hot running water. We've never really had hot water readily available at home; we had to boil it.

Though I can't say, I like it, with all that effort I just end up not liking the bath. I much prefer the cold, flowing current of a river.

There are drawers filled with fine clothes, and Effie Trinket told me to do anything I want, wear anything I want, everything is at my disposal. Just be ready for supper in an hour. I peel off my father’s tunic and take a cold shower. I’ve never had a shower before. It’s like being in the rain, inky much tamer. I dress in a dark green shirt and pants, trying my hair to the usual, small pa

At the last minute, I remember Madge’s little gold pin. For the first time, I get a good look at it. It’s as if someone fashioned a small golden bird and then attached a ring around it. The bird is connected to the ring only by its wingtips. I suddenly recognise it—a Mockingjay.

Funny little birds, my favourite creature in the forests, that's for sure. These were a slap to the Capitol's face. They genetically altered animals as weapons. Muttations as we call them, or Mutts for short. One particular kind was a bird they labelled Jabberjay, able to memorise and repeat whole human conversations.

Homing birds, exclusively male that were released into regions where the Capitol’s enemies were known to be hiding. After the birds gathered words, they’d fly back to centres to be recorded. It took people a while to realise what was going on in the districts, how private conversations were being transmitted. Then, of course, the rebels fed the Capitol endless lies, and the joke was on it. So the centres were shut down, and the birds were abandoned to die off in the wild.

But they didn't die; instead, they mated with the female mocking birds and produced this weird species that can replicate both bird whistles and human melodies. They've lost the ability to enunciated words but could still mimic a range of human vocal cords.

My father used to sing them a lot. I guess he passed that habit down to me. Whenever I'm not doing anything, I find myself singing to the hummingbirds, who surprisingly listen and replicate my Father's song. It was a simple melody, made of 10 notes at least.

It warmed by heart, especially at times where I miss him. I smiled, fastening the pin to my shirt, the dark green as its background.

Effie came to collect me. I followed her through a narrow, rocking corridor into a dining room. There's a table where all the dishes are highly breakable. There waiting for us was Peeta Mellark, the chair beside him empty.

"Where's Haymitch?" Asked Effie Trinket brightly.

"Last time I saw him he said he was going to take a nap," said Peeta. "Well, it’s been an exhausting day," said Effie Trinket. I think she’s relieved by Haymitch’s absence, and who can blame her?

Food came in courses. Though I barely touched the carrot soup, the chocolate cake, lamb chops nor the mashed potatoes. I wasn't going to eat this, not from the Capitol.

My jaw clenched as Effie told me to eat up, smiling brightly at me. I gave her a pained smile, slowly taking a bite of the lamb on my plate before swallowing it roughly.

A swirl of guilt formed in my stomach, was I eating really this luxurious food whilst Nal and mother struggle? I sighed, digging my nails into my palms.

Peeta looked at me oddly as he stuffed his face, he nudged my side and nodded towards the food. I simply shook my head, pushing the plate away.

Effie put her lips together at my stubbornness. She was muttering something about having no manners.

We go to another compartment to watch the recap of the reapings across Panem. They try to stagger them throughout the day so a person could conceivably watch the whole thing live, but only people in the Capitol could really do that since none of them has to attend reapings themselves.

One by one, we see the other reapings, the names called, the volunteers stepping forward or, more often, not. We examine the faces of the kids who will be in our competition. A few stand out in my mind.

A monstrous boy who lunges forward to volunteer from District 2. A fox-faced girl with sleek red hair from District 5. A boy with a crippled foot from District 10. And most hauntingly, a twelve-year-old girl from District 11. She has dark brown skin and eyes, but other than that, she’s very like Nal in size and demeanour. Only when she mounts the stage and task for volunteers, all you can hear is the wind whistling through the decrepit buildings around her. There’s no one willing to take her place.

Last of all, District twelve. It showed Nal getting called and me volunteering. The commentators weren't sure about what to say regarding the silence. I only smirked at this, crossing my legs in amusement. Just in time, Haymitch fell from the stage, earning a comical groan from the commentators.

Peeta silently took his place on the stage; we shook hands and then just cut to the anthem.

Effie Trinket is disgruntled about the state her wig was in. "Your mentor has a lot to learn about presentation. A lot about televised behaviour."

Unexpectedly, Peeta laughed. "He was drunk." He said. "He's drunk every year."

"Everyday," I added, finally breaking my silence streak with a smirk. Effie makes it sound kike Haymitch just had rough manners that could easily be dealt with.

"Yes," She hissed "How odd you two find it amusing. You know your mentor is your lifeline to the world in these Games. The one who advises you lines up your sponsors, and dictates the presentation of any gifts. Haymitch can well be the difference between your life and your death!"

Just then, Haymitch staggers into the compartment. "I miss supper?" he slurred. Then he vomits all over the expensive carpet and falls in a mess.

"So laugh away!" said Effie Trinket. And so I did, I barked out mocking laughter as she hopped in her pointy shoes around the pool of vomit and fled the room.

Word count: 2974

Tags:

@nin3s

#hunger games x reader #hunger games #hunger games x male reader #male reader #male reader insert #peeta mellark x male reader #peeta mellark x reader #peetamellark #x male reader #gale #male x male reader

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midnighttmarauder · 4 years

Text

Full Moon

Pairing: Sirius Black x Lupin!reader

Summary: Reader is Remus’ twin sister and has always felt guilty that she managed to escape a life of lycanthropy. During a particularly bad full moon, she can’t get rid of the feeling that something is wrong, so she follows the Marauders out into the night.

Warnings: blood, violence, injuries

***

You were there the night that your brother was bitten by Fenrir Greyback. Ever since you could remember, you and Remus had been attached at the hip. Your mother claimed that the two of you shared a bond that she had never seen before, one that went deeper than that of most twins. He could predict the ends of your sentences, and often finished them for you—a habit that you loathed yet somehow found endearing. Wherever you went, Remus was never far behind. You didn’t even mind having to share a room with him, not when he snored or muttered in his sleep. But when Greyback had crept through your window that fateful night, you weren’t sure why he went for Remus first.

It was a miracle, your mother had said, that the werewolf hadn’t seen you trembling beneath your quilt. That your father had woken up in time to stop Greyback from damning both you and Remus to a life of lycanthropy. But there was no miracle, not really, because your father hadn’t been able to stop Greyback from biting Remus. You hated that he had to go through it alone—it seemed to be the one thing in life that you didn’t share. A part of you wished that you had done something to stop Greyback, but what could you have done? You and Remus were only four when it happened after all.

Remus never let you help with his transformations. Your father always snuck him away before the full moon and refused to tell you where they were going. When you and Remus went to Hogwarts, you begged him to let you become an animagus along with your friends, but he’d adamantly refused. James and Sirius had been all for it and thought that it would be useful to have the extra help, but Remus had glared at them until they’d agreed with him.

“I know you feel guilty that this happened to me, but it’s not your fault that I’m a werewolf and you’re not. I don’t want this life for you, Y/N,” he had said.

Guilty didn’t even begin to cover how you felt. It made you sick to your stomach every month when Remus would disappear and return in the morning, his ashen skin battered and bruised. You were desperate to find something to do to make up for it, something to atone for the fact that he was suffering while you lay in bed, listening to his tortured howls in the distance.

***

“Absolutely not,” Sirius said. You trailed after him, struggling to keep up as he marched towards the quidditch pitch.

“C’mon, please? He doesn’t have to know,” you replied.

“No, Y/N. I’m not helping you become an illegal animagus behind your brother’s back. He already said no two years ago. I don’t think his answer’s going to change,” Sirius insisted.

“You didn’t care that it was illegal when you did it,” you countered. Sirius turned and began to walk backwards, rolling his eyes at you.

“It’s not the illegal part that I’m worried about. It’s Moony. I’d rather face the wrath of the Ministry than him. I’m not doing it,” he said.

“Why not?” you asked. Sirius gave you an incredulous look and opened his mouth to answer. “No, I know, because of Remus. But why won’t you really help me?”

Sirius sighed and stopped walking, bracing his hands on his hips as he said, “First of all—Moony is my best friend. I’m not going to go behind his back. He said no when we became animagi in fifth year, and I know that his answer hasn’t changed since. Second of all—you’re my girlfriend and I don’t want you to get hurt. It’s a stupid, selfish reason, but it’s a reason, nonetheless. Remus isn’t your brother anymore when he transforms. He’s gone after me and James before and he’s hurt us. I don’t want that to happen you. And third—the process to become an animagus fucking sucks. You remember us having to hold mandrake leaves in our mouths for a month. It was disgusting. I don’t recommend it.”

“Okay,” you replied with a dramatic sigh. “Those are valid reasons. But I still want to help.”

Sirius groaned and looked around for a moment, as if searching for his patience, then reached out to cup your cheeks in his hands. He stooped to look you in the eyes, ensuring that you were truly listening to him.

“You’re even more stubborn than your brother. My answer is no, and it’s always going to be no. Don’t even bother asking James or Peter, because they’re going to say the same thing. The only other person you could ask is McGonagall, and before you get any ideas, that would be insanely stupid. Not even I would do that. D’you understand?” he asked.

“Fine. I guess I’ll just have to keep making him his wolfsbane,” you said. Sirius poked your bottom lip as you pouted.

“That’s already a huge help for him, and you know it. C’mere,” he muttered, pulling you into a hug. He rested his chin on your head as you tucked yourself into his chest with a sigh.

“Go before James kicks your ass for being late to practice,” you said, your voice muffled by his robes.

“Since you’re already here, and my good luck charm, you wanna watch?” Sirius asked.

“I wouldn’t miss James yelling at you for the world.”

***

The full moon was taking an unprecedented toll on Remus. You had never seen him so on edge the week before the moon, not even when he was first learning to deal with his transformations. The wolfsbane that you had made him didn’t seem to be working—even Professor Slughorn was stumped. You knew it was going to be hard for Remus, but it was going to be even more difficult for your friends to keep him under control.

“We’ll see you soon,” James said over his shoulder as he walked through the portrait hole, Peter trailing close behind him.

“Sirius,” you called, grabbing his hand before he could follow. He hummed and turned to look at you, concern flitting across his face. “Be careful. I’ve never seen him like that.”

“We always are,” Sirius replied.

“I’m worried. Let me come and help you,” you said.

“Absolutely not. The best thing you can do is wait for us to come back. I don’t know what I’ll do if you get hurt. Besides, think about what it’ll do to Remus if he hurts you by accident. It’s too dangerous. Just…sit tight, and we’ll be back before you know it,” he muttered.

“I love you,” you said.

“I love you, too,” Sirius replied. He slipped a hand to the back of your neck and pressed a kiss to your forehead. His lips lingered against your skin for a moment, before he pulled away and gave you a tight nod. Your stomach dropped as you watched him disappear through the portrait hole.

***

You knew that you were being stupid. Knew it as soon as you stepped outside of the castle and into the moonlight. You’d had a nagging feeling that something wasn’t right, and had managed to sit patiently like Sirius had asked for all of two hours before you decided to go investigate. The dewy grass slipped beneath your shoes as you clutched your wand, using the moonlight to navigate across the grounds.

A howl in the distance startled you so much that you dropped your wand. You cursed as you dropped to your knees and began to search for it. Just as you caught a glimpse of it a few feet away, a cloud passed over the moon, and the courtyard went dark.

“Lumos,” you muttered.

Nothing happened. You gritted your teeth and tried again. Still nothing. There was no sign of your wand anywhere as you began to run your hands across the cool grass. A cool breeze raised goosebumps on the back of your neck. You hissed through your teeth as your hand caught on a rock, warm blood blooming across your skin. With a muffled curse, you wiped your palm impatiently on your jumper and went back to looking for your wand. The cloud moved away from the moon just as your hand closed around the handle. You let out a triumphant laugh to yourself and got to your feet, brushing the dirt off your knees.

A twig snapped behind you.

You whirled, dread turning your blood to ice, and felt your entire body go numb as Remus crouched in front of you. But it wasn’t really your brother—not when his eyes held such carnal rage.

The last time you had seen Remus as a wolf was when you were children. You had caught a glimpse of him as he’d transformed back into himself, but he was much smaller then. He was short, gangly, and looked like a harmless pup. This wolf towered over you, its powerful limbs capable of clawing you in half, its teeth sharp enough to tear you to shreds. You took a shaky step back with raised hands as Remus sniffed at the air, his eyes zeroing in on the blood staining your palm.

“Remus,” you muttered, swallowing around the lump in your throat. “It’s me, Y/N. Your sister. You know me, don’t you?”

He growled deep in his chest. Your heart leapt into your throat as you took another step backwards.

“Please, I know you’re in there. You know who I am, it’s Y/N. Please, Remus, you have to remember me,” you pleaded.

Remus stopped advancing for a moment, tilting his head to one side. He seemed to be listening. You nodded encouragingly.

“That’s it. It’s me. Just let me go back to the castle. I’m sorry I came out here. Please, just let me go,” you said.

A bark sounded as a stag and a big black dog erupted from the forbidden forest. Remus let out a terrible howl and launched at you.

“No!” you screamed, but it was too late. You barely had time to put your hands in front of your face as he slashed at you, his claws ripping at your arms. You hit the ground hard, the wolf landing on top of you and knocking the air out of your lungs.

A flurry of black collided with the wolf, knocking him off of you. You choked on the air that rushed back into your lungs as you rolled over and stumbled to your feet. The stag ran in front of you and pushed you gently back with its horns, but you were rooted to the spot. You watched in terror as the wolf and the dog fought, the sounds of snapping teeth and savage growls filling the night.

“Sirius!” you yelled. The wolf turned its attention back to you, and a jolt of terror went up your spine at the feral look in its eyes. It knocked the dog aside, and the scream you let out ripped your throat as Sirius yelped and went limp. The stag pushed you once more and turned to keep Remus back, but he was already reaching for you.

You put your hands over your head and spun away, screaming as claws tore your shoulder open. A bark sounded over the ringing in your ears, and you were distantly aware of the black dog running towards you. The world went dark before your head hit the ground.

***

A burning ache in your shoulder roused you from your sleep. There was a weight on your arm, and you found yourself unable to lift it as you blinked your eyes open. The warm candlelight of the hospital wing slowly came into focus as you began to make sense of the sounds around you. Madam Pomfrey murmuring to your right, the clink of potion bottles that sent a spike of pain through your head, steady breathing beside you.

You looked down and smiled at Sirius, fast asleep with his head on your arm, clutching your hand in one of his. A stained bandage around his shoulder poked out from beneath his undershirt. You lifted your free hand, grimacing at the pain that shot up your arm, and ran your fingers gently over the bruise blooming on his cheek. He didn’t stir as you traced the contours of his face with your fingertips, skipping over the cuts littering his skin. You brushed his curls away from his brow as Madam Pomfrey bustled by, sending you a small smile and a promise to hurry back.

“Y/N,” a voice said to your left. You turned your head and smiled up at James. He looked to be in better shape than you and Sirius, only a few noticeable bruises scattered across his skin.

“Where’s Remus?” you asked. James blew out a breath and sank onto the mattress.

“Just across from you. He’s in bad shape, Y/N,” he replied, jutting his chin at the bed across from yours. The curtains were drawn, and there was no sign of movement behind them.

“Is he awake?” you asked.

“He woke up an hour ago for a little bit and fell back asleep. I didn’t tell him what happened, but he remembered bits and pieces. He knows that he hurt you and he feels awful about it,” James said.

“Let me go talk to him,” you replied. You took your hand away from where it rested in Sirius’ hair and threw off your covers. Just as you were about to pull yourself out of Sirius’ grasp, James put a hand on your shoulder and pushed you gently back against your pillows.

“Pomfrey says you’re not allowed out of bed yet. As soon as Moony wakes back up, I’ll bring him over,” James said, tucking your blanket back around you.

“How are you doing?” you asked.

“I’m okay. Professor Dumbledore came just after you passed out and helped us before anything got worse. I dunno what I would’ve done if Dumbledore hadn’t come,” James muttered. You sighed and put your hand on his knee.

“You would’ve done what you had to, to keep us safe,” you replied. James considered it for a moment, before nodding as if he was trying to convince himself. He patted your arm and stood, glancing over at Sirius.

“I’m gonna go sit with Moony for a bit. Looks like sleeping beauty’s finally awake,” James said. You looked back at Sirius and smiled as his grey eyes met yours. He gave you a tired grin and sat up, tightening his grip on your hand.

“How are you feeling?” you asked. Sirius let out a mirthless laugh.

“How am I feeling? I should be asking you that,” he replied.

“Well, I asked first,” you said.

“I’m alright. A little sore, but I’ll be fine in a few days. It’s not the first time I’ve been thrown around like that.” At the panic in your eyes, he added, “Not by Moony. I’ve been in…y’know, fights and stuff before.”

“Did it hurt a lot? When you two were fighting? Merlin, he didn’t bite you did he?” you asked, your eyes darting across every inch of exposed skin you could find.

“No, love, he didn’t bite me,” Sirius replied. He cupped your cheek with his free hand and ran his thumb soothingly along your cheekbone. “It hurt, but I’m okay now. I promise. Now, enough about me. How do you feel?”

“My shoulder hurts like a bitch and I’ve got a bit of a headache. But I’ll be okay,” you said.

“And how do you…feel?” Sirius asked.

“I’m not scared of him, if that’s what you’re asking,” you replied.

“I didn’t mean it like that, I just-”

“Yes, you did,” you interrupted. Sirius sighed and grabbed your other hand, cupping both of them in his palms. He brought your joined hands up to his mouth and pressed a kiss to your knuckles.

“It’s normal to be scared. I know you might feel guilty about it because he’s your brother, but it’s okay. I was scared after our first full moon. I couldn’t look at him for a week because every time I did, I saw the wolf. But I came to understand that he has no control over what he does when he transforms. He used to cry because he couldn’t remember what he did. Now he asks for a report every month of everything he does as the wolf. One time I told him that he killed a bird, and he cried for hours. Remus and the wolf aren’t the same. You may think you understand that now, but when you look at him, you’re going to doubt it,” he said.

“You don’t know that,” you whispered, tears brimming in your eyes.

“Maybe not. But just know that if that’s how you feel when he wakes up…that’s okay,” Sirius murmured. Something about the gentle tone in his voice and the way he was stroking your knuckles made the tears you were biting back spill over onto your cheeks. Sirius moved to sit beside you on the bed, reaching to wipe your tears as he pulled you into his side.

“I was terrified. I know I was stupid for going outside, but I just had this bad feeling. I felt useless and I wanted to do something to help. I tried to reason with him, but he didn’t recognize me. There wasn’t a shred of my brother in that wolf. I don’t even think I’ve made the connection that it was him yet,” you said.

“I know, love. We’ll all be here when you do,” Sirius muttered.

“I thought he was going to kill me,” you whispered.

“I would never let that happen. I swear,” Sirius said, pulling you closer as if he could shield you from the very idea. You sighed and tucked yourself against him, wincing as you bumped your shoulder against his side.

“I don’t think I want to be an animagus anymore,” you muttered. Sirius’ laugh vibrated against you.

“Music to my ears.”

***

You had already taken two naps by the time Remus woke up again. You started as the curtains around his bed tore open and watched as he stumbled to his feet. Sirius squeezed your hand.

“Moony, slow down! You’ll rip your stitches,” James chastised. He put an arm around Remus’ back and helped him straighten up.

Your breath hitched as Remus’ eyes met yours. There was no sign of the wolf in them, no rage or hunger, but your stomach still leapt into your throat. You only saw guilt in your brother’s eyes as James helped him sink into the chair beside your bed, and then Remus was falling apart.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Y/N. I never meant to hurt you,” he sobbed. You shushed him and pulled yourself out of Sirius’ arms, swinging your legs over the edge of your bed so you were sitting in front of your brother.

“It’s okay. I’m alright,” you muttered, wrapping your arms around Remus’ shaking shoulders. Your heart clenched as he pulled himself out of your embrace.

“No, I don’t deserve that. I’m a monster,” he said.

“Remus-”

“Don’t! I nearly killed you! I remember wanting to hurt you. Smelling the blood on your hand and wanting it,” Remus cried. You rubbed subconsciously at the bandage wrapped around your palm. “I don’t deserve your forgiveness. You’re my sister, and I did this to you!”

“You didn’t do anything. It was the wolf,” you insisted.

“No, you don’t understand,” Remus muttered.

“You’re right. I don’t understand what it’s like to be a werewolf. But I know you, Remus. I know that you would never want to hurt anyone. You can’t control what you do when you transform. If you could, you would be the most docile werewolf in the world. You wouldn’t hurt a soul. I don’t blame you for what you did,” you said.

“Are you scared of me?” he asked. You paused and turned to look at Sirius, seeing only love and reassurance in his eyes. When you turned back to Remus, your heart clenched at how broken he looked.

“I could never be scared of my brother,” you replied. Remus sobbed and didn’t push you away as you wrapped your arms around him again. He tensed for a moment, before sagging against you and returning your embrace. You felt Sirius wrap his arms around you and Remus, and then James did the same. They were like anchors, keeping you and your brother afloat as you cried together.

“I love you,” Remus whispered. You realized that he was saying it nobody in particular.

“We love you, too.”

#sirius x reader #sirius black x reader #sirius black imagine #marauders imagine #marauders era imagine #remus lupin imagine #harry potter imagine

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suituuup · 3 years

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pieces - chapter five

Five years ago, Chloe dropped off the face of the Earth. Beca didn't expect to see her again dancing in a strip club, out of all places.

rated: E (drug use and emotional abuse)

ao3 link

As the rest of the day ticked by, Beca kept replaying the events at Sarah’s coffee shop over and over, unable to pinpoint what she could have said to make Chloe bolt like that. She managed to focus on her tasks at hand over the afternoon and headed home around 6, groaning as soon as she stepped inside when she remembered she had promised Sarah to cook her dinner.

She pondered on canceling for half a minute because all she felt like doing was taking a long shower and eating pizza in bed, but she already felt guilty about a lot of things these past couple of days.

So she took a quick shower instead and put on some comfy jeans and a plaid shirt, tossing her blow-dried hair in a messy bun atop her head. With one of her favorite blues records playing throughout her home, Beca set to work to make creamy salmon pasta with spinach, nursing a much-needed glass of wine as she cooked.

“Babe?”

“In the kitchen,” Beca called out over the music, lowering the heat on the boiling water and dropping a handful of spaghetti in. She smiled as Sarah brushed a kiss to her cheek. “Hey.”

“Hello you,” Sarah murmured, squeezing her hip as she walked past her to set a bottle of wine on the counter. “Smells delicious.”

“Hopefully it tastes good, too.” Not that Beca was worried; she had been making this dish for a few years. “Wine?”

Sarah hopped onto the counter next, humming. “Yes, please.”

Beca opened the fridge and took the bottle out, reaching on the tip of her toes (shhh) for a glass in the cabinet over her head. She poured some wine in and handed it to Sarah. “Sorry I disappeared earlier.”

After Chloe had left, Beca wasn’t in the mood to eat or finish her coffee, leaving a $20 on the table on her way out.

“Was that the friend you told me about yesterday?”

Beca puffed out a sigh. “Yeah. She’s…” It’s complicated, Beca was about to say, but she figured she owed Sarah some details after what happened at her workplace. “She’s in a bad place. And I wanna help her, but she doesn’t seem to want any help. I don’t know what to do anymore.”

Sarah covered Beca’s hand with her own, the pad of her thumb stroking her skin back and forth. “Has it been a long time since you last saw each other?”

“Over six years. We fell out of touch about five years ago. Well, she cut us all out of her life nearly overnight.”

Sarah tilted her head to the side. “Us?”

“The Bellas, from college. Chloe and I were co-captains.” Beca swallowed around the lump forming in her throat as a wave of nostalgia hit her with full force. “She just… she was my best friend.”

“I’m sorry, baby. Maybe give her some time and she’ll come around?”

Beca doubted that, but she nodded anyway. “Yeah, maybe.” She shook her head, squeezing Sarah’s hand as she mustered a smile. “Enough about me. How was your day?”

As the next week ticked by, Beca started to lose hope. In true Beca Mitchell fashion, she threw herself into work to avoid dealing with her emotions, staying at the office until midnight most days.

A knock on her open-door one night made her jolt. She had lost herself in the view and her own thoughts, unaware someone was still at the office.

Beca spun her chair around to face the door, finding Luke in the doorway. “Why are you here so late?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” Luke pointed out, inviting himself in. He set a sheet of paper in front of Beca, then plopped down in the seat on the other side of her desk. “This is incredible. You’ve got to record it.”

Beca glanced down at her own handwriting, heavily regretting showing Luke that song she wrote a few days ago. “I don’t know, man.”

“What?” Luke asked, incredulous. “Becky, you haven’t been able to write a lyric for the past three years and now that you’ve got a platinum record worthy song, you don’t want to use it?”

Beca nibbled on the inside of her cheek. “It feels too personal, I’m not sure I feel like sharing it with the world.” She glared at him next. “And stop calling me Becky, this is getting old.”

“I’m serious, this might be your best work yet,” Luke insisted. “Think about it?”

“I will. Now get out of my office,” Beca muttered.

“You got it, Becky,” Luke teased, easily catching the stress ball Beca tossed at his head, chuckling at her poor attempt. “You should go home and get some sleep.”

“Yeah. Night.”

“Goodnight.”

It turned out Sarah had been right.

When Beca wasn’t expecting it anymore, Chloe called. And she sounded like Chloe. Hope flared within her once more, but she tried not to let it engulf her whole being. While Chloe reaching out was an enormous step, Beca threaded carefully, knowing a lot could happen in five days.

She wished she had been wrong, but as it pushed 1 pm that Thursday afternoon, it was pretty clear Chloe wouldn’t show. Beca didn’t have her phone number or any other way to contact her. Her heart felt heavy as she headed back to BMLJ for her meeting with Jesse regarding his movie score, and her head was too full of thoughts to completely focus on work.

“Earth to Beca.”

Beca hummed, snapping out of her daze. Jesse was staring at her in a mix of concern and curiosity. “Sorry.”

“Do you wanna do this another time?”

“No, no,” Beca insisted, straightening up. “I’m okay.” She hated how well Jesse knew her, and heaved a sigh when he gave her that look. “It’s Chloe.”

“Chloe Beale?” Jesse asked. “She’s in New York?”

“Yeah. I found her a couple of weeks ago. She’s a stripper at some hyped club in Times Square.”

“Holy shit, seriously?”

Beca proceeded to tell him everything over the next ten minutes, Jesse hanging onto every word. “Am I stupid? Trying so hard to help someone who clearly doesn’t want to be helped?”

“No, you’re not stupid. You’re a softie under that tough exterior and you care deeply about the people you love. Especially Chloe. I was in the front row, remember?”

Beca grimaced, some of that decade-old guilt surfacing. “Dude…”

“It’s fine. I’m definitely over all of that, but we both know Chloe is too important for you to just give up. And from how you described her, and that phone call? It sounds like she still cares, but she lost herself along the way and is now in so deep she has trouble coming back on her own. Maybe she just needs to hear that asking for help isn’t giving up, but rather refusing to give up.”

Those words echoed deep within Beca, and she found herself nodding, filled with newfound energy to fight for this. “I need to go by the club. Tonight. Her boss might kick me out if I show up inside, but maybe I can wait by the back door?”

“I’ll come with you.”

“You don’t have to, man. It might be hours before we see her.”

“That guy sounds creepy, you shouldn’t go on your own.”

Beca sighed. “Okay, fine. I’ll pick you up around ten.”

Beca felt like they were on a stake-out as they waited in her car hours later, parked across the back alley of the club. Winter had definitely settled in in NYC and waiting in the cold for hours in freezing temperatures didn’t seem like a great plan.

She texted back and forth with Aubrey, who once more offered to come down, but Beca was concerned Chloe might think they were ambushing her.

It was pushing midnight by the time a familiar figure stepped out of the building through the side door. Chloe was on her own.

Beca slapped Jesse’s arm to wake him up. “She’s here.”

They both stepped out of the car and crossed the street when it was clear, Beca telling Jesse to wait by the corner as she tentatively approached Chloe, slipping her gloved hands inside the pockets of her dark grey wool trench coat.

She was smoking a cigarette, clad in her glitter dress under an open fleece jacket. Her gaze flickered to Beca when she spotted her, her posture turning rigid. “What are you doing here?”

There was no bite to her tone but soft curiosity, which reassured Beca further.

“Can we talk?”

Chloe glanced over her shoulder towards the door as she nibbled on her lower lip. “Five minutes, then I have to go back inside.”

She met Beca on the other side of the alley, the orange glow of the lamp post over their heads allowing Beca to trace her features. “You didn’t show earlier.”

Chloe dragged on her cigarette. “I changed my mind.”

“Is that the truth or did someone tell you not to?” She wasn’t dumb; after meeting Chloe’s boss and knowing she was his favorite, she had an inkling the two were somehow involved. And that guy just gave off a crazy possessive vibe. Chloe’s silence was her answer. “Chlo…”

“It’s more complicated than you think,” Chloe murmured, licking her lips.

“Then explain it to me,” she demanded, a desperate edge to her tone.

“Why are you doing this?” Chloe croaked out. “Why won’t you leave me alone?”

Her question took Beca by surprise, and her mouth moved wordlessly for a few beats. “Because I care about you. And you’re not okay, Chlo. I want to help.”

“Beca…”

She thought back on Jesse’s words. “Asking for help is not giving up, Chloe. It’s refusing to give up. And I’m here. You just have to say the word, I’ve got you.”

Chloe shook her head, closing her eyes briefly. “I’m not--” Her eyes were filled with so much sadness when they found Beca’s that Beca had to remind herself to breathe. “I’m not worth it.”

Those four words felt like a knife lodging itself inside Beca’s heart. They stole all the air from her lungs and brought tears to her eyes. “What?” She whispered, her voice nowhere within reach as a huge lump formed in her throat. “That’s not true,” she said, with more forcefulness this time around. “It’s not, you hear me?”

Chloe kept shaking her head. “You don’t know me anymore.”

“Maybe I don’t know this version of you, but I know Chloe Beale is still in there, somewhere. I heard her on the phone the other day, remember? And I can see her now, under all those layers of sadness and lack of self-worth triggered by outside factors. I know her soul hasn’t changed, deep down. It couldn’t have, because you are the purest, kindest human being there is, and that has to still be somewhere in there.”

“I’m broken, Bec,” Chloe cried, her eyes filled to the rim with tears threatening to spill over. “I’m a crack addict. I don’t--” A sob spilled from her throat. “I spend all my money on coke and all I know how to do anymore is show my breasts for money.”

A tear rolled down Beca’s cheek as she reached for Chloe’s hand. “Then I’ll help put you back together. Piece by piece, for however long it takes. Whatever it takes, Chlo. I promise.”

“Chloe?”

Both their heads snapped towards the open door, where Marco stood. His features hardened when he saw Beca there, and Beca released Chloe’s hand, looking over her shoulder towards Jesse, who made his way over.

“What is she doing here?” He spat out as he climbed down the set of steps.

Chloe visibly swallowed, her fear radiating off her. “She’s just leaving.”

“No, I’m not,” Beca stated, loud and clear as her eyes shone fiercely. “I’m not going anywhere without Chloe.”

“You fucking homewrecker,” he muttered, crossing the alley in quick strides. Chloe stepped in front of Beca, as though to shield her with her own body. The anger swirling in his eyes shot a chill down Beca’s spine. “Move, Chloe.”

Chloe shook her head. “You should go back inside, Marco. Please don’t make a scene, it’s not worth it.”

Beca had never understood the expression ‘to see red’ until now; until she witnessed Marco backhanding Chloe with so much force she staggered back with a cry.

Unparalleled rage filled her, the kind of rage she couldn’t control. She stepped forward and raised her fist, clocking him in the face with a mean right hook. She wasn’t sure if the cracking sound came from her knuckle or his nose breaking, the pain in her hand muffled by the adrenaline coursing through her veins.

Marco stumbled a few steps backward with a grunt, his eyes screwed shut as he covered his nose with his hand. But Beca wasn’t done, taking advantage of his dizzy state and stepping forward to knee him in the balls as hard as she could so he couldn’t walk until they were all safely inside the car.

“You guys get into the car,” Jesse ushered them, keeping an eye on Marco as he doubled over in pain.

“Chloe, come on,” Beca coaxed urgently, grabbing her hand and pulling. To her surprise, Chloe didn’t fight her. She seemed absolutely shell-shocked, even once they reached the car, as though her legs were carrying her on their own accord and her brain was miles behind. “Get inside, Chlo.”

Jesse jogged over a few seconds later and slid behind the wheel without Beca having to ask him, and she climbed in the backseat beside Chloe, relief washing over as the doors locked behind them and the car pulled onto the road towards safety.

#bechloe #bechloe fic #chloe beale #beca mitchell #pitch perfect fic

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